Chapter 5 : Belgrade

Harry woke up in total obscurity. He was lying in some sort of box with his legs and hands tied and a gag in his mouth. His first thought was that he was buried alive, locked inside a grim coffin. For the better part of the next five minutes, he tried to scream, even though his obstructed mouth didn't make any sound. His tied hands were scratching against the wooden part of the box. His eyes became tearful.

Then, he (somehow) managed to calm himself. He was still alive. He needed to focus on that. Not that it was good news anyway. He was allowed to live – but what would take place during the last moments of his life?

Harry tried to suppress his panic again – and winced when he realized he couldn't close it one of his eyes. The whole side of his face was sore and swollen. It pained him to even wince. Something during the fight had broken his cheekbone.

The fight.

Suddenly Harry recalled everything – and winced again. He was in Belgrade, Serbia. He came here with the Lestranges to find a rogue Death Eater. His name was Karkaroff. They tortured witnesses, tracked him down and found him in a villa downtown. And then they fought.

Then a red beam hit Harry on the side of his head and everything became pitch black.

Panic hit Harry again like a truck. Bellatrix told him that Karkaroff was nothing but a traitorous coward, but Harry knew better than to believe her. He had seen enough of the Death Eaters to know all of them were psychotic sadists. If Karkaroff left Harry alive, it was to torture him, plain and simple. There was no half measure with people like Death Eaters.

People like him.

And so it was. Harry was (literally and figuratively) left in the dark. The silence was deafening. But it wasn't the worst of it. That would be not knowing how long it was going to last and what would happen if he was released. What would a rogue Death Eater do to him? Harry tried to not think about it and focused on counting every dreadful second that passed – but soon enough stopped, as he wasn't sure what number was past seventy-two.

Seventy-three seemed like an obvious answer, though.

But the opening of the box got him out of his scientific thoughts. After so many hours in the darkness, the light was blinding.

There was a tall man leaning over him. He was a behemoth – even taller than Rodolphus – with a skin that looked like leather, enormous shoulders and a very small neck. He wore an Auror dress. Harry knew it because it was the same one his father had in his closet. But it didn't seem like a British one. Instead of the Union Jack symbol, the pin showed the Serbian flag. The Auror's teeth were uneven which made his grin terrifying.

But before Harry thought anymore about the unflattering appearance of this man, the Auror reached down and dragged him out of the box with a single, violent moment. Harry tried to stand up, but he was so tired, he fell. His legs felt like jelly. The man lifted him up without any carefulness. His expression was contemptuous. So were his movements.

When the Auror drew his wand, Harry felt horrified. But the man didn't try to harm him. With a flicker of his wand, he simply made the gag disappear and cut the cords out of his wrists and legs. Harry felt the urge to run but he couldn't move.

"Follow me and don't ask questions," the man said. His voice was as emotionless as deep. He spoke with a heavy accent that confirmed that English wasn't his native language. "Karkaroff wants to see you."

"W-What?" Harry asked. His voice was raspy. Talking felt like a draining exercise.

"Over here," the Serbian Auror said. "Karkaroff said he wants to speak with you."

Knowing better than to ask questions he didn't want to know the answer, Harry simply nodded. He simply took a deep breath and looked at his surroundings. He was in some sort of hallway. The ground he walked on was totally immaculate, made of white marble that almost reflected light. A bowl of orchids stood on a table – Harry thought it certainly emptied the flower shop. The corridor was enlightened by a beautiful chandelier. Dozens of crystals were twinkling brilliantly like a firework display.

And it was only the hallway.

But being richly decorated didn't make the house any beautiful. Quite the contrary, in fact. Harry felt like the purpose of this place was to make the guests feel shameful of their own house. The emerald velvet curtains felt too over-the-top. The golden handles of the oak doors felt too luxurious. The whole place felt too posh.

"You go in here…" the Serbian Auror commanded, before knocking on a door. He didn't even wait for a reply; a few seconds later, he simply opened the door and pushed Harry inside.

Karkaroff was in front of him. He was sitting behind an oversized antique desk made of dark wood. He was framed by two windows with green silk curtains and a view out to the surrounding forest. On his right, Harry could see a stone fireplace – probably used to travel with the floo powder. Karkaroff was wolfing down a plate of Goulash. Harry could smell the aroma of paprika-spiced stew and roasted meat. He suddenly felt hungry – and if this little journey in eastern Europe taught him something, it was that Serbian food tasted delicious.

Harry's stomach made a deep sound. As if he just noticed him, Karkaroff looked at him and smiled.

"Boy, my curse did a number on you," he chuckled. His voice was deep and raspy. His rough accent influenced every syllable he pronounced. Even his laugh was intimidating. "Look at yourself. In the mirror on your left."

Harry obeyed and walked on his left. He was lucky the mirror wasn't placed too high – otherwise, he'd have to jump. When he examined himself in the mirror, he winced in horror. It was worse than what he thought. His left eye was half closed. A huge yellow bruise made his cheek look like a rotting fruit. Some beads of blood were leaking around the gash where the curse hit him. Harry shivered. It reminded him that he was in danger.

He wanted to cry. Call Sirius and Mum. He almost did and if he had, he was sure Karkaroff would have killed him there and then.

"Sit down," Karkaroff said, conjuring an empty chair with his wand. Harry obeyed and walked toward it, although it felt more like he was floating. When he sat down, Karkaroff had finished his meal. His goatee was stained with soup. Next to his hand was a small bottle full of a transparent liquid that didn't seem like water. Harry remained silent, waiting in dread for his dark, brown eyes to settle on him.

"What is your name, kid?" Karkaroff asked after a few seconds.

"H-Harry P… Harry Lestrange," Harry answered with a shiver. He forgot his new name and couldn't say his family name. He refused to expose Mum and Benjy to these monsters.

"Lestrange, huh? You're Bella's brat?"

Harry nodded. Karkaroff took a cigarette out of a golden case and lit it with his wand. He inhaled the smoke then exhaled it towards Harry – who couldn't help but cough. The smell was awful.

"That is odd. Word out was that Bella was sterile," Karkaroff shrugged, as if Harry could understand what he meant. "You seem young, though. How old are you?"

"I-I'm five, s-sir," Harry replied.

"Five, huh? And your Mum brings you with her on a raid?" Karkaroff laughed. "Parenting at its finest."

The irony of the situation was so strong, Harry wanted to laugh too.

"Well… Igor Karkaroff," Karkaroff reprised. "That is my name."

Karkaroff stopped laughing. He was deadly serious.

"You must wonder why you are still breathing, brat," he continued. "In fact, if you were not Bella's son – although I can't see the resemblance – you wouldn't be alive. Right after you took my curse in the face, I took you and apparated out of my hiding house to my personal manor. I thought about dropping you in the Danube River and watch you drown. It would have been quite amusing to see you flail and die. But now… You'll tell me everything there's to know about why your Mum wants to kill me and..."

"About that…"

Harry opened his mouth to answer. But without a warning, Karkaroff stood up, walked round the desk and slapped him without warning. The blow wasn't a hard one and Harry took worse throughout his month of life with Bellatrix Lestrange. However, his cheekbone was already broken and the fresh pain made Harry dizzy. Red spots appeared in front of his eyes. He wanted to throw up.

By the time Harry recovered, Karkaroff was in front back in his seat. "You never interrupt me. Never. And when you speak to me, you call me 'sir'. Understood?"

"Y-Yes. Sir," Harry quickly added.

"Good. Now, there is something you need to understand about me. I'm very careful. Right now, the wizarding word is changing. The old ways are being left behind. The ones we used to call "Mudbloods" are slowly but surely becoming most of our population. For those of us with the vision to see what is possible, the rewards are limitless. I am not like your bigot father and your bitchy mother: I do not want to exterminate mudbloods. Why kill them when we can make them second class citizen for free labor? Why kill them when we can snatch them when they're young and give them a pureblood education? Wouldn't it be smarter than blindly kill them?"

Harry nodded. He was too young to comprehend half of what Karkaroff just said but he understood enough to know that he wasn't any better than the Lestrange or Nott.

"As soon as I learned that Benjamin Potter killed the Dark Lord, I left. It was the perfect opportunity to turn my back on them and come back to Serbia. I testified against every Death Eater I knew to secure my liberty and I ran," Karkaroff continued, exhaling a new cloud of smoke. "But I forgot that your bigoted family would probably want me dead. When I was still a Death Eater, I hated both your father and your mother."

Karkaroff smiled. His yellow, uneven teeth made it terrifying.

"A pity for them I just captured their boy."

Harry's heart sank. Karkaroff stubbed out the cigarette. He was bored with the interview and wanted it to be over.

"What will you do to escape torture, Harry Lestrange?" Karkaroff questioned as he stood up.

"I'll do anything you want," Harry pleaded, feeling tears in his eyes.

"Will you?" Karkaroff asked.

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded.

"Anything, really?" he insisted.

"Yes…" Harry repeated. But he suddenly felt very uneasy. As if he made a terrible mistake.

And the look of triumph in Karkaroff's eyes confirmed it. It was the very worst thing Harry could have said.

"Let's see, then." Karkaroff smiled and opened the bottle on the desk. Harry almost forgot about it. Karkaroff conjured six glasses and then poured the content of the bottle in one of them. He then used his wand to fill the remaining five glasses with water. With a flicker of his wand, he shuffled the glasses so fast they seemed to disappear. When it was over, it was impossible for either of them to know which were the glasses of water. It looked like the game of Three Card Monte Harry used to play with Sirius and his father.

In another life.

"You say you'll do anything to escape torture," Karkaroff said. "But I don't believe you mean it. Not that you seem to know anything anyway. However, I told you I am a smart man. I am ready to show you I am a magnanimous one too. I will give you a fair chance. Let's play Wizarding Roulette.

"As you may have seen, there is six glasses. Five filled with water and one filled with a Mansbane potion. The Mansbane potion is made of botulinum toxin. One of the most dangerous poisons made by a wizard. One of the most painful too." Karkaroff smiled bleakly. "Take a glass and drink."

Harry stared at Karkaroff. He was speechless.

"I… I… What?"

"You say you will do anything to escape torture," Karkaroff repeated. "So do this. Make your own luck. Drink the content of one of these glasses."

"But… Why?"

"Because you said to me five minutes ago that you would do anything I wanted to escape pain. Now, I want you to prove it. Let's weigh in your options, Harry Lestrange. If you will not do what I ask, then you have lied to me. I despise liars so I can assure you I'll kill you slowly as a fair punishment. If you do as I have asked, then you have two possibilities ahead of you. Five times out of six, you'll make it out alive. There's only a small chance your corpse would end up on my carpet – which would be rather annoying, I must say. Now make your decision and fast. I don't have all day."

It was torture. Even though Harry was young, he knew he was basically playing a deadly game. Karkaroff seemed to enjoy what he saw. Harry felt sick. His gaze rested on the six glasses.

What could he even do? What choice did he have anyway?

Choosing at random, Harry picked up a glass. It was much heavier than he expected. Maybe because he felt like he lost all his strength. None of his fingers seemed to work properly. He could feel his heart racing. He was breathless.

Hot tears rolled over his cheeks. Harry couldn't control himself. The horror of the situation was too much to bear for any five-year-old. When he'll drink his glass, he may fall on the floor and instantly die. Or he might get lucky and be fine. That was what it came down to.

One bad choice and he was going to die.

"Stop crying now, Lestrange!" Karkaroff shouted. "Drink it!"

The coldness of the glass was pressed against Harry's palm. For a crazy moment, he thought of running away. But what good would that do to him? Karkaroff wasn't stupid. The Death Eater probably thought about it. Harry would receive a killing curse before even turning back.

"I can't… Please…"

"Stop pleading. Obey!"

"But…"

"Do. It. Now!"

Harry shivered. He almost let the glass fell and break on the ground. Karkaroff was gloating. He seemed to be happy to torture Bellatrix Lestrange's son. The irony was that Harry would never consider the cold, uncaring witch his mother to start with. He could say it to Karkaroff.

But would that really change anything?

"Drink it!" Karkaroff snarled.

One chance out of six.

Harry shut his eyes and drank.

The liquid was tasteless. It was quite refreshing, even though it was at room temperature. There was no bitter taste.

It only was water.

Relief rushed through Harry. But it didn't feel any good. He never felt so empty. Broken. For a second, he looked at Karkaroff. The wizard was laughing as he pointed his wand towards Harry.

"Well, that was funny, brat." Karkaroff chuckled bleakly. "Too bad you got lucky. Avada…"

But Karkaroff never finished his sentence. He was interrupted by the door violently opening, as Bellatrix entered, followed by Rabastan, Rodolphus and Nott. The Serbian Auror was with them, his face swollen by violent hits or spells.

Knowing the Death Eaters, it was probably both.

"You! Again!" Karkaroff roared, pointing his wand towards Bellatrix. "Cru…"

"Experlliarmus!" Bellatrix screamed. A violent beam of red light hit Karkaroff, as his wand escaped his hands. It quickly went in Bellatrix' left hand, as she smiled fiercely. Too much in shock, Harry barely registered that he wasn't in danger anymore.

"Well, well, well…" Bellatrix gloated. "If it isn't the traitorous twat. How are you doing, Karkaroff?"

"Y-You don't understand!" Karkaroff shouted. He lost all his previous bravado. His voice was still deep and raspy but no more confident. His dark eyes were bright with fear and distress. "I was acting on the orders of the master, who…"

"Shut up, Karkaroff. Leave the lies for people that'll believe them," Rabastan smiled. "You're in luck, though. We're not here to kill you."

"Quite the contrary, in fact. The master wants you alive," Nott added. His grin was grim. As soon as he saw the man, Harry wanted to flee. "I'd say that I'm sorry for you, but we both know I'd be lying."

"Shut up, you both," Rodolphus sighed. "Bella?"

"On it," Bellatrix said, as she pointed her wand towards Karkaroff. "Stupefy."

The yellow beam hit Karkaroff right in the heart. He widened his eyes, as he fell on the ground. Knocked unconscious, Karkaroff felt strangely pathetic. Harry suddenly felt an urge of adrenaline mixed with anger flowing throw his veins. Was it really the man who threatened him earlier?

But before he asked the question, Bellatrix pointed her wand towards the Serbian Auror.

"Well, thank you, Olegovich. But I fear your services aren't needed anymore." Bellatrix laughed obnoxiously as he pointed her wand towards the Auror. The man froze, an expression of intense distress on his swollen face.

Suddenly, Harry recognized this expression. It was the expression he wore everyday since his kidnapping. The one he wore every day since he became the Lestrange Ward. His parents always wanted him to do the right thing, yet he was surrounded by Death Eaters, capable to kill on command. And deep down, Harry knew he could end up becoming like them. But he wasn't like them. Because despite everything he went through, he felt a surge of compassion for Olegovich. Maybe this Auror was a corrupt scumbag who would have happily let Karkaroff kill or torture Harry.

But was Harry really capable to let him die without blinking?

"Avada…"

"DON'T!" Harry screamed.

Everyone turned towards him. Harry felt his cheeks redden. His heart skipped a beat. Olegovich's swollen face became totally white as he lay paralyzed in pure horror.

"Don't… Don't kill him. The… The mission is done, isn't it?" Harry stammered. "W-We don't need t-to kill him. W-We can leave."

The Death Eaters shared a look. Bellatrix was the only one who spoke.

"The master's specific orders were to leave no witnesses, brat," Bellatrix said coolly. "Do you want to disobey his orders?"

"N-No, but…"

"No buts," she answered. "Foolish brat. What the hell are you thinking? Do you imagine this Auror would show you the same compassion?"

"Well, that sure is interesting," Nott chimed in. "Are you a traitor, Kid Lestrange? Do you want us to pay your real family a visit?"

"I don't, but…"

"Then let your Mum do her damn job," Nott concluded. "Kill him, Bella."

Bellatrix continued to stare at Harry. He couldn't bear her grey gaze any longer so he looked down, as she pointed her wand towards Olegovich.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A green beam hit the Serbian Auror who fell on the ground. Like a puppet with severed strings.

"Excellent," Nott smiled. "Now, was that so hard?"

Harry didn't answer. He simply looked at the body of the dead Auror.

oOo

"I have to say, Harry, I'm extremely proud of you."

Lord Voldemort was sitting behind the desk of a darkened office. He had a smile plastered on his face. Not a genuine smile, of course: that would never happen. Harry was young, but thanks to Olegovich's death, he wasn't naïve anymore. He couldn't be. He was surrounded with ruthless killers. His new family. Nott was here too. His smile was more ironic than ever.

"T-Thank you, sir." Harry stammered. He was careful to keep his voice respectful. However, Voldemort seemed annoyed. Harry understood the man probably despised gratitude too.

"Don't mention it, Harry," he said. "Bringing Karkaroff to me helped me tremendously. I'll let him live in the Lestrange Castle's dungeons for now. I trust your mother to torture some information out of him."

Bellatrix smiled. She was about to start earnestly thanking Voldemort, but he cut her off before she had the chance.

"Quite the remarkable woman, your new mother." Voldemort stated. "Don't you think?"

"Y-Yes Sir," Harry answered. He didn't know what "remarkable" exactly meant but he knew better than to contradict Voldemort. "She is."

"Too bad she didn't raise you all that well."

Harry froze. Bellatrix too. Voldemort's tone was still playful and serene but if anything, it only felt more intimidating.

"Nott told me some things pretty… Well, disturbing, to say the least," Voldemort continued. "He told me you didn't want to kill a witness."

Voldemort gaze suddenly focused on Harry. He wanted to leave. Run away.

"Is that true, Harry?" Voldemort asked. "Did you want to… Well, for the lack of a better term, "play the hero"?"

"Y-Yes. Yes, it is," Harry stammered. "S-Sir," he quickly added.

"Well… You remembered what I said I'd do if you didn't respect my orders, Potter?" Voldemort said. When Harry shivered, he smiled. "Yes. But don't worry. You are very fortunate, young lad. I will draw a line under this stupid decision – and whatever you may think of me, I haven't forgotten you are quite young. Everyone deserves a second chance. Just be aware that there won't be a third."

As relief rushed through him, Harry couldn't help but let a smile grow on his face.

But he immediately realized it was a terrible mistake.

Voldemort stood up. He withdrew his wand.

"However, I still have to punish you," Voldemort reprised in his pleasant tone. "Please understand that it is quite necessary. One must learn the error of his ways if he wants to move forward!"

Voldemort pointed his wand towards Harry. His heart skipped a beat.

"Trust me, lad – this is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you."

Harry wanted to plead. Cry. Run. But he was paralyzed on his chair. The worst was that he exactly knew what would follow.

"Crucio."

The spell hit Harry right in the heart. He fell on the ground, wanting to scream, shout, even though he felt what little energy he had left crumbling away. Everything became increasingly dark, as he succumbed to the pain and exhaustion. The last thing he saw was Bellatrix' alarmed gaze.

The same gaze Lily used to give him when he did something stupid or dangerous. Usually both.

'Mum…'