I was pretty swamped at the time of writing this and have since lost inspiration for this challenge (I know, that's pathetic, with only two stories under my belt). But that's how the cookie crumbles.

This was written for the 1991 Challenge by RavenclawDoctorSilveo, using the character Terry Boot and the prompt "scar." This one-shot will also be added to the As Much As You Can Competition by A Carrot in the Dark.

Rating: T
Summary: They had been without news for months. For all anyone knew Harry Potter had already been killed - but that was unlikely, seeing as how You Know Who would have flaunted his enemy's body to the whole of Britain. Even still, he knew that the mention of Potter, alive and well, would give people hope . . . and hope was a necessity.
Inspired By: "Is it true? Did you break into Gringotts? Did you escape on a dragon? It's everywhere, everyone's talking about it, Terry Boot got beaten up by the Carrows for yelling about it in the Great Hall at dinner!" - Neville Longbottom

XXX

The story itself was sensational, because never before in history had anyone stolen something out of Gringotts Bank and escaped with it. The closest anyone had ever come was Terry's former professor Quirrell, who had been instructed to do so by You Know Who himself in 1991. When one added that it was Harry Potter, the Chosen One, everything became even more exciting. Everyone knew that Potter and his friends were off fighting You Know Who somewhere, and everyone knew that the Lestranges were deep into the Dark Arts as well as open Death Eaters.

What it was hardly mattered; they did it. It was an attack against You Know Who, or at the very least one of his most favored followers. It gave hope to those who fought against the Dark Lord, even if it was the smallest of rays . . . and that was why it had to be known.

It was a clear, starry sky that night. The students filled the Great Hall silently and quickly, as they all did since the Carrows' reign on the school. Terry kept thinking.

"I'm going to do it, I'm going to do it. People should know -"

"They already know, Terry, everyone knows!"

"That doesn't mean that we should stay silent about it."

"No, it means that everyone knows, so don't go looking for trouble with the Carrows!"

And on and on they had went in their dormitory, until finally Terry had conceded. Now, when he was being tempted by the large audience in the Great Hall, he felt that it was Michael and Anthony that were the dumb ones, not him.

He sat down between his friends, feeling rather removed from everything around him. It was almost as though he wasn't really there at all, that nothing could hurt him anymore. (Of course, anything could hurt him, but would it really?) Terry was so tired. Tired of everything.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing up from his seat. Michael tried grabbing his sleeve but Terry swiped it away angrily. The hot flare of emotion disappeared immediately, however, as he began to approach the foot of Snape's chair.

A throne, he thought absently.

It did not take long for the rest of the Hogwarts body to cotton on to what was happening. Terry was distantly aware of a thousand eyes on him.

He stared at Snape, the man who had taught him how to make potions for five years. It was a ridiculous thought; why was he thinking of potions at a time like that, rather than the death of Dumbledore? No matter.

"Sit down, brat."

Terry's eyes slowly shifted over to see the speaker: Alecto Carrow. That bitch.

And suddenly, he felt as though his entire body had been lit aflame. How dare trash like that speak to him? He was angry, so incredibly angry, he hated her, he hated them -

"Harry Potter broke into Gringotts this morning!" he yelled.

The Hall was filled with a white-hot silence and his angry breathing. The students tensed, waiting for the Carrows' attack, but nothing happened.

Terry still felt so far away.

"He went to the Lestrange's vault. He stole something there, something important. Everyone knows Bellatrix Lestrange is in You Know Who's inner-circle, maybe it's even related to him. He's on the move, Harry's on the move, he's going to get rid of that bitch up there -"

"CRUCIO!"

He did not have time to register who had cast the spell before it was all over him, consuming him. What was he? He couldn't remember. He couldn't feel the floor beneath him or how his mouth stretched to emit his screams. He did not exist, as far as he was concerned. Perhaps pain didn't even exist, and that this was simply what non-existence felt like.

Then the pain stopped, leaving a dull thudding all around his body. In fact, perhaps even that was wrong; perhaps the entire Great Hall was thudding along with the pain, in tune with it, boom, boom, boom. . . .

"Don't do that in here," he could hear someone growl. It was so far away. "Take him to the dungeons if you must."

"Fine," said a voice - it was the same voice as the one who had shouted the curse. Probably. Feminine. . . .

"We'll go," said another. A man.

Then he was aware of being dragged from the Great Hall, but everything hurt too much for him to understand what was going on or how. All he was truly aware of was that they were going down, down, down. . . .

By the time he finally became aware of his surroundings, he was in the torture chamber with the Carrows. He had been placed, like an object, in the corner, while the siblings decided how they wanted to inflict pain on him. When Amycus finally pointed his wand at Terry, all he could think about was how he was probably going to receive a scar for his efforts.

It was worth it.