To Prove A Point
Chapter Two : A Death Or Two
Harry felt the magic of the Portkey grab hold of him and he resisted the urge to retch when it pulled him around; contracted and spun about, Harry felt weightless, though at the same time the feeling of falling ran through him. It was over in seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
Falling to the floor, Harry tumbled over himself and landed in a heap. He didn't allow himself a moment to settle, fearful of what awaited him. He jumped up – ignoring the dizziness – and stuck out his wand hand, ready to fight. Only to realise he had left his wand in his hidden compartment underneath his bedroom floorboards. The only thing that was in his hand was the letter that had brought him here. Speaking of the letter, it began crumbling and shrinking, crinkling together until it disappeared entirely.
Glancing around furtively, Harry finally noticed that he was alone in the room. 'Someone will be here in a minute,' he frantically thought, and scanned the room looking for a weapon of some kind. He was standing in a sitting room of some kind; the walls were papered in a pale green colour and the bottom lined with wood panelling. Surrounding a large coffee table in the middle of the room were a couple of stiff looking couches, the kind Harry had seen during a class trip to a period manor house. In front of the coffee table was a fireplace with a mantle. Harry rushed over to it, hoping for a large candlestick or another decoration but there was none. There were pictures hanging on the walls, plain countryside scenes featuring sheep and fields, and a large cream coloured rug on the floor, covering the floor boards. There room was very sparse and as far as Harry could tell there were no weapons or protection of any kind.
Harry moved quickly over to the windows. In all the films Harry had a chance to see the 'good guy' usually went through the door and, yes, he did usually escape but normally only after some sort of fight. Without a wand Harry didn't rate his chances of surviving such a fight very high at all.
The windows were almost the length of the wall and took up one entire side of the room. The thick and heavy green curtains were drawn back to let the sunlight in, and Harry had the chance to see the view out of them. All around he could see large rolling hills and patches of tall dark woods. Even if he was able to get out through the window, there was still no cover until he reached one of the woods, and it looked to be a mile away. Nevertheless, it was really the only way Harry could see of escaping, so he reached up and twisted the flimsy gold-plated catch. It wouldn't turn. Harry tried again, with more force this time, his desperation finally starting to leak through into his actions. When it still wouldn't move he tried another, and then another. He quickly exhausted the number of windows, and couldn't see a way of unlocking them. Considering the windows, Harry saw that they were made up of small panes of glass and the wooden frame seemed quite thin and fragile.
Casting his eyes around, Harry looked for something to break the window with. His eyes lighted on the coffee table, but he disregarded that immediately; it was made out a dark wood and was quite big and sturdy, Harry knew he'd not be able to lift it.
There was nothing else, and Harry felt the first chords of panic hit him when he caught sight of the pictures. He really just needed something with an edge, something he could smash against the window. Moving over the nearest one he braced himself before lifting it up, off it's hooks. He was surprised when it didn't turn out to be as heavy as he had originally thought, and he was able to carry it over to the window with ease and speedily. Not sure of the best way to do it, Harry clutched the landscape under one arm and steadied it with the other before running at the window and ramming the picture into it.
Almost immediately he bounced back, his arms jarring painfully and the window intact. The picture was fine too, examining it, he noticed that the frame wasn't cracking and the glass was fine. Peering at the windows he saw that none of the panes were scratched and the white painted framework was perfect.
The only evidence that he had just flung himself at the window was the painful motion sweeping up his arms.
Harry dropped the picture with disgust and surveyed the room once more.
His eyes rested on the fireplace but he hastily decided that he would have a better chance escaping through the front door than the fireplace which would take him up to the roof – if he was small enough and strong enough to climb that far.
He was wandless, defenceless and trapped inside the house of the Dark Lord. With all other options exhausted, Harry bit his lip and cursed his luck, before striding towards the door.
He was just passing the coffee table when a quiet click sounded out and he froze. He watched, unable to move, as the white door was gently opened to reveal the Dark Lord.
"Good afternoon Harry, welcome to my home," Voldemort greeted him, staring at him with a blank expression on his face. He took in the room and noticed the picture lying on the floor. "I see you've been moving things about," he commented before drawing his wand out of his pocket and flicking it towards the painting. The picture was pulled up and rehung in a moment.
Harry eagerly stared at the wand, his hands dying to reach out for it.
Voldemort saw his desire and merely smiled before replacing the wand. "I see you haven't got your wand," he said, sweeping forward and reclining on one of the couches.
At his movement, Harry had jumped back automatically. His muscles were tense, ready for his chance to spring into action.
The Dark Lord motioned to another one of the chairs, and indicated he should sit. "Would you care for some tea Harry? My elves have also made cake and sandwiches."
"You brought me here to drink tea and eat sandwiches?" Harry stared bewildered at the Dark Lord and remained standing.
"Well, no, of course not. I brought you here for something much more important but proper etiquette would deem it impolite to not offer you refreshments first." Again the Dark Lord motioned for him to sit, and again Harry stood standing, completely amazed and confused at the situation.
"Peachy!" the Dark Lord called and a second later a small house elf appeared and bowed before the Dark Lord.
"Yes Master Dark Lordness? How can Peachy be helping you todays Sir?" The speech of the House Elf seemed to be Harry's last straw. The crazy situation got the best of him and he sunk down into the chair behind him. Almost drunk on the sheer unbelievable scene, Harry smirked at the thought of the Dark Lord having a House Elf named Peachy.
Voldemort caught sight of it and glared, his anger sending a warning pang through Harry's head.
"I saw that Potter. Don't think that proper etiquette will keep me from punishing you if you cannot control yourself." Turning to the House Elf he said, "Peachy we will take the tea now and prepare a spread to be sent up immediately." The dismissed House Elf vanished.
This was too much for Harry; the Dark Lord was almost politely asking his House Elf for tea and a 'spread.'
"Porasco," Voldemort intoned and a spell flew at Harry; he was too slow to react and so the bright orange light hit him straight in the face. Harry felt the affects straight away, he could feel swats being directed at his body. They weren't hard but they were constant and Harry soon felt the red hot flash of numbing pain sweep across his abdomen.
"Ow, bloody hell, stop it!" Harry shakily ordered, his voice jumping when another hit landed.
Voldemort eventually ended the spell, and looked at Harry as if he was a misbehaving toddler.
"Do not laugh at me Potter, and keep yourself under control."
"When are you going to kill me?"
The Dark Lord laughed; "I'm not going to kill you Harry, bad manners I'm told."
"I don't believe you."
The Dark Lord looked at him for a moment then pulled out his wand and in a clear strong voice;
"I swear on my Magic and Life that I shall not physically harm Harry James Potter when he visits this house following an invitation in the form of a letter or note." A mix of colours swirled around the Dark Lord and his wand before fading away.
"Satisfied?"
"I suppose. Who told you it was bad manners?" Harry asked honestly intrigued.
The Dark Lord studied him for a moment before replying. "I, did not have the time to correctly study etiquette and whatnot when I was younger. I had a number of, advisers, to bring me up to speed. When you move in the circles of the high societies you need to know how to act."
"Enough on that though; would you like sugar?"
Harry nodded and held up two fingers.
"Milk?"
Harry nodded again, unable to believe what was happening to him. The Dark Lord handed him his cup delicately balanced on a saucer and Harry decided then just to go along with whatever the Dark Lord was playing at. Hopefully he would not be hit with that weird spell again or get crucioed.
Hopefully.
"What was that spell you hit me with? Porko?"
The Dark Lord tittered.
"Porasco. Witches use it to keep their children in line when they are misbehaving, a mild spanking spell."
"Are you telling me I just got spanked by the Dark Lord?"
"How very mature of you."
"Fine, I was only joking." Biting the bullet; "What point did you want to prove? Pureblood supremacy? Blondes really are stupider?"
"No, none of them. The value of life."
"Value of life?"
"Yes. Is one persons life worth more than another?"
"No! Never, everyone deserves to live!"
"Including myself and my Death Eaters?"
"Ye- I, no, that's not fair!"
"Life usually is not.
They fell into silence and spent the next hour drinking tea and snacking. They did talk occasionally, about neutral topics like Fudge's incompetence, how Hufflepuff should have a rebellion of some sort. They skipped around the other things. Like the War, the fact they were enemies and so forth.
"What do I can you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Tom, Jr, Riddle, Voldemort, Mr Dark Lord, You Bastard, Voldie, I could go on?"
"No no, I think you've expressed enough." The Dark Lord thought for a moment. "I suppose, you could call me Voldemort. Just try and say it respectful, so the Death Eaters don't get the wrong idea."
"And hosting a tea party for your enemy doesn't give the wrong idea?"
"Do you want to be spanked again?"
"Come then Potter we-"
"-call me Harry."
"What? Why?"
"Potter makes it sound like I'm in trouble and I don't have a nickname that I made up to try and make myself appear cool like you did."
The Dark Lord glared at him and another shooting pain flashed through Harry's head. Wincing, but otherwise ignoring it, Harry spoke again. "Where we going?"
"I- eh, we are going to the ballroom, it's where I meet usually with my Death Eaters. Today though there are only some of the Inner Circle and a few guests."
"You're going to torture people in front of me aren't you?"
"Not exactly. Hush now and follow me in." Voldemort pushed open a set of double doors and entered a large cool room that was dimly lit with a few candles. Harry followed him and closed the doors loudly behind him.
"You forget to pay your electricity bill or something?"
"Por-"
"Okay okay! No more smart comments!" Harry glanced around to see who the other inhabitants of the room were. Malfoy, The LeStrange brothers, the Bitch, Snape, Dolohov. Not the full circle then.
"Harry Potter! How are you? Still upset that you ickle doggy was put down?" Bellatrix started to taunt Harry as soon as she noticed was about to jump her when her husband, Rodolphus put up and arm across Bellatrix's chest and said gazing at Harry interestedly;
"Harry Potter? You attempted to Crucio my fair wife did you not?"
Harry cautiously nodded.
"Hmm . . . I am Rodolphus LeStrange, my brother Rabastan and my wife Bellatrix."
Feeling more confident then he had before Bellatrix's own husband put her in her place; "Yeah, I kinda know of you and Bellatrix and I have already had the pleasure of meeting one another. As have Mr Malfoy, Professor Snape and I also have had. You sir?" Harry knew fully well who the last Death Eater was. He was the one who had injured Hermione during the fight at the Ministry. The Death Eater took a step forward and bowed his head.
"I am Dolohov." With that he moved back and was left standing slightly apart from the rest of the group.
"Good day Mr Potter." Though his words were gracious the sneer adorning his lips said otherwise, Harry merely nodded. Snape looked at him, stared for a while then looked away. Weird.
"Take a seat Harry. Dolohov, bring them in." Harry and the Dark Lord both sat down, Harry on a simple chair but the Dark Lord had to recline on a large dominating throne. Self esteem issues.
Dolohov returned bringing with him two men. One of the men was dressed in a clean and neat suit, he was cleanly shaven and had an air of tidiness about him. The other was the direct opposite. Dirty, with random pieces of clothing, long matted hair and a great big bushy beard he looked homeless or like Sirius after Azkaban. They were thrown to the floor and surrounded by the Death Eaters.
"Everyone deserves to live Harry? No ones life is worth more than another? One of them will die. You decide."
"What? No! I refuse, you can't kill them!"
"You choose on of them or they both die."
Harry started sweating, he didn't want anyone to die!
"I refuse! Kill me instead!"
"That, today, is not an option. You will choose."
"No!"
Voldemort paused. When he spoke again his words were slow and deliberate.
"You will choose or I will kill them both, after torturing them and making you watch. If you do not choose in the next ten second I will also order a young Muggle girl to be brought the this room where she will be tortured and killed." The Dark Lord leaned over to Harry and spoke straight into his ear. Whispering; "And while she is tortured, while she cries and bleeds and screams for her mother I will make sure that she is looking at you, staring at you- accusing you with her very gaze. While you watch unable to help, to stop it and knowing it is your fault because you would not choose one man to die so two may live. Who do you choose?"
Harry closed his eyes.
"You'll release the girl and the other man? Wipe their memories so they remember none of this?"
Voldemort nodded. Harry pointed to the man of the left. The homeless looking one.
"Say it Harry. Say it," Voldemort urged.
"Kill him. Kill that one." Rabastan was the one to do it. Aimed, two words and the man's life was over. It went black.
When Harry came back around the room was empty apart from Voldemort.
"Can I go home? You've proved your point!"
Voldemort did not turn around.
"Oh yes? Pray tell, what was it?"
"I'm no better than you, deciding who should live, who should die. I'm no better..."
"Hmm... That was the first part. There is another. Only half the point. You looked at the Muggle scum, compared him with the other Muggle, the clean one the one who looks like part of society. You killed the scum. That is how we see it. Muggles scum, wizards part of society the ones who should live. Enter!" He turned and returned to his seat, and in a low voice continued; "The second part."
All the Death Eaters entered again, walking in twos blocking out who was being brought this time. Harry felt a sense of dread fill his body. Surely not the little girl?
They parted and formed a circle again, Dolohov threw two people into the circle. The man who was lucky to live last time and- Hermione. Hermione was lying on the floor, stunned. Harry jumped up but was pulled back down by Voldemort.
"Move and she dies. So, Harry. Two Muggles. Both members of society, both hard workers. The girl is obviously your friend, daughter to two Muggles, owns a cat. The man has a wife, two young children- two boys. A dog. What was the dog called Dolohov? Yes, Rover. Your friend only has her parents, the man has parents, siblings and children. We will discard the fact that one of them must have more friends than the other and would therefore be more likely to be more missed. Choose."
Harry was frozen to his seat. Hermione. "No. Please not Hermione. Don't, I, I will-"
"You heard him. The girl is to live."
Harry realised what was happening as the light struck the man. Accident or not he was dead because Harry said so. Voldemort cast a privacy spell.
"You killed someone who had more people who would miss him, would grieve because their loved one was dead and you did it because he was not your friend. That is what I do. Kill those that would kill, imprison, hurt the ones I protect. Not so different. Both lived with people who disliked us, Hogwarts being our first real home, not knowing who we are having to wait for others to bother to tell us. All the people that knew your parents and none of them ever spoke to you about them. Where were your mother's friends? Their teachers? Come, back the sitting room." Voldemort dropped the privacy spell and stood.
"What about Hermione? What will you do with her now?"
"It was never her. Glamour spells. Come."
The full horror of his actions flooded Harry and he numbly followed. Rodolphus joined them.
"May I write to you again Harry?" Voldemort asked when they were sat back in the sitting room.
"Do I have a choice?"
"If you do not accept the letter the first time I will send another coated in something that would blow your mind. And your house. I believe it would be more beneficial to your health for you too accept. How could I convince you?"
"Bellatrix's head on a platter." Realising who was in the room Harry met Rodolphus's face. He was smiling. Voldemort noticed Harry's shocked look.
"Ah... Arranged marriages. Rodolphus and Bellatrix hate each other. Rodolphus would help, I believe, in relieving his wife of her head." He smiled on.
Harry drank one more cup of tea and ate another cucumber sandwich before leaving. He arrived back in his room shaken and confused by the days events. Not feeling up to anything at the moment Harry chose to climb into bed and leave the real world behind for a while.
"I hate choices."
A/N: Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter, especially those of you who pointed something things out that I missed, or offered up some points. I haven't replied to any of the reviews yet, I'm about to do that now!
Anywho, now you've read it . . . what do you think?
Sarah