Happy belated Easter, Passover, etc. Hope your festivities were great!
Sorry for the wait, everyone. School sucks really bad, especially long reports that take up your writing time :) I've also been sick for a while and I blame that as well for the delay. Pray I don't get sick before I upload again! Also, I'm currently in the middle of a big project for school and this may hinder my uploading. I sure as hell hope not though!
Thank you to all my fabulous reviewers! You guys are the best! I would like to acknowledge: Harryisagod (thanks for also reviewing my other Harry Potter fic!), hedwig136, Potter-Blood (thanks for all the emails -wink!-), raven2547, Aisha-ladimoon, and TwilightsCalling. Also to Haunted for the FF PM. All of you rock! I adore getting reviews! Please keep the reviews coming and I hope all you readers will take the time to review as well. Hopefully I'll have some new names to put up when I add the next chapter (wink!).
Warning: This chapter contains a lot of violence- Harry bashing on Voldemort's part. Just letting you know, it's pretty graphic, but hopefully this won't turn away readers.
Disclaimer: (I sit while in tears as I write this) "I do not own Harry Potter!" -sniff-
It Ends Now
Part 15: "Transfiguration Trance"
Harry opened his eyes slowly, feeling as if someone had placed lead on them. He blinked a few times, eyes unaccustomed to the searing light so contrasting from the darkness he'd been floating in for who knows how long. It felt like a thousand knives piercing his pupils. Everything was blurry and hard to make out, part of the reason because of Harry's myopia. He groped around unseeingly for his glasses.
"I do believe you're looking for these, Harry." A hand placed the glasses onto Harry's face and the world sprung into focus. Albus Dumbledore sat in the chair beside Harry's bed.
"Hello, Headmaster," Harry greeted cordially, pulling his body into a sitting position with ease. He felt no aches or pains. Dumbledore smiled and nodded his head in response. A sneaking suspicion entered Harry's mind, and he didn't hesitate to voice it. "Have you been here the whole time?" That brought forth another inquiry.
"How long have I been out of it?"
"Only a couple of hours since your friends and I relieved your mind of the memories. And yes, I have been here periodically during that hiatus of time." Harry blushed, looking down.
"You... you didn't have to stay here just for me... I know you're really busy and all..." he mumbled. Dumbledore let out a rumbling laugh, softened eyes twinkling.
"Dear boy, my concern for you takes priority over trivial things such as paperwork! My primary focus was to make sure you were alright and not showing any negative side effects."
"Negative side effects?"
"While we freed your mind of the bad visions, they sadly had to be returned one by one. The result of this could have caused a brain overload or loss of other key memories, not necessarily bad ones per say. But you rose above and came out nicely. The only side-affect I think you'll find is that you may feel very tired for the next few days, but lots of sleep will cure this in no time." Dumbledore said this just as Harry was in the middle of a large yawn. He flushed, closing his mouth in embarassment. The old man's blue eyes, if possible, shined brighter in mirth. It was true- even though Harry had been sleeping for hours, he still felt immensely fatigued. The boy also felt touched by the sincere, tender comment his Headmaster had made.
"Can I at least go back to classes tomorrow?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Tomorrow, Harry. I'm afraid any sooner is too early," the man said with a twinge of sympathy, knowing how trapped Harry must feel. "Rest, child, for tomorrow will come sooner than you realize. Sleep as much as possible." He stood up, patted Harry once on the shoulder with a benign smile, and exitted. Harry found that his eyes could stay open no longer and he drifted off into a mercifully peaceful slumber.
oOo
As Dumbledore had predicted, the next day came quickly. Madam Promfrey insisted on a last check-up before he departed, delaying Harry's quest to get to breakfast before a lot of people had gone down. He wasn't sure if he could have stood the stares and whispers, all directed at him. Or the constant retellings of what had happened for too-eager peers.
"But Madam..." Harry whined with a touch of dramatism. The matron smirked at this antagonism to her prodding.
"Now, now, Mr. Potter. I must have you in tip-top shape for classes. wouldn't want to be sluggish in a duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts, do we? Yes, I know all about these little combats," she said in response to his askance look. "Quite a few students found themselves in the Hospital Wing with various minor injuries and inchantments ailing them. Apparently, some had chosen to disobey Professor Livey's instructions of non-hurtful curses..." She trailed off, clucking disapprovingly. It seemed her mood had taken a slight dip, and Harry smartly remained passive as she examined him.
A few minutes later, the ordeal was over.
"Well Potter, you seem to be doing fine. I only ask that you get a lot of sleep to sap up all that extra exhaustion," she inculcated upon him. Harry agreed with extra gusto, ready to be gone of the Hospital Wing. He'd seen enough of it to last him a lifetime, and counting ceiling tiles became very boring when no distraction was in sight. Sometimes being there felt like incarceration than healing, and finally he was freed. But for how long, Harry hadn't the foggiest. He always ended up back there, somehow.
oOo
"HARRY!"
Harry had been heading to the Great Hall for breakfast, even though the mealtime was nearing conclusion, only to be mauled along the way by Ron and Hermione, who'd been heading up to see him. Ron clapped him on the back.
"Alive then, mate? You gave us a scare there when Dumbledore told us you weren't waking up," he said lightly, but behind the words there was relief and seriousness.
"You shouldn't have just run off into the Forest yourself!" Hermione scolded, wagging her finger at him reproachfully.
"OK, OK," Harry laughed. Then he sombered up. "I'm sure you would have done the same. Hagrid was in trouble!"
"Don't give us that, Harry! You know it'll just weaken 'Mione's resolve!" Ron teased. Hermione threw him the dirtiest look she could muster.
"Nevertheless, he should've thought it through!" she protested, not about to give up that easily. Harry sighed, wishing she would stop lecturing him. He knew he'd made some stupid mistakes, but you can't change the past. What he had done was done.
"Ah, 'Mione, you know if it was Harry we'd have gone straight in as well!" Ron persuaded, and that seemed to butter her up and quelm the arguement. Harry took her sudden silence as agreement.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the three Gryffindorks," a voice drawled from behind the trio. The three didn't even have to turn to know who was the owner of that voice. Instantly, Harry had his wand out and centered at Draco Malfoy's smirking face. His gray eyes glittered maliciously.
"What do you what, Malfoy?" Harry spat, vemon hate filling him. This particular Slytherin had never given him anything but contempt. He was a good-for-nothing snob who's father was a convicted Death Eater, only good for rubbing his nose in other's business, which is what Harry surmised the prat was doing now.
"Just come to offer a few wise words of caution, though I don't really know why I'm taking the time to," he shot nastily. Harry sneered, lip curving up.
"Oh, really?" he returned sarcastically. "First, I don't know why you're taking the time either, and second, when should I ever trust you?"
"If you value your life, you will," Draco hissed in a low, deadly calm voice. "He's watching. And plotting. Watch your back." And without another word, the blonde turned on his heel and stalked off. Harry lowered his wand with more than a little surprise, mouth hanging open like a fool. Was that a warning? Was Malfoy trying to help him? Or was it a threat?
Both Ron and Hermione felt the same, voicing his views aloud and questioning the validity of the 'warning'.
"I suppose Malfoy does have the inside scoop on Voldemort's plans, given his father's in the Dark Lord's inner circle, but-" Hermione began.
"But that's the point, isn't it? It could very well be a trap too!" Ron continued on.
"And when's Malfoy ever given us a reason to trust him?" Harry echoed of all their thoughts. No answer followed, for the Slytherin prat had never given plausibility for his words. Perhaps he'd had a change of heart or sudden feeling of kindness, but Harry doubted this. Since when did Malfoy have bouts of niceness?
oOo
The bell rang, indicating class dismissal. Harry gathered up his ink bottle and papers, stuffing them unceremoniously into his bag and following his friends out of Defense Against the Dark Arts. It had been a drab, monotonous class full of lecturing and note-taking, the worst kind. Extremely unexciting compared to previous classes of dueling and spellcasting. Many times, Ron had had to give Harry a good pinch or kick in the shins when it seemed the boy was nodding off. Harry had found it tediously hard to keep his eyes open all the while Professor Livey droned on and on like a broken record. Just the word 'sleep' seemed tantalizing to the drowsy teen. Obviously, Ron and Hermione had noticed and sympathized with him.
"Come on, Harry, just a few more classes then lunch and a free period you can sleep during!" Ron cheerily nudged, elbowing Harry, who was constantly rubbing his stingy, watery eyes. The challenge of keeping them open was unbearable. He had to stifle a plethora of yawns too.
"Ron, really, Harry should be doing his schoolwork in his break, not-" Hermione was cut off by a pointed glare from Ron.
"Look at him, Hermione! Do you think the lad'll last anymore classes without a doze inbetween? Madam Promfrey said he'd be really tired, and needed rest! What better time to do so?" the freckled teen argued.
"Could you please stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Harry requested mildly, all the while rolling his eyes. "You're giving me a headache. Literally."
They reached the Transfiguration classroom just as Harry said this.
"Come in, class!" McGonagall's voice called from within. It was laced with her usual steely strictness; a professor not to be messed with and yet bearing a soft heart for her little Gryffindor cubs. One certain one in particular, who bore far too much burden for a young one his age. In an assembly of laughing and gossiping, the students entered the classroom. "Take your seats."
Ron led the other two to the last row of seats, knowing much of the class would be spent just keeping Harry awake, lest he face mortification from his peers and a scolding from the Head of House.
Harry took his seat, sighing and rubbing his itchy eyes with the heels of his palms. Bright colored spots erupted in front of his eyes, and with much effort, he pulled himself back to comprehension. Professor McGonagall was explaining today's lesson. Oh, Snape's class would be hell to deal with, Harry just knew! A purposeful bump from Hermione made Harry commit his attention to the teacher's words.
"Today's class will center on the ability of transfiguring solid, tangible objects into animals. We have previously learned how to change animals into objects, and now we are doing the opposite. Now, this is a highly complex N.E.W.T. lesson, and the transfiguring becomes harder as your animal of choice becomes larger. Therefore, the objective is to change water goblets into ants: a very small, insignificant being," McGonagall explained. She flicked her wand and goblets appeared in front of each student. "I will give you half the class, a very interminable time which should give you much time to accomplish this task. It is not too difficult the spell, if you are really putting all your effort into doing it and NOT-DOING-YOUR-CHARMS-HOMEWORK-IN-MY-CLASS, MR. FINNIGAN!" Seamus jumped, stuffing it away with a faint blush covering his cheeks.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Anyways, to cast this spell, you simply flick your wand up and slightly to the right, clearly calling out 'Corporeali Metamorphus!' with feel and force. Be sure to be concentrating on your animal as you incant this, or the spell will fail to work. Picture the ant with your mind's eye, outline its detail and make sure you use clarity. Begin."
Harry pointed his wand at the silver chalice before him. He mustered up all his forces of concentration (which were pretty weak from fatigue), chanting:
"Corporeali Metamorphus!" A streak of gray hue flew out from his wand and twined around the goblet, but nothing happened. Unfortunately for Harry, Professor McGonagall had been right behind him, not failing to notice his unsuccessful attempt.
"Not enough concentration, Potter," she tut-tutted. "Next time envision the ant before you jump to the spellcasting. Generally it help evade you from distraction if you close your eyes." Harry smiled weakly at her, thinking he would close his eyes if he could, but feared he might just fall asleep in the process.
McGonagall moved off to congratulate Hermione on her immediate success on her first try, also taking the time to inform Ron that he was flicking his wand the wrong way, not to mention completely saying the spell wrong.
"Honestly, Weasley. Were you even half listening to my instructions?" she inquired, and not without a lace of sarcasm gracing her stern voice. Ron's face turned hot as he mumbled that he had, but couldn't remember the words to the spell and the right movement. In truth, he'd been too busy observing Harry for any signs of nodding off. He'd personally taken it upon himself to keep the boy awake. His protectiveness over Harry had only grown since the dementor attack. Longgone was the jealous Ron who wished he was the 'Famous Harry Potter'. No, Ron had seen a glimpse into Harry's hell, and had since then vowed to comrade and protect his best friend even more than before. He felt so blessed to have his large family, when before he would have died to be an only child like Harry. Now he deeply regretted those moments of self-pity.
oOo
Professor McGonagall clapped her hands together, drawing the class' attention.
"Very satisfactory attempts I saw for a first time, well done. I was not counting on many to succeed right away, but to those who did, I congratulate you." Professor McGonagall nodded in acknowledgement to the beaming Hermione, who's even gone so far as to turn the ant back into its original form of a goblet. Harry, on the other hand, glared at his goblet, which had reamined just that during the whole practice time. Ron grumbled under his breath, letting lose some colorful profanity directed at his untransfigured chalice, sitting innocently in front of him. He was giving it a dirty look, as if the object had just insulted him.
"The last half of class, we will examine the theory of animal transfiguration. The-" Harry's mind seemed to shut down at that point, blocking out the boring lecture, and the boy rested his head, elbow supporting it. His eyelids drooped, and he blinked heavily. A haze of blackness began unfurling at the edges of his vision, and Harry closed his eyes to clear it- ooh, bad mistake. The boy just couldn't seem to open them again. He sank down into blissful darkness... how wonderfully peaceful it felt... no worries... Sleep overcame Harry and in a matter of seconds, the boy was sound asleep.
oOo
Harry sighed, discontented. A fury of blind rage possessed him, but he betrayed no flicker of this on his carefully masked face as he spoke coldly, words issuing out in a high, cruel hiss that made even the strongest Death Eater quiver, wary of their master's disappointment and anger.
And boy, was he angry.
"Luciussssss... it appears your plan failed..."
The Death Eater kneeling prostrate in front of him twitched, but his voice was cool and collected. "I deeply regret this, Master. The boy is strong; we held not even a prayer once that cretin of a Headmaster showed up to save his precious Gryffindor."
"Then why, Lucius, were you so intent on getting them to the boy if you knew it would fail?" Harry asked softly, but the statement was icy and dangerous.
"My lord, it was a way to form a loophole in the security. Now with the spy's firm placement, we have been able to cause a breech in the wards Dumbledore's so precariously enforced," Malfoy Sr. explained. Harry paused for thought, mulling it over.
"The plan did have its advantages- nevertheless, you failed in the mission and that blunder is not to be overlooked," Harry drawled emotionlessly.
"Yes, my lord," Lucius crooned, but there was a tightness to his voice and his body stance had tensed. He knew what awaited him.
"Good. Crucio!" Harry took perverse pleasure in wathcing Lucius writhe helplessly, grunting with pain- a fine punishment for a dismal failure...
Harry's head abruptly seared, aching fit to burst, and it seemed to rip in two. Suddenly, Harry's thoughts were his own again, not Voldemort's sick ones, and yet... he was still looking out of Voldemort's eyes. Harry struggled, fighting to free himself of Voldemort's internal clutches, but a laugh echoed softly in his hypothetical ear, or to be more precise, his mind's ear. It was chilling and disconcerting, and Voldemort's message was clear, as if the man was saying it directly to Harry.
'You're not getting away this time, boy...'
oOo
Ron groaned inwardly; bored didn't even come close to explaining how he felt listening to McGonagall drone on and on about dumb animal transfiguration that he couldn't even get right! He glanced around the classroom- it appeared only Hermione was semi-conscious in the brain, but even her eyes had taken on a glazed look. It just seemed to be one of those lecture days from all the teachers.
The freckled boy chanced a look at Harry, abruptly swearing:
"Shite!" Hermione's furious face sharply turned to him, so fast she got a crick in her neck.
"Ron..." she growled under her breath. Thankfully, McGonagall's attention was elsewhere at the moment. Ron cocked his head in Harry's direction, and Hermione followed the gesture... her eyes widened, silently signalling Ron to awaken him. Ron nudged Harry gently with his elbow.
"Psst! Harry! Wake up!" he hissed. Harry didn't even twitch, but a more pressing problem rose up in front of them in the form of Professor McGonagall. Unfortunately, the Transfiguration professor did not take kindly to people falling asleep on her teaching time. Hands on her hips and eyes brimming with menace, the woman looked a right terror. Even Hermione flinched under that angry gaze.
"POTTER!" she barked, and nearly everyone in the room jumped out of their dazed stupor, eyes plastered on the unfolding (and quite exciting) scene. McGonagall took Harry shoulders and gave the boy a light shake to stir him, all the while ranting furiously.
"Potter, do you know how rude this is? I have no doubt you are tired, but nothing a Pepper-Up Potion can't cure! I could have you in deten-" She abruptly ceased her tirade, eyes widening to a point where they almost seemed as large as her square spectacles.
After a a few full seconds of shaking and loud fuming in his face, Harry hadn't even moved a muscle, and he still wasn't waking up.
"Potter... POTTER!" She shook him even more vigorously, but this time with a frantic, concerned look on her face. All the anger had melted away and fear surrounded her. Harry didn't even react, face motionless.
"Mr. Potter, are you alright? Wake up, child!" she exclaimed desperately. Gasps and whispers resounded around the room, most confused or scared.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Why won't he wake up?"
"Harry!" Hermione and Ron had evacuated their seats, rushing around the desk to flank him on either side and joining in on the rousing attempt. McGonagall too came around and felt his forehead, searching for signs of fever.
"Is he alright, professor?" Hermione whispered, holding Harry's limp hand tightly in her's. The boy's complexion had gone pale, and the lightning scar looked more pronounced than usual.
"I don't-"
Harry let out a bloodcurling scream, and it was as if a bomb went off. Flurries of students lunged out of their seats and ran at the Boy-Who-Lived and his surrounding entourage. Harry had somehow slipped free of the trio closest him, falling out of the chair and onto the cold floor. He began jerking and writhing around in agony, pained wailing and whimpers making their way out of his gritted teeth. Someone shoved the desk away, freeing the room around the boy. Tears of torment flowed down his cheeks. One lone streak of blood escaped from the red, inflamed scar, sliding sideways and off Harry's forehead to fall with a drip! onto the floor. Hushed whispers broke out and someone asked:
"What's that?" of the blood. McGonagall had a hand pressed over her mouth, unbelieving of what she was seeing. But that hiatus passed and she collapsed to kneel crouched beside her student. All formalities were forgotten as she tried to revive Harry, her special Gryffindor child.
"Harry! Are you alright? You've got to answer me; please wake up! Ennervate!" Harry's agony failed to cease with the spell, and McGonagall remembered an incident similar to this in the summer at Grimmauld. As realization struck and the woman recalled what the bleeding scar meant, she very much wished to swear but refrained (Oh god, Voldemort! If I could rip you to shreds now, I would! Harry doesn't deserve this!). McGonagall turned on her students and waved them away.
"Off with you all! Class dismissed! No loitering!" Everyone ran to obey, filing out quickly and casting nonplussed glances back at the still-twitching Harry. Professor McGonagall didn't catch them; her back was to them and her eyes were focused on Harry, brow furrowed as her mind schemed. Hermione and Ron never budged from their place, as McGonagall didn't reprimand them for leaving.
"Miss Granger, would you mind getting the Headmaster? I do believe he can help more than I," McGonagall said in an eerily-calm voice despite the situation. Perhaps it was because Harry himself had grown calmer- she had her hand resting on his quickly rising and falling chest, and the loving support it brought seemed to stabilize the boy. It was as if he could feel her reassuring prescence through the simple touch.
Hermione wasn't keen on leaving Harry, but she knew she must. There was no more McGonagall could do. The brain child stood and made for the door, but whirled around when McGonagall let out a chilling scream of horror, her own yells rising in a din with Harry's renewed ones. Hermione gulped back overwhelming revulsion and Ron had recoiled from Harry's body as if it were surrounded by spiders, white as sheet.
Harry's body was filling with horrible cuts, slashes, welts, burns, and more- vile obscenities not supposed to be seen on one so young and innocent. Terrified, tormented screams were what Harry let out, and the marks kept coming as Harry struggled with an unknown captive. The other three had been frozen in fear, but McGonagall was the first to snap back.
"Granger! Get the Headmaster, now!" she ordered shrillily, and Hermione didn't hesitate to run full-force down the corridors, uncaring of the noise she produced. Ron was visibly shaking as he observed his anguished friend.
"What's... going on?" he inquired softly, voice barely above a whisper, gulping back a wave of nausea as a particularily nasty, bleeding slash appeared on Harry's twisted face.
"I... I'm not sure, Weasley. Dumbledore will know," she said confidently, and something her her voice told Ron that the teacher was trying to reassure herself as well.
"D'you want me to get Madam Promfrey?" Ron questioned, not wanting to leave Harry but feeling useless doing nothing. It was hard watching your friend scream and writhe while you're just sitting there. McGonagall had procured a hankerchief and was trying to mop up the wounds,but fresh ones kept appearing and made the task futile.
"Yes...yes, I think you should. Harry needs to be tended to immediately," she dismissively answered, drawing back the hankerchief and wringing it in anxiety. Ron scampered off, hoping the nurse was not busy.
"Oh Albus, where are you?" the teacher moaned. She took to cleaning the child up again, also wiping the sweat out of his eyes. The act helped her keep going and not just break down in tears at the situation. Why was this happening? How could someone have enough hate to do this to an innocent child? Harry groaned and shuddered unpleasantly, when a grave Dumbledore and Hermione entered.
"Albus!"
"I'm sorry I'm a bit late, professor. I didn't know the password," Hermione hastened to explain.
"No, I'm sorry. In my hurry I forgot to give you it," the Transfiguration professor contradicted. Dumbledore raised a hand.
"No harm done, Minerva. I was just leaving my office and managed to catch Hermione as she left-"
The man was cut off by Ron and Madam Promfrey bursting into the room, both panting and having run the whole way.
"I...got her..." Ron gasped out, clutching a stitch in his side. Madam Promfrey gained her bearings instantly.
"Where is he? Where's Harry?" the matron demanded, potions and wand already at the ready.
"Over here, Poppy," McGonagall gestured from her spot on the floor. She needn't have informed; Harry's cries were growing again. Everyone in the room gathered around the boy and Dumbledore placed his hands on Harry's forehead, not caring that his hands were now tainted with deep, rich red moisture.
"Voldemort has undoubtedly trapped Harry somehow in his mind. I am going to attempt to draw him back." The room was totally silent (aside from Harry's shouts amd Promfrey's whispered healing spells) as Dumbledore closed his eyes, an invisible yet powerful magical aura surrounding him.
oOo
After Voldemort had spoken that chilling phrase, Harry had felt ridden by fear. He was unable to awake and bring himself back to reality; unable to free himself from this monster's mind. Voldemort's vision went dark, and Harry found himself in an abyss with no beginning or end. Infinitely cold and lonely.
"You and I are going to have some fun, Potter," Voldemort's voice spoke amusedly and forebodingly. Before Harry could respond, a horrible, tearing sensation blasted through him and again it felt like he was being ripped in two, but this pain was much worse than before and Harry let out a bloodcurdling scream.Then all at once, Harry himself was bodily on the ground, staring up into the gleaming red eyes of Lord Voldemort.
"Hello, Harry."
"Voldemort," Harry acknowledged, spitting out the name with as much hate as he could put in such a despicable name. "What do you want?"
"What do I want? What doI want? Why Harry, I want revenge. Revenge for not dying as planned by the dementors, as you saw just now. I want to watch you scream. I want you to give me the full content of the prophecy as you give it up in agony, pleading for mercy like your mudblood mother before she died for you," the man said, eyes alight in excitement and nostrils dilating at the prospect. The gleam in his eyes seemed to grow brighter as he went on.
"I'll never give up the prophecy," Harry retorted. "I'm not afraid of you. You can't hurt me here! This is a dream!"
"And pain is but magnification of our minds. It can still be felt in illusion because our minds have recorded its feeling into their hard drives per say, you fool," Voldemort replied silkily and smoothly. "You will see how very wrong you are. You are in my mind now. You can summon no protection here while I reign." And without even a wand, Voldemort pointed his skeletal thin, long-fingered hand at Harry.
"CRUCIO!" Harry screamed, white hot knives shredding through his body that seemed full of reverbrating electricity. Spikes were neing driven into him, someone was pounding his head with fists, his head seemed on fire, burning intensely and enough to drive anyone insane... then the feeling was gone. But Voldemort was right; it felt just as real as the true thing.
Harry staggered up and threw himself at Voldemort, trying to hurt him; pound him; make him feel the pain of torture... the man dodged the assault, summoning a whip just as Harry crashed into whatfelt like rough, stony ground. However, all he saw was darkness. Harry gasped as he looked at his hand and knees, skinned and bruised. How was this possible? But this was Voldemort's mind, and anything and everything was accounted for by him.
Harry saw the whip fly back and realized then that any attempt of escape or defense was vain, for even as Harry cringed and tried to crouch away from the offensive missile, it flew down at him and whipped the boy across the stomach. Harry screamed again, the red hot burning aching fit to burst. Voldemort laughed, raising the whip and striking it down over and over. Harry lost track of time and how many hits he was delivered. Everything seemed to meld together.
"You like that, boy? I want you to suffer! Tell me the prophecy and then, only then, will I relent!" Harry twitched as the whip dug deep into his back, whimpering. Each time Voldemort tore the obscene weapon out, some of Harry's flesh followed. It killed like hell! Bloodied and beaten, tears flowing freely, Harry still didn't give in. He would not tell this vile creature the prophecy. What was the point? He would just be ensuring his own downfall if Voldemort ever knew the rest! Besides, who was to say the man would just let him free after? 'Oh, Harry, now that I know I must either kill you or be killed by you, I'm just gonna let you free and you can go home and prance around in the prairie!' Sure. Voldemort was a manipulating freak and all his promises owned up to nothing.
"I'm... not stupid, Voldemort," Harry gasped out, despite the howls of pain erupting from everywhere. "You'll never squander it from me!"
SLAP!
Voldemort's hand connected with his face and Harry felt his lip split, gushing out more blood. Lights erupted in front of his eyes at the impact.
"The prophecy, Potter! Last chance! I can send you back to the reality, albeit with some bruises, but not as many as I'll give you if you refuse! Though I cannot kill you in this realm, I can still cause you more pain than you have ever felt in your entire life. You will feel the flames of Hell licking at you! You will return to real life with more scars than you can count; ones worse and more visible than the one engraved on your damned head!"
Harry's only response was to spit in Voldemort's face, defiant till the end.
CRACK!
The whip hit home again. Harry twitched, feeling blood in his mouth from biting his tongue too hard. He let out no sound, because he was tired of giving Voldemort that pleasure. The pain was numbing- the more pain he took, the less effect it had. The boy grew gruesomely used to it, to an extent. What was the use of reacting? He was a completely helpless prisoner- no, worse than. There was no way he could defend himself. Not one.
Unbeknownst to Harry, Voldemort had magicked a torch in place of the whip, a fire flaming red hot embers at the top. A hand grabbed Harry's hair and wrenched him up till he was face to face with a wrathful Voldemort. Their noses touched, and Harry's scar seemed to burn with the same intensity as the torch. He tried to pull away in fear, eyes watering as the cold hands gripped tighter.
"Perhaps this will be effective against your stupid Gryffindor insolence," The Dark lord whispered dangerously. He thrust the torch against Harry's belly. This time, Harry did shout; he couldn't help it. He cried (not giving a damn if Voldemort saw; his mind was only aware of the intense anguish), he struggled, he fought, he begged even, but there was no release to such unbearable torment as the fire burned into his flesh. God, he want to die! Even the whipping and Cruciatus did not compare to the physical agony!
Then something happened.
Voldemort flickered, and he dropped Harry, who was in too much pain to speculate. It happened again; and Voldemort disappeared momentarily. This time, Harry knew it wasn't just his blurring vision playing a trick on him. A warmth was almost drawing Harry backwards, away from Voldemort. The Dark Lord shouted out, but his voice seemed... distant. However, his words were screamed so loudly that Harry, even in his deteriorating, agony-filled state, heard him.
"I'LL KILL YOU, DUMBLEDORE! THE BOY IS MINE!" But then Harry's mind went blank and all went totally black.
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Wow, what a long chapter! The next one is: "Halloween". Thanks to all my readers for sticking with me even after this wait. Hopefully the next one won't be as long but no guarantees as I have a long project coming up.
AngelMoon Girl: "Please, please, review!"
Albus Dumbledore: "Alas, if you do not, she will be reduced to tears."
Harry Potter: "So review!"
Voldemort: "Or I'll sic myself on you. MUHAHAHAHAHA!"
-Harry bops him over the head-
Harry: "Oh sod off, Voldy."
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Thanks! Angel