Standing Beside the Fallen
Chapter Ten - Hell in a Hand basket
He wanted to die. There was no getting around it, nothing that could stall the solution that had formed in his head after hours and hours of pondering. It was plain and simple, and it had happened gradually as the pain came and stayed second after second, minute after minute . . . He wanted to die.
He didn't care if it was a painful death. He didn't even care if he died in a state of humiliation or in a blaze of glory. He just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up, but not in the coma type of way. He didn't want people hovering around him for years, hoping a miracle would take place and he would suddenly come alive again. He just didn't want to come back, but rather wanted to drift into blackness forever with no memories, or feelings, or anything. He just didn't want to exist anymore.
He remembered feeling this exact same way when he had been back at the Dursleys' earlier in the summer. The world had felt so detached and the situation so hopeless that he just didn't care if he lived or died anymore. Going with Remus to Grimmauld Place had conquered those thoughts in a heartbeat, but here they were again as he sat in the cold cell, shivering with cold and pain.
He couldn't be sure how long he had been here, because there was no daylight to tell him. Or more precisely, there was no light at all considering there was a blindfold over his eyes.
His hands had been painfully tied behind his back with a rope now covered in blood, and yes, being the Gryffindor that he was, he had tried to escape from its clutches and had failed miserably. He just didn't bother to? try anymore.
Giving up was not how he liked to put it exactly, his phrasing was more along the lines of letting the inevitable come. Obviously, no matter what he did, he was going to die; the situation was hopeless, so why fight? He'd rather just put on an impassive face and wait for a killing curse to come his way.
Voldemort would eventually get bored with him, and Harry hoped that it would be soon.
He had already been in for a few tortures since he had been kidnapped by Snape. He had counted four, so he was thinking that it could have been four days that he had been…wherever he was. The tortures were probably what had made him want to die in the first place. They sometimes made him believe that his uncle had actually had some mercy on him.
They were absolutely horrible.
He was still unable to move without causing sparks of pain through his body from the last one hours ago. It had been the worst yet, and he was sure his right eye was going to twitch continuously until he kicked the bucket. The nervous spasm had started after the second round of torture and hadn't stopped since. Harry found it to be a rather humiliating thing, so he was pretty lucky that his blindfold hadn't been removed yet.
After every round, his thoughts always turned to Neville Longbottom and what had happened with his parents. Professor Dumbledore had told him that they had been tortured by the Cruciatus Curse until they were insane. Exactly how many did they undergo to become that way? Harry sure had his fair share under his belt, and even though an average of seven per torture clearly wasn't enough, the numbers added up by day and would eventually make him insane, right? He shuddered, it wasn't a nice thought.
At odd times he found himself in a daze, not quite asleep, yet not quite awake, either. The lack of eyesight and light might have something to do with it. The lack of sounds around his cell (and he was certain he was in one) might also be a factor. And you had to add in that whole being too afraid to properly go to sleep thing. He could never hear anything until he heard a door in front of him opening (that was why he was positive they were using silencing charms) and that was always ominous enough to make him immediately alert. He didn't want to wake up to a Cruciatus curse; that would be even worse than Sirius's surprise wake ups on Remus.
Sirius.
The ache he felt at missing his godfather hurt worse than all of the Cruciatus Curses combined. He wasn't sure whether Sirius was looking for him or not, and if he was, he didn't seem to be very successful at it, but he missed his godfather. It was because of him that Harry had not begged Voldemort to kill him outright. He would be bold, like his father had been, and stand tall before Voldemort even though he had already been humiliated by the Dark Lord.
No, he would wait patiently for death, and welcome it when it arrived.
It was obviously an extremely difficult feat to accomplish, but he was doing pretty well so far. Cruciatus Curses were the least of his problems when it came to the torture; Death Eaters were an inventive lot. Potions were usually a very popular means of torture, some of which were filled with mixtures of acids and other things that caused him dire amounts of pain. Some liked to use the 'Mudblood Way' as the Death Eaters so pleasantly called it, which was basically doing as Uncle Vernon had and kicking the crap out of him, or using knives to slowly cut into his skin. It hurt like hell at the time and stung for days afterwards, just like the potions. Thanks to the potions, he didn't think he'd be able to eat or drink anything properly again.
But the absolute worst torture had been introduced that very day. It was a new kind, which Voldemort's sadistic mind had created with the help of Severus Snape and a few other talented Death Eaters at his side. It was a potion that inflicted not physical torture, but mental torture.
This particular potion was called the Lucifer Draught. It was created to make the drinker relive his worst nightmare whenever he closed his eyes, and have him be able to feel every little hit and slap and bite, or anything the person was most afraid of. If the person's worst fear was cannibalism, he would be able to feel his body being ripped apart without anything actually physically happening to him (minus his thrashing).
Harry's worst nightmare had been his uncle.
He had felt the blows, the punches and kicks, the belt and the strangulation as if Uncle Vernon had been there to do it himself. He had even heard each and every filthy name from the man's mouth in his own ears. While the Death Eaters could not hear what Harry could or see what he saw, they watched as invisible blows smashed into his body, heard the screaming and saw the tears leaking through the blindfold. It was enough for their sick minds to be entertained by.
He had no doubt that even if his cell hadn't been freezing, he would still be shivering in the aftermath. He was convinced it was now permanently etched into his genetic make-up to shiver, even if it was a thousand degrees outside. Not that it mattered much, since he would only shiver in Voldemort's clutch until he died, but it was still annoying anyway.
He was pretty certain that if he somehow did manage to live, he would also remember the thick cement pole his hands were tied around, the feeling of the rope cutting off his circulation, the blood flowing between his fingers. He would always be able to feel the cold stone beneath his shivering body, and an ominous sense whenever it was quiet enough to hear his own breath. . .
Having nothing to do in his cell for so long had let him at least get a bearing on what his cell was like. He was pretty sure he could envision his cell without actually having to look at it. It felt more like a tiny stone closet than it did a cell. He was sure that it had a high ceiling because whenever the Death Eaters entered, there was an echo. But if he tried (which he hadn't since he first arrived, since he was in too much pain to move) he could spread out his legs and touch either side of the walls. The walls were definitely stone, and the floor cement. And judging from the stale air, he was sure there were no windows either. And the pole . . . Well, he figured it was just there to keep him tied up and rather annoyed.
He made the mistake of shifting, and hissed loudly in response. A spark of pain had shot up his spine and through his body, making his broken arm flare in agony, his ribs burn, and his head throbbing painfully. His ankle pulsated with each breath and every muscle and joint tightened at the aggravation of the movement.
Each day the pain got worse, and each day the yearning to die had increased. He wouldn't ask Voldemort to kill him, no, he would wait patiently. But he hoped to hell that it would come soon.
"I'm so sorry, Sirius," Harry whispered to the empty cell as he let his tears fall freely. "But there's nothing left for me to do but give up. I failed you."
It was impossible to tell exactly how long he had been inside his cell while quietly allowing the tears to fall. But he had also found that he didn't really care very much; as long as the Death Eaters and Voldemort did not see him crying, of course. He would never give them that satisfaction.
It wasn't long after Harry had stopped crying that he heard the ominous sound of the door creaking open. There were at least two sets of footsteps coming inside, and even though Harry tensed, he kept his head on his chest, unmoving. He had a faint hope that if they thought he was unconscious, they would just go away.
He wasn't that lucky.
Rough hands grabbed him, slicing the rope that bound his wrists and roughly set him onto his feet. He wasn't sure whether they knew or cared that he was conscious or not, since they were practically carrying him right now, but he didn't care. At least he didn't have to walk.
He counted three thousand and sixty steps, was hauled up seven staircases, and heard twelve doors opening and closing. How he was able to concentrate on that he would never know, but counting made the event that was about to happen less frightening. He was still scared to death, of course, but it did lessen.
The two Death Eaters supporting him stopped and tore the blindfold from his eyes before knocking him to his knees. Harry looked up, blinking fiercely at the unaccustomed light as his blurry gaze lingered on Voldemort himself, sitting on a winged back chair placed on a dais.
Harry was used to seeing this since this was where he was tortured each and every day.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter," Voldemort sneered. "And how are you on this very wonderful afternoon?"
Well at least now I know what time of the day it is, Harry thought to himself as he stared daggers up at Voldemort and kept his mouth firmly shut.
"Today, my fellows, is the start of a new beginning," Voldemort hissed, his hands clasping the arms of his chair firmly, and a smile planted on his pale face. "Some of you in this circle are parents to children or teenagers who are soon to follow within my footsteps. Some of you may be familiar with Lucius's son, Draco."
Harry's eyes widened as his head snapped around to stare at the circle behind him. Sure enough, amongst the followers there was a smaller one, at least a head shorter than the two beside him. Draco lifted his mask from his impassive face, not daring to look Harry's way.
"We welcome you, Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, rising from his chair and stepping down from the dais. Draco immediately fell to his knees and when Voldemort stopped in front of him, he started to kiss the hem of his robes. Harry wanted to be sick.
I guess the old phrase is true, he thought, the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree.
"Lucius has informed me that he thinks you still a little young to join the immediate ranks," Voldemort said. "And I happen to agree. Usually we do not allow underage children into our ranks, but Lucius has insisted you are well up on your training.
"And this is why I have called you here. In front of your father, who is no doubt very proud of you at the moment, my young charge, you will prove yourself. I want you, Draco Malfoy, to lead the torture of our young Mr. Potter here."
All attention was roughly brought back to him as Draco stood up properly and finally turned his gaze to Harry. Harry stared back at him and was a little surprised at what he saw in silver eyes. There was none of the usual cold anger that he saw every time they had encountered each other at Hogwarts since first year. No, his gaze had changed to cool determination and . . . nervousness?
"You are familiar with the Cruciatus Curse, are you not, Draco?" Voldemort asked, steering him forward by the shoulder.
"Yes, master," Draco replied in a quiet voice, stepping forward with his wand out.
Ron Weasley sighed as he passed the living room window and looked out at the dark clouds circling above. The horizon predicted a heavy rain would be coming soon. The Weasley children's plans of Quidditch in the afternoon was no doubt cancelled now.
Rain had to ruin everything.
He sighed and sat down in the armchair beside the fire with a sneer. Hermione was, predictably, busy reading in the chair, her bushy hair hiding her face from view. Ginny was on the floor reading a magazine with a mouth full of drooples.
The sound of thunder made Ron groan as he looked out the window again and saw a flash of lightning. Hermione looked up from her book and gazed out the window as well, then looked back at Ron.
"You're waiting to see Hedwig, aren't you?" she said knowingly, and Ginny looked up from her magazine too.
"No!" he answered defensively. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he admitted dejectedly.
"I'm sure he's okay," Hermione said. "Maybe his uncle isn't allowing him to send letters again. There could be a thousand explanations - "
"You don't know Harry's relatives, neither of you do," Ron shot back. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a loud cracking sound made him jump in his seat and he scowled up at Fred and George, who merely grinned back.
"Must you apparate into every room?" Ron asked moodily.
"Yes," they both chimed together. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Did we happen to hear something about Harry?" Fred asked. "We were in the kitchen until mum and dad came home and kicked us out."
"You were spying on our conversation?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Not spying," George said. "Listening with a keen ear. There's a difference."
"We couldn't help but overhear your conversation about Harry, and we happen to agree with Ron," Fred added. "You two weren't there a few years ago when we went to get him in that flying car, remember? He had been locked in his bedroom for days on end with hardly any food, locks on his doors and bars on his windows."
Hermione's mouth opened wide and then she looked over at Ron crossly. "Why you didn't tell me this?"
"It wasn't our secret to tell, Hermione," George answered with a shrug. "It was Harry's."
"If you say he hasn't written for a few weeks then you have the right to worry. I am too, as a matter of fact," Fred said.
"I have this feeling," Ron said, "that something bad happened. I've had it all summer but . . . It's stronger now. Something is going on, and we can't do anything about it. I sent a letter to him with Pig two days ago, and it came back unopened. At least before, he actually got the letters, even if he didn't answer …"
The group sat in silence for a few moments before it was broken with the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley entering through the fireplace. Nobody would have minded much, if it hadn't been for the fact that Mrs. Weasley looked as if she had been crying, and Mr. Weasley looked terribly solemn. Both parents had been leaving for emergency Order meetings at odd parts of the day for the past few days, and the children were curious. Seeing their distraught faces was not helping their curiosity.
"Mum, what's wrong?" Ginny asked, standing up from the floor.
"Sit down dear," she said, brushing her daughter's hair. "We need to tell you all something."
Hermione looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps I should go upstairs and - "
"No, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said, putting a hand on her shoulder before she could get up from her seat. "You have to know this too. We're just sorry we have to tell it to you."
"What is it?" Ron asked quietly, watching as his mother wiped her tears away on her handkerchief with a fresh sob.
"We just came from an Order meeting at headquarters. It was an emergency meeting, and as you can tell there have been a lot within the last four days. I'm not sure whether he told you or not, but Harry was staying at Headquarters with Sirius, Professor Lupin, and a few others."
Hermione swallowed thickly. "Was?"
"What happened to Harry?" Ron asked, feeling the dread already forming in his stomach. It felt like he had just swallowed a rather heavy rock.
"Four days ago, Professor Snape entered the headquarters and took Harry before anybody could stop him. We don't know where Professor Snape took him, or why, but Professor Dumbledore is certain that he was taken to the Dark Lord."
There was a collective gasp from everybody in the room before Hermione and Ginny started to sob. George immediately drew Ginny into a hug as she clung onto him, and he seemed to be fighting tears of his own. Hermione rushed over to Ron and drew him into a tight hug, but Ron was too numb to feel it.
He had known that something was going on and that it involved Harry. He had been scared for his best friend, and that sense of fear had only been increasing for the past couple of days, but he hadn't thought that something like this was going to happen!
"The Order has been trying everything in the past few days to locate him, or in the very least have a lead, but so far there is nothing," Mr. Weasley said gravely.
"So Harry could be dead for all Dumbledore knows," Ron said bitterly, and he felt Hermione tense. "He could be dead and none of us knows!" Ron furiously got to his feet. "I told you about Snape! I told you he was a Death Eater! I told you that he couldn't be trusted! And now look what Dumbledore has gotten Harry into! Harry had enough going on, and now because of Snape he could be dead!"
"Ron!" Mr. Weasley scolded.
"No, I'm not listening to you!" Ron shouted. "You never listened to me!" He then rounded on Hermione. "You told us we were being stupid! You told us that just because he was a professor that we should trust him! That because Dumbledore trusted him, we should trust him! Well, you know what, Hermione! YOU WERE WRONG!"
He turned and ran up the stairs, refusing to look back as his father called after him. It didn't matter anymore if he was in trouble. Harry was gone, and he wasn't ever coming back.
Draco didn't dare show it in front of his father, but he was petrified. This morning when his father told him he was going to bring him to his first meeting, he was thrilled and full of nervous anticipation. He had wanted nothing more than to prove to his father that he could follow properly in his footsteps and make him proud. He had been waiting anxiously for this moment to arrive.
And now it had.
The moment he had stepped inside the castle, he could smell the putrid scent of fear and death. His father had told him that this would be a defining moment in his life, the one that took him from childhood and led him into manhood. So he didn't say anything when he felt the ball of fear start to squirm in his chest. Malfoys were never scared, and to tell his father he was afraid at such an important time would probably lead to a few slaps in the face.
Draco had tried to mentally prepare himself, but all he was able to do was keep his infamous Malfoy mask on his face, and remember to get on his knees and kiss the hem of the Dark Lord's robes when he stood before him. He could feel the entire chamber's eyes on him, making him even more nervous, especially Potter's.
Potter.
Luckily, Draco had been wearing a mask on his face; otherwise he would have given away his shock the moment he'd seen the other boy. Potter looked horrible, and from what his father told him, he had been there for a mere four days. He was covered in blood and bruises, and looked too weak to stand on his feet. Usually Draco would sneer at this, but then he remembered what he had been brought here to do.
He was supposed to torture Potter himself.
Ever since that first meeting on the train, Draco had truly hated Harry with every ounce of feeling he could muster. He had hated everything about Potter from his fame down to his messy black hair. But as much as he hated Harry, he didn't think that even he deserved this. Potter was still a kid, just like he was, and didn't deserve to be here just as much as he himself did not. And even though he loathed the boy, Potter didn't deserve to be tortured by the Dark Lord either. He didn't deserve to die so young. He might hate Potter, but he didn't want him to die.
He got up enough courage to look Potter in the eye, and when he saw the pain and betrayal lingering behind them, he wanted to turn and run away more than ever. He was expected to torture his fellow classmate, for Merlin's sake! Sure, they had had several fights over the years, but they had never hurt each other more than a simple stinging hex, or at worst a weak cutting hex that did nothing more than give a paper cut. They had been cruel to each other, humiliated each other, but never did he wish Potter dead. And he was sure that Potter thought the same about him.
"You are familiar with the Cruciatus Curse, are you not, Draco?" the Dark Lord said, and Draco nearly shivered when he felt the long fingers steering him forward, out of the circle and right in front of Potter.
"Yes, Master," he spoke quietly, so that his voice would not quiver like his nerves were. He fingered his wand in his pocket, thinking of the moment of truth. Everybody in the room was watching him, waiting for him to make a move as he raised his wand in preparation, yet he still did not know what he was going to do.
"We're waiting, Draco," Voldemort hissed. "It's very simple. Enjoyable, even."
Draco mentally snorted. He doubted torture would ever be enjoyable for him, and it was because of this that he realized the absolute truth. He wouldn't torture Potter, because he didn't have it in him to do that to people. And especially to Potter, who looked broken, sitting on the floor and waiting for the impending pain. He couldn't do this. He wouldn't do this.
He turned back to his father, breathing quickly. "I'm not doing it," he said, sounding far braver than he actually felt. He saw the warning signs in his father's eyes, but he ignored them. He didn't want this, and his father wouldn't make him do it.
"Draco," his father hissed. "Do not disappoint me."
"I'm sorry, father," he said, his wand dropping to his side. "But I can't do this, and I won't. "
"Lucius," Voldemort hissed and this time Draco did shiver. "You and your son are dismissed. I will call upon you privately at a later date to discuss this." He turned to Draco.
"And as for you, Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort said, running a long finger along Draco's pale cheek. "Keep in mind that nobody denies Lord Voldemort. I will call again once you have your affairs in order. Hopefully, this attitude of yours will prove nothing more than childish ideas due to by your young age, and your head will clear. Now get out of my sight."
Draco glanced over at the Dark Lord, not daring to breathe before looking back at his father. The cold fury was evident in his eyes, and Draco felt the fear inside of him spike. He strode forward and grabbed Draco hard by the back of his neck, and pulled him around towards the door.
"You will pay for that Draco," his father hissed. "You will regret that. You are a disappointment to me and you embarrassed me in front of the Dark Lord. How dare you? You will pay!"
Draco twisted to look back around at Potter and saw him still on the floor, but his eyes followed him out of the chamber. As Draco watched him, he saw Potter give a brief nod and mouth one word to him that he caught distinctly, 'Dumbledore'.
Draco gave a slight nod back, understanding what he had meant. Before he was pulled from the chamber completely, he mouthed, 'Luck'. As the door closed behind him and his father pulled him down the hall, Draco flinched when he heard Harry's screams of pain rising behind him.
If he survived his father's fury towards him, he knew what he had to do. He was going to go to Dumbledore, tell him everything he know, and ask for protection from not only the Dark Lord, but from his father as well.
Authors Note: ((Stumbles backwards as a chorus of finally reaches her ears)) I realize it's been forever and I apologize. But the chapter is here so at least you have it, right? Anyway, Sirius Remus and Tonks are coming in the next chapter, so they are not excluded. (Remus/Tonks too). So please review and tell me what you think!