Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. I do not own any of the original characters, settings, or concepts. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. It contains dark themes, including torture and emotional distress. Reader discretion is advised.
The wind whipped across the Astronomy Tower, sharp and biting as it rushed past the stone balustrades. Moonlight spilled across the floor in fractured beams, silver and cold, casting long shadows that seemed to flicker with every gust.
Harry Potter had felt uneasy all evening that subtle prickle at the back of his neck that told him something was wrong. He'd insisted on checking the tower alone, against Hermione's protests. Now, he wished he'd listened.
The air shifted behind him.
Before he could turn, pain exploded through his skull. A curse, fast and silent. He crumpled to the ground, his wand skittering away across the stone.
"Such a brave little lion," came the voice, sickly sweet and dripping with malice. Bellatrix Lestrange stepped into view, her wild eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "All alone. How careless of you."
His limbs wouldn't respond. Another spell hit a binding one cold iron clamping around his wrists and yanking them upward with a jerk. The chains, enchanted and unseen moments before, clinked softly as they lifted him, suspending him from the ceiling's rafters like a marionette.
He bit back a groan as his arms were pulled taut above his head. The pressure on his shoulders was immediate and excruciating.
Bellatrix circled him, slowly. "I told the Dark Lord I'd bring him something special. Something personal. Look at you dangling like a prize."
Below the tower, muffled sounds echoed faintly movement. Voices. Then a sharp cry that pierced the night air.
Hermione.
His heart dropped.
She was here.
Bellatrix smiled wider. "Ah, she's awake now. Good. Let's begin."
Bellatrix's wand traced idle patterns through the air, glowing faintly with a dark crimson aura. She stopped in front of Harry, mere inches from his face, her breath smelling of something metallic and wrong.
"I wonder," she whispered, tilting her head. "How much will it take before you scream, Potter? Or will you stay brave for her?"
Harry's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
Bellatrix grinned wider. "No matter. We have all night."
Her wand slashed through the air, and pain tore through his ribs sharp, searing, as if claws had raked across his side. He gasped, head falling forward, the chains above him rattling with the movement.
From somewhere below, he heard Hermione scream.
"Harry!"
The sound cut through him more sharply than the curse. He forced himself to lift his head, searching for her, though he couldn't see past the stone ledge of the platform.
"She's just down there," Bellatrix said, her voice a purr. "They brought her in a few minutes after you. I thought it'd be more… theatrical if she could listen."
Another flick of her wand another bolt of pain lanced through him, this time across his back, hot and white and merciless. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.
"You see, I do love an audience."
A sob echoed up from below.
"Let me go!" Hermione cried. "Let him go!"
Bellatrix ignored her. She stepped closer again, one black-gloved finger tapping against Harry's cheek. "Do you think she'll break first, listening to you scream? Or will you break, knowing she's next?"
Harry, panting, lifted his head and met her gaze with a fierce, silent defiance.
Bellatrix's smile faltered just for a second.
Then she laughed. "Oh, this will be fun."
She stepped back and lifted her wand again.
The curse hit him square in the chest this time a blast of raw heat that felt like fire licking through his veins. His body arched against the restraints, a strangled cry escaping before he could stop it.
From below: "Harry!"
Her voice was hoarse, panicked Hermione was fighting. He could hear the scuffle of her struggle, the desperate clinking of chains or enchanted restraints. The image of her trapped, helpless, trying to get to him only added fuel to the fire of his pain.
Bellatrix's laughter rang out like cracked glass.
"There it is," she sang, stepping lightly around him. "Music. The girl screams, the boy writhes and the stars above watch it all."
Harry's head sagged, sweat trickling down his temple. He tried to steady his breathing, to focus Occlumency, like Snape had tried to teach him. Push her out. Find silence. But it was so hard so loud in his head.
A new curse came without warning. Pain erupted down his spine, twisting and sharp. He cried out again, louder this time.
"Stop it!" Hermione shouted, fury breaking through her sobs. "He's done nothing to you!"
"Oh, darling girl," Bellatrix cooed, leaning over the railing now to look down at her. "That's where you're wrong. He's done everything." She turned back to Harry. "The Chosen One. The thorn in my Master's side. And now look at you. Dangling like a broken puppet."
Harry forced his eyes open again, forced them to find her face. "You'll… lose," he rasped.
Bellatrix's expression twisted. For a moment, rage flared a flash of the unhinged fury he remembered from the Department of Mysteries.
She slammed her wand into his chest.
"Crucio."
The pain was indescribable every nerve screaming, his vision going white, body convulsing against the chains. He heard himself scream this time, long and ragged, as if it were being torn from his lungs.
Hermione sobbed below. "Please stop, please!"
The spell lifted. Harry sagged in the restraints, trembling, barely conscious.
Bellatrix breathed heavily, her eyes wild with excitement. "Oh, we're only just getting started."