Author's Note: Sorry for not updating in almost a month. Since the new semester started I've been piled with essays, exams, homework, and procrastinations. The life of a full-time, 17 hour credit college student. Please bare with me with the timing of the updates. Sorry again. Also, the DISCLAIMER is on my profile, but just in case: I don't own anything pertaining Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, and the hopefully obvious future scenerios/details you may notice that will happen in the story from various movies that Johnny Depp has been in.
"Stay still," a voice hissed angrily. "And hold your head up. Keep it up."
A hand lifts up a thin stick, flicks it to the side, and the young man enshrouded by the dim lighting and shadows in the sparse room, reels back from the curse only to be levitated back on his feet.
The only furnishings in the room was the wooden table still covered by a sheet, a blood red loveseat made of the finest elegant yew and satin, the dark and dusty brick fireplace that slowly burned the wood and provided the only light source, a palette, a floating enchanted canvas, and three men.
One of the men wore only a tattered black robe who wore a frightful skull mask, he guided with his wand the paint brush on the canvas as it burst into life. The second man, wore only an elegant black silk robe as he lay idly on the loveseat. In his left hand was another skull mask and in the other there was his wand, which was currently pointed to the third man. His face look inhuman, very snake-like. There was no hair visible on his head and his eyes held a venomous look. The third man, was more of a boy compared to his companions. He stood behind the second man from the loveseat. Though he was dressed a fine robe and slacks, it was obvious he was not treated that way from the fading bruises of various shades of green and yellow gold on his head. His hair looked like it was clipped with the dullest scissors by a very timid person and the back part still managed to stick up. There was a healing cut on his upper lip and he looked like someone who has not known what happiness was. There was a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt descending down towards the Earth that will strike down anything in its path. Though he looked half-dead, it was his eyes that made him look eerie on his pale face. Eyes as green as an emerald, but there was a shadow beneath those amazing eyes, a shadow of defeat.
Right now the youngest of the three men had accidentally twitched, a little aftereffect of one of the Unforgivable Curses, and the snake-like man cursed him angrily, he did not want his last and only portrait ruined.
"Forgive me Dark Lord, but perhaps Severus could help you control the boy. Shall I fetch him?" the painter asked hoping to leave the uncomfortable room.
"Do you doubt that I can control him? He is much more loyal to me like a dog to his master and you are even more lowly than a dog. But like certain mutts, they'll turn on their masters. Is that not so, Harry Potter?" the Dark Lord Voldemort hissed last in Parseltongue towards the young man behind him.
"Nooo. I do as you please," Harry hissed back in Parseltongue. His scar was burning, but his face did not dare show the pain.
"Liar! You're heart may think that you've deceived me so, but it your mind that tells me the truth. There are others out there who will abuse you. But –"
"Like what you're doing to me?" he retorted.
"Perhaps. Each to their own ways of abuse, Potter, as you surely know by living with those muggle relatives of yours. Everybody is looking for something in you. Tell me the rest of the prophecy and your muggle loving friends and their families will live. I may even tell you how to save your godfather's soul."
"Sirius?" Harry hissed wistfully. A flare of anger and longing burst into his heart. It's been so long…He slowly walked away from the back of the loveseat and was a good distance between the two wizards. "Okay. I'll tell you…I'll tell you the rest of the prophecy. It's just that you might not handle it."
"Get on with it, Potter!"
"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. The prophecy goes like this," he cleared his throat. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will swipe him off his feet, but he will not be defeated…And either must dance at the hand of the other for neither can while the floor is full. The one with the moves will be born as the seventh month dies…"
'Bloody hell…Why'd I go and say that right in front of him? Great. He's looking at me with that look,' Harry thought. His scar throbbed, but it did not feel like it will kill him yet. He walked slowly backwards, towards the door.
"Potter…"
"Yes, Voldemort?" Harry stopped and asked innocently as if he did not utter that ridiculous prophecy.
"Be honest now. You can not possibly make me believe that is the prophecy," Voldemort hissed out angrily.
"Why not? I'm not the seer here," Harry said shrugging ignoring the growing pain building from his scar. His hid his hands in the sleeves of his robes. "Maybe you need to decipher the words or something. There should be a secret meaning in what those seers say, right?"
Voldemort sighed. He lifted his wand and muttered lazily, "Crucio."
Harry fell backwards and slammed his head on the hard floor. The pain throbbed angrily, but was almost drowned out by the pain caused by the curse. The writhed on the floor in agony as Voldemort and the Death Eater watched him full of mirth. Voldemort looked less happy when Harry did not scream.
"Potter. Potter. Potter. When will you learn…NOT TO DEFY ME?" Voldemort spat out angrily.
There was a knock on the door and the curse was lifted.
"Enter," Voldemort drawled angrily. He hoped that another minute under the curse would pour the prophecy out from Potter's mouth.
Bellatrix Lestrange glided through the door. She stepped on Harry's aching body before bowing before Voldemort and kissing the hem of his robes. A flare of anger rose out of Harry when he remembered what had transpired to get that damned prophecy and she was the cause of most of his pain.
"Bella! What news have you brought me?"
"They are still searching for the boy, master. They have everyone looking for him, but I am sure you will rise victorious!" She looked even more deranged than when Harry last saw her, a year ago, or so he thought.
"Excellent. I doubt his friends would even know how close they were in finding him. You shall be rewarded greatly Bella," Voldemort said. He helped her rise to her feet.
"Master…it seems that little baby Potter still needs to grow up. May I, master, as my reward?" her voice grew sinister and Harry did not like what she might have or have not implied.
"Bella…" Voldemort seemed to scold her, but he was not angry.
"Please, master! I promise not to do harm to him. Just one day in that room of yours and I will teach him the proper etiquette in behaving for you, master," Bella pleaded and bowed as low to the ground as she could. "Consider it, master."
Voldemort thought for a moment and looked at him lying on the ground like that. "One day," was all he said.
'One day? In there with her?' he thought and could feel his insides churn at the thought of spending a month and a half with her…in that room. The room where time is enchanted and no one could help. It almost makes him want to give up on life, but he knows he can't, even if he is driven insane by Voldemort and his followers.
"Thank you, master," Bella said taking one last bow in front of the snake-like man.
Who knew that I wouldn't have escaped if it weren't for that little incident with Bella, killer of Sirius Black...