Hambares! Thanks for sticking with me! What can I say? Organized religion and I have a shady past but nothing like what you read about in the papers. So glad you like it so far!
the-dreamer4 Welcome! Thrilled you like muddy!Harry and the Widow. Thanks!
This chapter is for the both of you ! Hope you enjoy!
The Potter's Tale
Chapter Two
Enter the Witch-finder
The next day, Harry woke in a world of pain on straw-covered stone in a small cell with only bars for a door. First, the father of the child he saved had beaten him. Then Father Malfoy had beaten him somewhat worse, dragged him by the hair into the church down a flight of sharp and pointy stone steps, and tossed him into here. Harry knew why of course. Part of him had known what would happen to him. He could not have done anything else. The clay had called to him, had told him about the little girl. He couldn't just sit there and listen to a sermon letting her die.
Last night Father Malfoy returned. He was angry. At first Harry was certain Father Malfoy was going to beat him again. He did worse than that. He talked to Harry in his softest, coldest voice. He told him the evil Harry committed was reversed. The little girl was given by her father back to the river and back to God. Harry already knew. The clay told him. He just didn't know how or why. Hearing the details from Father Malfoy made everything worse. Father Malfoy said other things that Harry could only half remember. Vernon was now under suspicion. Father Malfoy thanked him for being lazy and not coming to church when he was younger. Then he said something about a witch-finder.
"Not a witch," Harry croaked out.
"How might you possibly know? Such things are for a witch-finder to decide," said Father Malfoy.
Later that night a very clean looking boy about Harry's age with white blonde hair and pale grey eyes brought him a metal cup of water and some stale black bread to dip in it. He stood watching as Harry crawled to it. He watched Harry eat with a sort of amused fascination.
"Thank you." Harry said after he had finished. "I'm Harry. What's your name?"
"Draco," the boy answered after only a few moments of indecision.
Harry tried his best to smile and make pleasant conversation, "Are you Father Malfoy's son?"
The boy made a very unpleasant face and spat on Harry through the bars. Harry never saw him again. A day passed. No one came. Another day passed.
As Harry lay on the straw in the corner of his cell floating in and out of delirium, he listened to the clay. It sang to him. It told him that everything would be all right. There were others, the clay said, others who like Harry could hear the clay. The clay would send help to him. The clay would always take care of Harry as Harry had taken care of the clay.
The next thing Harry knew he could hear other voices. One belonged to Father Malfoy. The other he did not recognize. The voice- he could feel it resonating inside of him. He wondered if it were God. God talked to priests, didn't he? Harry heard the door of the cell swing open.
"Deplorable," said God.
"A witch then?"
"I meant the conditions. How am I supposed to work in this? Has this boy received food and water?"
"Yes of course. Daily. I assigned young Draco to the task."
Harry felt a hand on his forehead. It was long, cool and soft. Then a finger thrust abruptly into his mouth touching his tongue.
"This boy is dry as a bone. You should have a word with your son- Father."
"He is -not- my-"
"Father Malfoy! This boy is your responsibility. I do not like to be saved the trouble of carrying out mine. If this boy dies before I can determine him a witch, I will have to wonder why -you- wished to save a suspected witch from receiving his just punishment. Make no mistake. I -will- find a witch in this village. It makes little difference to me whether I find this boy, or whether I find another, perhaps one hiding even now in this very church. Bring water and broth now!"
"Right away, Witch-finder."
As soon as Father Malfoy left Harry felt cool fingers behind his neck lifting his head carefully. Harry tried to open his eyes. The lids were too heavy. It was like trying to lift two impossibly large slabs of stone out of the way so he could see. Harry didn't have the strength. It didn't matter anyway. The clay was mistaken, for he didn't think it would lie to him. It wouldn't be all right. Help, if help were on the way was already too late.
Harry felt a glass vial pressed to his bottom lip. "Drink," said the witch-finder.
Harry tried. He did. The liquid tasted like poison. Poison was a kindness now, yes. He tried to drink the poison but could not swallow. He choked and dribbled it out again.
"Let us try again," the witch-finder said very softly.
This time Harry managed to swallow a bit. His throat felt raw. Then he could feel the liquid sliding down, hydrating as it went. Harry sipped down the rest of the poison gratefully. It coursed through his body spreading warmth and health and taking pain away.
"Thank you," Harry whisper, managing to open his eyes at last. This man was impressive, frighteningly so. He was very tall and fit. Though he dressed entirely in black like father Malfoy, this man's garb was mostly suede and shiny black leather. The man had long black hair and wore a high black hat. His hands and face looked as though he travelled only at night and never saw the sun. His features put Harry in the mind of some sharp-eyed, sharp-beaked bird of prey, something that swept down from on high to tear a tender life into strips of bloody flesh. Strangely enough, Harry liked the way the man looked.
"One more, then you will play dead while Father Malfoy tries his very best to drag you back to the land of the living."
Harry drank the contents of the next vial. Suddenly he felt very alert but calm. "Who are you?"
"The priest returns. Be clever now."
When Father Malfoy entered with two bowls one of water and one of broth and a spoon, the Witch-finder stood in exactly the same spot looking impatient and more than a little vexed. Father Malfoy did his best to stop his hands from shaking and began nursing Harry back to life.
The witch-finder silently moved closer, making Father Malfoy start when the witch-finder's cape brushed him. When the broth and water had been dutifully spooned into Harry, Father Malfoy turned slowly to look up into the face of the witch-finder. He searched that face for any sign of humanity, any bit of mercy, any trace of God. What he found he would write off as his imagination later. For now, it chilled him to the bone.
The witchfinder simply held his gaze allowing Father Malfoy to contemplate the consequences of failure on his part for just a few moments longer. Then he briskly said, "Well done. I believe this witch will live."
Malfoy who was still kneeling from his task sagged in relief and wiped the sleeve of his cassock over his damp brow. When he stood again he seemed to have collected himself and realized that he was still a priest, "So," he said clapping his hands together, "a witch then."
"Clearly, an ordinary boy would have died by now. I will take him immediately."
"Oh. I had hoped- you see, Witch-finder, this is a small village which could certainly benefit from a spectacle-"
"I do have orders."
"Of course. And who-?"
"Father Malfoy," the witch-finder said as he whirled abruptly as though he had just thought of something. The move made his cloak fan and billow about him almost supernaturally. "Perhaps our leaving could be- a small spectacle for a small village?"
"Oh thank you, Witch-finder! This is wonderful news. There is simply nothing better than a spectacle of suffering to bring the wayward flocking home to God."
"Indeed. When I arrive at my destination I will mention to appropriate authorities that you were helpful in this matter."
"Witch-finder, I will pray daily for continued success in your endeavors."
The witch-finder drew on black suede gloves covered on the backs with metal spikes. Miraculously, from out of the stealth of his cape, the witch-finder drew yards of huge clanking chain, spiked manacles and leg irons. He efficiently imprisoned Harry wrists and ankles. The Witch-finder pulled him roughly by the chain to his feet, out the cell door, up steep narrow steps, through another door, down a hall, and out of the church. Harry blinked back the daylight. He had stumbled and fallen several times in the church, twice on the steps, but somehow was not hurt. The stone simply gave way and cushioned him. The manacles he was pulled by had spikes on the inside. They too gave way, cushioning his skin. Still, something that looked and smelled like blood trickled freely from his ankles and wrists, dripping down his hands and fingers.
Outside, the witch-finder tied a length of rope to the chain on Harry's manacles and tied off the other end to the saddle of a large black stallion. The man mounted effortlessly, sat very straight, held up gloved fingers to just touch the brim of his hat to Father Malfoy and lead Harry behind his horse through the village. Some people threw small stones at Harry. Some people threw rotten eggs and vegetables. Everything seemed to bounce off before hitting him. Everyone was especially careful not to hit the fine horse or, God forbid, the witch-finder.
When Harry neared the potters, he noticed that Vernon was waiting there for him. Vernon made a grand show of shouting loudest and throwing as many stones as possible at him. Then Harry passed by the Widow Figg's place. She smiled and gave him a knowing wink. When they completed the grand tour of the only place Harry had ever known and had entered the forest. Harry's rescuer slowed and dismounted. He rounded on the few children still following, still tossing things at Harry, ordering them to run home before they got eaten- by something. Harry had never seen any of them run so fast. Suddenly the large black stallion faded into a large pile of dried leaves. It blew away on the coming storm, as did the straw that became of his manacles and leg irons. The witch-finder stepped closer to Harry holding out long suede dressed fingers. "Give me your hand."
-Soon up, Chapter 3- Starting Over. All reviews, comments, suggestions, corrections, flames even, adored and appreciated!
