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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:None Genres: Tragedy Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 1174 Summary: Harry gets one night that gives him a glimpse into what life could be like with the Dursley's. But events turn for the worse and both Harry and the wizarding world are left wondering what it's consquences mean for the future of the world. Hitcount: Story Total: 501645; Chapter Total: 9949 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: I don't own anything. JK Rowling owns the entire Potter Universe. No copyright infringement is intended. I just write fan fics for fun. |
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Chapter 48: Welcome to the Black Parade Ginny Weasley had a pounding headache. No. Ginny’s brain felt like it was attempting to push its way out of her head through any route possible. And at the moment, that probably would be her greatest chance for any sort of relief. It was pain that was spread evenly across the surface area of her skull, stabbing in equal measure all over and had been a constant reminder of life as it had been in the past two months. And the past two months had been a living hell. It had been two months since she’d been back at Hogwarts. After losing Charlie and knowing that their family was now directly being targeted, her parents had pressed for her to not go back after winter holidays were over. It had been two months of moving around from house to house, trying to keep safe and throw off any chance of being found by Death Eaters. It had been two months of unrest and tension within their circle, fights breaking out almost daily about anything and everything. It had been two months since Harry had walked out on them, leaving them with nothing but a cryptic goodbye and a deep seated sense of confusion. In that time, they’d heard nothing from him or about him. It was as if he’d not only disappeared from their midst, but off the face of the Earth. The only potential lead they might have to prove he was still out there had been brought to them by Kingsley Shacklbolt, who had only recently returned to work after recovering from his injuries. Three weeks after Harry left, three Death Eaters had been found in a town called Coleshill, unconscious, bound and gagged in an otherwise abandoned house. A shed on the property had been lit on fire to alert any local authorities. And a color changing charm had been done to the flames, turning them green and purple. Upon this discovery, a local wizard in the area informed Ministry contacts and a few Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement officials had been dispatched to check the disturbance out and take care of the confusion the event had brought on to the Muggle firefighters who had responded to a fire call. The three Death Eaters had then been taken into custody and interrogated. They could not remember why they’d been in the house or even how they’d gotten there. The last thing each of them remembered was being in their homes, going about there business before they’d blacked out and woke up only when the Ministry officials arrived to take them away. Nobody from the Ministry could answer as to who had gone after these previously suspected Death Eaters and the Order had not had anybody in the area or who knew anything about the event. It had been then that Ron had brought up the possibility that it had been Harry who had apprehended these Death Eaters and set the alarm for others to take care of them. There was really no better explanation that anyone could come up with. But a search of the area by Order members could find no other clues that could prove or deny Harry’s involvement in the case. They could only use the possibility of Harry’s involvement in the situation to create hope for themselves that he was out there, still fighting. But hope and optimism could not keep things together all the time. When they should all be banding together collectively and leaning on one another for support, they instead seemed to be fracturing from within. Remus, along with the twins and Ron, thought that they should be out there looking for Harry. To them, his parting words were not orders or directions, but cause for worry from a damaged and confused mind. He was not himself when he spoke and they were worried about what he would do out on his own if they could not find him and help him. Bill, Percy and Mr. Weasley, along with backing from the Tonks, Mrs. Weasley and Fleur, wanted to keep everyone together and take heed to Harry’s warnings about following him. Bill and Mr. Weasley were adamant about protecting their family after everything that had happened and didn’t think that going on a chase around the country would do anything to preserve that. Tonks thought Remus should feel the same way about his expectant girlfriend and future family. Sometimes the tension between them filled an entire room and they spent periods of time in complete silence and also had moments where they rowed spectacularly, losing themselves to the stress of the situation. Ginny knew that Tonks understood Remus’s draw and allegiance to Harry. Remus felt responsible and protective of him and that emotion clashed with those he felt for his wife and unborn child. Tonks understood, but she would rather Remus paid attention to the situation he had control over. But the tension between the two expecting parents wasn’t the most palpable and intense of everyone. There was a visible rift between the two remaining main players left at home and left behind. Something had broken between Ron and Hermione and they seemed lost and irritable, ready to lash out at each other at any moment. Without the third cog in the well oiled machine that was the Trio, Ron and Hermione were splintered and divided. Several times Ginny had walked into a room where they had been fighting, their voices hissing and arguing just low enough to keep their discussion discreet from others. As soon as she or anyone would enter the room, their arguing would stop and one or both of them would stomp away, muttering incoherently and angrily as they did so. They’d go off and spend hours or even whole days apart, only to back together to resume their private warring. A few times, Ginny had caught snippets of their arguments, and it always seemed to center around Harry and how he had left them. Hermione always seemed to be suggesting something and Ron would always snap back at her, sometimes telling her that she was ‘thinking too much,’ or she ‘over-analyzed everything.’ But most times, Ron’s angry retort was centered on the same phrase. He would have told us. But Ginny never caught enough of their angry conversations to understand what it was that Harry would have told them. But whatever is was, it was worrying Hermione and causing Ron to react with anger to cover up his own worry and denial to whatever she was suggesting or theorizing. But Ginny could guess several things in Harry’s words, either spoken or not, that would cause anxiety and strife in the two friends. Harry’s parting sentiments had been troubling, if not confusing. It was as if he was saying goodbye, saying his peace before he left on a one-way journey without return in mind. He had taken time in turn to speak to each of the important pieces in his life, relaying in vague terms what they all meant to him. All of his thoughts and words had been past tense and he spoke of an unimaginable future for himself, wiping away any thought of the dreams and aspirations he and Ginny had shared in the quiet moments of united contemplation. And all those dreams we had…everything we’ve ever talked about…there was always truth in that…they weren’t just words. You once told me—that you’d die for me. But you have to live for me too. Don’t let this be it…don’t let this be all there is… Those words constantly echoed through Ginny’s mind, tearing at her heart and twisting her mind up in a whirl of fear and denial. She couldn’t bring herself to vocalize or confirm her worst thoughts and the tortuous possibilities in his words that were always just beneath the surface. Part of her knew deep down, that he had really said goodbye. His parting words had been his painful farewell to her; an apology for all he could not and would not be able to give her. These were always going to be yours– Those words hit her the hardest and seemed to taunt her endlessly, each syllable like a steady splash of cold water on her heart. With this sentence, she couldn’t attempt to rationalize his use of past tense as she had the rest of his sentiments. He had said it and given her the rings in all deliberation and permanent intentions. This part of the farewell was the most damning and trouble part of the confusing and abrupt parting that had happened two months ago. She often found herself subconsciously fingering the two rings on the gold chain that she had worn incessantly around her neck. The beautiful gold rings were cold against her fingers, perfect and exquisite in every manner; a remaining testament of a love and life lost too early. One time she had even made the mistake of letting the smaller and more delicate of the two fall onto her left ring finger. On contact, it had molded to the shape and size of her finger, encircling her skin perfectly. She had only let it linger there for a moment, relishing the warmth it brought to her as adjusted to her. But just as soon as she had found comfort in the feeling, she had wrenched the gold ring from her finger, finding her throat constricted with emotion and her eyes welling with tears. Allowing herself to entertain the images and thoughts that filled her mind as the metal formed to her touch was excruciatingly painful. For a moment, the feel of the ring had erased the words from her mind, but in another instant she remembered Harry’s echoing and painful goodbye; the reality of her uncertain future happiness crashing back down upon her; the ring seeming to burn painfully against her skin as a reminder of what she may have lost for good. But now was one of those moments where the cool rings were slipping between her fingers as she stared into the space as she sat in the kitchen of the three story country home they had inhabiting for the past week. The sounds of her mother moving around and working over a few pots and pans that were simmering and stewing various ingredients for the upcoming and lunch and supper were lost as Ginny once again drifted into one of her moments of quiet and often horrible contemplation. She only vaguely registered the conversation going on between her mother and Tonks, who, along with Fleur, spent everyday within whatever house they happened to be using as a new base. Her father, Percy and Kingsley went to work regularly, using contacts at the Ministry to ensure their safety there from potential attacks. Bill and the twins went randomly and occasionally to the shop and Gringotts; the twins to check on their wares and spend a few hours inventing, Bill to talk with his Gringotts contacts and take care of any other business at the bank. Ron and Hermione remained back with the other four women, often tucked away in various rooms, away from prying eyes. Remus came and went, going where he needed to take care of Order matters and to look for any clues to Harry’s whereabouts. All in all, despite being on the run together, trying to collectively stay safe, it seemed that the house and group had never been so divided and the tension seemed to be wearing and grating on them all. Ginny closed her eyes and brought a hand up to her face, rubbing her eyes tiredly and breathing deeply out, bringing herself back to the present, her surroundings once again coming back into focus. “Did you say you wanted tomato and turkey on your sandwich, dear?” Molly asked over her shoulder as she went about fixing sandwiches and soup for lunch. The question had been directed at Tonks, who was leafing through an old copy of the Prophet while sitting a few seats down the table, one hand gently rubbing her growing belly. “That’d be lovely, Molly,” Tonks replied. “And–if it’s–not too much trouble–could you make mine a double? Roast beef, mustard, mayonnaise, onions and lettuce…hold the tomatoes? And pickles…on both if it’s that’s alright?” Molly turned towards the table while wiping her hands on a rag, smiling in amusement at Tonks who was looking a bit sheepish. “Sure, darling,” Molly answered with a knowing look. “Anything else? I always had a big craving for bacon and avocadoes when I was pregnant. I actually used to eat that and add ranch dressing over the top when I was carrying Ginny,” she added, eyeing her daughter, who managed to smile softly in recognition at her mother. “Well…if you have any peppers on hand…that’d be good,” Tonks admitted with a grin. Molly nodded and returned to her preparation of lunch, turning her back on the two women at the table. Tonks went back to reading the copy of the Prophet, taking a sip out her cup of pumpkin juice as she did so. Ginny went back to her silent and torturous musing, slouching back in her chair as she closed her eyes again, listening to the clanking and soft banging of the pots and kitchen utensils doing their jobs. The one bright spot in the din of the darkness during the past few months had been the impending births of the two children that were going to be coming into the world. Even though it was scary to think what the state of the world they were being brought into, it brought a strange sense of happiness and warmth to everyone to think about the two innocent little babies that would bring them all a little light when they finally arrived. But along with that small bit of joy, for Ginny anyways, there was a strong sense of longing and sadness when she brought herself to dwell on the otherwise happy situation. When she really let herself think on the idea of children and motherhood and coupled that together with recent events and the status of life around her, and Ginny soon found it easy to forget any sort of happiness she should be feeling for the two women experiencing those things. Because for her, if she ever hoped to experience being a mother and have a family of her own, there was a good chance that it would be with someone other than the man she had dreamed would be her husband and the father of her children when that time came. If she were to have all that, it would likely be with another man, one who she knew could not make her feel the way Harry could. And just that thought made her angry and irrationally jealous of those who still had their beloved at hand. In spite of everything else wrong and troubling in the world, this plight seemed more awful. It just wasn’t fair. It’s not fair, is it Ginny? In the end, they’ll all have their happiness…but what will you have? An odd chilling sensation seemed to radiate throughout her body as a high voice echoed in her head like a familiar but unwelcome friend. It was a voice that had haunted her dreams for years and had been the soul cause to burst the illusion at a young age that she was safe and protected from the evils of the world. The soft croon had been her strange comfort in a time of loneliness and weakness on her part; it was her sole voice of reason and listening to it had been the biggest mistake of her life so far. It had cost her a portion of her innocence and naivety and nearly killed the boy that would become that man she loved. It’s alright to be jealous…to hate them all. What makes them deserve peace above you? With the words, Ginny felt the tendrils of hate wrap around her mind just as she felt the cold, slender fingers brush up against her cheek and down her neck. She found her self frozen and paralyzed in fear and horror, unable to react or shout out in warning to the others in danger in the kitchen and house. She somehow knew exactly what was happening and what was about to take place, but she could do nothing to prevent it. It was as if someone else had control of her mind and body and all she could do was watch, her eyes opening slowly of someone else’s accord, watching helplessly as the two other women continued to go about their business, totally unaware. So picturesque…aren’t they? The voice whispered into her head again. Her eyes were forced to rove over her mother and Tonks, who remained oblivious to the silent war going on inside Ginny’s mind. But they could never understand your pain, your suffering Ginny. They’ll never know the hurt you know…but I do. I can help…if you just let me. The words, instead of bringing any comfort, brought only fear and a sick sense of foreboding regarding what was to come next. She could not only feel his breath clouding her mind, but she could feel it warm and toying against the back of her neck as she struggled to regain some sort of control. And then to her horror, she saw Tonks look up from her paper and direct her words toward Molly, whose back was still towards the table. In response, Molly turned towards Tonks to reply to whatever she had said. But before she was completely facing the table, Ginny saw her mother’s eyes go wide in terror and the plate full of sandwiches she had been clutching in her hands slid to the floor with a crash that did not meet Ginny’s ears. Tonks reacted instinctively and her eyes followed Molly’s frightened ones, searching for the source of surprise and fear. When her eyes had found Ginny at the far end of the table, she mimicked Molly’s expression of terror and reached frantically for the wand stowed inside the dressing gown she was still wearing; her hand was visibly shaking as she held it aloft. “There’s no need for those now,” a soft, high voice cut through intense silence that enveloped the room. “I’m just here…for a little chat. Then I’ll be on my way.” As he spoke, Ginny felt hands rest on each of her shoulders, long, thin fingers squeezing them gently. As the voice echoed in the room, she pictured the handsome face of the cocky youth that had entertained and haunted her dreams for years. And at the same time, she tried to brush away the image of the monster she knew was standing behind her, the semblance of a man and a snake that Harry had once described to her and she could only picture in her mind’s eye. “Pl-please…let my daughter go,” Molly spoke up, her voice quavering as she tried to summon all the strength she could manage. Ginny tried in return to provide her own brave face for her mother, but the real and impending fear surrounding her was too much for her to do much in the way of comfort for anyone. “She’s in no danger Molly…I assure you,” Voldemort spoke in a sickeningly sweet and sure sounding voice. “After all, Ginny and I are old friends, aren’t we?” he asked, directing his attention now towards Ginny. She felt his eyes on her and knew he was now watching her closely waiting for her reaction. “Please don’t hurt her. I will do anything if you if just leave her be,” Molly spoke up again, not content to believe that Voldemort would not harm her daughter. “She’s not even of age…she’s no use to you–“ “We both know that age is but a number, now don’t we? And anyone can see that our young Ginevra here has grown up…quite nicely,” Voldemort cut her off, one hand coming back up to Ginny’s cheek again to caress it. Ginny felt revulsion and nausea flare up in her stomach at the touch and she turned her head away from him, closing her eyes to steady herself. “And I can assure you that she could be of great use to me…being pureblood and all. But–she holds cards that even I have to admit are beyond my grasp.” Suddenly Ginny knew exactly why Lord Voldemort had taken the time to personally track down her family. He knew about her and Harry. He had been made aware of their relationship and was going use this knowledge to his advantage. Suddenly the question of how they’d been found so easily and seemingly snuck up upon by a silent attack seemed not important. It didn’t matter how he’d found her anymore. He was here and what was to question was what would happen now? “What do you want?” Ginny found herself speaking in a deadly calm voice, so unlike the range of fearful emotions racking her insides. Ginny could almost feel Voldemort smile from behind her, amused at finally getting a response, however stoic it may seem, from the young woman before him. “You’re a smart girl…I think you know that answer,” Voldemort replied softly. “We don’t know where he is,” Ginny replied firmly. “We haven’t seen Harry for months.” Voldemort did not, however, act surprised at all to hear Ginny’s admission. “Oh…I’ve known that for a while now,” Voldemort made an offhanded admission of his own. “If I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know…what do you want with me?” Ginny questioned, desperately wanting to know what was in store. “Well, as I was saying before my dear–“ Voldemort hissed quietly, his voice seemingly becoming more dangerous sounding with each moment. “–you seem to hold a special affinity in the mind of your--young savior. And if we work together–I think we can both get what we want.” “What do you mean?” Ginny blurted out before she could help it. “You desire to see him, do you not? To have your–one true love–back?” Voldemort crooned mockingly. “And me–well–I’ll get what I want. And we’ll all be happy.” “I would never help you,” Ginny replied defiantly. But fear of what exactly Voldemort was planning began to overtake her and she could slowly feel any assuredness and bravery washing away. “Well–you see–you already are,” Voldemort responded as he bent down beside Ginny and pulled her head towards him. And for the first time, she was forced to look into the face of evil; the man with face fused with that of a monster, now turning his lipless smile towards her; his scarlet eyes burning into her wide brown ones. Ginny could not find it in her power to pull and look away and her breaths began to come more quickly as terror began to build. “There’s only one convenient thing about always having Potter–right here,” he continued, bringing a long, skeletal finger to lightly touch his temple. “He’s always…just a call away. And we all know how impulsive he can be when given a bit of–a push,” he added with a small, evil smile. Before Ginny could react or think of something to say, Voldemort turned his gaze away from her and looked up instead at the two women who were still horror-struck, stuck frozen to where they stood. “Call your sons…and the mudblood girl–Granger–from upstairs,” Voldemort said firmly, addressing Molly Weasley. “And call your husband and other son home,” he added. “If I call them…they’ll know something’s wrong…they’ll summon more Order members,” Molly replied, hoping that the threat of reinforcements would deter her from having to fulfill the command. “The more the merrier,” Voldemort replied dismissively, brushing off the threat easily and seeming not the least bit concerned. “And you–“ he continued, gesturing towards Tonks. “–call the werewolf,” he ordered disdainfully. “He’ll want to protect his cub–will he not?” he added, eyeing Tonks’ pregnant stomach. “Call them,” Voldemort warned dangerously when neither woman moved or made to follow his demands. Molly and Tonks exchange weary glances, weighing their options and quickly trying to think of someway out of this situation. But there seemed no hope or way out. The threat of what might happen if they did not comply was too great or a risk to take; especially with Molly’s only daughter wrapped so closely in the clutches of the most dangerous wizard in recent memory. Slowly, each woman raised their wands and performed a series of communication spells that Ginny knew to be used only when there was threat of attack and someone felt the need to move to a new hiding spot. The spells would alert Order members and they would return as soon as possible to get everyone out. Once the spells were sent, Voldemort gestured for Molly to call for the remaining members of her family and the house who were still unaware upstairs. Molly cast another anxious and hesitant look around the room, hoping for some sort of miracle or perhaps that she’d wake up from this new nightmare. But with none coming, she turned towards the stairs. “Boys!” she yelled up the staircase, trying to keep her voice even. She paused and took a deep breath. “Hermione! Fleur!” she called out. “Lunch is ready!” When she had finished summoning them, she dropped her head and swiped at fearful tears falling down her face. Footsteps and general movement from upstairs could be heard through the floorboards and heating ducts. Ginny knew that they all would heed Molly’s call. Since Charlie’s death, meals and family gathering times had become that much more important to them all. Their times together were lone moments of solace and relaxation that the rest of their day did not offer them. In a few seconds, they would all be down the stairs, coming together for a different sort of family gathering. It took only another ten to fifteen seconds, and the first sets of footfalls could be heard coming down the stairs, the sound of the twins’ voices teasing Bill about something grew louder as they made their way into the kitchen. “So–that’s how you learned French so quickly then?” Fred teased over his shoulder as he and George reached the bottom step, both chuckling aloud. Bill and Fleur were only a step behind them, Bill looking rather flustered and Fleur attempting to look annoyed, but her eyes betraying that sentiment and portraying a bit of amusement. As the four of them stepped into the kitchen, it took them several seconds to register that something was amiss. It took them all several long moments to notice the shattered plate on the floor, the terrified figures of Molly and Tonks and the daunting figure of Lord Voldemort, standing beside their sister, watching them all in amused interest. And before they could raise their wands and react to the intrusion, black hooded figures appeared around them, seemingly emerging from thin air, their disillusionment charms coming undone on cue. They summoned the wands of Ginny’s brother’s and Fleur, leaving the foursome surrounded and defenseless. “It is so nice for all of you to be able to join us,” Voldemort’s high voice sounded in a sickeningly sweet tone. “But if you’ll all just move aside and allow the rest of our party to join us,” he added, beckoning to his minions to herd the arrivals away from the staircase. “Let her go first,” Bill warned, stepping in front of his wife while gesturing for Voldemort to move away from Ginny. “I really don’t think you’re in any position to bargain or demand right now,” Voldemort replied. “I’m not here for a fight–so if you all stay calm and cooperate–we can make this easy and painless for all of you. That is–unless you’d like a struggle? Then I’m sure Fenrir would have no problem reconnecting with you on that front,” he added, motioning to a large hooded Death Eater to Bill’s right. The hooded figure let out a growl like laugh at Bill’s wide-eyed reaction to the suggestion and Fleur tightened her grip on her husband as the werewolf Death Eater eyed them both. Voldemort let out his own soft laugh at their obvious distress, but it was cut off by a new pair of clunking footsteps coming downstairs. “Hermione, I already said I was sorry,” Ron said apologetically as his lanky frame reached the last landing, Hermione was close behind him, looking tired and frustrated. “I never said I wanted you to apologize, Ron. I was just–“ Hermione began, but was cut off when Ron grabbed her and pulled her behind him, his other hand going for the wand in his front pocket. But before he could pull it on anyone, a short, broad Death Eater slammed Ron up against the near wall, his forearm across Ron’s throat, while his body pinned Ron to the wall, his off hand, forcing Ron’s wand arm away and against the wall. “Drop it!” the Death Eater hissed, slamming Ron hard against the wall when he did not relinquish hold of his wand. “Drop it, or the girlie gets it!” the Death Eater warned as he gestured to another hooded figure who had grabbed Hermione around the neck, their wand pointed at the side of her head. Ron looked around frantically, fighting to breathe and move against the restraining arm of the Death Eater holding him. His wide, blue eyes found his mother and brothers, surrounded by menacing hooded figures. They then slid over the far end of the room, where Ginny still sat in a chair at the end of the kitchen table, the tall skeletal figure of Lord Voldemort looming hauntingly beside her, watching him with a sick grin on his lipless mouth. A small grunt of pain from Hermione caused his eyes to flick backwards towards her as the death Eater holding her twisted his hold on her. “Drop it…now,” the Death Eater warned again and a quick look from Hermione, who had long been robbed of her wand, made Ron sag and stop struggling. With an air of momentary defeat, Ron opened his hand and let his wand drop to the ground where it bounced a few times before coming to a rest a few feet away. “That a’ boy, “ the Death Eater that had been holding Ron jeered, stepping away from Ron. Ron sagged a little in relief at being let go, and brought a hand up to his neck to massage where pressure had been applied. But before he could enjoy any part of being released, the Death Eater punched him hard in the stomach. When Ron doubled over in pain, the Death Eater grabbed him roughly by his hair and threw Ron physically across the room, where he hit the hard wood floor and rolled a few times before coming to rest at the feet of his brothers. Fred and George moved quickly to help Ron to his feet, just as a shocked cry rang out and Hermione was shoved roughly into their group by two chuckling hooded figures. Ron immediately reached for her, bringing a protective arm around Hermione even as he still struggled to stand upright. “That was interesting,” Voldemort hissed amusedly, obviously finding entertainment in the recent skirmish. “I think we’re nearly all here…ah–“ he added, but let out a satisfied sound as the fire in the kitchen hearth began to glow a bright green, indicating the last arrivals via Floo. Then on cue, the figure of Arthur Weasley came spinning into the view within the flames. Before he was completely straightened out and gotten any hold on the situation, two figures moved forward, summoning the wand in his hand and muscling him towards the corner where his family was already surrounded. Remus followed only seconds behind, while Percy came not five seconds after him, both were like-wise stripped of their wands before they got a chance to defend themselves. “Molly, what happen–“ Arthur began to ask his wife as he reached for her, but his eyes suddenly registered the scene and his they filled with panic and fear as they found his only daughter. “Ginny,” Arthur whispered desperately, as he tried to figure out what to do to get out of the situation and preserve his family. “Whatever it is you want…we’ll do,” Arthur spoke, this time addressing Voldemort directly. “Please…just leave my family be,” he continued pleadingly. “I believe you already missed that part of the conversation, Arthur,” Voldemort replied. “I have no intention of hurting anybody–here. Unless, as young Ronald demonstrated before, you feel the need to resist–I might feel the need to allow my Death Eaters to–retaliate,” he added with a smile. “Now,” Voldemort continued, cutting off any sort of response from the captured crowd. “we–are all here,” he added with emphasis to the word ‘we’. “I believe it’s time we call our guest of honor home,” he said with a dangerous smile. “We told you before,” Ginny said in that still calm voice. “We don’t know where Harry is.” “And as I said before, my dear,” Voldemort said quietly, once again brining his snake-like face inches from hers, “it doesn’t matter if you know where he is. What matters…is that–he–know exactly where you are and who you’re with.” Panic flooded Ginny again at the thought that she would be bait in the trap set for Harry. It would be her fault if something happened to him and she was trying desperately to think of a way out of this, to keep Harry from coming to their rescue. “He won’t come,” she blurted out. “Oh?” Voldemort said, slightly curiously. “And why is that?” “Because we’re not together,” Ginny invented wildly. “He’s changed…he doesn’t love me anymore…we’re–“ “Oh–I agree with you there. He has changed, hasn’t he? And in ways that I’m sure that none of you can quite fathom. Quite the moody fellow now, isn’t he?” Voldemort cut her off. “But I assure you–that you, Ginny–still hold a very dear place in your hero’s heart, mind and body. Another one of the ‘benefits’ of having the thoughts of a seventeen year old boy along with your own is that you now–exactly–what he’s thinking and…feeling,” Voldemort hisses softly into her face as he sat on the table-top, eyeing Ginny jeeringly. Ginny felt herself began to shake with rage and hatred towards the man before her and the insinuation he was making. “Do you your parents know what you and your dear, Harry, have been up to behind closed doors?” Voldemort sneered. “Do they know exactly where his hands have and haven’t been?” he said, his eyes flickering over towards where her family stood, unable to come to her aid. “Do your brothers know about the things he does to you in the dark?” he continued to goad her, loud enough for everyone to hear. There was a general murmur of amusement from the Death Eaters that made it all the worse. “I do, Ginny,” he whispered. “Every little moment that you thought was your own…every touch…every time you were alone together…” he paused, continuing to tease her. “I was there too,” he said triumphantly, blowing softly against her face, fueling the furor building inside her every second. “Fuck you,” Ginny breathed out in anger, not being able to contain her emotions anymore. The thought of having shared every intimate moment and every special event in her relationship with Harry sickened and horrified her beyond belief. In response to her colorful language, Voldemort grabbed her forcefully by the chin, his face no longer amused, but his features flickering with annoyance. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, haven’t you?” he hissed, his scarlet eyes locked onto hers. “Maybe instead of using that mouth for other things, Potter should have taught you how to show proper respect.” He continued to stare unblinkingly at Ginny as if deciding weather or not to teach her himself that lesson he had mentioned. Finally, he relaxed his grip a bit on Ginny’s chin, but did not relinquish it all together. “Maybe we can take care of that when he gets here?” he added quietly. “Well, we’ll have to get him here first, won’t we?” he continued dangerously. And without further discussion, Voldemort closed his eyes and seemed to be concentrating on something. His hairless brow furrowed and he began to breathe deeply, focusing all his attention and energy internally. For a few seconds, nothing major seemed to be happening and the room remained eerily silent, waiting for something, but knowing what. Suddenly, Voldemort let out a soft gasp of discomfort and struggled to steel his features for a moment. Then with a pop, his eyes opened and locked again on Ginny. But this time, it was not the same red, slit-like orbs staring back at her. The scarlet was gone, replaced by a clean slate of grey; eyes that were so eerily familiar that Ginny felt tears start to fill her eyes. The eyes however, did not fit the expression on the rest of the face sneering back at her, enjoying every moment of what was happening. One long, white finger started down her neck, brushing aside the red hair to expose the skin of her neck and that left visible by the v-neck of her blouse. The skeletal hand continued its way downwards, catching a finger on the gold chain around her neck. Carefully and gently, the chain holding the rings was lifted from inside her shirt and brought to rest in the smooth palm of Lord Voldemort. Ginny could hardly breathe as she watched whatever was behind the eyes stir and recognize the objects. She knew that Harry was on the other end of the connection, seeing exactly what was going on and she could only imagine what his reaction was and would be. Voldemort let go of the rings, clearly satisfied with whatever reaction he must be receiving from his counterpart. He turned his gaze back to Ginny’s face, a sinister smile curling the sides of his lipless mouth. He once again traced her face with a hand, this time, bringing a finger to brush away a stray lock of hair and then let it brush up against her trembling lips. Ginny felt the nausea wash over her and bile threaten the back of her throat at his touch. Just when she didn’t think she’d be able to ward it off much longer, Voldemort took his hands completely off of her and instead cradled his own head in his hands, taking in great gasps of pain and discomfort. He seemed to fighting against whatever was going on inside his head and Ginny felt a small surge of pride in the fact that it meant Harry was fighting back in some already. But watching Voldemort struggle against the invasion of his mind reminded her jarringly of how Harry looked when he dealt with the same circumstances. Something seemed to break suddenly and Voldemort released his head and threw it back, standing up and breathing deeply to steel himself. After a few moments, he let out a chilling low laugh that got louder every few seconds. He brought his head down, still laughing quietly, eyeing Ginny deviously. “I think–“ he started, taking a step towards her again and kneeling beside the chair she was seated on. “I think we just pissed off your boyfriend. I do believe he knows about us and, I assure you, he is angry,” said in the same sweet and poisonous manner he had been using before the encounter, his eyes returned to the same deep red. Ginny was still frozen in shock and fear and unable to think of anything to say or do. But she was relieved of that duty when Voldemort looked up as if he’d heard a noise or disturbance that no one else had. His features seemed to perk up in excitement and he smiled just as two Death Eaters nearest the archway into the hall crumpled to the ground in unconscious heaps. The attack on them had been silent and undetectable as to where the spells had come from. Then one Death Eater nearest the fireplace crumpled in the same manner, causing the rest of the hooded figures to look around the room on edge, waiting for any indication as to who would be next to fall. “Come now, Harry,” Voldemort spoke into the quiet room. “There’s no need to hide behind that silly cloak of yours. We both know you’re beyond having to use it. And I’m not here to strike blows with you. I simply would like to have a little chat.” There was no visible recognition of Voldemort’s words, only an increase sense of tension and suspense that was shared by everyone in the room, all waiting for something to happen. “Come out, come out, Harry,” Voldemort taunted. “Or I might have to start–guessing–where you are. And there’s no telling who might–accidentally–get in the way.” There was a soft rustling sound of fabric and in one quick, glorious moment, Harry stood before Voldemort and Ginny. His wand arm was out-stretched; the stick of holly pointed directly into the face of Lord Voldemort. Harry’s body was taught and tense, and he was ready strike at a moments notice. His face was livid, his eyes dark and almost crazed looking. His hair was longer than it had been the last time he’d been seen and his jaw was covered in a dark shadow that showed he hadn’t shaved regularly since then either. He had an overall air of unkemptness and disheveledness, as if he hadn’t had a good bath or bothered to take care of himself in the past two months. “Let her go,” Harry snarled in a soft, but deadly voice. Voldemort did not flinch or move from his place at Ginny’s side, but continued to observe Harry with a bit of amused curiosity in his demeanor. “Let her go!” Harry shouted in a level nearing an enraged scream. His breathing had picked up and he seemed to battling hard not to lose control. “Let her go or I swear…I’ll fucking kill them all,” Harry continued, moving his wand off of Voldemort and pointing at a nearby Death Eater who cowered in fear. “I don’t doubt you will,” Voldemort replied knowingly. “You are, after all, no stranger to the act. After Antonin, I’m sure it would be rather easy for you to take down any one of my Death Eaters.” Harry seemed to flinch and react to the mention of Antonin Dolohov, but recovered quickly by once again pulling his wand on Voldemort himself. “This is between me and you…it always has been,” Harry said in a forced calm tone. “There’s no need for anyone else to be here.” “I just thought…you needed a bit of–persuasion–to come to me,” Voldemort hissed, putting a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. For the first time since revealing himself, Harry’s eyes flickered to Ginny. The moment their eyes met, Harry seemed to lose a bit of his composure and focus and the first hint of fear could be detected on his face. “And–we’ll need witnesses to tell the rest of the world of how the final confrontation between the–great–Harry Potter and the immortal Lord Voldemort went down, will we not?” Voldemort said. Harry, again, did not move or respond verbally, but he swallowed visibly, showing his discomfort with Voldemort’s last words. “Or…is it not to be finished here, on this day?” Voldemort said in a near whisper. “It’s not, is it, Harry?” Voldemort said quietly, a knowing smile twisting his features. “Because–you–are not ready for this to come to an end.” “I would love nothing more than to kill you right here and now,” Harry hissed back, his features becoming steely once more. “So is that why you’ve spent the last two months, biding your time and delaying the inevitable?” Voldemort asked. “I think you’ve proven to all of us today that you could have found me and sought me out at anytime. But yet you’ve continued to dance around, picking off my Death Eaters here and there, playing your little games when you could have gone straight to the end.” “Why is that?” Voldemort asked. “Is it perhaps, because you’re afraid?” Harry let out a soft, mirthless laugh in response. “I do not blame you for being afraid to face me, Harry. That fear would come naturally to any sane person,” Voldemort said. “But that’s not what you are really afraid of. You fear something else entirely.” There was a soft murmuring noise from the direction of where the Weasley’s and the others were standing surrounded by Death Eaters. Ginny could see that it was Hermione who had made the noise and she her face seemed have become grave and worry filled, as if she knew what Voldemort spoke of. “Oh…” Voldemort said softly. “They don’t know, do they, Harry?” Harry, again, seemed to falter and he had to struggle to keep his features straight. Voldemort on the other hand smiled wider, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting from Harry. “The boy who puts his trust in his friends, keeping secrets from them all,” Voldemort said almost joyously. “You surprise me, Harry Potter.” “Well–should we let them in on our little secret then?” Voldemort asked. “Oh yes, Harry, I know,” He added, when Harry pulled a confused face. “I’ve known for quite a while now. Quite the surprise I must say…but not totally unbelievable.” “That doesn’t matter,” Harry spoke up, his voice was less demanding and firm than before. “What matters is I kill you and this is over.” “Even if you would succeed in defeating me, Harry,” Voldemort began. “Are you really prepared for what would follow?” He paused again, gauging Harry’s changing and crumbling front. “Who would do it, Harry?” Voldemort asked. “Do you have it in you…to turn your wand on yourself? Or would you have one of your friends do the honors? Could you really ask that of them?” There was now measurable murmuring and whispering coming from those on the Order side. They were trying to piece together the meaning of Voldemort’s words, grappling with the ideas now forming in their heads. “Would any of you be able to kill Harry?” Voldemort now asked the room at large. There were horrified looks on several faces at the question. “Because if you’re to truly win this war and get rid of me…Harry, here, has to go too.” Ginny felt the air leave her as she watched Harry’s eyes go wide at the revelation, solidifying in her mind, that what had been said was the truth. Suddenly all of his parting words from before made sense and she realized that this was what had driven him away and caused him to leave. He’d had this secret, this information and he’d kept it from them, wanting to make a clean end and protect them all from what he knew was going to come. “And I have to admit…that it is so because of a mistake and overshadow on my part,” Voldemort admitted, but clearly not bothered at all in doing so in front of his followers. “See…when I went to dispose of the Potters and rid myself of that threat…I unknowingly stepped into a situation where I came upon physical harm to myself. I think we all know that story–so we won’t go into messy details of my supposed downfall that night. But nonetheless–something happened that night that I had never considered. I seem to have little of myself behind in the chaos.” He paused, building the already heavy tension and anticipation in the room. “And as you in the Order of the Phoenix know,” Voldemort continued, addressing the members in the room. “It wasn’t the first time I’d done so.” “And yes…I know what you’ve all been up to. Searching for my horcruxes,” Voldemort admitted. This time there was murmuring from the Death Eaters, obviously not having been informed of this beforehand. “And I do have to applaud you all for your work done. Especially you two, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger,” Voldemort sneered at both Ron and Hermione. “You two, now doubt, have been there every step of the way, helping to track them down and aiding Harry in destroying them? And you Miss Granger, you’ve been very instrumental in figuring things out,” he continued. “In fact, you are the only one here who has it all figured out already. You are, after all, a very smart witch aren’t you? Pity that talent like yours has been wasted on someone of your parentage though,” he added. Ginny could see Ron visibly tense at the remark and Bill put a restraining arm on Ron’s shoulder to keep him from doing anything rash in Hermione’s defense. “But what Miss Granger has already figured out,” Voldemort began again. “Is that Harry here is my final Horcrux. Although I must admit, it was done unknowingly and unintentionally, it remains true. Every emotional hiccup or outburst…and, well…any shred of exceptional talent that Potter has ever shown…that was me.” “So…” Voldemort continued quietly, addressing Harry directly again. “How would you like to proceed now that your dirty little secret is out in the open? Do we end this now? Even on the off chance that you’d succeed in a duel, I have to admit that I would get tremendous satisfaction in knowing that it would be your inevitable downfall too.” “Or…would you like to listen to what I have to say? We can have that little chat I was talking about and perhaps,” Voldemort paused. “Perhaps, I can help you.” “Help me?” Harry laughed bitterly. “I don’t need nor would I ever consider your help.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” Voldemort countered. “See…if you really were intending to end this right now and not listen to me…you’d have killed me straight away.” “No…you really, deep down, are quite interested in what I have to say,” Voldemort continued. “Because you know, as well as I do, that I may be the only one that can save you from your sure fate.” “You can’t save me, anymore than anyone else can,” Harry said darkly. “I really could care less what you have to say.” “But you do,” Voldemort responded. “You seem to forget, Harry, that I know you so well. Where you find yourself so righteous and brave, you forget how alike we really are; that for all practical purpose, you are me.” “I’m nothing like you,” Harry spat back in disgust. “Oh, but you are…in more ways than you realize,” Voldemort said with a smirk. “We have so much in common. We both know the unfairness of growing up without our families.” “You killed my parents!” Harry roared in anger. “So don’t you dare compare your life to mine. You are the reason behind every bad thing in my life.” “It matters not the root circumstances, Harry, but the results and consequences,” Voldemort said as he brushed aside Harry’s comments. “No, there’s a difference,” Harry snapped back. “See…my parents died because they loved me and wanted to protect me. You killed your father and your mother died because she was too weak to carry on and she was too scared to live alone because she had no idea what real love was…just like you.” “Your parents died because I wanted it to be so,” Voldemort hissed back. “They had no choice in the matter. The only part they played was being foolish enough to trust others with their lives. There was no love and sacrifice in it all…it was only power and strength that did them in.” “And Harry, you’re starting to understand that yourself,” Voldemort continued. “You are starting see that being virtuous and just isn’t always the answer. Sometimes it takes force and power to get things accomplished. You know this because life isn’t fair…so why be completely fair back? Why play by the rules of love and war, Harry?” “And here I am, Harry, breaking those very rules and offering you a chance to right all those wrongs in your life that you say I created,” Voldemort continued. “The only question is…will you accept my offer?” “And what offer is that?” Harry shot back, already scoffing at the idea that Voldemort could ever offer him something. “I cannot deny, Harry, that over the past few years you’ve grown very powerful,” Voldemort continued, momentarily ignoring Harry’s question. “And I cannot deny that you intrigue me.” He paused, taking in the mixed emotions crossing Harry’ features as he listened. “The glimpses, your flashes of that power…are intoxicating, almost, “ Voldemort hisses softly, as if drinking that very power he had been speaking of. “And sometimes I think…that it would be such a waste…to destroy that…to destroy you.” “I won’t live in a world with you anymore,” Harry snapped back. “I’d be glad to go down in anyway while bringing with.” “But why, Harry?” Voldemort responded. “Why throw away your life…when you don’t have to?” “Join me, Harry,” Voldemort added suddenly. Harry’s face, instead of contorting into anger or confusion, instead broke into a wide smile, amusement written all over his features. His shoulders began to shake as he began laugh aloud, his chuckling filling the entire room. “Let me get this straight,” Harry said, trying to talk through his bought of laughter. “After that whole entire spiel about being alike and me being all misunderstood–“ he paused, trying to hold back laughter. He actually reached up and wiped away a tear from his eye. “After all that–you end with ‘join me, Harry?’” Harry snorted loudly and let out an amused laugh. “You really thought that was going to work?” Harry asked incredulously. “You really thought that you could just say ‘join me, Harry’ and I’d go, ‘ok’?” Harry laughed, his town completely mocking Voldemort. “You really are losing your dramatic touch, aren’t you Tom?” Harry asked. The use of his given name seemed to irk Voldemort more than anything that Harry had said previously. His eyes drew into slits as he stared Harry down for his comments. “No, Harry. I really didn’t think a fool like you would see reason in this situation,” Voldemort said quietly. “I really didn’t think that a seventeen year old–boy–could understand and get over the illusion that to die is neither glorious nor noble.” “But I did expect that I could find some way…to…persuade you,” Voldemort continued. The connotation and the danger in his voice were palpable and fear began to grip those who wondered what exactly was coming next. And then, it happened. There was a sharp intake of breath into silent tension and Ginny went rigid in her chair, her eyes wide as she struggled with whatever spell she was now under. She began to shake violently, her face contorting in a mask of pain as she bit her lip, trying not to make a sound and let her suffering be known. Harry faltered from any sort of control he had and he reached his hand out towards her as if he’d like nothing more than to grab her and save her. But Voldemort stepped up beside Ginny and prevented any sort of intervention, his smile wide in triumph at his upper hand. “Look, Harry. Look at your precious Ginny,” Voldemort taunted as Ginny struggled against the pain trying to consume her. “It doesn’t look like she’s having any fun, does it?” he laughed. “Stop,” Harry choked out, desperately. “Stop?” Voldemort supplied mockingly. “I don’t just stop for no good reason, Harry. I need something on your part.” “You’ve got two choices, really,” Voldemort continued. “You can take my offer, join me, and save yourself as well as your friends. Or…you can stand here–continue to be defiant and brave–and then watch her die.” “Though…you’ve already discussed this, haven’t you?” Voldemort asked. “What were the words….? ‘You said you’d die for me…you must live for me too?’” Voldemort asked the pair, chilling recounting the last sentiments of their parting. “So are you ready to die for him, Ginny?” Voldemort addressed Ginny, who was in clear pain and agony; small groans of pain were now succeeding in escaping her lips as the hurt intensified. “Does your love run that deep, that you’d willingly give up your life for him?” “And could you really ask that of her, Harry?” Voldemort inquired of Harry, who was looking highly distressed, torn as to what to do. “Will you be able to watch her die and go on living, knowing that you had every opportunity to save her? Can you live with that, Harry?” With a flick of his wrist, Ginny began to writhe in further pain, the first scream escaping her lips as she could no longer hold back her suffering. “Stop,” Harry cried, sounding broken and unstable. “Stop it,” he pleaded again as Ginny let out another cry of pain. “Stop, Harry?” Voldemort questioned. “Stop…and what, Harry?” “Just…stop,” Harry struggled to get out. It seemed that he was fighting against something in his mind that was actually trying to rationalize letting this happen. He looked confused and desperate, like a caged animal ready to lash out or break completely. “That’s not good enough, Harry,” Voldemort replied. “You might need a bit more persuading?” he asked, flicking his wrist again. This time, Ginny reached for her throat, gasping for air as her oxygen supply was clearly cut off. She clawed at her throat as if trying to free herself from an invisible rope around her neck. “Stop!” Harry shouted, grabbing his head in his hands, his face screwed up in anguish. “Let her go and I will do anything you want,” he pleaded. “I have your word?” Voldemort asked hungrily, looking excited. “I have your promise that you will not resist and join me?” “Yes,” Harry said desperately. “Just…leave her alone, leave them all go…and you can have me. You can do whatever you want with me,” Harry relented, seeming to sag in defeat with his words. There were several cries of distress and disbelief from the already agitated and frantic group of Weasley’s and others still standing hostage at the far end of the kitchen. “So be it,” Voldemort said with a salacious smile. “Welcome aboard, Harry Potter.” With a snap of his fingers, Ginny went limp in her chair before crumpling to the ground, struggling feebly to regain composure after having endured such torture. Harry instinctively rushed forward to her aid, carefully pulling her into his arms. “Gin? I’m so sorry,” he whispered softly to her as she tried to compose herself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated as he continued to hold her, trying to comfort her and make sure she was going to be ok. But before she could get enough air back to reply, Harry felt arms grab him roughly by the shoulders and underneath the armpits, hauling him backwards and pulling him away from Ginny. He tried to wrench himself away, but the arms were steadfast in their grip and Voldemort’s voice interrupted his struggles. “Easy, Harry,” Voldemort soothed. “If you still feel the need to fight…I can assure you that I have no qualms about going back to our negotiation process,” he added, eyeing Ginny, who had succeeded in pulling herself into a sitting position, her hands and arms shaking wildly as she tried to wipe away the tears covering her cheeks and the blood dripping from her lip where she had bitten through from the pain. Harry seemed to think better of putting up any more fight in case Ginny did become the center of negotiations again. He stopped fighting the grip of the two Death Eaters holding him and he hung his head in defeat, his eyes closed in thought. “There we go,” Voldemort said. “See how easy things can be if you just cooperate?” “You have me. Now let them all go,” Harry said quietly, not looking up. “In due time,” Voldemort said slowly. “I do promise to let them be. And if you work with me here…I will leave them totally unharmed. I just ask for their company for a little while longer while we make this official. After all, we’ll need witnesses to record and remember this historical and momentous event.” “Now…let’s start thing off, shall we?” Voldemort added. “Put her with the others,” Voldemort said, gesturing for one of his followers to take Ginny to the rest of her family. One moved forward and grabbed Ginny roughly around the waist. She struggled tiredly and exhaustedly against the hold, but only succeeded in bringing a general murmur of laughter to the Death Eater crowd. She was then thrown towards the Weasley’s and Fred and Mr. Weasley collectively caught her and helped her up to her feet. Molly moved forward and held Ginny close as her daughter tried to calm her shaking and aching body. “And search him,” Voldemort continued, gesturing now to Harry. Harry was once again grabbed roughly and he was forced to keep his arms outstretched as he felt wands and hands roving over his body, looking for weapons or anything that might be found useful. “Take his cloak and robes off,” Voldemort ordered the Death Eaters again. Those outside articles were stripped off and he was left standing in his dingy t-shirt and ripped jeans, making sure he was quite exposed. “Ahhh…so it is true,” Voldemort said curiously, eying Harry’s exposed right metal arm. “That is, no doubt, how you caused such damage to Dolohov and Fenrir here,” he added. At the mention of his name, Fenrir Greyback let out a snarl of hatred and another Death Eater was forced to hold the werewolf back with an extended arm. Harry did not respond, but stood with his arms outstretched, waiting quietly for what horror and humiliation he knew was certain to come. “The first thing you need to learn about serving me is obedience,” Voldemort said sweetly. “I need to make sure that I have your complete allegiance.” He paused with a knowing smile. “Come Harry…kneel before me,” he said with a victorious grin. The Death Eaters broke out in a fit of giggles, clearly enjoying the order Harry had just received. But Harry did not move. He stood steadfast, glaring hard at Voldemort, daring to defy his command. “Did you not here me?” Voldemort asked dangerously. “Come forward, Potter…and kneel.” Harry turned his head to look at his friends in the corner. “Don’t look at them,” a hooded figure nearest him drawled in a familiar tone. “The Dark Lord gave you an order…kneel!” the Death Eater shouted, kicking out the back of Harry’s knees with his foot. Harry, whose arms were still outstretched, did not have enough time to react and catch himself. His face hit the corner of the kitchen table as he fell. Mixed into Harry’s shout of pain was the sound of cracking bone as his cheek connected with wood. Harry fell to the floor in a heap, grabbing his face and trying to stifle the cries he so desperately wanted to let out. The same Death Eater who had caused the damage moved to stand over Harry. “Get up, Potter. Stop your whining,” the Death eater gooded as he reached to haul Harry up by the back of his t-shirt. But just as he had started to lift Harry, Harry responded. With a flash of metal, Harry’s right arm went up and backhanded the hooded figure directly in the face. There was a repeated sound of cracking bone as the metal collided with the man’s face. The Death Eater let out a scream of pain as he flew backward across the room, his hood falling down as he landed against the kitchen cupboards. Draco Malfoy tried helplessly to stem the flow of blood running down his cheek and nose as he whimpered on the ground, rocking back in forth in pain. Several Death Eaters drew their wands on Harry as he lay on the ground, still recovering from his own injuries. But Voldemort’s soft, slow clapping made them draw them away. “Bravo, Harry,” Voldemort said, stepping forward and crouching beside him. “You continue to impress me. I bet that felt good, didn’t it? He deserved it after all. Draco has always been an annoying, spoiled brat anyways. Always been a thorn in your side, eh? I think he needed someone to put him in his place,” Voldemort added, eyeing Draco disdainfully as he continued to cower with his injuries. “But as much of an annoyance that Draco has been for you, Harry,” Voldemort continued, standing up and turning away from Harry, as if thinking and carefully considering his next words. “You have been the thorn in my side.” “Since you’ve been born…you’ve been the cause of all my troubles, “ Voldemort continued. “Time after time you’ve thwarted and disrupted my plans and return. And in some ways, I feel the need to applaud you. It hasn’t been any easy feat on your part.” He paused. “But…I cannot ignore the fact that you’ve been a constant annoyance in my life,” Voldemort said. “And I cannot allow you to go unpunished for all the stress and unwanted burden you have caused me. As much as I’d like to…I cannot seem to forget and for that, you must pay a little–price.” Harry lifted his gaze from the floor, eyeing Voldemort through the haze of pain clouding bruised and gashed cheek and face. “Oh yes, Harry, there will be a little pain. I promise you that,” he responded to Harry’s incredulous and surprised face. Voldemort nodded to two large Death Eaters and they moved forward to haul Harry back to his feet. “And, Harry,” Voldemort said as they pushed Harry to a standing position. “If you fight back…I still have no problem with killing every last of them in front of you,” Voldemort threatened, eyeing the Weasley, Remus, Tonks and Fleur. “So just keep that in mind.” With that, Voldemort nodded the go-ahead to the Death Eaters holding Harry. Both shrugged off their hoods and Fenrir Greyback and Walden McNair both sneered back at him. “This is going to be fun, isn’t it Potter?” Fenrir smiled with his yellow, bloodstained teeth. The right side of his face was scarred and misshapen; the place where his eye should be was dark and empty, a lasting reminder of what Harry had done to him on their last meeting. “Welcome to the ranks,” he added, punching Harry hard in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain. Before Harry could deal with the pain from the blow to his stomach, McNair grabbed a fistful of Harry’s hair and yanked his head backwards, his want point pushing painfully into Harry’s neck. “Where do you want it, sweetheart?” McNair taunted into Harry’s ear as he held him close. “Should we slice you from ear to ear? Or we could split ya’ from right down the ribs to your navel and then sew ya back up…watch ya squirm,” McNair laughed into Harry’s ear, tracing his wand down Harry’s chest in demonstration of what he’d do to him. Harry swallowed visibly, afraid that they’d do just that to him. But instead of being cut like a gutted dear, Fenrir Greyback stepped before Harry and eyed him predatorily before kneeing him–hard–below the belt, hitting everything important and painful in the process. McNair released Harry and he crumpled to the ground in a curled up ball, trying hard to find his breath and use it to get through the pain. Harry’d taken hits to the groin before, but none as forceful as Greyback’s. He could feel the bile rise to the back of his throat as his stomach fought to expel its meager contents and he struggled to hold onto control. “I didn’t know you had a pair, Potter,” Greyback sneered as he bent over Harry’s curled up form. “But I probably shouldn’t have done that, right? Your little wench over there might want those in tact later,” he jeered, eyeing Ginny suggestively. Harry knew he couldn’t retaliate, no matter how much he wanted to, without bringing about dire consequences to the others. So in the only defiant way he could, Harry tried gathering himself, slowly pulling himself to his feet, using the table to stabilize himself. It took him a few attempts to be able to straighten up completely, but finally he found himself standing rebelliously, trying to shake off the effects of his punishment and prove that it wasn’t going to break him. “Not had enough then, Potter?” a female voice cut through the din of amused sniggers coming from the hooded portion of the room. Harry knew that voice well. It had mocked and haunted him in dreams and reality. He felt the hatred rise up in him as he recognized the sneer of Bellatrix Lestrange as she stepped towards him, pulling back her hood and eyeing him wildly. “Should we have our go now?” she asked him as she circled him hungrily. “I so do want to pay you back for that little headache you gave me during our last meeting,” she continued, speaking about the massive stunner she received during the assault at the Smith mansion. “That was no way to treat a woman, Harry. I’m going to have to teach you a little bit of a lesson I’m afraid. Maybe your dear Ginny will get a few ideas before I’m through?” she added. Then with a smooth movement of her wrist, she turned her wand on Harry. Ropes shot out of the end of her wand and bound around Harry’s wrists and ankles, tightening painfully around his limbs. The ends of the ropes attached themselves to two posts that helped support the kitchen ceiling and second floor, pulling tightly. Harry soon found himself suspended by the ropes around his wrists and ankles, dangling inches off the floor between the two support posts. “Just like a fly caught in a spider’s web,” Bellatrix mused happily as she watched Harry try and test out his bonds. “And usually the spider gets to play with its food first,” she add sweetly and insinuatingly. With another smooth, looping movement of her wand, the bindings began to tighten around his wrists and the end of the ropes attached to the posts began to shorten, pulling Harry’s limbs in opposite directions. Slowly Harry was being pulled in four different directions, the slack in the ropes getting shorter and shorter every second. All the while, Bellatrix stood before him, watching gleefully as his body was seemingly in the process of being torn apart, his limbs being stretched to their breaking point. “Oh God,” Harry gasped out as he began to reach the point beyond any hope of toleration. He could feel his muscles pull and strain against the torture. He let out another painful cry as he felt several tendons and ligaments stretch and then snap; the sound resonating throughout the kitchen. “Had enough?” Bellatrix taunted, pacing before him but not releasing her spell. Finally Harry’s limbs reached a point where they could no longer be pulled out any further and he felt the joints in his hips and left shoulder begin to separate from their sockets. His right arm was beginning to tear from his skin where it connected; the violent separation from the nerves in his shoulder created a blinding and disorienting effect in his brain as the connections were severing. “Stop!” Harry finally screamed, unable to humanly tolerate any more. “Stop, please!” Harry cried out, the plea tearing at his throat. Bellatrix considered him for a moment and then looked to her master, who nodded. With a sigh, she aimed her wand at Harry again and the ropes slackened again, leaving Harry hanging limply between the posts. He was still suspended, but no longer being rent apart. Though his limbs were now temporarily useless, having been stretched and manipulated beyond their limits. “You’re not much fun are you?” Bellatrix asked as she stepped towards Harry and brought her faces and body within inches of his. “Only lasted about a minute,” she continued suggestively, leaning up against him and whispering it into his ear. Harry could just register the feel as she ran a hand down his chest in a sickeningly seductive manner. He wanted to pull away and to get her off of him, but he had no power or strength to do so. Her touch was nauseating, disgusting him thoroughly as she moved her hands further down his chest and abdomen. She pressed flush against him, laughing softly in his ear as her hands moved below his waist and groped him through his jeans. Harry hissed in pain and disgust, the discomfort from his previous contact from Greyback’s knee mixing with the horror of having Bellatrix touch him so. “Bella,” Voldemort warned suddenly. “That’s enough.” With a frustrated sounding sigh, she put a small amount of space between her and Harry, using a finger to pull his chin up and bring her face just inches from his as if tempting a kiss or a caress. “You’re Ginny’s a lucky girlie,” Bellatrix taunted him, in a raspy, yet playful voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. “But we both know your secret now. You’re a very--big boy--aren’t you Harry?” she teased, with a hint of a smirk on her lips. With that, she brought his face towards his. Harry pulled his head away just before their lips met, trying his hardest to fight through the pain and exhaustion gripping his body, doing everything in his power to avoid contact with her mouth. Bellatrix only smiled ruefully at Harry’s unwillingness and watched him for another moment, as if wondering if she should continue. She brought their faces close for another attempt but stopped a few inches away and blew a kiss at him before letting him go, giggling madly as she turned back and left him hanging in the ropes still binding him. Before any other Death Eater could step up and dish out their portion of payment to Harry for anything he’d ever done to them or just for spite, Voldemort stepped forward, eyeing and surveying the broken and exhausted young man before him. “So, Harry,” Voldemort said very quietly, pacing before Harry. Harry lifted his head slightly to meet the snake-like eyes of Lord Voldemort. “Do you think you’ve paid for your trickery over the years yet?” Harry considered the question for a moment, looking as though he were debating about whether to continue to show defiance and get up again despite all the pain and suffering he’d experienced or if he’d taken enough torture. He decided on the latter and nodded slightly. “Well…I agree you’ve taken quite a bit here,” Voldemort considered genuinely. “I haven’t gotten my payment yet,” he added dangerously, raising his wand slowly and pointing it directly at Harry’s chest. “I think you’ll be quite familiar with this one,” he added, just before he flicked his wrist and uttered ‘Crucio’ with all the hate and malice he could muster. The jet of light hit Harry squarely in the chest before his eyes had reached their widest point in surprise. He began to writhe and shake in pain, his whole body feeling as if it were on fire, his very muscles spasming and squeezing his bones, feeling as though they were about the snap from the pressure. He wanted to cry and scream, to beg for mercy as the pain began to intensify and he could do nothing to get away from it. His body was too weak from the previous torture to help fight off the pain as his binding held him in place. And as much as he tried, he could not escape into his mind as he’d done before. The pain was blinding him, blocking him from retreating. It felt like he was being held there forever under the spell, his vision and consciousness beginning to waver and blink in and out of focus. He was losing the fight and was edging on the border of unconsciousness, or perhaps insanity, he did not know. But he did know that he would not last much longer. He finally let the scream out that he’d been holding in by biting his lip near through, drawing blood now dripping down his chin. It didn’t matter about being brave and stoic anymore. He wanted this to stop, to be relieved of this hell. He continued to scream out in pain, tears flowing freely, joining the sweat, blood, and snot covering his face. After what seemed like an eternity, the spell was lifted and he hung limp in the ropes still connected to him, swaying from side to side as his body stilled. At this point, he could control nothing, he his breathing came out in great rasping gasps, mingling with the soft sobs that he could no longer keep at bay. “Now…you’ve had enough,” Voldemort said quietly as he raised Harry’s drooping head to meet his gaze. Harry could not focus on Voldemort. His vision was cloudy and unfocused, and the other information being collected by his senses seemed to be mixed and disconnected. So when Voldemort stepped away and then cut the bindings holding Harry up with a flick of his wand, Harry was not aware and was unable to catch himself as he came crashing down to the ground in a crumpled heap. He lay there, barely moving, trying hard not to black out, afraid of what would happen to the others if he did. “And now Harry, we must welcome you properly,” Voldemort said allowed. Harry was unable to react as sets of hands scooped him roughly from his numb, motionless position on the ground. He was shoved unceremoniously into one of the kitchen chairs, having to be propped up by the pair of hooded figures on either side of him. Harry tried hard to regain control of himself, but the effects of the curse were too much, similar to being heavily medicated and injured as he had been after the car accident that had cost him his arm. He felt his right arm being pinned behind him as his left arm was grabbed and forced foreword, and he vaguely saw the white blur that he knew to be Voldemort stand before him before taking his wrist. He felt the point of a wand on his forearm, digging painfully into his skin. “With this, you show me your ever-lasting allegiance, Harry,” Voldemort’s voice floated to his ears, slightly broken in translation. “Once you take it, there’s no going back.” Harry heard a hiss and a murmur cut through the air and pain erupted where the wand had been pressed into his arm. He felt the area of discomfort began to grow, creeping up his arm, the skin on his forearm growing hot and painful. He felt the arms propping him up and holding his right arm back tighten their grip on him as he feebly tried to struggle against what was happening. And then suddenly the intense pain stopped, replaced by a dull throb that extended from his wrist and half-way up his forearm. The arms holding him released and he slumped back into the chair, trying to catch his breath. After a few moments, he looked through the haze of tears and pain and searched for his arm and what had been done. He let out a soft moan of horror and revulsion as he laid eyes on the skull and the snake, interwoven in the black ink now etched into his own skin. The Dark Mark stared back at him, stark and hideous, now a testament to what path he had chosen and the risk he had taken to save the lives of those he loved. Dumbledore had said it would not be easy and the path a dark and dangerous one; that he’d have to choose between what was right and what was easy. But this--despite the reasons behind it and the small glimmer of chance he still believed he had somewhere in the depths of his mind--was something beyond all that talk. He only hoped that he’d be able to ride the storm and be there at the end of this path to fully complete his journey. All was not lost, but it had never been harder. Voldemort’s triumphant laugh broke Harry out of his horrified reflection and Harry looked up to find Voldemort standing over him, watching him victoriously. “Like it?” Voldemort asked mockingly. Harry did not respond, but rubbed at his arm, as if checking it’s validity and trying to rub it off in the same motion. “And now that you’ve taken the mark,” he added in amusement. “I believe I still have one last problem to take care of.” Harry could think of nothing that more to what he’d been asked to do, so he could only look back in confusion. “You see…though you’ve officially joined me…I’m still a bit worried about your level of commitment,” Voldemort told him. “You seem to have a little bit of a noble streak in you and I find that to be a little bit of a problem. I can’t have you reneging on your promise using your inside position to take me down.” “So we must remove that threat…or at least push it back where it can’t do us any harm, Harry,” he continued. “And to do so, we must bring that little bit of--me--in you…forward,” he finished, stepping up to Harry. Harry could only look in terror as Voldemort placed both of his hands on either side of Harry’s head, digging his fingers into Harry’s scalp. Intense pain engulfed him and he again began to edge towards the point of blacking out. Millions of different emotions began flickering and filtering through his mind in overdrive, flooding his senses and threatening to over-run his mind. All the anger and hurt he’d felt in his life seemed to be making it’s way forward, bombarding him and bogging him down. Slowly he began to feel the room slip away from him and it felt as though he were drowning in his own thoughts, falling beneath the surface and being bowled over by the intense waves of emotion assaulting him. And then…everything went black. ------------------------------ -------------------- Ginny watched horrified as Voldemort placed his hands on Harry and he began to writhe in pain once again. Everyone around was again shouting in protest and anger and fear, trying in vain to help. It seemed to go on forever, Voldemort whispering and hissing unintelligible words beneath his breath, his body taught in focus. And then suddenly, Harry slumped forward in chair. Voldemort stepped away, panting slightly as he surveyed whatever work he’d been doing. Harry was no longer shaking or moving in anyway that indicated pain, instead he had his head bowed, his chest moving slowly up and down in an even rhythm. “Harry?” Voldemort asked suddenly, his voice quiet and tentative. “Can you hear me?” He asked, stepping forward. Harry nodded, still keeping his eyes towards his lap. “Stand up,” Voldemort once again indicated in a quiet voice, all hard edge out of his tone. Ginny knew there was no way Harry’d be able to stand after all he’d endured and the torture his body and subjected to. But to her surprise, Harry stood slowly from the chair, his head still lowered enough where his over-long hair covered and hid his face from view. “Who do you serve, Harry?” Voldemort asked as he stood a few feet from Harry. Ginny expected Harry to show the same defiance as before when he’d been asked to kneel at the feet of Voldemort, but again, to her surprise, his voice cut through the anticipatory silence, even and calm and so unlike him. “You--my lord,” Harry said in response. Voldemort smiled widely, the sight sickening Ginny to her core. “Are you sure?” Voldemort asked in confirmation. “Yes, my lord. I am at your service…at your bidding,” Harry replied in a hard, calm tone. “Good,” Voldemort replied satisfied. “Good…I was afraid we’d not achieved that yet…but it seems that results are easily at hand.” Voldemort stepped to Harry’s side, eyeing all those in the corner with triumph and a maddening glint in his eyes. “Face your--family--Harry,” Voldemort sneered. “Show them what you’ve become.” Harry hesitated for only a moment before responding to Voldemort’s commands. He slowly raised his head to face them, his hair falling away from his face as he did so. Ginny felt tears well up inside in fear and heart break as she met his eyes, tinted red by blood-shot whites and the scarlet glow that seemed to shadow his previously green then gray iris’s. She could not see any semblance of Harry in those eyes. There was an evil and indifference in them that she’d not previously seen in them before, despite the hard-times they’d witnessed before. Harry was gone and she did not know when or if he’d ever be back. Voldemort seemed to be showing Harry off to them, gloating over his new prize and trophy, torturing all with the results of today’s choices. “Now, Harry…” Voldemort said, addressing his new recruit. “I know I said we’d let them go unharmed…but I could change my mind. I mean--perhaps there’s something that’s bothering you--that you could pay them back for?” Harry surveyed his friends, eyeing them all intently, as if he were seriously weighing his options. “I’m sure you’ve had a few disagreements with your best friends? They can be rather annoying at times…right?” Voldemort tried to persuade Harry. “And I’m sure that Ginny has not always been the perfect partner? It can’t have been the perfect relationship,” he added, his gaze lingering a moment on Ginny. Harry continued to look them all over and Ginny tried to make eye contact with him, attempting to link onto something that might recognize her for who she was to him. But Harry broke his gaze before she could accomplish that. “No,” he said softly. “We promised,” Harry added, looking towards Voldemort, who only nodded. “And…” Harry continued. “I’m tired. I wouldn’t want to exhaust myself completely over them,” he added, giving the group in the corner one last look and smiling in a way that resembled more of a sneer. He turned back to Voldemort, as the latter patted Harry on the back proudly, clearing enjoying the scene playing out before him. “Very well,” Voldemort said in amusement. “Let us go then and get you your well-deserved rest. There is still much work that needs to be done and much you need to be taught. We’ll need you ready for that,” he added. “So now we say good-bye to you all. You’ve been a wonderful audience,” Voldemort continued, addressing the shocked and fearful looking Weasleys and Order members watching on. The Death Eaters guarding the exit points of the room seemed to move away and began readying for a departure. One figure moved to help a still down Draco Malfoy up from the ground. “Leave the rat be,” Voldemort ordered and the Death Eater attempting to help quickly backed away. “He’s no Death Eater…leave him where he belongs,” Voldemort laughed contemptuously as he handed Harry a black robe. Harry put it on carefully, finishing up by pulling the hood over his head, obscuring his face and scarlet tinted eyes from all view. “Say goodbye to your family, Harry,” Voldemort said as they were at last ready to depart. Harry turned slightly towards them and eyed them from behind the cover of his hood. “Goodbye,” Harry said disdainfully, bringing amused laughter from the rest of the Death Eaters. “Thank you all for your hospitality,” Voldemort added as he put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. And then they were gone with a twist, vanishing from sight with only a small pop. The rest of the black figures vanished in the same manner, soon leaving the group in the corner free. But they remained rooted to the spot, unable to move from shock and awe and horror of what had gone down. The only sound or movement in the room came from Draco Malfoy. He laid bleeding and moaning softly in pain, left behind in the hands of the Order. A/N: WOW! This took a while and is probably the longest chapter I’ve ever written. I know…so much happened and so much unexpected happened. And I know…Harry a Death Eater? But don’t worry; it’s all in the plan. We just need to get there to see the method to all my madness. So stick with me! I promise…it’s not all lost. Thanks! |
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