Chapter 21: Curcio

Awareness came back slowly to the young wizard. The first thing that Harry noticed was the smell. The air around him seemed to have a sharp, almost metallic, bite to it. It vaguely reminded him of blood.

The next thing that he realised was that he felt incredibly sore. Everything, even his toes, seemed to throb and tingle with every beat of his heart. It felt almost as if his limbs had fallen asleep. This made sense to him given the awkward position he was sitting in. Harry tried to wiggle his fingers to get the blood flowing but found he couldn't move them. Confused, he tried again, this time putting more strength into the action, but was met with the same result. And it was then that the young teen began to feel it…

Magic.

But it wasn't his. This magic was foreign, belonging to another. Harry could sense it pressing in around him, wrapping around his body and causing his skin to prickle uncomfortably.

And then became aware of the god-awful throbbing pain coming from his scar. Harry tried to recall what had happened last and where he had ended up, but he found that it took too much effort to concentrate. He knew he wasn't in his chambers. His brain was screaming danger, but between the magic prickling along his skin, the horrid pounding in his head, and the nauseating smell, Harry found himself wishing he could sink back into the dark depths of unconsciousness once more. Wherever he was and whatever danger he might be in could surely wait a few more hours… all he could think about right now was how tired he was… he just needed to sleep…

"I said to wake him up!"

The oddly familiar voice seemed to grate across Harry's ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. He wished he could cover his ears, but his body didn't seem to want to obey him.

"You saw as well as I did, Moody, I already tried to wake 'im up. But it obviously didn't work, did it?"

This voice was louder than the first and succeeded in taking away the last remnants of Harry's unconsciousness. He wouldn't be getting to sleep any time soon.

"You Weasleys are all the same, aren't you? Never putting enough effort into yur job. The spell was obviously not strong enough. Try again before the Dawlish and the rest come in and see 'im still knocked out."

"If you know what's good for you then you'll shut yur trap, Mad-Eye!"

This angered growl seemed to break Harry's mind out of its haze. In an instant, all of the events that had happened in the past several days flashed across the young wizard's mind. The teen felt a wave of panic begin to claw at his chest as he recalled Dumbledore's stunner hitting his shoulder and then nothing else.

Somewhere nearby, he was dimly aware of a spell being muttered, and a bright flash of light seared across his eyelids before something cold hit him in the face.

The effects were instantaneous.

Harry's eyes flew open unbidden as his whole body seemed to wake up with a sudden jolt. The young wizard found himself gasping for air, feeling like he had just had a bucket of cold water poured over his head.

"Ahhh. There he is. There's the infamous Dark Servant. Glad to see you haven't died on us yet."

Harry's vision was blurred and his heart felt like it was beating a million miles an hour, but he still managed to send a fierce glare in the direction of the auror. He swore he'd curse the man into oblivion as soon as he got the chance.

"Weasley, go tell Dawlish and Shacklebolt that the brat is ready for 'em."

There was a quiet muttering and the sound of hard boots on tile. Harry could hear Moody saying something to him, but he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the auror's gravelly voice. Instead, he concentrated on trying to get his breathing under control after the rush of adrenaline the spell had sent through him. If he was about to be tortured and interrogated, then he didn't want to show any signs of weakness.

"Not going back to sleep, are we now?"

Rough fingers dug harshly in his shoulder causing Harry to groan internally. Couldn't they give him one goddamn minute of peace?

The young wizard pried his eyes open, a low growl emitting from his throat,

"Get your fucking hands off me."

Directly in front of him, the auror smirked but released Harry's shoulder and took a step back.

"I'd wondered if you'd go soft after we arrested you. I'm happy to see that isn't the case. The ones that put up a fight are always more fun."

Harry just glowered at the man, all the while trying to stay the building panic that was growing inside him. He desperately wished he wasn't bound too tightly to a chair so he could sock the man in the jaw.

"So, tell me, Harry, how does it feel to know that you are such a failure? You're daddy is going to be so disappointed in you when he finds out where you are right now… but then again, I'm sure he'll not be at all surprised. After all, this does seem to be a pattern for you. You just can't seem to do anything right."

Despite knowing that Moody was simply trying to get under his skin, Harry still felt the harsh words tear at him.

"Keep your shirt on, Moody," he growled as soon as the auror was done with his rant, "I know you're just jealous that I have someone who cares about me. I guess with that ugly face you never would have gotten a lot of affection from mummy."

There was a flash of rage that lit up the auror's eyes, but whatever Moody said in response never reached Harry's ears. Instead, the teen was suddenly overcome by a horrible pain that ripped across his scar. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a familiar rage tear its way through his body. Harry could distantly hear a commotion somewhere nearby, but he chose to ignore it, instead focusing on throwing up as many Occlumency walls as he could. The last thing he needed was his connection to the Dark Lord distracting him from his current predicament. If what he'd heard about Ministry interrogation techniques, he had no doubt that he would be in a whole new world of pain soon enough. His body stiffened as one last flash of pain rushed through his head before the last of his shields slammed into place.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," Harry spat, feeling his senses start to return to him, "I couldn't be better, in fact."

There was a low murmuring from somewhere in front of him. Stifling a groan of pain, Harry pried open his eyelids.

Fuck. He had an even bigger audience now.

"I thought you people would have learned from the last time," the young wizard growled, taking in the group of Ministry Officials that stood before him.

Directly in front of him, a dark-skinned auror stood gazing at him, an odd mixture of worry and pity displayed across his face,

"Learned what exactly, Harry? I'm afraid we have, as of yet, been able to learn very little about you."

Harry couldn't help but feel a bit ill at the sound of his name. He'd forgotten that they knew that particular bit of information. He was just happy that they hadn't seemed to have bothered to find a way to pry his mask off. At least he was still able to keep some parts of his identity a secret from the Ministry.

"Learned that I'm not going to give you whatever fucking information it is that you're looking for," the young wizard hissed, feeling increasingly claustrophobic in his bindings.

"I told you this was a waste of time, Kingsley," the auror Harry recognised as Dawlish said, "Should've just listened to me and given him to the Dementors already. I that doesn't get a rise out of You-know-who then I don't know what would."

Harry glared angrily at the man, his hands itching to reach out and wring the auror's neck, "If only you'd had the balls to do it. At least then I wouldn't be forced to sit here and listen to your whining voice anymore."

The young wizard smirked as he saw Dawlish's face grow red with anger and embarrassment. Kingsley put a hand on the man's shoulder and muttered something to him, trying to calm the auror down. Harry just rolled his eyes and shifted his gaze to the room he was currently being held in.

It was a small, empty room with sparkling white walls, a black tile floor, and a towering ceiling. The only furniture seemed to be the medieval-looking chair he was currently bound to. This piece of equipment seemed new given the sickly metallic smell that kept wafting up from it.

Harry couldn't see any door and figured it must be behind him. He tried to turn to see if his suspicions were correct but found that he was unable to move his head. There seemed to be some kind of band keeping his head securely bound to the back of the chair. From the prickling sensation on his skin… the teen didn't need to look down to know that the cords and metal bands that currently bound him to the chair were littered with charms and spells. There was no way he would be getting out of this chair without help.

Not that it really matters anyways, Harry thought angrily, returning his gaze back to the group of wizards that stood in front of him, It's not like I have any magic to help me escape this god-awful place.

"I do hope that you will excuse them," Kingsley was saying, "We are greatly worried about a fellow auror of ours, James Potter. I am sure you can appreciate the stress we are all currently under."

Harry ignored the auror. They were all fools if they thought he'd willingly agree to work with them. He didn't know who James was and frankly, he didn't give a fuck.

"I told you this wasn't going to work."

Harry was slightly startled by the sound of a voice and footsteps coming from somewhere close behind him. The teen's neck muscles clenched and bulged as he tried in vain to see who was speaking.

"James is probably already dead by now, but I guess we'll never know because he won't talk."

"Black, Dumbledore," Dawlish said loudly, "I didn't think you two were going to make it. Thought you said you had something to attend to at Hogwarts."

Harry tried his best not to groan aloud as both wizards came into his limited line of sight.

"I received word that our guest had awoken and I was intrigued to talk with the boy. Besides I seem to remember that you yourself invited me to come along and help when you transported him here."

Dawlish seemed to bristle slightly. It didn't take a genius to notice that there was some kind of tension going on between the two men.

"Lay off it, Dawlish," Black ground out, his gaze never leaving the teenager, "We're all here for the same thing, so let's just get on with it."

Harry stiffened as Dumbledore's gaze came to rest on him. He could feel a light prickling along his Occlumency shields before he swiftly looked away.

"How are you feeling, my dear boy?" the elderly wizard asked, instantly taking charge of the room, "I trust you are not in too much pain?"

Harry didn't say a word but glared at the floor.

"He's fine," Black spat, his grimy boots entering the teen's line of sight, "That's more than can be said for James, at the moment. Now start asking actual questions that matter. I promise you that no one cares if he's hurting right now."

"Try to relax, Sirius," Dumbledore's voice was soft, "It has only been a couple of hours. There's still time."

Harry looked up at Black, suddenly sensing an opening to attack, "You're an idiot to think that my father hasn't already killed that son-of-a-bitch. Everyone here is lying to you. He's already long dead and I think you know that."

The man's face darkened and he instantly lunged forward, curling his fingers around the teen's throat. Harry instantly choked as his air supply was cut off.

"You think this is funny? You think that you are in charge here? Well, you aren't. You will give us access to Riddle Manor whether you want to or not. You have no choice in this matter."

Harry managed to grin up at the auror as Kingsley wrestled Black away from him. The young wizard took a deep breath as the fingers left his throat.

"Do whatever you want, Black," Harry's voice was hoarse as he spoke, "But I promise you that by the time you manage to pry any information from me, it'll be far too late."

As expected, the man's eyes narrowed dangerously, as he once again attempted to lunge forward. This time Kingsley held him back. Harry smirked under his mask, trying to relish the emotional turmoil happening on the auror's face.

"Sirius, I understand that you are upset, but you need to calm down. This isn't helping James," Dumbledore's voice was soft but firm.

And to the teen's surprise, the fight instantly seemed to leave the auror's body.

"That's right, Sirius," Harry taunted as he watched Kingsley release his grip on Black's robes, "Be a good little bitch and do as daddy tells you."

To the teen's disappointment, the auror simply snarled at him. Frustrated, Harry turned to Dumbledore once again,

"I'm glad that one's on your side. Seems a bit mental if you ask me."

The elderly wizard in front of him just gave him a disapproving look,

"I understand that you are frightened and angry, my dear Harry, but you must understand that there are some things that we need to know that simply cannot wait for a better time. Unfortunately, these attempts to stall will only serve to hurt you."

Under his mask, Harry scowled. His head was starting to hurt again, the pricking along his scar once again building. He could feel his shields weakening as overwhelming fatigue began to fall over him. Stupid magical exhaustion.

"Then why don't you fucking ask me what you want already?!" the teen spat, "You're wasting my time. Either ask me a question already or just let me sleep."

This seemed to get everyone's attention. Kingsley quickly stepped forward to stand beside Dumbledore.

"I apologise for the confusion. But we are not accustomed to questioning minors, particularly those of your… caliber… and history…"

Behind his white mask, Harry rolled his eyes, "Just give me the Veritaserum already and get on with it, but I can promise you that I've already been through far worse than anything you can put me through."

Kingsley looked stunned by this comment.

"You seem to have misunderstood me. You are a minor. We have laws against giving Veritaserum to a child and it is against Wizarding Law to inflict pain during an integration of any kind."

Harry tried to hide his surprise. He had heard the opposite.

Moody had inched closer by this point, his magical eye seeming to bore into Harry's skin,

"Why are you so eager to get that potion? Why are you suddenly so eager to tell the truth and bare your soul to us? You do know that there is no way around the effects of Veritaserum."

Harry almost wished they could see his smile, "That's where you're wrong, Moody. Ever heard of the Fidelius Charm? I swear you auror are dumber than I expected."

There was a series of angry muttering that spread across the room, but Harry ignored them, instead looking directly at Dumbledore.

"If you're going to kill me, then do it already and put me out of my misery. I'm tired and sore and all this noise is giving me a headache."

To his surprise, Dumbledore didn't say anything in response. Instead, Harry watched closely as the elderly wizard took a step toward him. The man seemed to be looking closely at something on his face. The teen fidgeted in his bindings, suddenly feeling very exposed and uncomfortable. The other aurors seemed to also notice this odd behaviour and instantly quieted, watching to see what was about to happen.

"Your mask, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "Who exactly gave you that mask?"

The teen was thoroughly confused by this question,

"W-what are you talking about? I've always had it."

"And who's magic does it pull from?"

"What?"

Harry had no idea what the old coot was going on about but he didn't like it in the least. He felt like the man knew something that he didn't and he hated that.

"Magic," Dumbledore repeated patiently, "Does it draw from your magic or from someone else?"

In an instant, Harry knew what the man was getting at. The teen's face went deathly pale and he shrank back into his seat.

"Enough nonsense," Black shouted from somewhere behind them, "Either start getting answers from him or I'll do it myself!"

"All in good time," Dumbledore said calmly, his eyes never leaving Harry's, "First, I think it would be beneficial to officially meet our young prisoner, do you not?"

Before anyone could say another word, the elderly wizard drew out his wand and pointed it directly at the teen's face. There was a brief flash of light before Harry felt an awful tearing sensation coming from his face. He tried to bring his hands up to grab onto the mask to keep it in place, but the bindings around his wrists only tightened as he struggled.

Harry desperately pleaded for his accidental magic to make a sudden return as it had back in Dumbledore's office but it was already too late. The young wizard felt the edges of his mask peel up and a rush of cold air brushed across his forehead and cheeks as his last form of identity protection flew into Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

As soon as he felt the mask lift off his face, Harry bowed his head as much as he was able, already knowing that it was too late. His father had made his swear to never take the mask off in front of aurors… to never show his identity to Dumbledore… and now it was too late. He'd forgotten that it was his own magic that strengthened the charms on the mask to hold it in place. His magical outburst back in Dumbledore's office and his use of Occlumency shields had drained his last reserves. The old wizard must have noticed the charms failing.

Either way, he was now in a far worse situation than when he'd started…

James lay in the corner of the cell. The coldness from the stone had quickly taken what little heat he had, but the auror had no strength left to try and find a warmer location. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his fingers twitching, the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse still battering his body.

Every now and then James would feel the muscles in his legs or arms spasm, but he found that he couldn't feel much of anything anymore. Maybe it was the cold taking it out of him, maybe he was dying… he wasn't exactly sure. All he knew was that he was never going to see Lily again.

The instant Sirius and the boy had disappeared in a flash of green fire, James had been hit by several powerful curses. The pain had been enough to drag a scream from his lips…something that he wasn't proud to admit. After that, the world had gone a sickly gray colour. There had been angry shouting and screaming from the various figures in the room, but after that, he remembered very little before landing on the cold, hard floor of this cell. Ever since then, he had been furiously trying to stay awake. Something was telling him that if he fell asleep now, he would never wake up again.

But it was getting increasingly harder and harder. He knew he was bleeding out somewhere. He could feel the pool of sticky blood spreading out underneath his back, but it too felt icy cold.

"Lily," James breathed, trying to bring up a picture of his beautiful wife in his mind. If he was to die soon then he wanted her face to be the last thing that he saw. But try as he might the image would not appear. "I'm so sorry, Lily."

The auror felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He dimly noted that this was the first warm thing he had felt in a while. James let his eyes drift closed as he tried to relish the feeling. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it…

Vaguely, James heard the sound of a door creaking open and someone walking up behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to see who it was. He was tired of pain, tired of cold, tired of sorrow. He dimly found himself wondering if this was how Harry had felt before his death.

The auror let out a deep breath and let himself sink back into the darkness that waited to envelop him. At least he would get to see his son again. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was a voice calling out to him…and then there was only darkness.