A/N: So, first and foremost, I am very sorry for the long wait and evil cliffhanger. I have been busy, I've been getting essays and assignments and all sorts of crazy stuff in school, and I've had no time at all to write. However, I got a laptop for Christmas, so now I can write when I have time on the bus and such. I would like to work on some original things along with fanfiction. For now, I'm planning on focusing all my fanfic efforts on this fic (along with the occasional oneshot) rather then my other multi-chaps. When I finish this, I'll go back to the others. Again sorry, you may now proceed to virtual-throw tomatoes at my head.

Chapter Sixteen: Insanity, Grief, and Rebellion

When I open my eyes, all I'm met with is an empty void. I'm so alone, so very, very alone. I'm shaking violently, my arms splayed across a cold, flat surface, the tips of my fingers touching something metallic. My eyes are open...I think, but there's not even the faintest glimmer of light.

Where am I? What's going on?

Who am I?

I don't even know my own name, don't remember ever having a name, but I know I'm supposed to have one. I don't ever remember seeing anything, but I know that I'm not supposed to here, that this isn't right, that there should be more than just emptiness.

Help me. Someone? Anyone? Save me from this, please? Help me remember.

A clacking sound, something is moving towards me. I reach out, desperate, my mouth trying to make words when I don't know how. I'm trapped inside my head, unable to express myself, trying desperately to remember.

An unlatching sound and the metal swings away from my fingers. Hands are on my arms and dragging me up and out, there's a new noise, one that I don't know the name of. It was warm, or it should have been warm, but wasn't, it was cold, so very cold, and it scares me, and I don't know why. What was that noise called again?

I am pulled forwards, stumbling over my own feet, not knowing or seeing where I'm going. I'm suddenly shoved, violently, but I don't fall all the way to the ground, caught by some flat surface. The hands turn me over so I'm lying on my back, before restraining me, shackling my wrists and ankles to the table.

A single word is spoken, Crucio, and I manage to think, in the millisecond between the cause and the effect, that nothing good is coming. Then suddenly, I'm in pain, so much pain, fire coursing through my veins, screams tearing from my throat and flying around the room, and I want nothing more than to be somewhere, anywhere else.

The pain stops and there are more mumbled words I don't know the meaning of. A second voice responds. The first voice, the Crucio voice, says another word that I don't understand, but I feel that I should. Cold metal wraps around my head and I jump, startled by the sudden feeling.

There's that mysterious sound again, the one I don't understand. Then there's another pain flickering through me. It doesn't feel the same as the Crucio one, more of a ache than a burn. I don't even scream, it's so insubstantial compared to the first one, surely there can't be anything else worth my screams.

And then the fog in my head starts to lift. Facts, names, knowledge, memories, all of it. My name is Harry Potter. I was kidnapped. I'm in a place that can only be described as Hell on Earth. I've been here for I-don't-know-how-long. Every night I lose my memory. Every morning I regain it. The reason it's so dark, I'm blind. The reason I lose my memory, they torture me to insanity every day. The reason I'm strapped to this table, it's going to happen again.

The noise I heard earlier was laughter. And yes, there are other things worth screaming over.

"Ready to begin?"

And I wish that I didn't remember.

A few hours later, I'm not exactly sure when, being here has made me lose all sense of time, she finally stops. The woman who impersonated Umbridge, who stole away my sight with a gleaming knife, and locked me in a prison of pain.

I'm covered in my own blood, still attached to a dozen-or-so wires, voiceless from the screams, terrified out of my mind. And the horrible thing is how routine, how normal, this whole ordeal is. I know what's going to happen. She'll be gone for an hour, on lunch break, before she returns to take away my sanity. Then it'll be back to the cage and I won't remember anything about today, or anything at all for that matter.

Tomorrow, she'll return everything with that mysterious machine, and the cycle will begin again. The same as it always will be, for the rest of my life, however long or short that may be.

They all think I'm dead, the woman has told me that often enough. Sirius, Max, Ron, Hermione...all of them. No one will be back for me, ever. No one will know that my coffin is empty, that I'm still alive, and wanting nothing more than to be dead.

"Help me."

Those two words, spoken in a hoarse whisper, spill out of my mouth involuntarily, and I find myself muttering them over and over. "Help me, help me, help me, help me."

They won't stop. I won't stop. Even when my voice is gone, even when my mind is gone, the words spin through my very soul. Begging for help, wanting someone to save me, longing for any form of comfort. The woman took away my connection to the dead as soon as I arrived here, snatching up the last thing I had to make me feel safe, that might help me.

I hear the door open. The laugh fills the room again as the woman sees me, lying here, trembling, terrified, completely helpless. She only exists to feed on others pain, it seems. She isn't human, she can't possibly be human.

"Help me," I whisper one more time, before the pain starts again.

Hermione

I'm staring out the window in the Owlery, watching the snow fall. It's December 27th. Two days after Christmas but, more importantly, two months after Harry's death. I'm trying to move on. Really, I am. But every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Whether he's giving me a wry smirk, or laughing, a genuine laugh I haven't heard since last year, he's always happy. I refuse to remember him as the fearful, broken person he'd become before his death.

Because he deserves to be remembered for his best moments, for the moments that he shone, and smiled, and was strong, a shining star burning bright in a night sky, with an amazing future waiting for him. Not for the times when he sobbed and shook and broke my heart just by looking at him.

A hand rests on my shoulder. It's Ron, I know that without even looking. We've grown even closer since Harry's death, and sometimes I feel like we're the only ones in the school who genuinely mourn him. I know that's selfish, and likely untrue, know that others do remember him as more than a famous face, but sometimes I feel like Ron and I are completely alone.

"You're crying," he says, and I am, silent tears streaming down my face as I gaze out the window, in one of the only places that we can get any privacy. I don't want the others to see me like this, can't afford to show people my weak side. I have to go on. Because that's what Harry would have wanted.

Arms wrap around me and I turn away from the window, burying my face in his shoulder. To a casual observer, we might look like two young lovers sharing a quiet moment, rather than the two remaining members of a trio, mourning the loss of the third.

We sit in the tower long past curfew, watching the snow and the stars in silence.

Max

I race through the forest as fast as I can, arms pumping and breaths coming in shallow gasps. They've taken her. They've taken Angel. Again. I can't let her go back to that place. Especially not after what they did to Harry. Run, run, run. I can't afford to fly, they have guns, the air is too clear.

I throw a wild glance over my right shoulder to make sure Fang is still there. He is, practically gliding across the ground, face set in a mask of cold fury and determination. Nudge is shortly behind him, Iggy next to her, Gazzy bringing up the rear. I curse myself at our stupidity as I sprint. What had possessed us to go fly through the forest? Did we honestly think we were safe?

Yes. Yes we did.

And now we've lost her again. I know deep in my hollow bones, that there's no way we can catch up with them. They likely have a Jeep, heck, maybe even a helicopter, waiting in a clearing to take my baby away.

Yes, there it is, the familiar noise of blades slicing through the air, a copter building up the momentum to take off. As we come to a skidding halt in a clearing, we can clearly see it take off, the Erasers pointing guns at us, a clear warning.

Come any closer and we'll shoot.

"ANGEL!"

But she's gone. It's too late. I've failed her. I've failed everyone.

There's a sudden rush, a dark shadow taking to the sky, a pair of pale white hands grasping the bag containing Angel. Fang is up there, despite the guns, despite the Erasers, and he's snatching Angel from right under their noses.

But I can't bring myself to cheer. Not when I can clearly see the barrels of the guns, glinting in the moonlight. Not when I see the Erasers' mouths pulled into a snarl, bent on getting his prize back. Fang's eyes widen. He knows whats going to happen to him, knows he can't prevent it. He shifts the bag forward, shielding Angel with his body. I'm paralyzed, feet rooted to the ground, unable to do anything but watch the horror unfold in front of me.

One, two, three shots ring out, and Fang's body jerks as each one hits him. For a single moment in time he hangs suspended in the sky, as if pinned there by the bullets. And then he drops, spiraling as he tries to stay in the sky, plummeting ten feet and crashing to the earth. I can see a woman yelling at the Erasers, and then, to my utter confusion, the helicopter turns, and flies away. My feet unstick and I sprint forwards, kneeling beside Fang. He's holding the squirming bag close to his chest, blood already starting to pool around him.

"No. No...please no," I gasp, fingers tightening around his hand. He smiles weakly at me.

"Hey there, Max."

"Don't talk, we need to get you back to the school, get you help," I say frantically, in complete denial of what was happening.

"Max..." he mumbles, squeezing my hand lightly. "Look at me, please." I stop staring at the blood, and gaze into his eyes. He smiles.

"That's better..." he murmurs, eyes starting to slip shut. With a final gasp, he manages to choke out the words I've never been able to say, for fear of rejection. "Love...you."

And then his hand slips from mine and falls to the forest floor. He's gone. No. He can't be gone, he just...can't be.

Angel's head pops from the brown burlap bag, eyes brimming with tears.

"This is all my fault," she chokes out, staring at Fang's motionless frame. "Why did he come for me? I didn't...didn't want this..."

I grab her in a fierce hug, and can clearly feel her trembling. She's alive. She's here. Fang's sacrifice wasn't in vain. The others are walking over, Iggy and Nudge and Gazzy, surrounding us, joining the hug. We try to comfort each other, try to accept the fact that we've lost two friends in as many months.

And that's when I make my decision. I don't care how dangerous it may be, I don't care if I lose my life in the process. I will avenge Fang and Harry. The School will pay. And I won't let them ruin another life.

"This is going to end." I say softly. The arms of my family tighten around me, silently giving their support. They know exactly what my plan is, and they will gladly assist. We've all had our entire lives shattered by the whitecoats. No more. We were protesting.

We were fighting back.