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When Harry opened his eyes again was dark. He felt piece of cloth across his eyes. He was blindfolded and his hands were bound tight behind his back. He couldn't feel the reassuring presence of his wand in his pocket. Obviously they'd taken it.
There was a cool breeze blowing against his face. They must be outside now. The Death Eaters would have brought them to where Voldemort was hiding. Perhaps they would do this outside, in the open air.
"On your feet!" the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange snapped. "You've got a bit of walking to do. If I were you I'd enjoy it. You're not likely to see open air again."
"We can't see it now," Fred said. There was a loud grunt. It sounded like one of the Death Eaters had kicked him.
Harry found himself being hauled to his feet by a strong hand and being thrust forward. He took a few wobbly steps forward. One of the Death Eaters prodded him with a wand to send him back along their desired path.
The walk was mercifully short, and soon Harry heard a door close behind him and the cool breeze that had been tickling his neck stopped. The Death Eaters brought them to a halt.
"Wait here," Bellatrix ordered. A door opened and closed, and Harry was left to listen to the heavy breathing of the Death Eaters and the twins.
"Fred, George; are you okay?" Harry asked.
"No talking!" one of the Death Eaters growled, smacking him across the head. Harry was silent again.
Suddenly a door opened.
"The Dark Lord is ready for you," Bellatrix whispered excitedly. "Get them moving!"
Harry was roughly shoved forward into the next room. He stumbled forwards until someone stopped him. A sharp pain on the back of his legs dropped him to his knees, and he heard the grunts of Fred and George to his left and right that suggested they were being subjected to the same treatment.
"Remove their blindfolds!" the unmistakable voice of Lord Voldemort ordered.
Harry's eyes were suddenly freed, though it took him a moment to adjust to the sudden light. He was kneeling at the base of a lavish staircase, and Lord Voldemort stood alone at the very top. To his left and right he could make out the hooded figures of the Death Eaters. Furthest forward was Bellatrix Lestrange, the only one with her hood down, in her moment of triumph.
"Their wands?" Voldemort asked. Bellatrix made her way up the first few steps to present three wands to Voldemort and bow her head. Voldemort ignored two of the wands and picked out just the one; Harry's wand.
"Ah, brother to my own wand," Voldemort said, examining it. "I'm sorry Harry." He did not look at him, but continued to look at the wand. "I cannot offer you a sporting duel to the end. This wand was nearly my downfall before. I will not make the same mistake twice." He suddenly took two hands to the wand and snapped it in half. Harry could not help but gasp.
"That was nothing, my dear boy," Voldemort said, taking a few steps down. "Now I shall break your friends as well. I shall break them in half and you shall watch. Then I will subject you to tortures the likes of which you cannot imagine. You will beg for death before the end." He gave a twisted smile and glanced at each of the Weasley twins.
"But who wants to go first?" he asked. Fred and George did not cower, but met Voldemort's stares with their own. Voldemort seemed almost amused by this. He pointed his wand at George.
"Crucio!"
George gave a blood-curling shriek. Fred winced almost as though it hurt him as well. Harry saw him close his eyes to try and block out his twin's cries. Lord Voldemort noticed this and pointed his wand at Fred, forcing him to open his eyes and turn his head to watch his twin's torture.
Voldemort suddenly lifted the curse, and George tumbled forward, struggling for breath.
"Do you have something to ask me?" Voldemort asked George. "Do you want to beg for release?"
George panted for a moment, still unable to look up. It was a long moment before he could raise his head. "Bite me," he hissed. Voldemort gave a cold laugh and cast the Cruciatus Curse again. George shrieked in pain again.
Voldemort did not let up. Every now and then he would release the curse to give George a chance to beg for death. George said nothing. Harry was not sure he could have said something even if he wanted to. When mere physical pain was not working, Voldemort decided a different approach.
"Legilimens!"
George grunted as Voldemort invaded his mind, probing his thoughts for weakness.
"Young George," Voldemort said at last. "The younger twin. Your brother has always been the dominant twin, yes? He made the plans. He made the decisions. He got the girl, no?" He cast a glance at Fred. "Yes, I wonder if you ever knew that your brother was in love with your girlfriend." Voldemort laughed. "Oh, how much he wanted her. Longed to touch her, as you had. He never shall, now. Love; how pathetic."
"I knew," Fred said. "He never said anything, but I knew. And I'm sorry. I should have been a man and stood aside." Fred looked at his twin. "I love you man."
George couldn't find strength to speak, but his eyes were now welling with tears.
"Will you beg for his death then?" Voldemort asked Fred. "Will you ask for the brother you... love... to be spared any more pain."
Harry glanced from Fred to George, who seemed to be exchanging some kind of telepathic communication.
"Yes," Fred said, tears now forming in his own eyes. "Please."
"Very well," Voldemort announced. "Avada Kedavra!"
George's panting for breath suddenly stopped and his eyes seemed to drift off as if he was daydreaming. Harry look from George's frozen face to Fred's horror stricken one.
"That was nothing," Voldemort told them. "You have no twin now to beg for your mercy. You will soon wish you had gone first."
Fred's screams seemed to take hours to die out, before only Harry was left. The limp bodies of his friends lay a few paces either side of him. His knees were stiff and sore, and his eyes were starting to droop. Before Voldemort had ever even pointed a wand at him he was utterly shattered.
"Crucio!"
Harry screamed until his throat was hoarse and he was sure he could never speak again, but the pain kept coming and all he could do was sob and shout at the top of his lungs. He wondered just how long it would take for his mind to break completely. Maybe when that happened there wouldn't be any pain anymore. Maybe his maddened brain wouldn't be able to pick up any pain.
"How do you feel, Harry?" Voldemort asked during a brief break. "Do you want to die yet?"
Harry tried to clear his throat. It took a few attempts before he could speak.
"You're a coward," Harry hissed. "You torture a couple of kids with their hands tied and their wands taken away from them, and you act like you're the top dog. You talk about tortures beyond imagination, but all you've got is Cruciatus. You're a one-trick pony. Why don't you just stop embarrassing yourself with this pathetic show of power, man up and do what you were too much of a wuss to do seventeen years ago?"
Voldemort's face contorted in anger. Harry was sure Fred and George would have been proud. He mustered what strength he had to stand up and meet Lord Voldemort's glare.
"Filthy, Muggle-loving fool!" Voldemort shouted. "You have no idea! You think that this is all I have? You are about to know what true pain is, you insolent boy! CRUCIO!"
Harry's body suddenly rocked with pain, but he fought it with all his might. Despite every moment of agony he managed to stay standing with strength he never even knew he had. He stood defiantly staring at Voldemort past the pain, until his body started to go numb and darkness began to snap at the corner of his eyes.
Voldemort seemed to sense it coming. He withdrew the curse, and Harry suddenly found he could not stand anymore. His eyes closed and he fell backwards. However his fall was cushioned by someone small. He was lowered more gently onto the ground, and suddenly he smelt something wonderful. With his eyes closed for a moment he was sure he was at the Burrow. He would open his eyes and he's be sitting in the Weasley's kitchen. Ron must have been polishing his broom, and Mrs Weasley had made his favourite dessert; treacle tart.
And there would be Hermione. His beautiful, wonderful Hermione. She would be sitting beside him, talking about that Transfiguration homework Harry had been putting off or something like that.
He felt a goblet being forced to his mouth. He sipped at it. It was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He really hoped Mrs Weasley made this again sometime.
The smells started to fade. Harry tried to open his eyes to see what was wrong but his eyelids were too heavy to lift. He felt his grip on consciousness begin to fade, and Harry's last thought as he died was that he would never get to see Hermione again...