CW for harm
12th September 21:16
As it turned out, Rookwood had been holding back before. Harry suspected it. He had his sanity after all.
This agony obliterated him. It felt as if his blood was acid, burning him inside out, eating into his muscles and bone, his nerves flaying all at once. He fought with everything he had to free himself from the torment, his joints pulled to their limit, his legs scrambling desperately. His lungs were ablaze, fire screaming down his throat. The sounds of his agony tore out of him, unable to hold them back. He could feel nothing else other than the pain.
All he could think about was a way out. Any way out. Even death. His consciousness was dwindling, retreating, and he found himself latching onto a faint presence in his mind.
His long, graceful fingers played with the hilt, enjoying the touch of the silver that was somehow warm as if it had absorbed the heat from the fire crackling in the hearth nearby. He turned the sword, point digging into the wooden floor, the blade reflecting the flames as they danced from the embers. The rubies set in the guard looked alive with fire. Soon, the sword would be alive, with a fire of a different kind. The fire of his own soul.
"My Lord," a soft, cautious voice sounded from behind him, the voice of a defeated man playing servant in his own manor, "Severus has arrived."
"I do not believe I gave Severus permission to make nightly visits."
"He wishes me to convey his deepest regret for leaving his post, but a matter of great urgency has brought him here with news that must be heard by you and you alone, my Lord."
The long fingers gripped the hilt of the sword as a flash of anger burned through him at the audacity, but it was gone, replaced by a wary curiosity. Severus would not risk his ire without cause, not when he knew full well the price for testing his patience.
"Very well, see him in."
The tormented shell of his body seized up as Harry's consciousness returned back to his own body and mind. The combined agonies of his scar and the cruciatus curse made him lose what shred of control he had left. His throat was hoarse from the strangled screams of pain he had been making before he'd thrown his consciousness down that connection in a desperate attempt to escape the torture.
He returned at the release of the curse to find himself hanging completely at the mercy of his shackles. His scar was still fiercely burning at the contact with Voldemort's mind. He could feel wetness down his leg and his face burned with humiliation at the very visceral proof that he'd lost control completely. Harry released into his muzzle a sound that he had yet to make during his time in Rookwood's hands. A whimper.
"I was wondering when you would try that." The calm remark made Harry flinch. He opened his eyes, his head hanging downward, and he saw the spreading urine on the stone beneath him. He turned his face away with shame, his face burning, eyes burning. He heard Rookwood step towards him and he shuddered, lacking the strength now to even try to recoil away. He inched his head up a little but didn't dare look at the man's face.
"Using your mental connection to the Dark Lord to escape the pain." At this, Harry risked a glance up. "It didn't work. You split your consciousness and, in doing so, lost your control." Rookwood waved his wand, vanishing the mess. The humiliation remained. "It must have been a very desperate gambit indeed. If you had been discovered, well... the Dark Lord would have made you suffer for it."
Fear clenched at Harry's insides. He had yet to be discovered in Voldemort's mind by some luck. He had experienced Voldemort's direct attack only once when he had tried to possess Harry at the Ministry after Dumbledore's duel. There was nothing compared to the agony he endured while his mind was being crushed.
The pain in his scar ramped up suddenly. This was a familiar pain and with it came Harry's terror. The cold fury of Lord Voldemort took him completely and the cell dissolved away.
Embers and ash surrounded him where, in his rage, his magic caused the fire to explode. He was untouched, as was the man kneeling at his feet.
"I expect this level of incompetence from lesser men, Severus, but never you. I trusted Hogwarts to you and this is how you repay my generosity? With mediocrity?"
"My Lord, we did not anticipate how quickly the news of Potter's arrest would spread. By the time I myself learned of the news, the children were already missing."
"And how, exactly, were they able to learn of his capture so soon?"
"I believe they must have a… private method of communicating, my Lord. It is the only explanation. All the missing children were members of Potter's little extracurricular club. I expect this not to be a coincidence."
"All methods of communication are being monitored, Severus. I struggle to believe school children have invented a new method overnight."
"Whatever method they are using, my Lord, it has succeeded. Potter's known associates have vanished. None of the alarms placed around the school were triggered. Unless they have discovered a new secret passageway out of the school, which is unlikely, I must entertain the possibility that they are in the grounds, concealed."
He considered these words carefully… there was a place in the school that he knew himself that could easily conceal a group of children and protect them from discovery. The same place that he had discovered. Had his secret been uncovered by Potter and his unworthy friends? The thought blazed within him, causing him to grip on the sword and glare down at the blade. Had he underestimated the wits of those within that ridiculous pompous house of Gryffindor?
"Wherever they are, I want them discovered. Many of them are heirs to powerful families and are crucial to the new order. Losing the children means losing control and that is not acceptable."
He raised the sword, looking into the reflective blade, his own eyes blazing out at him, matching the vitality and vibrancy of the blood-red rubies, then he paced over to the fireplace, the embers moving aside as he approached. He set the sword on the mantelpiece where it remained, suspended by his magic. Taking his wand, his own wand this time, not the boy's, he gave it a small flick. The embers crawled back towards the grate, returning to the glowing hearth. The fire reignited, casting the hovering sword in golden light.
"Yaxley will answer for his failure in losing the Order, however I expected the allies of Dumbledore to be significantly more competent than a bunch of teenagers. Your failure in allowing children to outwit you is inexcusable."
"My Lord."
"I am not without mercy. You willingly admitted to your failures, an honourable and loyal trait that does not go unnoticed. I will spare you the indignity of the punishment for failing me, but, Severus, do not ever fail me again."
Something slammed into Harry's mind, wrenching him clear from Voldemort's. A strange mist hung in the maze and when he stepped into it, the world lurched upside down… his hair was ruffling in the wind, the night so clear, so beautiful, his heart raced with exhilaration. Hermione was screaming behind him, clinging onto him for dear life while he laughed, hands gripping Buckbeak's feathers… he was standing over Yaxley, watching him writhe on the green and silver carpet, a wand of holly clasped in his long, white fingers…
"Nnnngh!" He yelled against the muzzle as he returned to his own mind and his own memories that were being so ruthlessly rummaged through. Alarm and panic fuelled him as his mind was violated. The torment ended abruptly. The anger Harry felt was his own as he raised his head and glared at the man in front of him, seeing the wand aimed at his face. The pain in his scar had retreated to a faint burn.
Harry drew in a deep breath, piecing together what had just happened. He had managed to throw himself into Voldemort's mind… on purpose. Then when the pain had been too much for him, he lost control of himself. His resolve had collapsed under the strain. He initiated the connection, dropping any defences he had, and when Voldemort's anger seared into him, he had no resistance left. He'd been wide open… and still was. Rookwood had entered his mind with ease. Bile burned in his throat at the horror of the violation.
Rookwood lowered his wand, but moved in close. Harry flinched but didn't try to move. He couldn't, not when he was hanging helplessly from his shackles, strength sapped from his body. He saw the arm move, the hand reaching for his head, but there was nothing he could do as fingers gripped his hair, tugging down painfully to force him to look up. He gasped in pain and alarm. His eyes darted away, desperate to not meet those dark eyes, looking instead to the false window above him and the fallacy of sunlight. He felt a single tear drop onto his cheek.
"I cannot permit you to enter the Dark Lord's mind, Potter. On purpose or not. I will not hesitate to break into your mind again, regardless of my orders, to drag you out." At the hint of anger in his voice, Harry trembled. Just like he used to as a child when he heard Vernon's shouts of rage, growing in intensity and volume. It was that same feeling.
"Look at me, Potter." The order was quiet, not forceful. Harry felt his breath on his face. He was that close to him now. His fear was pitching higher and higher. As much as he wished he had the strength to defy the man, he didn't. He gave in and brought his gaze over, swallowing thickly as he did. He was so thirsty, so tired, in so much pain and he just wanted it to end. Meeting the man's gaze, he felt something tickle in his mind, like a scrape against his skull. It was small, a mere touch, but he knew that it had been Rookwood.
"You are still yet to pay your debt in full." Harry's eyes shuttered at the thought of having to endure more cruciatus before Rookwood was done with him. "I could be… convinced to cancel the debt in exchange for something else. Something a lot less painful." With this, he tightened his grip on Harry's hair, causing him to gasp and pull his head back further. "Perhaps you could give me the gratitude that you were so unwilling to dispense with earlier."
The hand gripping his hair then shifted to the top strap of his muzzle. Harry went still as he felt the man flick the buckle loose with his fingertips. He held onto his hair still and gave Harry's head a firm shake so the muzzle would drop from his mouth.
"What… are you doing?" The question was quiet on his lips as it mumbled out of him, his voice pitched with fear. He tried to make sense of what was going on, but he was struggling to keep up. Too much was going on, too much for him to handle in his current state.
"Giving you one chance. Thank me for healing you earlier and I will consider the debt settled. I will leave you for the night and may even slacken your chains."
Harry stared into those dark eyes.
It's just two words. It doesn't mean anything. This is about survival, not pride.
Survival? A bleaker voice combated in the back of his mind. Is survival even an option anymore?
No… they will come. They said they would.
And what if they don't? I give up for nothing. I will stop fighting for nothing. It'll be all for NOTHING.
"No," he said simply, "I'm not playing your games."
Rookwood let go of his hair. "Very well. In that case, I want to hear your pain in full." He moved back into position, "and no more mental excursions this time."
A brief silence fell as all eyes went to the diagram that lifted above the table, lines sketched in glowing gold light. A blueprint of sorts, simplified and adjusted with hand-made markings at certain points, it grew large enough so everyone could see it clearly.
"This is the only overlap between the underground and the Ministry." Hermione gestured with her wand. On the diagram, a point on the map was highlighted. "There are around fifty feet of earth, stone and general debris between the two. We need a blast that can clear that… or some means of making a breach."
"An explosion of that magnitude at that depth would cause significant damage - not to the Ministry - but to the muggle underground's infrastructure." Arthur regarded the diagram. "There has to be a safer way. Maybe we could transfigure it, rather than blow it up. It's more Minerva's department, of course."
"We can't risk communicating with her, not when the sentries are on high alert." Kingsley's deep voice reminded him. "Especially when we managed to get the kids out of Hogsmeade under their noses."
"Let me get this straight," Fred inched closer, pointing with his wand at the area Hermione highlighted, "this is the spot where we can breach the Ministry… potentially? It's right outside the Courtrooms… that's one hell of a fluke."
"It might be close, but the moment we breach the security and the wards, it'll alert the whole Ministry on our position," Kingsley said gravely, "and there will be only thirteen of us."
"Thirteen?" Ginny piped up, looking around the cramped living room and dining room, "I count eighteen… and that's including Hagrid." Eyes glanced outside to where Hagrid was standing guard. He had offered the duty, once he saw how small the house was and how many people were already squashed inside.
"Ginny… you are underage. You still have the trace." Arthur said quietly to her, "and Fleur has already volunteered to remain behind to protect the safehouse with Hagrid… and Hagrid being Hagrid… he's not suited to these sorts of, well… missions."
"What?" Ginny burst out, outraged, "you're saying I can't go? But Harry-."
"If you didn't have the trace, we wouldn't be having this discussion," Arthur said placatingly, "but you're only just sixteen…"
"I fought Death Eaters at the Ministry when I was only thirteen!"
"Ginny…" Charlie moved to her side, "no one is questioning how brave and strong you are, or how much Harry means to you."
"But… I can't just sit here while you go off and… not again." She looked around the room, realising that the planning had stopped and she gave a heavy sigh. "I'll endanger the mission if I go, I got it."
"Ginny…"
"No… I get it. First Harry pushes me away and now you too." A very uncomfortable silence fell at her words, but she remained where she was, face pink with anger but her eyes glittering with determination. Arthur gave her a sad look, knowing that she would unlikely ever forgive them but the risk was too great.
"No one is pushing you away, moron," George broke the silence.
"Ginny, I'll need you here to make sure my wife doesn't try to follow us," Remus said, looking over to Tonks who gave him a very surly look. "Dora will be guarding the rendezvous and we need people here to be ready to deal with whatever state we're in when we get back. You won't be alone. Hagrid and Fleur will be here too. We will set up safe zones for apparition outside the wards which you will need to guard - out in the open. There will still be a risk. A big one. The four of you will be Team Protego."
"Team Protego?" Fred scoffed. "We're getting team names?"
"I… drafted up a strategy with Kingsley," Remus carefully edged around the table, "and with Ron and Hermione's idea about breaching the Ministry with force, we came up with something that might… actually work."
Everyone was watching him, Ginny's outburst forgotten.
"There are four teams." Remus looked around the room quickly, "I'll get to who goes in which team later, but the plan is relatively simple. Each team will be responsible for removing an obstacle that stands between us and Harry. Now, the moment we breach the Ministry, it will not be subtle. The Death Eaters will pull Harry out of the Courtroom at the sheer hint of a risk, so we will have to move fast before they can secure him back in the Row. We have to delay that."
He gestured at the map with his wand and sketched a lightning bolt in one of the Courtrooms. "We are very certain that they will use Courtroom ten for the confession. There is a secret passage that links the Row to this room, for this reason it's used only for the most serious trials. All Death Eater trials in the past were held in that room. The irony will not be missed on them, I'm sure."
"We have infiltrated the Wizengamot," Kingsley took over, causing some gasps, "a number of them remain loyal to Dumbledore, but have been coerced and blackmailed through a number of different manipulations by the Death Eaters. They risk much to side with us, but I believe Harry's public sentencing and fake murder charges pushed them over the edge. We have two identities that we can use to enter the Ministry and be present during the trial."
Ron and Hermione shared looks, faces bright with determination. Remus noticed and he shook his head at them.
"You both have a much more important role to play in this. Myself and Kingsley will assume these identities. When the rest of you breach the Ministry's shell, we will ambush the Death Eaters and seek to stall them from taking Harry. We will be outnumbered significantly, but we have accepted the risk."
"Your plan is to distract Yaxley and Rookwood so they don't call Vol- you-know-who?" Hermione asked softly. "There will be other wizards in there… those enforcers Harry mentioned."
"And the Minister, his lackeys, the Wizengamot…" Bill stared at Remus, eyes wide, "it's suicide."
"It's necessary," Tonks piped up, "and from the sounds of it, these enforcers are a bunch of thick-heads who dropped out of school… uh, no offence." She looked at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.
"Wait… what's your team called?" Fred asked. Remus looked down and gave a little cough.
"Team Phoenix."
"Oh Merlin…" George shook his head, hiding a smirk."
"We're not expecting to fight them all off, if that's what you were thinking," Remus said, quickly continuing, "we need you to help us finish them, but before that, we need to think about the security in the hallway between the breach and the Courtrooms. It may be close, but there will still be a problem."
"Dementors," Hermione said when a confused silence fell briefly. Remus gave a firm nod.
"We know from Hermione and Ron that the Ministry has a large force of Dementors patrolling the Courtrooms and the muggleborn holding cells here. I expect there will be more towards the Row." As he mentioned the areas, they were highlighted on the map. Everyone stared at it. The highlighted areas surrounded the breach.
"We're going to need a lot of patronuses. So who here can cast a corporeal patronus?" Remus eyed the crowd. Hands went up, including Ron, Hermione, Neville and Seamus. The latter pair hovered at the back of the group, feeling awkward and self-conscious. Both had volunteered to help when the message had come through about getting Ginny out of the castle. Neville immediately volunteered and Seamus followed.
"They have Harry and they have Dean," he said simply. Dean had gone missing before the start of term. "I'm not sitting this one out."
"You all know how to cast a patronus?" Remus repeated, stunned, seeing that Fred and George also had their hands raised.
"Harry's a pretty good teacher," Neville said from the back with a shrug.
"Oh well then… I guess it's down to volunteers then. We thought it best if the seniors guard the breach from the dementors and reinforcements, but if more of us can repel the dementors… then there's less chance of being ambushed."
"We have two teams - Team Patronus and Team Lightning…"
"Lightning? Who chose these names?" George demanded.
"One team is defence - that's team patronus. The other is offense… the most important team and one that will be spearheaded by these two," Remus gestured to Ron and Hermione, "but they will be under Harry's cloak. Whatever happens, they have to get into the Courtroom, unseen, as quickly as possible, so they can get to Harry and get him undercover. Lightning will provide protection while also breaking down the damn door and causing as much noise and destruction as possible."
"That sounds like us, George," Fred muttered to his twin.
"We aren't hanging around to duel the entire Ministry. Just remember that," Remus said firmly, looking at the twins in particular, "you get in the Courtroom and give us the distraction we need to pull out, then we retreat back into the hallway. This will direct the line of fire away from Ron and Hermione… and hopefully Harry too at that point."
"Meanwhile, Team Patronus will need to keep the dementors at bay and keep the path back out the breach clear. We will all have charmed tokens to activate when reinforcements arrive so we know when to make a swift exit."
"But… what if reinforcements arrive and we haven't got Harry?" Ron asked at once.
"You'll reach Harry," Remus said with certainty, "we'll make certain of it."
"But… what if something goes wrong? What if he comes?"
"Then we fail," Kingsley's reply caused all eyes to look over to him, wide with shock. "The moment that you-know-who enters the picture, we leave."
"We… leave?" Ron repeated, glancing over to Hermione, "without Harry?"
"Losing Harry… it's not something any of us want to even consider as a possibility, but we must consider it. If it came down to losing Harry or losing everyone, for the sake of all, we have to choose the fight over him."
A horrible silence fell at the words. Hermione shivered, hugging her arms, and felt someone move to her side, seeing long red hair at the edge of her vision. Ginny.
"What will you-know-who do to him if he takes him?" Ginny asked, eyes hard and firm as she looked at Kingsley, daring him to meet her gaze.
Kingsley glanced around, noticing that everyone was watching him for an answer. "We are already in unknown waters. The Death Eaters were under orders to deliver Harry to you-know-who immediately if he was ever captured. That never happened and instead they chose this more public route, making Harry's downfall a symbol intended to crush morale. Albus always said that you-know-who would want to kill Harry himself and that he would likely wish to do it with all his Death Eaters present, to prove once and for all that he has no equal."
"Their overconfidence has given us this golden opportunity to save Harry from that fate," Remus said forcefully, "we have to succeed. There's no other option."
There were nods around the table, determination set in their faces. Remus looked over to Arthur.
"I… I just want to say. I know you and your family are risking everything for this..."
"Please, Remus," Molly moved over to him, putting a hand on his arm, "you don't need to say anything. We know the risks. Arthur and I will protect the breach… and maybe a couple of others can help us drive the dementors away. Everyone will make it out."
"We will get Harry out. I swear it," Ron said fiercely, "even if I have to carry him out of there."
"I'll join mum and dad at the breach," Charlie said, looking across to his parents, "keep any straggler enforcers busy."
"Then I'll be with you too," Bill growled from his side, smacking his brother on the arm. "The young blood can take the glorious charge then. I hope you have some tricks to cause enough chaos."
Fred and George wore wicked grins. "Chaos is our specialty. We managed to… sneakily repossess some of our merchandise before leaving. You want a distraction? We'll give you mayhem… and maybe a little payback mixed in too. They trashed our shop."
"And I'm there too… you know, the twins' favourite side-kick," Lee Jordan waved from behind, giving them a wink.
"We'll guard Ron and Hermione," Neville spoke up from, "make sure they get to Harry. We can protect them." Seamus nodded.
"That looks like we have our teams then. Four to guard the breach in the hallway, seven to break into the Courtroom. We'll need disguises…"
"Masks? Like… Death Eaters?" Neville asked, alarmed.
"Well… it would be kinda cool," Fred mused, "what about white robes? Because we're the light?" George groaned.
"White? Really?"
"What about red?" Lee proposed. "We're all gryffindors, right?"
"Hufflepuff here," Tonks said with a slight sniff. "But as I'm not allowed to due to my...condition..." She rubbed her bump. "I guess I don't count." There were a lot of stammerings and blustering at her remark. She smirked at them. "Calm down, dolts. I'm not stupid. Just don't mess it up and get your butts landed in Azkaban. I want this kid to have a world with you lot in it."
Remus gave her a warm smile, but the weariness and worry was clear on his face.
"Can we have the wardrobe debate come after we decide how to do this whole thing without dying miserable deaths?" Charlie moaned, clearly eager to move the topic on.
"Ugh, such a kill-joy."
"Wh… what about some of the stuff Harry told us?" Ron blurted out suddenly. "He said about that guy who's pretty decent. Is there any chance we could get him to give Harry a message? I dunno about you, but if I was Harry right now, I'd like some good news."
Kingsley looked thoughtful. "It is possible, I suppose. If we got a message to him before the trial, it would certainly give him more of a fighting spirit. He'd be less likely to be… taken away quietly."
"I hope Harry's kicked one of them in the nuts by now," Ron said darkly.
"Just… bear in mind that by this point, Harry would have been in their custody for four or five days. We don't know what shape he's in."
"We might need some potions," Hermione said, looking over to Kingsley, "anything that could help him get on his feet. Pepper-ups or fluid replenishers. Maybe pain relief?" He nodded to her, eyes understanding.
"A very good idea."
"He won't have a wand either," pointed out Ron, "does anyone… I dunno… have a spare?"
"I'll see what I can do," Kingsley said, then he checked the time, "we still have to decide on a method of clearing the breach, but I think we've made progress on the plan."
"Progress? We have a lot to fine-tune…" Hermione said, aghast, looking at the diagram. "We need to work out how much time we have to get into the Courtroom before Harry's out of reach… and how many people will be in attendance? And we don't know if there will be additional Death Eaters or…"
"All things we can work on tomorrow," Remus said to her with a knowing smile. "Staying up all night planning will just make us all drained. It's essential that everyone is well-rested."
"How many hours is it until we need to be in that Courtroom?" Bill asked.
"The 'public confession', or whatever the Ministry is calling it, is scheduled for 10am Monday so… uh. Who's good at Maths?"
"Hermione," several people said at once. Hermione scowled at them and thought for a moment, working it out.
"Around… thirty-six hours," she said, then went cold as she said it. "That… isn't long."
"No, but look on the bright side," Ron said, "in thirty-six hours, we're going to break into the Ministry, again, and break out Harry Potter. Fourteen of us - against the Ministry of Magic… and some Death Eaters. And maybe you-know-who…" He trailed off. A nervous silence followed his words.
"Ron… never try to be optimistic ever again," George muttered incredulously, shaking his head.
Harry lost track of how many times he'd been subjected to Rookwood's cruciatus curse. He hung from his shackles in a complete daze. He closed his eyes as he focused only on three things and put all his concentration into them. In the breaks between the pain, he focused on breathing. In - count to five - out - count to five. Breathing was normal. Breathing was in his control. He also focused on blocking out the pain, which was a lot harder than breathing, and it did it by focusing on the more mundane pains in his body. The burning aches in his shoulders, the searing pain in his hand, the bruises across his chest. They were normal pains. A muggle would feel this sort of pain… probably not all at once, but aches and bruises are normal.
The third thing was the hardest. He concentrated on not showing his pain. He refused to scream. No matter how hard it got, he would not let this man hear him scream. Even if he had to bite through his own tongue to do it. He knew that Rookwood was pushing him beyond his limit. He was starting to feel the strain on his mind.
"I wonder… Potter… are you aware that you have blocked your mind?" Rookwood had been silent for a while. Between curses, he let Harry have a breather, whether this was intentional to keep him sane, or some twisted mercy, Harry had no idea. He used the time to steady himself.
"I don't think... this is the usual way to… learn occlumency," Harry croaked out. His efforts in not screaming out loud had put a lot of strain on his throat. He was desperate for something to drink to soothe it. The thought that he would have to wait an entire night for a drink was too much for him right now.
"All mind magics require an exceptional degree of focus and self-discipline. You are at your most focused when the stakes are at their highest. When it's life or death."
"Fat load of good… it's doing me now." Harry coughed as his voice rasped to a near whisper.
"If you had been taught properly, you would have been able to harness that focus and use it to shield your mind… at all times. Why… you might have been able to protect yourself from the Dark Lord's manipulations of your mind or would have at least seen the trick before you fell for it."
Harry opened his eyes to slits. His eyes were sore and the light made him cringe. He felt his chest tighten in anger at the casual mention of what led to Sirius's death, but then he let out a weak huff through his nose.
"Torturing me with my own guilt now? Cruciatus lost its sting?"
"I am just observing that you are a lot more capable than you perhaps even know." Again with the compliments. Harry's weary mind picked up on the word, feeling revolted by it.
"Observing?" Harry repeated, voice husky. "You… you're studying me."
"Did it really take you this long to notice?" Rookwood approached.
Harry's heart was thundering in his chest. He tried to recall the snippets of that dream he had with Rookwood and Voldemort in it, but his mind was too frazzled to think straight. The details were washed away, but he knew… he knew they had been talking about him.
"But… why?"
"Because the reports about you were wrong," Rookwood said simply, "as I told you."
"So? What's the point in… in studying me when I'm going to die anyway?" He said hoarsely, hating how his voice broke.
"I study everything and everyone, Potter. Especially the things that intrigued me or where the facts elude me. When I found that you were quite different to how I'd been led to believe, I felt it my duty to make my own hypothesis."
Harry felt like he was going to be sick, but he had nothing inside him.
"What's the point? Voldemort's going to kill me whether he thinks I'm an idiotic brat or not."
When the name left Harry's lips, he could almost taste the curse on it. Usually, it would roll out of him, no thrill of fear as it gave so many others. He'd mastered the fear of the name early in his life when he'd faced him down alone. When it parted from him now, he felt instant dread.
He just disrespected Voldemort in front of one of his most devoted Death Eaters. One that had been torturing him for the last hour or longer, one that would continue to do so for days to come. He expected a reaction.
Rookwood seized him around the jaw and yanked him up against the wall, slamming his head against the stone. The sudden attack stunned Harry. He gazed at him, eyes wide with fright, legs feebly trying to kick but came up against the shackles. Harry could feel the man's long fingernails digging into his jaw and neck.
"I will tolerate your defiance up to a point. Besmirch the Dark Lord's name again and I will make you pay for it. There is no Severus to safeguard your wellbeing here."
Rather than feel fear at the threat, Harry did something rather stupid.
"What could you possibly do to me that's worse than this?" He hissed at him and met the man's eyes. When he saw the anger in the usually so composed and intense eyes, he felt the lurch of fear in his stomach.
"Do you want to find out?" Rookwood asked him. Harry kept his gaze, feeling a slight pull on his mind again. His scar prickled, his muscles trembled from the torture, his throat was burning and his head was throbbing with a pulsating headache that he had no reprieve from. Did he really want to make this worse?
I'm already unable to hold a wand. Do I really want to make myself more injured just out of defiance? What if he breaks a foot or… takes an eye?
Both eyes are pretty useless… and I can't exactly run.
"Alright. Fine." The moment he whispered the words, he felt a sinking feeling. Defeat. He'd not felt it quite so keenly since he first woke up in the chains. The despair was lingering under his skin.
No. I don't care what he does. I will never… never show any respect towards that monster. They will have to silence me to keep me in line. They can take everything from me, but I will never give up my fight.
"Just so we're clear though," he said quietly, heart racing, "which name is it? Tom? Tom Marvolo Riddle? Or do you mean the one he made up - Lord Voldemort?"
"I want to see your face when I do this," Rookwood said, voice calm once again, the anger retreating away, replaced by that intensity. Harry couldn't move his head from his grip, try as he might. He saw Rookwood raise his wand and gesture upwards to above Harry's head.
"Unguem ruinus."
Harry felt it at once on his left forefinger. A needle pierced through the nail. It ripped a cry out from him. He rubbed his middle finger over the nail, but there was nothing there. But then he felt it pull and the horrible understanding of what was about to happen made the blood drain from his face.
"No… no." He gasped out and then winced as the pressure in his finger mounted. He wiggled his finger, but nothing stopped it. The nail was slowly tearing out his finger. When it parted, Harry let loose a loud anguished cry. The pain lashed down his hand, down his arm and up to the back of his head. He heard a soft tap on the floor.
"And it's for both names." Rookwood said, raising his wand again. Harry stiffened in horror. "Unless… you wish to apologise to me."
Harry could feel the blood trickling down his finger, hot on his skin. He drew in a breath.
In… 1, 2, 3,...
"Unguem ruinus."
This time, it was his right hand, which made it all the more worse. He couldn't stop the scream this time as the fingernail ripped out his broken finger. His vision was trembling from his rapid heartbeat, a reaction to the physical torture.
Rookwood let go of his face and his head slumped forward. He counted his breathing, the pain in his fingers retreating a little. They were stinging furiously, but the initial pain had been the worst.
"I'll make sure that Yaxley provides the same punishment. Consistency in these matters yields the best results." Harry felt ill. He was talking about what just happened like it was as common-place as getting points off for a snide remark. He'd just had his fingernails ripped out… and they were on the floor somewhere.
"I recall there had been a question. You asked me 'what's the point?' What is the point in me studying you if you're going to die anyway? That's what you wanted to know, yes?"
Harry lifted his head a little, looking up at the man, wondering why he was still continuing as if nothing had just happened. But then this was what he did. He would torture for a couple of minutes, then act like nothing had happened. It was disorientating.
"Don't sulk. You can answer me. Yes or no." The way ordered him made Harry cringe inwardly. He didn't want to answer, but he always wanted to know what Rookwood's game was. If he wanted to survive, somehow, getting to know his captors might help him out later.
"Yes," he replied, voice quiet and raspy.
"I wish to see if you are of more use alive than dead. Not just to the Dark Lord and his cause, but to the Noble Families and their future dynasties. You are not just Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. You are also the last of your line. The Potter family is one of the oldest of the ancient bloodlines. You are heir to a very powerful House, even if you are a half-blood."
Harry weighed every single word, ignoring the stinging pain in his fingers as much as he could. It sounded so ridiculous. He'd be spared so he could be… no… Harry could see in his mind the Black family tree in number 12, Grimmauld Place. The links between all the pureblood families were orchestrated to create more powerful bloodlines. Blood purity at its most tenacious.
They spared the Weasleys even though they are loyal to Dumbledore because they are pureblood. They value blood purity above everything… but surely they wouldn't spare me? I'm the mortal enemy of Voldemort. It's ridiculous.
"The Dark Lord values one thing above all others, Potter," Rookwood continued after a brief moment of quiet, "Power."
There is no good or evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it. Voldemort's words returned to him, creeping out of an old memory. Harry shook his head.
"Th… that may be true, but if he really… cared about all that, he wouldn't have… targeted me and my parents. If it… hadn't backfired, there'd be no Potters left."
"A fair point, but considering what did happen, you've proven to be hard to kill. Besides, discarding the power that you've inherited from your father's line and not using it ourselves seems… wasteful."
Harry stared at him in disbelief.
"Using it? I… I'd rather die than be used by you people."
"You're implying that you have a choice," Rookwood tilted his head as he regarded him, "though… you would make it very difficult. I've heard that you can fully throw off the imperius curse. Perhaps it is too late for you to be turned, but there are other ways. Certain… spells that can harvest from you-."
"NO! You… you're sick!" Harry cottoned on. "Tha… that's… evil. It's not enough that he took my blood?" He felt his panic burst free and he looked around wildly, trying to find anything to help him out of this hell.
"I see that this upsets you greatly."
"Go to hell, you… sick bastard!"
"Does it not please you that you will at least leave behind a legacy?"
"You perverted creep! A legacy that was made against my will? Chil… children raised to serve Volde- him, the man that MURDERED MY PARENTS!" He lost it and screamed out the words, his anger blinding him completely. "You think that would… please me? Are you out of your fucking MIND?"
He felt the tearing in his throat at his screams, but he was so possessed with rage and horror, he couldn't care.
Such rage…
His scar seared with pain and he yelled at the sudden onslaught, back arching.
"NO!" He shouted.
Such pain…
"Get… get out of my head…" he managed to grind out the words.
I heard what you said to my loyal friend. Tut tut… such bad language. What would Dumbledore say if he heard you?
He was then ripped out of the room and he was suddenly back in that drawing room, the fire crackling. The sword of Godric Gryffindor shining magnificently above the fireplace, rubies and silver shining bright.
"You see the sword, Harry?" the voice was suddenly not in his head but spoken. The same soft, high voice. "Dumbledore's bequest to you, his greatest champion, the one who slew my basilisk with this very blade."
Harry tried to leave the connection, but whenever he retreated back to himself, he felt the presence in his mind coiling around him like a snake. It imprisoned him just as the quaesitor had.
Are you going to kill me with it? Harry found himself thinking.
"Not… quite," Voldemort said and Harry realised that he was speaking in parseltongue. He only figured it when he saw the figure on the floor glance up in confusion. A figure that happened to be Severus Snape.
"You will be reunited with it soon, Harry. I will conquer you and take the sword for my own."
Suddenly he was returned to his own body and agony crashed into him. He felt himself straighten, body no longer working under his own control.
Let me go!
"Rookwood," Harry said, but it wasn't him. It was his voice and he felt his mouth move. His voice was rough from his screaming.
Rookwood was staring with open shock, face slackened. Whatever he saw in Harry's eyes, it was enough for him to get down on a knee.
"My… lord?"
"Leave the boy out of your machinations. He is mine and mine alone, understand?"
Rookwood raised his head, his composure lost for a moment, then he gave a nod.
"Yes, my lord."
The grip around Harry's mind relinquished and he regained control. He slumped his head back against the wall, shaking violently, but he knew it wasn't over.
I will be coming for you in two days, Harry. I know… it's before your appointed date, but we have things to discuss… things for only you and me. Hold onto your rage. I want to see it leave your eyes.
Harry closed his eyes, tears tracing down his cheeks. Two days… that's it. His heart ached and he thought of Hermione, her voice whispering out the wall, he thought of her brown eyes, crinkled in the corners with concern, her wild hair… all those things that he'd never see again. Why he thought of her at that moment, he didn't know, but he felt an anger bloom in his mind that wasn't his own.
Just like that, Voldemort was gone.
Rookwood rose from the floor and silently crossed the room towards Harry. Neither of them spoke. The Death Eater waved his wand and the chains above Harry suddenly lengthened. His shoulders creaked as he bent his elbows, gasping in relief. His relief was very short-lived when the man then grabbed the silencer and pressed it into Harry's face. The time for words was over. Harry watched the man's face as the leather tightened around his lips and chin, seeing the uncertainty and fear. He couldn't help but feel pleasure in how shaken the man was, especially after the horrific things he had said.
When the man left and the silence fell once again, Harry hunched down, enjoying the relief in his arms. Both hands were streaked with blood and he'd seen the bloodied nails on the stone.
It was only then, in the silence, that he understood what Voldemort had shown him.
The sword wasn't just symbolic. It was going to be turned into a horcrux with Harry's death.
Please… Ron, Hermione… Remus… anyone. Please help me.
AN:
Hi everyone! I know there's a lot of plot dumping in here. Sorry if it's a lot at once! Wanted to show that there are different angles within the Death Eaters and that maybe some might be more inclined to preserve bloodlines than just kill all that stand in their way. Plus wanted to get in Snape, the Order, Harry and the big LV.
Next chapter is the big Courtroom showdown so we move into action - hooray! Will do my best to get the next chapter up within a week. Gonna be a big one!