Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter. If I did I'd be rolling in money. Sigh... one can dream.
A/N: This is the re-posted chapter 2. I'm sorry it's rather short; I originally wrote it quickly to get it up sooner. I tried adding more details, but the length still makes me cringe. Same with the next chapter, but they gradually pick up in substance and weight.
Also, always look for my little note that a chapter is the edited one. If you don't see it, it hasn't been fixed yet, so don't review me about all the errors you catch. I know they're there- heck, I used to misspell McGonagall and Pomfrey- and am in the process of tweaking them up. This story is under major renovations, but I refuse to take it down while doing so. If you see mistakes, grin and bear it as I do. Plus, Fanfiction .net used to have an irritating document manager program that always mushed words together that weren't meant to be joined. Their new one is much better, so I'm attempting to go back and fix those blunders as well. Thank you for your patience and understanding! Read on!
It Ends Now
Part 2: "Cornered"
"No Dumbledore… no protectors… and cornered like a frightened little animal. My, my, we are in trouble, aren't we?" Voldemort said in a sneering, mocking voice. A look of triumph permeated his normally emotionless face, and he chuckled. "I wish I knew who inflicted all this extra damage on you, Potter. I dearly want to meet them; pass on my congratulations... So, shall we invite more, Harry? This will be interesting…"
Voldemort touched his forearm, where Harry knew the Dark Mark was engraved like a tattoo. Pain made itself known in Harry's forehead, and he bit his lip. He could not; would not show this vile man weakness; he mustn't provide that form of pleasure… A strong urge to vomit filled Harry, and he could not resist his gag reflex. The fifteen year old retched, dimly watching as deep red blood was ejaculated from his mouth. The color reminded Harry, in a sick twist of fate, of Voldemort's antipathy for him. The eyes of the same incarnadine hue twinkled madly in a perverted manifestation of Dumbledore's wont. Voldemort then gave a wicked laugh, and Harry's stomach flip-flopped again as he realized the Dark Lord thought his ordeal humorous. A growl to belie Harry's current state slipped from his lips as stealthily as the blood had.
Voldemort's mirth was suddenly cut off by the appearance of his minions. In a whirling of cloaks, masked Death Eaters appeared in pop!s around the two. Harry cowered into the graffitied brick, finding himself in the middle of an unthinkable err:
Praying; wishing; almost pleading the fates that be for Snape to be among those called. However, in the many masked servants of the Dark Lord, he did not recognize his greasy Potions master.
"Well, my dear Death Eaters. I have scrounged up a special gift for us tonight… what luck, what luck… I have found a very vulnerable Harry Potter!"
Cheers rose up in a din, hands dancing in claps. Harry heard the booing; the derisive catcalling and spitting being flung his way. He grimaced. It was the Graveyard scene all over again, except this time, he was so achingly close to home; to salvation...
Where was the Order of the Phoenix when he needed them most? What good was their so-called "guarding" of him if they deserted their savior when he needed their aid most?
"We will have our fun with Potter- a high treat- and then I shall be rid of the insolent boy once and for all..." Voldemort turned to Harry, whose mind felt quite blank. Where was the bravery? The heroism he was famed for? Instead of an adrenaline rush of courage, the heart-throb found himself unable to move. He was pinned to the wall; immobile even as Voldemort's wand moved up to face him.
Dammit, Harry Potter, do something other than stare dumbly at his wand! You're going to die! the boy's mind hollered at him. Get up and fight! But Harry's legs were numb, his wand was slack in his grip, and he hurt too much too care. Let death come. It was too late. The world would just have to fend for itself.
"Crucio!"
Harry's bones were instantly on fire, and he felt his wand slip and clatter on the ground. Excruciating pain gnawed at Harry's skin; a thousand white-hot knives slashed at his body.
Let it end…surely death is less painful…
It seemed to go on forever. Slice. Slice. Slice. Burn. Burn. Burn. Everywhere Harry had sensation; there was agony.
And then, just as soon as the burning came, it stopped. Harry opened his eyes, raucous laughter piercing his eardrums. The seeker panted in and out with labored breaths. He ached; ached everywhere. Harry knew he was teetering on the brink of death; he had to be. His injuries were getting worse with each writhe Voldemort forced him into. Harry prayed for the Order, but fostered little hope in their arrival. If they didn't come soon, he was done for… but perhaps it wouldn't be too bad to die; to see Sirius.
Darkness was flaunting in again; flirting with his mind...
"Ennervate!"
Harry was forced awake by Voldemort, who smiled coldly. "No, no, Harry… we are going to have our fun first… You can sleep peacefully later, boy. I want the thorn in my side to suffer before he greets his mudblood mother."
Harry grimaced, then coughed up more blood. Was he bleeding internally on top of his wounds? With the amount of torment Harry felt, he knew it was entirely possible.
"Are you in pain, Harry?" the wintery voice asked him. "I will eliminate your pain soon; do not fret."
Green connected with red and Harry knew the end was imminent. He'd never see Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, or anyone else he loved again. Those eyes told him so, mercilessly. Voldemort's wand moved back to accost Harry.
"Let us finish what we began the night of my return, Harry Potter."
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AngelMoon Girl