Harry jerked his head up, meeting the pock-marked visage with his own intense stare this time. He felt a thrill of fear, his body tensing with the memory of pain, but he held his nerve. His nerve was all he had left now, his only weapon left in his arsenal. Though, admittedly, his arsenal was pretty depleted. Without a wand, his hands restrained, his legs now restrained, he was pretty helpless. But he had one thing… in order to heal him, they had to relinquish the quaesitor. He had his voice back.

He felt his defiance drag his spine up a little straighter and he fixed Rookwood with his most determined look.

"As ungrateful as always, I see." Snape's remark sent his rage alight. Harry's gaze snapped onto those familiar black eyes.

"You expect me to be anything else? Right now?"

"I expected you to at least have some concept of how desperate your situation is," Snape said, "and maybe show some respect to the people who have control over you."

"If you think I would bow and scrape, to you, to anyone who belongs to him," Harry seethed, leaning towards him, "then you really don't know me as well as you think you do."

"Ugh, there's a silencer for a reason," Yaxley approached, reaching up the column to snatch it off the top when Rookwood had put it earlier. "Use it or the quaesitor. Either way…"

Rookwood waved him off, making Yaxley start in surprise. "No, I want to hear this."

"You are utterly incapable of showing any respect, even when your own life is on the line."

"Will it save my life?" Harry asked. There was no answer. "You really think I'm stupid enough to think that I'll be spared if I act like a good little prisoner. No… my thanks or my respect, or whatever the fuck you want from me, would change nothing. At the end of all this, I'm still going to die at his hand and nothing will change that."

"Are you truly not grateful?" Rookwood asked him, "Are you not relieved that you don't have to be in pain every time you breathe?"

Harry's enraged glare snapped over to the other pair of black eyes. Unlike Snape's, whose eyes were pools of strong dislike and irritation, these eyes were intense, thoughtful and piercing. As he met them, he hesitated.

"Are you not grateful when you're given water?" Rookwood asked him. "I heard that you thanked the man when he gave you yours."

Harry felt his face burn. "Tha… that's different."

"How is it different? You just said to Severus that you feel no gratitude to anyone who belongs to the Dark Lord. Berrick does, Potter."

Eye contact! He can see my thoughts. Harry quickly looked away. Rookwood gave a soft chuckle.

"Deep down, Potter, you are grateful that I healed you. Just as, right now, you are grateful that I'm giving you permission to speak."

Harry had been outplayed. He couldn't reply, retort or throw a barb at the man because if he did, any satisfaction he felt would be because the man had let him do it. It killed that satisfaction immediately. Talking now would not be a display of defiance, but one of cooperation.

"You've had enough time to study how to provoke Severus and you've even managed to find how to get into Yaxley's head, not that it's hard, but with me, you have no idea, do you? You don't know how to use your voice against me."

"He has not got into my head," Yaxley fumed. Rookwood didn't even give him a reaction. He just continued to stare into Harry's eyes.

Is he… hypnotising me? Harry thought, alarmed, and he dropped eye contact at once.

"There are many more effective ways to hurt a person than with bodily harm," Rookwood said quietly, "how does it feel, Potter, to have silenced yourself?"

Harry wanted to say something, anything, but he… couldn't. He had nothing to say. Panic scattered his thoughts and his face burned. Humiliated, he could do nothing but try to take deep breaths and calm himself down. He couldn't fall apart now. He dragged his gaze back up to Rookwood, seeing Yaxley and Snape in his peripherals. He couldn't let them distract him. He had to get out of this mind game now or he'd give them the chance to mentally break him. He focused on his face, on the deep lines under his eyes...

"Is this how you survived Azkaban with your marbles? Did you bore the dementors to death?"

"No, but you've just confirmed to me what I suspected about you earlier." Rookwood straightened, "You know how to find the best way to cause the most harm, don't you? I wonder if Dumbledore knew this about you. Quite the Dark streak in you, Potter."

"Are you quite done, Augustus?" Snape asked. "You're worried about me getting carried away with Potter? At least I'm not trying to recruit him."

"Yes, Augustus… you've had more than enough time to torment the boy during your hours. I'd appreciate you not overstepping during mine."

Harry was shaking, horrified. All the strange compliments, mentions about his family, mostly his father, who was a pureblood. He talked about how powerful Harry was, and other qualities that no one really talked about. He knew he was being cross-examined, treated like nothing more than a museum curio, which made sense as he worked in the Department of Mysteries, the largest collection of curios in Wizarding Britain.

Why is he bothering to get in my head and manipulate me? It's a waste of time. Voldemort wants me dead not… on his side. But as he thought it, distant memories from when he first met Voldemort, a face at the back of Quirrell's head. He had tried to recruit him then.

Join me.

No. It was impossible. He wasn't being kept under Rookwood's nose to be recruited. He was there to be imprisoned, interrogated and made to suffer. He was being slowly destroyed. Not his body, no, that was protected now. His spirit though… his resistance. That was being stripped away hour by hour. He was being made to experience a total defeat.

Why bother doing that if he was just going to be killed…?

Stop it!

While he was having a mental crisis, Rookwood had drawn away, clearly knowing that he had succeeded.

"Very well. I do not approve of your presence here, Severus, but this is not the place to discuss it. We all have duties to be getting on with. I wish to continue our talk at a later time… maybe in the Dark Lord's earshot."

"I look forward to it, Augustus," Snape said dryly.

"As for you, Potter, I will see you later." Harry raised his head, breathing deeply, desperately searching for his nerve and struggling to find anything other than fear and helplessness. He met those intense eyes.

"You owe me a debt of pain and I will collect it."

The quaesitor's magic entered into his tormented body, surging into him and dragging him upright so his back was flush with the column, feeling the metal inlaid into the stone emanating the fiercely cold magic. He didn't resist and his cooperation rewarded him with barely any pain as it coiled around every bone and sinew, entering his mind and wiping out all thoughts and senses with a white blaze of magic that took out his vision. As his core connected with the quaesitor, he returned to himself, feeling that ache in his chest as his heart, momentarily frozen for the briefest of moments, kicked back into life.

He leant against the column, feeling the cold magic flow through him and became aware that he actually felt a bit better. The magic was sustaining him, like a parasite, its energy and his energy were one.

He felt a single drop of blood fall on his lip where it ran down the sore skin then curved down his chin. He barely registered it. His eyes were shut and he focused all his being on the presence of the cold magic that followed in him and through him. Anything to drive those tormenting thoughts out his head, the lingering impact that Rookwood's words had left on him. His words caused him more harm than any of his cruciatus curses. He was starting to forget who he was before the chains… and it had only been a couple of days.

"Potter?" A firm voice, not concerned but with a hint of alarm interrupted his daze. He opened his eyes, vision tinged with the fringe of white at the edges. His chin was resting against his chest and he was looking down at his chest. He saw the grey robes that he'd been forced to wear, the cloth gathered at his right where they were secured with tight laces to keep at least his dignity intact. The robes stopped at his bare shins and feet.

"Don't be alarmed, Severus. He'll come around in a second."

At the second voice, he lifted his head a little, seeing two men still in his presence. One was close and Harry could smell a familiar odour coming from his robes. Some sort of chemical…?

That caustic stuff Snape uses to clean his cauldrons. Had enough detentions cleaning those things to know that smell a mile off but…

Snape. That was who stood in front of him.

He raised his head, neck clicking as he did. The drop of blood displaced from his chin and fell on his robe. He looked up, following the robed body in front of him, arms crossed in that same way when he would loom over him in class, waiting to deliver the next loaded insult or scathing comment. He lifted his head more and saw his narrow chin, the lips turned down in disapproval, that hooked nose, fit with flaring nostrils. Then the curtains of lank, greasy hair, framing that face. Last, his gaze travelled up to those eyes.

They sparkled, the quaesitor's metal patterns flickering at Harry's back with the same magic that followed through him. They were fixed on him, but there was none of the characteristic intense hatred.

"Potter, can you hear me?"

"He is fine," Yaxley took up Harry's vision, blocking Snape from his sight. He pushed his hand onto the column and grunted, dropping to his knee as he took the inquisitor's mark. Yaxley's face was close to his now and Harry noticed a scar on his jaw line, tracing up to his ear. It had to be cursed or magical in nature. There was no way a pureblood would allow any disfiguration.

He rose to his feet, face tinged with discomfort. He moved to Harry, bringing his palm down to his face. Harry didn't even look at him. He knew what was coming next. All the lies and denials in his mind were about to come tumbling down.

An ice-cold palm pressed onto his forehead. "From henceforth, this one is compelled to tell the truth and only the truth." Harry felt the sleeve tickling his cheek. "When I ask a question, he must answer. Of his free-will… or not."

As the hand parted from his head, Harry felt the immediate cascade of thoughts, feelings and memories. He gasped audibly as he sunk into a wash of the familiar. Faces, voices, sensations, not all of them pleasant, but all of them he knew. It was his life, rushing around him, his own personal truth. The remorse was there, yawning and desolate, but so was his drive, his passions, his hopes and fears. He heard Hermione, just talking to him, no special memory. He felt Ron punch him on the arm when he said something stupid. He felt Ginny's lips on his…

What is this?

He felt alive, or he felt his life. He had no idea what he was feeling. Unlike the day before, where the sensation of losing his control over his emotions terrified him, now it felt like this was how it was meant to be. Embracing what it was to be alive, the good and the bad.

And then Yaxley drew away from him and he saw Snape.

Everything in this mind dimmed as a rage like what he felt the day before throbbed in his chest.

"Ah, this is quite different from yesterday… no tears for us then?"

"No," Harry forced himself to say. Lips numb, face hot with anger.

"What do you have then?"

"Hate."

"Hate?" Yaxley repeated, surprised by how quickly Harry had replied.

"You brought him here," Harry turned his glare to Snape and as he did, his rage and hate burst out of him. "Do you have any idea what he cost me?" He raised his voice. Snape glanced over to Yaxley.

"We've all lost people, Potter. You aren't special in that department."

"He...is..." Harry struggled to get the words out as the quaesitor surged him with pain for even trying to speak out of turn.

"Yes, yes, I know you have a history. We don't need to bring it up. I think you'll agree… we've wasted quite enough time already." Yaxley did seem impatient and off kitler. He glanced over to Snape, who was regarding Harry with an oddly impassive expression.

"Veritaserum would be more straightforward."

"We… we're not using veritaserum… for the last time!" Yaxley lost his temper, turning on Snape. "Let me show you first!" Snape's face paled with fury at being addressed like this. "I'm… sorry, Severus. Allow me to do this my way. I will show you that this is more than effective."

Snape gave him a glare, then gave a slight incline of his head to show him to proceed. Yaxley drew himself up, jaw giving a slight spasm to show that he was struggling to control his temper. They were both barely in control. It appeared the elder Death Eater had gotten under everyone's skin.

"Potter," Yaxley snapped his fingers as if he was calling the attention of a pet. Harry levelled him with a glare. "Oh, still fire left? Rookwood's not taken everyone out yet then."

"No. He wouldn't be allowed to… and that's a rhetorical question," Harry's voice was expressionless.

"Still remember how this works?"

"It's hard to forget."

"Yes, I imagine it is. I hope they got Umbridge's filth off the stone. It is always a disappointment when they make such a mess in death."

Nausea burned in Harry's hunger-shrunken stomach as he recalled how her face had looked, his blurred vision distorting most of the details, but he'd seen the green snot and the snorting cries as she lost complete control and dissolved into a terrified creature.

"Believe it or not, Severus has not come all this way to torment you, Potter. He actually has questions… and as we are rather short of Order prisoners to interrogate, you're all we have."

Harry's gaze snapped onto Snape and he frowned. Snape would know that he had no access to Order secrets. He wasn't a member. He actually had a rather woeful resource of intel to share, though he doubted they'd believe him. He'd been kept in the dark on purpose, just as they had been kept in the dark about his activities.

Snape turned, taking a couple of steps towards Yaxley, arms still crossed.

"I need to know about the missing students," Snape said. Harry's eyes widened, opening his mouth to demand more, before shutting it. He couldn't speak.

"Where are the students that went missing from Hogwarts on the night of your arrest, Potter?" Yaxley asked.

Harry blinked.

"I… have no idea. I was here… who's missing?" He twisted his head away as he was lashed for the question.

"There are several students who didn't turn up for school this year. Do you know the whereabouts of any of them?"

"Well I didn't turn up and I know where I am," Harry let out a faint huff of amusement.

"And what about your friends? Granger and… Weasley?"

Harry paused. A direct question about Ron… he'd avoided these before through sheer luck.

"Which Weasley? There are a few."

Snape glared at him. "This will not work, Potter. You are not smart enough."

"Where is Ron Weasley?" Yaxley ground out the question, responding to Harry's attempt to stall.

"No idea. Next question." His heart was racing now, adrenaline helping him to think faster.

"Is he not laid up in bed with supposed spattergroit? That was what the Ministry was led to believe."

"Lies. We used the cover so the Ministry wouldn't come after Ron's family to get to us," he hated having to say it. Yaxley straightened, glancing at Snape.

"You neglected to mention this before." He said, frowning, then gave a shake of his head when he realised it wasn't a question. "Why?"

Harry gave him a smirk. "You never asked. This only works if you ask the right questions." Yaxley's face twisted and he clenched his marked hand. Harry jerked in pain as he was punished. It was held for a long time until he was forced to give a cry of pain. It was released and he relaxed, muscles tingling from the shock.

"Ron Weasley was one of your accomplices during the heist for the horcrux?"

At the word, Harry flinched, eyes darting over to Snape in alarm. He stared at him, panic searing through his mind. Snape would surely impart this knowledge to Voldemort…

He has to know. A tentative thought at the back of his mind whispered. He was the closest to Dumbledore. He healed his hand when he put on the ring. Dumbledore even told me to fetch him when we returned to the cave. He had to know… surely. Or suspect?

He waited too long and the purge overwhelmed him. He jerked and thrashed, panicking as it happened. The sensation of losing his mind was not one he would repeat if he could help it. When it happened and his mind went blank, he heard his own voice.

"He was there with me and he escaped with Hermione."

"And where did they go?"

"Uh likely back to…" he swallowed, remembering that Snape was there, but he couldn't avoid it. He closed his eyes. "Back to Grimmauld Place." His voice was pained when he said it.

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yeah, like I told you yesterday. Protected with a fidelius charm, but…" Harry frowned again, looking at Snape. But he's a secret keeper too… why doesn't he say anything?

"But?"

"They wouldn't stay long. The moment they would have worked out that I was… gone, they would have moved on. Like I told you yesterday."

"But they would have definitely gone there?"

"That was where they… we… were apparating to."

Snape sighed with impatience. "This is getting us nothing. Wherever they have gone, it's somewhere that Potter has no knowledge of. Any information he has about them is days old now. Redundant. We need to know about the others."

Yaxley appeared disgruntled at Snape's tone, not appreciating being told what to do, but he swallowed his pride and continued.

"What about the other missing students?"

"You are going to need to be a lot more specific," Harry grounded out. Snape took over.

"Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, Cho Chang…"

"I… don't-." His sentence was cut off as the quaesitor shocked him.

"Where are they?" Yaxley asked.

"I don't know! I… it sounds like they… they might have gone into hiding."

"Why?"

"Because… because they probably knew that they could be used as leverage. To control me or… their families," he lowered his head, chest aching at the admission. "How should I know? I've been here." Again he was lashed, tensing as the magic gave him that shock of pain whenever he dared to push back.

Ginny… please be safe. Luna, Neville… where have you gone? What are you doing?

"Is it true that you were the leader of a club at Hogwarts who fashioned themselves as Dumbledore's Army?" Yaxley launched another question.

"Yes but…" Harry's eyes dragged onto Yaxley and he felt his rage boil, "you can't find the Order so you'd go after them, is that it?" He wrenched his face away to avoid showing Yaxley his contorted expression when the magic tortured him.

"Someone got there first, Potter. All your lackeys, adult and school-age, all missing."

All?

Harry glanced between the two men, bewildered, and then he understood. Somehow, word had gotten out about his arrest, but not through the Prophet. A way for allies, his allies, his side in the war. Not just the Order, but in Hogwarts too. How? He didn't even know that they had a way to communicate. This was a network beyond charmed galleons.

"His surprise is genuine," Snape remarked, "I can see it."

"Wait…" Yaxley frowned at Harry, moving closer. "You said we can't find the Order, and the quaesitor recognised that as truth. You know that they are missing. Who told you?"

"Common sense," he said as soon as he could to give himself time. How could I be so stupid? It didn't work and he felt the purge grip him. There was nothing he could do. He was as helpless as he was when forced to give up his mission.

"No one but I told them to hide." When realised, he let out a yell of rage. Yaxley was on him at once.

"Told them? Told them when?"

"Two questions, fuck yo- ah!"

"You can't keep this up. We've been here before. I'll make this one more specific for you." Yaxley's face was close to his now. He could smell his breath and hear the wet click of the soft tissues of his mouth as he spoke. "Have you given information to the Order while here in the Row?"

They're safe. They are all safe. It's okay to give this information.

Harry turned his face away, ashamed of the thought that burned in his mind.

But I'm not safe!

"Yes," he admitted. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He knew where this admission would lead to. More punishment for himself, but it would just be him. No one else would be harmed.

Then he saw a flash of desperate eyes, felt the leather of the silence pressing back against his face, and heard barely audible words urging him to play along. Harry felt a twist of guilt and horror. That man's act of kindness might have killed him.

I knew what I was doing. It was worth the risk, but now his fate is tied to mine! He should have reported it...

"And have they given you any information in return?"

Harry flexed his left hand, reminding himself of what it feels like to ball a fist. With his right hand, he could barely gesture or move it. Gripping anything was out of the question.

"No," he said and then was lashed. His thoughts went into a panic. What did he know? What did Arthur tell him?

That Ron and Hermione have reunited with the Order. That they told them about the horcruxes, or at least, enough about them to give them an idea of how important the mission was.

"Ask him who he spoke to and how," Snape said in a low voice. Yaxley stiffened, clearly not appreciating being told what to do.

"Who… no, it needs to be specific," he turned, rubbing his chin for a moment, then he looked back over, "How did you give information to the Order?"

"A… maintenance shaft behind this row of cells. Silence charms don't extend that far back. I gave answers by tapping on the wall." All truths.

"Potter is being deliberately vague," Snape put in. "We need to know who."

"Back off, Severus."

"Accept my help," Snape said firmly, "we can't afford to waste time."

"F… fine," Yaxley turned from Snape, putting a hand on his head briefly, then he turned back to Harry.

"Who did you speak to?"

"Arthur Weasley, but that doesn't matter. He's missing too. They're all missing. Next question."

Their brief exchange gave Harry the reprieve to compartmentalise and figure out his way through this. Facts and confidence. He barely had either.

"Where is he now?"

"No idea and that's the point. I don't know where anyone is. Get that into your thick skull." He growled that out, leaning on his anger.

"What information did he give you?"

"Nothing that will help you. It was vague on purpose."

"Specifics, Yaxley." Snape snapped.

"Did you give any information about your mission?"

"No - I didn't need to."

"Why not?"

"Because…" Harry realised that he blundered right into the trap, again. He closed his eyes briefly, but continued the sentence. "... my friends have reunited with the Order. You're facing a united front."

Snape rounded on Yaxley. "You think the Order is no threat now? They managed to communicate with Potter right under your nose."

"Communicate…" Yaxley twisted a grin, reaching for the silencer again and held it in front of Severus. "It's a bit hard when Potter can't speak when he's in his cell."

"He said that he communicated by tapping. Even just giving affirmatives could give away too much. Your incompetence could ruin us all."

"How did you communicate with Arthur Weasley?" Yaxley turned his face back to Harry, whose eyes widened in shock at the question.

"One tap for yes, two for no," he said, and then it happened. The lash of pain to punish him for his lie. Yaxley frowned. Snape straightened.

"Did you speak to him?"

"I have spoken to him many times." Harry quickly said.

"Specifics, damn you!" Snape hissed at him.

"While in your cell, did you ever speak to Arthur Weasley?"

There was no escaping such a direct question. Harry huffed out a breath, accepted what he was doing, and admitted it.

"Yes."

"You removed your silencer?" Yaxley was staring at him, frowning in confusion.

"Yes," Harry met his gaze and raised his chin defiantly. "It wasn't easy."

Snape gave Yaxley a sharp look. "What does he mean?"

"It… shouldn't be possible. I checked the chains myself. How did you do it?"

"I used the hand that you didn't break," Harry said sourly, "and I guess now you have to break that one too."

Snape gave a light snort. "Potter has a gift for breaking rules and not caring about the consequences. But this shaft? How did that escape your notice?"

Yaxley's eyes narrowed at the comment, but his face betrayed his worry. He stared at Harry, thinking intently, then he turned to pace.

"The maintenance shafts in this level have been out of commission for decades. They should be sealed…"

"Clearly, they were not."

"Alright, Severus, I admit. I underestimated the Order, but Potter is still very much here and isolated from them. No one in the Order will be able to get close."

"Someone in the Order has already gotten close. Your security is compromised and, thanks to your oversight, your breach comes from Potter himself. And how did Arthur Weasley manage to make it down to this level? I thought you had all Order members under surveillance?"

Yaxley said nothing. He turned and started to pace. "You are overacting, Severus. The Row is the most secure location in the Ministry. I admit, I did not anticipate the possibility that someone could communicate with Potter, much less that he could even manage to speak back. Yet he is still very much a prisoner here and has no means to free himself. I have security posted at the exit around the clock, men who are screened daily. The walls here are impregnable, built with the same wards as Azkaban. Dementors guard the only access point and no one can get within five hundred yards of this location without being checked, scanned and questioned. No one, not even Dumbledore himself, could break Potter out without myself or Rookwood being alerted. And, believe me, we will not let that happen."

Snape listened to Yaxley with a bored expression. "I hope, for your sake, your confidence isn't misguided."

"Need I remind you that no one has ever escaped the Row? No one."

Snape turned away, looking over to Harry, and he stepped up to him. Harry listened to them intently, feeling distinctly hopeful by how seriously they were taking him. He couldn't help but agree with Yaxley. Despite having given some information to Arthur, he didn't think his chances had improved. He felt a surge of pride towards his friends at hearing that they had managed to escape Snape's watch and relief too. Knowing that they were under the thumb of Death Eaters, Ginny especially...

"I do feel that the Dark Lord should be informed of this, however," Yaxley paced back to Snape, "but my place is here. I will not dare leave my post."

"The first sensible decision you've made all day," Snape said darkly. Yaxley's nostrils flared, but he didn't rise to Snape's provocation.

"It will be best coming from you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have his ear, do you not, Severus? It's why you can so confidently flout his orders. You have sway with him."

"Are you really suggesting that I cover for your incompetence?"

"You're forgetting about the children that went missing under your hooked nose, Severus. You are not immaculate in this, least of all because you abandoned your post, but you, too, have lost valuable assets."

Snape fiddled with his sleeve for a moment, turning away, hand resting on his chin in thought. Then he sighed.

"Very well. I will have to move quickly," he then approached Harry, his jaw tensing with the usual displeasure when he was forced to interact with him. "I expect you intend to continue with your interrogation. May I suggest that you focus more on the present threat? Any information that Potter had about the Order is now days old and redundant."

"Potter will be returned to his cell. He's had enough recreation time," Yaxley announced, surprising Harry and, from the lift of Snape's brow, him as well. "There are… Ministry matters that require my more urgent attention."

He raised his wand. "Cestus."

The drain of the magic brought Harry down to his knees. The whole experience of the morning had taken its toll on him. He was mentally exhausted and emotionally strained. He knelt in a daze, barely registering as Yaxley vanished, pacing behind him. He only knew he was there when he felt him seize his left hand tightly. He shuddered in alarm and panic.

"Wha… what are you..."

"I told you what would happen if you even just tried to remove your silencer," the man behind the column said with feigned regret. "You should have listened."

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure he doesn't try anything like this again," Yaxley said. Harry desperately tried to wriggle his hand free, but he couldn't.

"Leave him, Corban. The damage is done. The threat clearly wasn't enough to stop him and the punishment will do little to deter him. I've had him in more than enough detentions to know this. Rookwood will make him suffer sufficiently… without making him an invalid," Snape drawled, voice tinted with dislike and impatience.

Harry braced himself for the pain, expecting to hear the crack of his bones at any second. But Yaxley realised his hand.

"You seem very concerned for his welfare. More than I anticipated," Yaxley said with a sneer as he paced back around.

"He only cares that I don't bottle it before I get to put on a show," Harry raised his head with difficulty, straining to see Snape's face under the cover of his hair. From his position on his knees, he could only make out his chin. Snape looked down at Harry's voice and they met stares.

A powerful kick of rage lurched into Harry's stomach as he met those eyes and his face twisted into a snarl.

"Never got to repay my dad properly for what he put you through in school, did you… Snivellus? But you can get some satisfaction from watching me suffer in his place. Next best thing. Like you say… like father, like son?"

He felt heat surge through him in reaction to his anger and saw anger reflected in Snape's features as his lip twitched.

"You insolent, little…"

"Am I not wrong?" Harry jutted out his chin. "You loathed my dad, everything about him, made my life as miserable as you could because of it. Hated him so much that his death didn't cut it for you, so maybe my death will finally settle the score?"

Snape just stared down at him and Harry thought that for a moment, he would crack that composure. He'd finally be able to get Snape to curse him, let loose what he had been holding back all the years under Dumbledore's watchful eye. Maybe Harry would feel sectumsempra on his own flesh.

"I've got this, Severus," Yaxley broke the brief silence that fell after Harry's rant. He moved in Harry's view, drawing his attention from Snape to the leather object he held in his hands and brought towards his face. He yanked his head away, hitting the column as he did. Before his mouth was blocked again, he focused his glare back on Snape.

"You're pathetic!" He spat out and was then grabbed around the neck by Yaxley and held in place. He struggled but couldn't prevent him from pressing that strangling leather muzzle over his chin and lips. He tried to shake it loose before he could tighten the straps, but had no success. He felt it tighten, leather cutting into the sore welts of his cheeks, left from hours and hours wearing the thing. He huffed out a few breaths, the humiliation heating his face.

He dared a look over to Snape and stalled. The man was watching Yaxley with a mixture of disgust, revulsion and anger. Harry even saw his hand clenching. Then in a second, the expression drained from his face and he expelled a long breath out his nose, meeting Harry's stare. There was no hate there.

Harry had to really scramble through his memories to think of a time when Snape hadn't regarded him with anything other than animosity. He'd witnessed Snape look favourably upon people, mostly slytherins, and he had seen him smile, rarely, but this was a look that he was certain that he had never seen before.

It was sadness.

As Yaxley straightened, Snape shifted, adjusting his expression to one of impassivity and impatience. That glimpse of humanity was gone at once. Harry desperately searched his face for its return, hoping that it hadn't been a mistake, but Snape drew back, turning away from him, saying something snide to Yaxley as he did. Harry brought his attention back to the Death Eater, seeing the wand trained on him.

"And so you don't get any bright ideas…"

A flash of red was all he saw before darkness.

12th September 20:30

Night had only just settled. A vague tinge of pale grey clung to the horizon and the first stars pierced the sky, a few wispy clouds hung like smoke vapours, catching the memory of sunlight and the pallid touch of the moon, not quite full with a small shave missing off the side. Nights at the McGonagall residence were peaceful, the sloping hills bathed in moonlight, the old oaks calmly standing sentry. It was too quiet. The night had no right to be so calm and soothing.

Ron twirled his wand in his fingers as he perched on the low wall of the yard, eyeing the same spot that he'd been watching for the last few minutes. He had demanded to be allowed to stand guard, wanting to do his part for his family and for the others in the cottage. The soft words from his dad, saying that he needed rest, were firmly ignored. The harder words from his mum saying that he should sit down, have something to eat and not get worked up - he very much ignored. How could he rest? How could he eat and feel comfort, while Harry was…

He couldn't get it out of his head. How could things have gone so wrong so fast? Only a few days ago, he cracked a dumb joke about wand length and Harry nearly spat Kreacher's potato and leek soup across the table. He found himself thinking that Harry was just about to appear behind him, yawning, asking what the time, glasses wonky from where he'd knocked them mid-yawn. There was no one there, just a slightly chilly breeze and an abandoned allotment.

He glanced down at his watch, neck giving a crack at the movement. He hadn't moved his head in a while.

"Oh shit!" He burst out. He pushed himself off the wall in haste. In doing so, a stone came loose and slipped under his hand. Alarmed, he tried to push it back in place. "Sorry, professor."

He carefully navigated the unkempt garden, trying to not break anything else. Understandably, McGonagall's home was a little under-managed. Yet, the cottage was only around twenty miles from Hogwarts, nestled in the highlands east of the grounds. It felt strange to be so close and yet so very far.

He shouldered through the door, quickly scraping his shoes clean on the doormat. He didn't fancy the verbal lashing from his mum about tracking dirt in someone else's house. It was mutely lit inside. He yanked off his cloak, embracing the warmth.

"You're just in time." A soft voice told him as he entered. "I'll take your watch." He knew the voice to be Tonks but his heart jumped when he saw short, messy, black hair. She flicked her head to him, giving him an encouraging smile. Tonks. Definitely Tonks. Probably mimicking Harry's hair in support.

His family and the others were assembled in the living space. It was the largest room in the cottage and was very crowded with them all inside. There were cushions on the floor as there weren't enough chairs in the house to accommodate everyone. He squeezed past Charlie and Remus, seeing the glasses of firewhiskey in their hands. His dad was talking with Kingsley undertone, but gave him a smile and nod when he moved by them.

He saw Hermione at the table, adjusting the dials of the wireless set in the centre. He knew she was concentrating so he hung back and felt someone pinch his arm.

"Thought you might have dozed off." His sister's voice brushed into his ear.

"Nah, was just… you know, thinking." He looked down, realising he was still holding his wand. He stowed it away. He looked over to her, seeing her pale face near his. "You okay?"

"Not really, but none of us are," she said bluntly, "but… Ron, I just want to say-."

"It's starting!" Hermione suddenly announced, interrupting whatever Ginny was about to say. Ron met her stare, but she gave a shake of her head. "Later." She mouthed.

She drew away, moving over to someone that Ron had a long chat with earlier. He met Neville's eyes and gave him a nod, which he received in return.

He moved past his mum, about to go to the table, but Hermione reached him and guided him to some cushions nearby.

The wireless crackled into life and there was a musical jingle.

"Ladies of witchcraft and Gentlemen of wizardry, welcome to the only network of real news that isn't under old mouldy voldy's thumb. Welcome to Potterwatch. Welcome listeners and especially welcome the traitors who earwig these broadcasts for any juicy gossip for the Death Eaters. I hope you enjoy your empty, miserable lives." It was Fred on the radio. Ron could tell his twin brothers' voices apart with ease.

"Today we all saw what was printed in the press. Anyone with a brain knows it's all lies and we know that the Ministry is dancing to old voldy's tune. What is true though, friends, is that Harry Potter is very much in their hands. We have intel from sources who have managed to confirm that Harry is still alive. The same sources also confirm that Harry is fighting back with everything he has." That was George.

"We could share the conditions that the Ministry and the Death Eaters have sentenced him to, but they aren't for the public ear. The most vile Death Eaters that were arrested when voldy was defeated last time were treated with more decency than this. These are the actions of a very vengeful, cowardly and demented group of people. The same people who are controlling our way of life. If Harry can fight them, alone and imprisoned, why can't we?" Fred sounded different, like he wasn't smiling.

"We know you're afraid and it makes sense to be afraid! These people don't play nice. They don't threaten just you, but your family. But you know what they are afraid of? You. All of you. They're afraid of what you can do if you all stood up together and said enough is enough." George took over, his voice also unsmiling.

"Harry will fight until the end. Alone. But we can fight for the future together." Fred ended the speech and all that was missing was a laugh from George, who instead said.

"That was really inspiring, Rodent."

"Rapier."

"Oh yeah, keep forgetting."

"Anyway, we expect the big evils won't like us saying all that, so we'll have to cut it short tonight. We will do our best to report back in, but we are getting a lot of house-calls. Code for the next transmission will be James.

Until then, stay true and remember Harry Potter."

There was a click and static that fuzzed away as everyone was silent for a while.

"Did Fred really say 'we can fight for the future together'? What's he been reading?" Ginny said, breaking the silence.

"I thought it was… memorable," Charlie said from the back, clearly hiding a smile. Ron stared at the radio, watching the magical dial waggling as it held the signal. It felt so surreal to hear his brothers talking about Harry like… a hero. Like he was…going to die.

He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick and he lurched to his feet. He heard concerned voices, felt someone snag at his sleeve, but he dashed and stumbled for the downstairs bathroom. He clattered into the hallway, thrusting himself through the door and kicking it shut behind him. He heaved into the toilet, losing his dinner. He coughed, then fell back, taking a few breaths before he pulled himself upright, using the sink for support. He washed his face with cold water.

"Ron?" A quiet, concerned voice on the other side of the door. Hermione of course. He gulped back a mouthful of water from the tap and turned it off, drying his face with a towel.

He opened the door and saw Hermione watching him, eyes zapping over his face with concern.

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"The meeting is going to start in a few minutes," she said quietly, "Fred and George just let us know that they'll be a couple hours."

"Oh okay."

"Ron… are you going to be okay for the meeting?" She asked carefully. He met her look.

"Yeah, I just felt sick was all."

"Alright… I'll get you something to drink." She moved away, retreating in the direction of the kitchen. Ron stepped out, feeling a rise of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

What was that about?

He returned to the living room, falling under the firm gaze of his concerned and fussing mother who looked about to force him into a bed. He quickly moved away and turned into Ginny and Neville. Ginny noticed his pallor and blinked, but Neville just gave him a sheepish grin.

Ron saw his mum in the corner of his eye reluctantly retreat and he gave a small sigh of relief.

"Doesn't feel right," Neville said suddenly, looking around the room, "it's like this isn't real. Without Harry…"

Ginny cringed and hugged her abdomen at the words. Hermione edged toward Ginny, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"If he was here, he'd be as awkward as always, probably trying to hide behind something," Ron found himself saying.

"Nah, he'd be alright," Neville said, "always was pretty confident during the D.A. meetings and this is pretty similar… though I guess this is more like the P.A. now."

Ginny raised her head. "Potter's Army?" She asked, her eyes wide and sparkling with tears.

Neville nodded, meeting her look. "Potter's Army."

Ron gave a snort. "He will hate that."

Far away from the smiles of his friends and their well-wishes, Harry was losing a battle with his chamber pot. He had woken in his chains to find that they had been shortened. Before then, he was able to bend his elbows and give his shoulders a bit of reprieve by standing upright. Now when he stood upright, his arms were taut, locked in place. If he bent his knees or slouched, he had to hang from his wrists. That they had managed to make his situation more uncomfortable and dehumanising was quite a feat.

Now the problem he faced was that he couldn't reach his chamber pot. He'd left it within reach before, but now he was pulled taut against the wall, ankles shackled together. He strained as much as he could, but his toes feebly scraped on the floor as he tried to reach it. He stopped trying, huffing out his frustration and humiliation. The burning need to use the pot was incredibly distracting. Add that to his thirst, his hunger, his exhaustion and the aches lingering in his joints, he was in a pretty bad mood.

He rested on the balls of his feet, giving his shoulders a brief respite from the strain, and looked to the door. On top of the myriad of unpleasant feelings that his body was being subjected to, there were also mental strains. Most notable was the utter panic that he was constantly trying to control as the hours dragged by. Rookwood would be in his cell very soon.

Harry knocked his shoulder into the wall as he was fit by a dizzy spell. They were becoming more common. He imagined it had to do with his dehydration. He stared in a daze as his vision throbbed at the edges, feeling a tilt of the wall behind him for a moment.

Harry tried to occupy his thoughts with things other than dwelling on the pain he would be subjected to. He thought of the events of the morning, of learning about the Order mobilising and how his friends had escaped Snape. Though, he tried to not think about Snape. It made him freeze up inside. It was the same sensation he had whenever he thought of what would happen on the 16th of September.

He distinctly heard a scrape and it took a moment longer than usual for him to register that it was the key in the door. He closed his eyes, wishing himself to be anywhere else, even in the graveyard with his ears ringing with the Death Eaters' jeers and laughter. Anywhere was better.

He kept his eyes shut, his body trembling, listening to the quiet footsteps that entered his prison. The ruffle of robes as the person moved with measured steps, entering the silent space without too much noise. Just from that alone, Harry knew who was in the room with him.

"I'm here for my debt, Potter."

AN: Hi all. Might take a bit longer with the next chapter but will aim to post within a week! Desperate to keep the ball rolling as got some ground to cover. Hope the slow burn isn't too slow! The Potterwatch bit was a last-minute addition. The chapter had some lame title before that made little sense (I called it Hollow Mercy) but with the new bit, I changed it. Hope it's not too cheesy! I felt bad with it all being set in the Row and I fancied some Ron POV for a change.