Chapter Four

– BRAIN, BLOOD AND BODY –

Momentarily stunned, Harry finally found his footing again as the dizzying feeling of being the subject of a tornado faded. His wand's light, just a few seconds ago pulsing and glowing, died out at the same time a stabbing pain flared in his forehead where his scar was. There was a whisper, and then a jet of scarlet shot at him and Harry's wand flew high out of his reach. Before he could utter a cry of shock, thin ropes wrapped around him tightly, gagging him and constricting his throat.

For the first time, he looked around; gone was the grass under his feet, replaced by cold, wet stone and gone was the morning sky, replaced by a roof of domed, hard rock dripping water. The whole of Magnolia Crescent was gone, in its stead a vast underground cavern, with a great black lake taking up almost all space. A vague green light shone dimly in the centre of the wide lake and Harry could vaguely see the outline of his wand, which had been Disarmed and thrust twenty metres away, into the shadow of a stalagmite. The encompassing darkness filled Harry's eyes and there were no lights other than the ominous emerald one far in the distance, and the miniature one glowing from another wand tip, the light illuminating the face of none other than Peter Pettigrew.

Though Harry was tied up firmly against what felt like a tall, sharp rock, he felt himself thrashing wildly, trying to grab the treacherous rat in front of him, maybe to choke the life out of him.

Pettigrew – Wormtail – flinched and walked backwards as soon as Harry had burst into anger. "M-My lord?" Pettigrew said timidly, facing something in the blackness. "I have brought you the Potter boy; as expected, the Night Knocker successfully turned the boy's wand into a Portkey." Then, muttering lowly, he said, "One of the only things it can actually do … it can disturb, it can bother, it can even seriously injure, but it cannot kill? It is magically unable to kill? How useless."

Then, startling Harry, a voice that once might've been impressive but now sounded ancient and weak said, "I am not blind, Wormtail, I can see he is present. And however weak and ineffective the Mortenocte has achieved what I asked of it so far. However, I see you have not given our new … guest, the proper hospitalities?"

Wormtail murmured apologies and then raised his wand, muttering something. Fire exploded from the tip, shooting off into different directions until the entire cavern was surrounded by quite a lot of light, giving Harry the ability to see the monstrosity before him.

Wormtail, looking thinner and gaunter since the last time Harry saw him, was cradling a bundle of robes in which a horror Harry had never imagined could exist was crouched feebly. A figure in the shape of a baby with no hair at all, just cracked, raw, scaly skin with veins clearly visible between the pale, bloody flesh. Harry felt nauseous looking at it, and hoped beyond hope that the thing wasn't … couldn't be …

"Look at what I have become, Harry," Lord Voldemort whispered, held aloft by Wormtail. "Look at what the most powerful wizard and in history has been reduced to."

"You aren't the most powerful wizard," Harry blurted before thinking. "Albus Dumbledore is."

"Dumbledore is a fool!" Voldemort said, and even in his frail form his words were commanding, ringing with power. "He believes that emotions can overpower magic, believes that love–" he hissed the word with such contempt, such barely concealed loathing that Harry felt like flinching "–can overwhelm even the strongest of wizards. Love is weakness, I say, the weakness which exposes and reveals, displays hearts on sleeves, shoves brains and logic aside and puts lives on platters."

Harry had no reply at all, and couldn't have spoken anyway; the narrow ropes were winding and twisting around his body and were gagging his mouth.

Harry watched as Voldemort's body drifted from the black robes and into the air. The dark wizard, with his long, creepy wand glowing in his skeletal hands, floated nightmarishly. As Voldemort neared Harry, the latter's scar inflamed again, burning and aching as if a white-hot poker had touched it.

A metre away, Voldemort stopped. "I wish to explain to you why I have not advanced, why I have not slit your throat or murdered you as of yet. I cannot come any further. The love shield, the sacrificial protection from your disgusting mother when she died does not allow me to approach you any nearer. Should I harm you, or attack you or even touch you, I shall burst in flames, be turned to ash, whatever, and be once again reduced to a half-life. I am wise enough not to attempt any of this.

"However," Voldemort continued, "this particular enchantment bothers me. I am unable to even come in close contact with my nemesis, the one who I so dearly desire to kill. Once Wormtail returned to me, I sought out for a counter-counter-charm, perhaps, or a permanent reversal spell. What I found was a very ancient potion recently nicknamed the Contracoction, a mixture that dissolves almost all enchantments and bewitchments, which I am certain will nullify the effects of your Mudblood mother's protection. For months, we travelled the world, not only looking for the ingredients to the archaic potion but weaving more and more plans. Finally, after we found a Night Knocker – oh yes, I'm sure you are aware of what it is – in a remote forest, we made a deal and it has been torturing poor people's nights ever since. As you may have deduced, it is similar to a wizard and turned your wand into a Portkey to transport you into our hands, as we really do need you. Now," Voldemort said, flicking his wand, "we shall brew the potion!"

A small, empty cauldron appeared from nowhere, a fire lit underneath. Voldemort turned his back on Harry and began chanting ingredients, Wormtail taking them out of his cloak one by one.

"Water from a lake of silver turned gold!"

Wormtail took out a bottle of sludgy, gold liquid and poured it into the cauldron–

"A undead flower from a garden withered!"

He dropped a dead-looking rose into the golden water and it shrivelled, the contents turning jet black–

"The breath of death's taint!"

Wormtail whipped out a glass container with seemingly nothing inside, by upon tipping it into the pot, the blackness turned light grey mingled with white–

"And a mark of the enchantment itself!"

What that meant was unknown to Harry and was startled when Wormtail began stumbling towards Harry himself, and Harry noticed that Wormtail had brandished a sharp, short knife. Desperate to get away, he wriggled and writhed beneath the twisting threads, but he could not fight or flee as Wormtail reached him, holding the blade gingerly. Though Harry shut his eyes tight, he could not ignore the incredible pain coursing through him as Wormtail made a deep gash in his arm and Harry opened his eyes to see Wormtail catching the drops of blood with a phial.

With incredible pain in his forehead and in his forearm, he watched through dizzying pain as Wormtail waddled to the cauldron once more and added the few drops of blood and the light grey mixture turned scarlet.

Harry thought he saw a cruel grin on Voldemort's face as Wormtail took out another, bigger phial and filled it with the blood red mixture. Denying the inevitable, Harry watched as Wormtail tottered towards Harry again. Doing as much as he could to evade drinking it, he whipped his head to the side, clamped his mouth shut, tried to kick Wormtail as he got near.

But Voldemort observed this and with a commanding wave of his wand, Harry felt a whole other omniscient force urging his mouth open, pressuring his head in Wormtail's direction. Harry tried to resist as long as he could, but Voldemort's magic proved far greater and impelled him to wrench his mouth open as Wormtail emptied the stream of scarlet into Harry's screaming, swearing mouth.

In that moment, it felt as if something terrible had happened. Like something happy and good and enormously pleasant had always been there with Harry, always been there for him, had been lifted, had been stolen from him, something ingrained and rooted with him since birth that had been taken. Something warm and affectionate had dissolved, not only a protection and a defence, but a reassurance that things were going to be all right. Something friendly, amicable, loving had been whisked from Harry's hands and thrust far, far away, a place he could never reach. In that moment, Harry felt depressing and devastating things crash upon him and he temporarily was confused by it all.

Above all the bafflement and misery was the excruciating torture being inflicted on his scar, like the pleasant protection had once blanketed the pain but now it was absent, leaving only Harry and his hurt.

Voldemort was laughing; he was so happy, so elated and joyful. Experimentally, he flicked his wand at Harry, and agony erupted all over him, and all Harry knew at the moment was pain, pain, pain.

Voldemort, even happier, shout out his wand and Harry's binds were torn, and he felt the air around him push him up, throw him to the right, jerk him to the left. It was all fun and games to Voldemort; for the first time in thirteen years, Voldemort could torture and torment the boy who had destroyed him. Voldemort looked like he was about to murder Harry once and for all, but then muttered, "The plan, think about the plan," and apparently decided not to kill him yet. Voldemort flicked his wand to the side and Harry went tumbling into the cave wall, stone and rock ripping into his shirt and leaving cuts deep within. He had fallen into a part of the cave where there was a tall stalagmite casting a shadow on – and Harry's excitement sparked again – Harry's wand.

Laughing mirthfully, Voldemort spoke to Wormtail, who was looking frightened at his master's spectacle. "Peter, where is my other faithful servant – and the Polyjuice Potion?"

Only a few days ago had Harry been writing an essay on Polyjuice Potion, and he felt sick at the thought of Voldemort using it. What could a dark wizard, manipulator and murderer, do with it? Countless things that Harry dared not think about.

"M-My Lord," Wormtail said, bowing. "I shall find him, and the potion."

"Good," Voldemort said, revealing a mouthful of dirty, yellowing teeth.

Wormtail Disapparated – the act of moving from one place to another in a matter of seconds – making a snapping noise and Voldemort turned to Harry, who was lying in a pool of his own blood.

"Tell me, Harry, what do you think these are?" Voldemort said, rising his wand slowly as monstrous beings began climbing up from the black lake and onto the stone. There were dozens of them, humanoid, bloody creatures on all fours, with blank, misted eyes. Harry felt revolted as he noticed that a few of them were missing limbs, even eyes.

Harry fell silent and didn't respond.

"Answer me," Voldemort commanded, sweeping his wand in the air in one motion, and again, something forced Harry, impelled to answer.

"I don't know," Harry wheezed and the omnipotent hold ceased, and he fell limp again.

"They are called Inferi," Voldemort said, apparently experiencing much glee in forcing his nemesis to speak. "They are reanimated human corpses, and they do as I say. One of my more creative ideas, yes? Kill people – and then make them my slaves."

"You're sick!" Harry yelled and experienced a stab of pain ripping at all his muscles, tendons and skin as Voldemort spitefully flicked his wand again.

"I am simply using the force of nature, the force of mankind: kill or be killed–"

Harry slowly inched closer to his wand, careful to only move when Voldemort was busy looking at his Inferi, which were dangerously closer and seemed to be looking at Harry–

"–however, I am much more than a man, much more than a filthy Muggle–"

Harry shifted slightly as Voldemort frowned, peering closer at his Inferi and talking only distractedly–

"–I can control the darkest of creatures, tame the wildest of beasts to follow my command–"

The Inferi were most certainly staring intensely at Harry; he'd seen that look before … the look of a house-elf waiting for its master's orders–

"–I am even unique within the wizarding community, more powerful and potent than any other … I can control … I … can't…? Inferi, I am your master–"

But the Inferi certainly didn't believe so, they thought Harry was Voldemort, they thought Harry was their master, and in such a desperate situation, Harry scrambled forwards for his wand and pointed it at the levitating wizard above him–

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry bellowed, and Voldemort, completely immersed in the mystery of his disobedient Inferi, was taken aback as his wand flew into the direction of the water. Voldemort, his wand and magic momentarily gone, fell from the air and shrieked as he fell face-first into the rocky floor.

Harry got up and began sprinting towards the lake where the Inferi were sitting in dutiful wait, anticipating patiently for Harry's orders. "SWARM HIM!" Harry hollered, pointing at Voldemort who was struggling to get up in his physically invalid form.

Immediately, all the Inferi stood and ran like a pack of ravenous wolves, and pounced onto the screaming Dark Lord. A jet of small fire from the midst of the chaos exploded and shot down some of the Inferi, and shot at Harry, narrowly missing him. Voldemort could do wandless, wordless magic?

Picking up Voldemort's wand from the sludgy lake water, he ran down it, making obvious splashing noises. Harry pocketed Voldemort's wand, hoping that without it, Voldemort wouldn't be able to do any serious magic. Hauntingly enough, the Inferi left at the lake seemed to be aiding Harry, serving as a pathway for him in the quickly increasing water levels, crouching underneath his feet like a weird, undead body road.

Where would Harry go? He supposed there would haveto be some means of escape, a doorway or a small crack through the rocks where he could get out and find out where he was and try and find a way back to number four Privet Drive, which, in retrospect, was a much better option than this cave.

As he approached the misty green light, he realised there was a semi-large island in the centre of the lake, which he was glad to arrive on, because it was highly difficult to step on bodies without sinking and the whole concept of it all was creepy anyway.

He stepped onto the island and saw a great big basin in the middle. He approached it warily, and saw it was filled with a murky, emerald green liquid and at the bottom of it was an expensive-looking locket with a green gem encircled with a gold chain.

Enchanted and captivated, he reached down to touch it, to grasp the locket and observe it closer, when an Inferius jumped out of the water and hissed.

"Master…" the Inferius said, and Harry was horrified and shocked, having not realised the Inferi could speak. "You cannot touch the Drink of Despair … you know that … you invented it ... somebody must drink it …"

Another Inferius leaped out. "I shall do the honour of drinking it for you, my master …"

"No!" hissed another. "I shall!"

It looked like this argument would end up in a bloody brawl, so Harry quickly intervened and pointed at a random Inferius. "You – you can drink it."

"Gladly," it said, and around him there were mutterings of disdain and jealousy from the other Inferi.

The Inferius bounded up the basin like a monkey, took a shell-like cup from the rim of the basin and scooped up the dark liquid. As it drank continuously, Harry felt nauseated as the Inferius howled in pain, itching at its sides and sobbing without tears. It ripped at its own skin and, disconcertingly, no blood dropped from the undead body.

Finally, it seemed, it became too much for the one Inferius and it writhed in agony and fell across the floor, sinking into the water. Excited, the other Inferi waited in what seemed to be a queue. None of them lasted for more than a few scoops of the Drink of Despair, and after what seemed to be an eternity, the basin was empty except for the locket.

Gingerly, Harry lifted the locket up by the long chain and examined the large, oval locket made of heavy gold, a serpentine S made of green jewels set into the front. It was so beautiful, so entrancing, but there was a dark shadow behind it, something mysterious and not exactly good … something that made Harry ill but elated at the same time … something that eased Harry's tongue forward, lowered his teeth, made him begin to hiss an odd language discovered, a language he never knew he knew how to speak–

And now he remembered, remembered that two years ago his incompetent teacher Gilderoy Lockhart had tried to Obliviate Harry with Ron's broken wand … but the charm had slightly worked, making him forget about learning his skill allowing him to speak to snakes, a talent he had unearthed when standing in front of the doors to the Chamber of Secrets, where snakes had slid around him and conversed; nobody knew of this skill except him … now he remembered that also Voldemort could speak to snakes … this connection interested and intrigued Harry greatly …

The locket burst open at Harry's words at the same time a Summoning Charm was uttered and Voldemort's wand flew from Harry's pocket.

A thousand things happened at once.

Voldemort, who had apparently overcome the Inferi, now had his wand, and flicked it threateningly several times, waves of heat exploding and flames beginning to stream freely from the wand's tip–

The Inferi shrieked raucously, gratingly as they fled from the cursed flames; like all dark creatures, the Inferi feared heat, light, fire–

The locket, having unlocked and left wide open, was exonerating fierce, black smoke, fog that was clouding the things before him, harsh mist that whispered callous, unkind things in Harry's ears, showed him mental images of his mother and father dying, of his best friends injured and harmed–

Wormtail Apparated next to Voldemort, looking a bit worried, but was astonished when he saw the chaos that was happening–

Almost instantly, more wizards Apparated into the cave, all of them wearing the official robes of Ministry workers, perhaps they were Aurors, the dark wizard catchers; they saw what was happening and quickly reacted, whipping out their wands and sending jinxes and hexes at Voldemort and Wormtail–

But Wormtail was quicker, and he grabbed onto his master's forearm and used Side-Along Apparition, where he brought someone else along with him during his Apparition–

The cursed inferno was still blazing and was surging violently at Harry; instinctively, he threw up his arms, but in his haste, the locket slid from his hands and flew directly at the fiery beast billowing at him–

The locket spun and swirled mid-air and it crashed into the blaze oddly; it collided with the firestorm, and, amazingly, it did not obliterate immediately, but absorbed the impact and was filled with the mass of uncontrollable conflagration–

An ear-splitting scream echoed throughout the cave and the locket fire withheld unstably in the locket exploded from within, the locket cracking and breaking into a million shards–

The fire released from the locket, which couldn't just be any ordinary locket, was so terrible and it was still so alive, swarming in every direction–

The Aurors, satisfied they had done all they could, Apparated away and left Harry thinking that he would be abandoned inside the cave on his own, but another Auror, a black, bald, tall man ran at him and grabbed his arm–

The flames swarmed into one, pointed arrow and speeded rapidly at him–

Only a bit of blaze grazed his skin as the Auror and Harry were taken from the cave, in a similar experience to using a Portkey. Harry felt his insides churn and his brain melt as all his molecules and his cells burned and his and the Auror's bodies crammed together, squashed, a loud SNAP resounding as they left the cave, disappearing into the sky in a stream of garbled sounds and coalesced colours.

A/N: I really would appreciate it if you guys could review, give me feedback, ask questions, etc. :)