Hi, sorry I haven't updated in so long. I had a load of course work to do and I still haven't finished but...oh well.

I hope you enjoy!

Walking Free

A Waking Mind

'I can see that.' Harry could have recognized that voice from a mile away even in his current state. He began to panic; his chest was rising at a rapid rate. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak, call out, cry. It was hopeless. Even though he hated the man, Professor Snape was the only chance he had at escaping from this hell.

In his panic, he missed what was said next but once the spell hit him, he knew exactly what had been spoken. White hot knives stabbed at his body. Nowhere was free of the pain; it was everywhere and if he could have screamed he would have but his tortured vocal cords would not allow it. He felt hot, salty tears slide down his checks as he was finally released from the Cruciatus curse. His writhing stopped as he took in large, deep but yet shaky breaths. However, he managed only two gulps of air before he was subjected to another curse by his hated potions master.

Harry could make out the Stinking hexes followed by cutting curses before his brain started to shut down. He couldn't think clearly. Pain surrounded every fibre of his torn, weak body. Blood poured out of the many contusions that were scattered across him. His lungs hurt with every breath and just sitting up was a monumental task.

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been under the curse for but finally it drew to a stop. Harry lay on his back, panting heavily. He was dazed, confused and in a considerable amount of pain. He wanted it to end. He wanted to die.

'Oh, don't stop there, Severus. Perhaps they should have a taste of the spell that you made up when you were at Hogwarts?'

There was silence for a moment.

'You know the one, Severus.' the blonde Death Eater continued. 'The spell thatflails the skin.'

The potions master made no noise for a moment and Harry hoped with all his might that Snape had no idea what the man was talking about. Unfortunately, it was not the case.

'You realise, Lucius, that if I do that, I will be forced to heal him straight away. He would lose too much blood otherwise and I believe that the Dark Lord wishes for the man to remain alive for some time at least.'

'Well, it should be entertaining to watch his reaction anyway, even if it is short lived.'

There was more silence. After a moment or so, even with the coarse material covering his face, Harry could have sworn that he heard a sigh.

'Sectumsempra' Snape spoke softly as he enunciated the spell as if it was nothing more than Lumos or another simple charm.

Pain spasmed through Harry as his skin was ripped apart across his entire body. He opened his mouth and screamed; however, the only sound that resonated from the torn throat was an unattractive gurgle. It felt like a fire was coursing through his fragile body. He needed to escape, to get away from the pain but with even the slightest of movement, he felt his skin rip further and blood poured out. Everywhere was wet and sticky and Harry felt as if he had been mauled by some wild beast, whose claws dug further and further into his flesh, tearing him to shreds.

Lying in what felt like a river of his own blood, he heard voices again. They sounded so far away and out of reach. Maybe he was underwater. It certainly felt like it. However, with the voice, the pain died down. The failed skin began to join together again as if someone had literally zipped up the wounds. He moaned pitifully as a particularly large opening sealed shut.

'He will need a blood replenishing potion, Lucius.'

'Yes, yes, I will do that when you have left.'

He wished that they would remove the bag from his head. If nothing more, all he wanted to see was some light. He wasn't afraid of the dark but it was so uncertain. He could never tell when someone was coming his way or when the next hex or curse would come. He was constantly on guard, waiting for the next blow.

Harry felt the threads of consciousness begin to slip away. He welcomed it. He wanted anything but this pain. He needed to forget about the stabbing all over him or his shaking extremities but then he heard the voice again and he pulled himself out of the encompassing darkness.

His pitiful cry of 'Professor' only made the two men laugh at his despair. He tried again to call out to his potions master but only a croak could be heard. Coughing followed and Harry felt a hot, sticky substance drip from his mouth as he attempted to turn to his side.

When the door to the dungeon closed with a resounding thud, Harry felt like crying. His hope was gone and he had been left for dead in a pool of his own blood. He let himself fall into the darkness; he had no reason to attempt to remain conscious. What was there to see?

'Bloody git.' exclaimed a frustrated Ron as he threw himself down into a chair beside Harry's bed. 'He's such a bloody dickhead!'

'Ronald,' chastised Hermione from her seat on the other side of the occupied bed, 'he's obviously upset with everything that has gone on.'

'Malfoy, upset that Harry's hurt? Who are you trying to kid, Hermione? They hated each other, in case you had forgotten. Malfoy was a right arse to Harry throughout his time at Hogwarts and you think he's upset about the situation? Geez woman, I thought you were supposed to be bright.' spat out the redhead.

Hermione frowned at her boyfriend, hurt by his last comment. 'Well, things have changed, haven't they' she replied coldly before turning back to the medical book she had bought with her.

There was a long silence as neither of them spoke. The only thing that could be heard were the groans from Harry who remained unconscious, stuck in his memories. Ron just stared hopelessly at his best friend. He felt completely useless sat beside his friend who was obviously suffering immensely. After a particularly loud moan and some violent thrashing from Harry, Ron turned his gaze away from the man. He was so frustrated. He was supposed to be Harry's best friend; the one who Harry turned to whenever he had a problem, the one who was meant to be there when Harry was troubled, but since his pardoning, Ron had had almost no contact with him. Ron had done nothing for the young man. He was a rotten person and a terrible friend.

'Why is he here anyway?' questioned Ron after a while. 'I mean, I'm Harry's best friend, you know? Not Malfoy. I'm the one who is supposed to be living with him, not Ferret Face. Harry should be coming to me if he's got problems. He's supposed to hang out with me, get drunk, and party all night, you know, that kind of stuff.' Ron finished lamely. 'The stuff best friends do together.' The redhead gripped his head with his hand when Harry cried out again.

Hermione closed her book and gave her boyfriend a sad smile. 'I don't think it is like that, Ron. I don't believe that Harry and Draco are friends. I think something must have happened to Malfoy and Harry offered to take him in. I mean, Malfoy didn't seem too comfortable around Harry. I think Harry must have been really lonely to do that though.' She paused for a minute, trying to think of the best way to tell Ron something that would hurt him. 'Ron, you've got to appreciate that things have changed. Harry, he may… Harry may not consider you his best friend any more.' At her boyfriends outraged look, she quickly continued, 'Think about it, Ron. Neither of us visited Harry whilst he was in Azkaban and things were really awkward when he visited the Burrow. He hasn't come to see us since and, as much as I hate to admit it, we've been rubbish friends to him. We haven't been there for him.' A tear fell from he wet eyes as she spoke. When she looked up to Ron, she noticed his red rimmed eyes and defeated posture.

Harry groaned as the door was thrown open. Light bathed the dark room and the teen was forced to close his tired eyes against the brightness. Without his glasses, everything was a blur, but having spent a lot of his time with this man recently, he knew who the new occupant of the room was. Why couldn't he just leave him alone; he wanted to sleep, to get away from everything. Alas, as Professor Dumbledore would say, peace would not come.

Rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him up so that his tattered body was leaning against the hard, stone wall. Coarse material was shoved ungraciously over his head, covering his face. Harry reacted as he always did when the bag was placed over him; he panicked. The dark meant he had to rely on his hearing but in this echoey room, that was difficult and so deciphering where anybody else was became almost impossible.

The bag was tightened around his throat, cutting into it. The hands grabbed him again and he was callously thrown into the middle of the room to await his first torturer of the day. Or was it night? Harry had lost count of the number of days he had been here a long time ago.All he knew was that it had been several hours since his last torture session; he felt himself beginning to recover. His shaking from the Cruciatus curse had diminished some what and he knew that he had stopped bleeding.

He felt sick now though. The wait was terrible, almost as bad as the actual torture. Harry was left to sit alone, in the dark, and think about what possible torture methods were going to be used on him next. The whip or Bellatrix's knife? Perhaps just wand work. Each thought sent Harry's mind into further panic. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself but the fear he felt was eating away at his self control. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

'I just can't work it out' cried an exasperated Hermione as she threw the heavy medical book onto the floor. A loud thud echoed through the room as the book came into contact with the floor and dust billowed up from the old carpet.

'What? What's wrong?' Ron had just entered the room, his arms laden with food and drinks. He handed the bushy haired woman a cold glass of water and placed the food tray down on the bedside table.

'Harry. I'm really worried about him. Shouldn't he be awake now? I mean the hit to his head didn't look that bad but maybe we should take him to St. Mungos or at least get someone to look at him.'

'You and I both know he would hate that, Hermione.'

'Well, what do you suggest then? Why is he thrashing around and crying out in pain? This can't just be a dream can it?'

Ron shrugged. 'He did always have bad nightmares at school.'

'Oh, this is so frustrating. Come on, Harry, wake up' Hermione pleaded quietly as she gripped tightly onto Harry's hand. She moved her soft thumb over the jagged scar that he received in his fifth year from Umbridge. The hideous scar that spelled out I must not tell lies sent shivers up Hermione's spine. Nothing seemed to go right for Harry.

Hermione stopped staring at Harry's hand when she realised that the moans had stopped. She looked up at Ron who was gazing at Harry's face with a hopeful expression. He had obviously also noticed the change in Harry as he had moved closure to the bed. Hermione followed her boyfriend's gaze to Harry's face and she let out a small gasp when she saw his eyelids flutter open and close.

'Harry, mate. Come on, open you eyes.'

'Harry, Harry?' called Hermione softly.

Harry flickered his heavy eyelids open but the bright light from the lamp beside his bed assaulted his emerald orbs and he immediately closed them again. When he tried again, he noticed and mass of ginger directly above him and he tried to smile, thinking that it was Ginny. He realised that soft, warm hands covered one of his. He hoped they were also Ginny's, but the voice that spoke next was not a woman's. It was a deep, familiar voice and after a moment, Harry realised it was Ron's. That meant that he must be in the hospital wing at school. What had he done now to end up here? Another voice called out his name this time; however, he had a harder time discerning it. The voice faded away and became less clear, as if he was falling underwater. He was so tired and even this small amount of thinking had strained his sore, abused head and he soon let himself slip back to sleep.

Harry woke up when hands grabbed at his limp arms. He was turned onto his bruised and bleeding back and left to look up at father and son. They were just staring at him with their grey eyes; however, the look on their faces could not have been more different. Lucius Malfoy stared down at Harry with joy; a wide smile covered his pointed face. His son, on the other hand, looked how Harry felt. A frown graced the sixteen year olds lips as he peered down at his old school enemy.

Harry coughed violently. He turned his face to the side to let the blood trickle out of the side of his mouth. He had no strength to wipe his face with his hands. They felt so heavy and Harry was not sure he had much control over them anymore. The Cruciatus curse he had been subjected to earlier had lasted so long that now, hours after the event, his nerves were still complaining. He could feel himself shaking uncontrollably from the attack.

Harry looked back up to the two Malfoy men when he heard them speaking. Lucius was no longer gazing down at Harry but instead had turned to his son.

'You are to tell no-one that you know of the prisoner's identity.' When Draco nodded weakly, the man continued, 'I thought perhaps, because of your dislike for the boy, you would have benefitted from seeing his face as he suffers.' The blonde teen gulped audibly at this as he realised what his father wanted him to do.

'You have your wand like I asked, Draco?' Another nod from the younger Malfoy. 'Good, good. I think you will enjoy this perhaps even more so than when I was allowed at him for the first time. You do understand thought, Draco, that not even Bellatrix knows I have shown you that it is Potter? I am tempted to allow Severus to see the boy; however, one can never be too sure if that would be a good idea. The man spends far too much of his time with Dumbledore. The old fool could easily get Severus to spill our secrets.'

Draco didn't move from his spot by his father's side. His wand remained in his pocket and his feet seemed to glue themselves to the floor. He kept his eyes away from Harry's quivering body, the view making his stomach lurch. Lucius gripped his shoulder, squeezing it tightly until the boy moved towards the victim on the ground.

'Go on Draco. Think of all the times he's annoyed you, taken things from you, embarrassed you and this family.' his father hissed. 'Do it, Draco, do it!'

Draco raised his wand of hawthorn and pointed the tip in Harry's direction. He steadied his shaking breath and whispered the curse Harry knew who send him into a fit of pain and distress. 'Crucio.'

Harry's body jolted as the spell hit him square in the chest and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His limbs rattled like that of a doll and his head thumped up and down on the ground. Oddly the pain over his body wasn't as strong as it had been before. He thought that maybe he had finally gotten used to the pain but something felt different. It felt weaker, halfhearted and Harry had a suspicion that Draco wasn't trying very hard. He could tell that this wasn't what Draco wanted and Harry felt almost sorry for the troubled teen.

A breeze of cool breath ghosted over Harry's skin as a gentle voice called his name.

'Harry? Harry, can you hear me?'

Harry inhaled deeply, his drowsy eyes flickering behind their lids. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth while his brow furrowed into shallow crevasses. The voice continued its sweet tone but Harry was at a loss as to where it was coming from. He strained his tired mind but nothing came to him. His whole body felt stiff yet numb at the same time and with each breath he took his chest seemed to tighten, increasing the pressure on his lungs.

'Harry, are you awake?' the voice called again. 'If you can hear us, please wake up!' The voice was becoming more and more stressed as Harry's body refused to respond. Harry's mind fought against the exhaustion of his body, trying to connect the voice with the person, the face. But he saw nothing. Nothing appeared to him and soon he gave up, allowing his mind to be sucked back under into the dark depths of unconsciousness.

Harry was held up on a cold wall by shackles that grazed the skin on his wrists and ankles. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange where standing in front of him their wands raised. Harry had not recognized the man but when he had heard his name being called, he realised who it was and was somewhat surprised. Rodolphus was not one of Lord Voldemort's most trusted supporters. Harry did not have long to question the man's presence though. Bellatrix had walked toward him with a malicious smile plastered across her face. Her dark hair fell wildly across her pale skin.

'Little baby Potter. Oh, you are going to have so much fun with us here.' The glee in her voice made Harry feel sick. He closed his eyes tightly as she moved closer but jumped slightly and opened them again when he felt a cold hand on his chin. Bellatrix griped his face hard, her nails digging into his skin as she spoke. 'We are going to teach you a lesson, Harry. The Dark Lord has been ever so gracious to us.' Harry looked into the dark eyes of the crazed witch, a defiant look in his emerald orbs. 'You will learn to respect him, Potter. You will learn what happens to people who anger the Dark Lord.' She gripped harder and Harry felt a trickle of blood fall down into his neck as her nails pierced his skin.

The woman laughed at him before slowly moving away, her eyes never leaving his. The two Death Eaters stood silently just gazing at him with triumphant looks on their faces. They only turned away when the heavy dungeon door opened with a creek and Lucius Malfoy stalked into the room.

'Did you bring them?' Bellatrix sounded almost desperate.

'Patience, Bella, patience' the tall blonde replied as he dropped what appeared to be a heavy bag onto the floor. Harry just stared in horror as the three other occupants moved to the objects. He felt his heart rate escalate as the Death Eater chose their torture weapons.

Bellatrix was the first to stand again. She turned back to him, one hand behind her, hiding the chosen weapon.

'I'll go first, I think.' The woman spoke loudly. She made no attempt to keep the excitement out of her voice.

Harry tensed as she rushed up to him. He could hear his heart in his ears and sweat was already dripping from his brow.

'Nervous are we, Potter? It's just a bit of harmless fun!'

Harry did not have a chance to see the knife blade before it was forcefully pushed into his thigh.

Having been caught by surprise, Harry was not prepared for the pain. He let out a yell as the blade was shoved into his skin. Bellatrix caught his eye and grinned as she pulled the blade out of his leg, twisting it violently, ripping the fleshy wound open.

His face was covered with some sort of bag. He could see slight movements through the holes in the fabric and was only able to hear his captors when they stood above him. A rough hand grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him up into a kneeling position. At the same time, another hand ripped the bag from his head. He closed his eyes and groaned as the bright lights from wands were pointed in his direction. Taking a few moments to adjust to the light, he recognised the faces in front of him. Lucius Malfoy had his hand firmly gripped on Harry's upper arm as he dragged him across the room to a basin full of ice cold water while Bellatrix stood beside him; a large smile spread across her face.

Before he could understand what was happening, his head was forcibly submerged into the freezing water. Harry sucked in air as his face entered the liquid. A big mistake. He began to choke, struggling to be released from the grip on his head and arm. He started panicking; he couldn't breath. His face began to go numb. He couldn't move. He couldn't breath. He was going to die. Just as this thought crossed his mind, the hand released the pressure on his skull and his head shot out of the water. He coughed and spluttered, struggling to get enough air into his lungs. He tried to move away from the two figures but his hands were tied together behind his back and Lucius Malfoy refused to release his grip. The only thing he could hear was Bellatrix cackling in the background.

'Did you not like that baby Potter? No? Perhaps another go would change your mind?' And it happened again. The hand thrust his head forward and the torture started once more.

The warm sun sent rays of light through the curtains of Harry's bedroom window. The white light poured over his pale skin, gently warming his whole body. Harry rolled over onto his side slowly, grunting when his head hammered in protest. Once the pain had subsided he buried his face into the soft, fluffy pillows and inhaled deeply. The fabric smelt clean and fresh, waking his groggy mind. After a few minutes of bathing in the crisp winter sun Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows and glanced towards the window. The sky was a clear ice blue and pure white snow sat on the window ledge.

Harry sat up in bed and pushed back the blankets but regretted it right away. The cold morning air hit him like a rock and he shivered violently. He hurriedly dived across the room to his wardrobe where he pulled out a pile of random clothes. He was in the middle of pulling on a pair of worn jeans when he spotted the first scar. It was faint but he could just make out the long, thin line under his jaw in the mirror. It went from just behind his right ear, almost to the tip of his chin. He ran a finger over the pale blemish, wondering where it had come from. It was then that he remembered. He could see it all again. Down in the cellar. Lucius. Bellatrix. Rodolphus. Malfoy. Snape. They were all there at one time or another. They had all been there and had all attacked him. He could see the scars, one after another, scattered all over his body. It seemed as if they were only just appearing. As the memories came back he could finally see what they had done to him. Each mark was from a different memory it seemed but why had never noticed them before?

Harry had long forgotten the clothes that now lay by his feet. He was too busy examining his body, all the scars that had been there for years but he had never really noticed them. He turned his back to the mirror and let out a shaky breath. The skin on his back was a mass of scarred tissue. There didn't seem to be an area that wasn't marred with old knife wounds or whip marks. He knew that these scars would never fade and that they would be a constant reminder of the hell he had been put through for the rest of his life.

I hope you all liked it. If anyone is confused, don't worry. This was bsically just Harry remembering everything that happened when he was captured by the Death Eaters and held in Malfoy Manor. You don't really need to know anything about it to understand the rest of the story but if you have questions please ask and I will try to answer them at the end of the next chapter.

Allen Pitt- The locket will come into it a bit later and you will find out what happened to it too and i know that i say this every time but there will but more Ron and Hermione soon. Sorry if i'm keeping you all waiting. I feel bad now. :) Thanks for reviewing!

Mei fa-chan- I'm glad you liked it. Please review! :)

Caelhir- Aww, thank you soooo much! Don't worry I understand why you might have ben confused about the keys. Basically Remus wanted to appear more muggle like so no one suspected them. He did this by getting some keys for the house and he gave some to Tonks when she moved in. Then he gave some to Harry. When Tonks found the keys on the door mat in the hall she thought that they might be Remus' but they weren't, then she thought that they were her own but she then found hers in a kitchen draw where she left them (she never uses them anyway) so then she realised that they were Harry's and that he had left them when he left the house. I can see why you might have not understood but don't worry, it's not a big deal or anything. :) Thanks for the review!

Bob Hammilton- I just realised that Harry seems to have an awful lot of fits in this story! Thanks for reviewing! :)

Nanchih- Well, that's Dumbledore for you. A bit of a twat if you ask me. You made me laugh so much. I can just imagine the old man going to Neville and telling him that he had to go fight the Dark Lord. Poor Neville, I think he would wet himself right there and then!