Fear
Lord Voldemort! The leader of the Death Eaters! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! The Dark Lord! I had slapped him with a raw fish! Well, not slapped, exactly, more threw… but still…
I couldn't help smiling as I wondered how many of the All-Powerful Dark Lord's followers knew that he had been overpowered by as muggle… twice.
Lord Voldemort was within arm's reach now. I could reach out and slap him again… although I knew that somehow wouldn't be a good idea. But he reached out and grabbed me, and-
Oh, not Side-Along Apparition again!
There was a village, with a huge house at the top of the hill above it. There was a graveyard in the dark, and, at the very centre of it, a gravestone so big that it could be a monument elsewhere. There was a circle of black-robed and masked men and women surrounding it, menacingly. There was, at the centre of the circle, another black-robed figure, this one un-masked, appearing with a blonde, rather thin woman. The man turned, and you could see his red eyes – not bloodshot, just red. There was no white in his eyes – only red. Red iris, red pupils…
And the blonde woman was struggling, was kicking the man's ankles, and he had let go of her, and she was running, running, running, and falling as vines twisted round her ankles. She was hauled backwards by her ankles, and then up, up, up, until she was hanging upside down…
I glared at Lord Voldemort's upside-down smirk. He was far too smug. He deserved to be taught a lesson. I spat in his face.
The smirk remained, although it was a little strained as the Dark Lord wiped saliva off his face.
"Miss Evans… I believe you need to be taught a lesson."
That was all the warning I got, before the red light hit me in the face. It was much more painful than a little spit. It squeezed my bones, and stretched my muscles; it hit my nerves, and battered my head; all I could hear was a high-pitched whistle and all I could see was red light, or blood, or something…
And just when I thought I was going to pass out, it stopped.
My bones seemed to have gone all soft, and my muscles were shaking. My nerves- my nerves had given up on me completely, apart from in my head, where they had surely multiplied and were magnifying the pain, like the world's worst hangover. All I could hear was my blood rushing, and all I could see was a vague shadows. I could taste blood and my throat hurt.
Lord Voldemort just laughed, and I wished I had the strength to throw a fish at him. If I'd had a fish.
Then one of the Death Eaters in the circle approached me. I cringed, trying to curl up as small as possible.
The Death Eater – a woman, I think – raised her wand, and systematically began to break all the bones in my left foot.
I'm sure I passed out at some point, but it could only have been for a moment. The spells kept coming until I could barely breathe. And then, as if to add insult to injury, Lord Voldemort used his wand to remove my trousers and underwear. The first male Death Eater approached, pulled up his robes, and bent down-
But then there was someone else there, someone who wasn't a Death Eater, who sounded furious, who was casting curses at them as though his life depended on it – which it may well have. And some more people joined this one-legged madman, and then someone was leaning over me, covering my two legs with a blanket and getting a nurse to come and look at me.
"Hey, Petunia."
It was Peter.