Harry Potter and the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A NIGHT OF TERROR

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Everyone partied until the wee hours of that morning, even Hermione. Harry ate candy and drank butterbeer with the rest of his fellow Gryffindors, slowly letting his angry feelings drain out of him. After all, they had beaten Slytherin, Malfoy had incurred the wrath of Professor McGonagall, and Ginny was looking perfectly content again - what more could he ask for? Everyone came up to congratulate the members of the team many times throughout that evening, and after a while, Harry finally let himself truly enjoy the festivities. He, Ginny, and Ron were still in their Quidditch things, none of them had bothered to change yet. Harry then got up and gazed out the window, a bottle of butterbeer clasped in his hand. Ginny followed him, and Ron and Hermione joined them a moment later.

"So how does it feel to win the Quidditch Cup again?" Hermione asked Harry as she leaned against Ron.

"It feels fantastic," Harry responded honestly.

"Even after what Malfoy pulled?" Ron asked quickly.

"Absolutely," Harry answered, as he wrapped his arms around Ginny.

"Did you two hear what his punishment is?" Hermione asked Harry and Ginny.

"No. Did he get a detention from McGonagall?" Harry asked.

"Actually, it was a bit more severe than that," Hermione stated.

"Did he get suspended like Crabbe and Goyle did?" Ginny then suggested hopefully.

"No, but I personally like this punishment even better - they've taken away his prefect badge... Permanently," Hermione explained, looking quite pleased.

"I bet he just loved that," Harry said, grinning.

"Oh yeah, and that's not all. He's on toilet duty for the whole rest of the term now, too," Ron added, with a laugh.

"Well, at least that ought to keep him out of our hair for a while," Ginny replied with a satisfied smile.

"Bloody well serves him right," Ron muttered under his breath.

A short while later, a great wave of tiredness rolled over Harry as he stood there with his friends. He was beginning to feel slightly odd as well - almost chilled, but he didn't let on as he yawned believably and then regretfully pulled away from Ginny. As Harry opened the door to his dormitory, he felt a dull ache behind his scar and his stomach felt strangely cold and slightly upset at the same time. Harry then remembered just how awful he had felt onboard his Firebolt during the match earlier, and he sighed as he slowly crossed to his bed - feeling worse and worse with each step. Harry noticed that Neville was asleep, so he tried to be quiet as he changed into his pajamas and laid his glasses on his bedside table. Although Harry had the barrier up in his mind, his scar was continuing to pulse obstinately as he settled under the covers. Harry was now feeling both exhausted and rather ill - he fell asleep almost instantly.

About an hour and a half later, something was niggling at the back of Harry's mind. He had been in such a deep sleep though, that it took a moment for Harry to realize why his conscious mind was trying to wake him. Eventually, Harry opened his eyes but remained in his comfortably warm bed. The dormitory was dark, but a sliver of moonlight shining in through the window was casting black shadows about the room. Harry watched the shadows groggily for a few seconds and then blinked as one of the shadows caught his attention. As Harry watched the shadow that was in the space between his and Ron's beds, he saw it grow from something small to something significantly larger. Harry blinked again - What kind of shadow would do that? he wondered. Just as Harry's mind had begun to ponder this, however, he realized that that wasn't just any shadow. Harry had been so worn out that he was still mostly asleep, but as his tired brain started to put everything together, Harry's head began to pound furiously in warning. Harry had just awakened fully when he heard Ron yell, "YOU!"

Harry sat up very abruptly, looking blindly over at Ron's four-poster. Someone really was in their dormitory. Someone who had no business being there, though he had been there before. Harry saw dimly that a gleaming silver hand had been raised high above the shadow's head and was being brought down brutally across Ron's face. Harry then heard a crash as Ron cried out and fell back onto his bed. This had the effect of waking the other boys in the dormitory, too, and Harry could hear their sleepy voices overlapping confusingly.

"Who's there?"

"Blimey!"

"What's going on?"

Unfortunately, the shadow was already moving towards Harry with alarming speed. Harry now recognized that shadow. It was the man who had betrayed his parents nearly sixteen years ago. It was the man who had helped Voldemort to rise again. It was the Death Eater, Wormtail, formerly known as Peter Pettigrew. Harry had just enough time to register that an unfamiliar object, a ratty old Muggle newspaper, had been thrust forcefully into his chest by Pettigrew's other hand. Harry reached up to catch it automatically, and as his bare hand touched the paper, he heard Ron scream, "HARRY, NOOOO!!"

Harry didn't have time to utter even one syllable, however, as he felt the frighteningly familiar jerk behind his navel that meant that he was being pulled violently away with Pettigrew through a powerful whirl of wind, color, and sound.

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Harry's bare feet immediately shot out from under him as he landed hard on something slick and muddy, and he found himself falling with a splash into a shallow crater that was filled with black, fetid, oily-looking water. Luckily the water wasn't that deep, but it was quite cold and as Harry struggled to climb out of it he realized he was in what appeared to be a cave. Harry could see bits of metal lying scattered about all over the ground, and as he took in his first breath, an oddly heavy and extremely foul odor assailed his nostrils. Crystalline shapes sparkled here and there in spiky sharp patches, and broken stalactites and stalagmites were gleaming from the floors and ceiling of the enormous chamber; Harry could hear the steady flow of water as it dribbled perpetually from the formations on the ceiling to the cave floor below. It seemed that many craters - most of them much deeper than the one he had landed in - had been blasted into the ground in places, and Harry wondered if this cave might also be some sort of mine.

Out of instinct, Harry reached for his wand, but as he had been sound asleep and in his pajamas, his wand was not on him. Harry peered around quickly, feeling an icy panic rising in his chest. He had just been snatched out of his bed at Hogwarts by a known Death Eater in the middle of the night, and worst of all he was totally unarmed and defenseless. Not only did Harry not have his wand, he wasn't even wearing his glasses, and everything in his field of vision was fuzzy and indistinct. Harry could see the blurry outline of the newspaper Pettigrew had used as a Portkey nearby, and he squinted in every direction looking vainly for his abductor. After a moment, Harry was able to detect a shadow moving away towards what seemed to be a magical fire, and though he was now soaking wet and chilled to the bone, Harry began to try to find his footing on the slippery surface and stand once more.

After doing something Harry couldn't clearly see to the fire, Pettigrew raised his voice and walked toward a dark gaping exit to the left of the fire saying rather nervously but excitedly, "I-I've got him, my Lord. I've b-brought you Harry Potter, Master." Pettigrew then walked over to where Harry had just begun to stand. As Pettigrew drew nearer Harry stood his ground firmly, he couldn't see well enough to try to escape past the many craters and bits of debris anyway, and he didn't want to make Pettigrew's job any easier for him by doing himself an injury. At once, Pettigrew pointed his wand at him and Harry suddenly found himself struggling against heavy metal chains that were bound tightly around his entire body. As Harry began to topple forward under the unexpected weight, Pettigrew then uttered another incantation under his breath and Harry's bound body began to float face up over to a flat area that rose above the cave floor across from the fire. Upon actually landing on it, Harry realized that it appeared to be an altar of some sort, evidently constructed out of some kind of splintery wood. Now that he was close enough to see it, Harry could dimly make out a cauldron on the fire. It appeared to be about the same size as the ones he regularly used in his Potions class.

Harry's scar then erupted in a fearsome and blinding pain and even though Harry had begun to understand with a terrifying clarity why he had been feeling that terrible sense of icy foreboding over the last month, nothing could have prepared him for what came next. Simultaneously, Harry both felt and heard two figures Apparate on either side of him. Even without his glasses, Harry knew unquestionably who they were. As the figures appeared, Harry tried to strengthen the Occlumency barrier in his mind to shut the pain out again, but it was no good, the source of the pain was simply too close.

"Ah, Harry Potter," said the cold remorseless voice that had haunted Harry constantly both while asleep and awake. "I see you have returned to me. I had originally intended for it to be under different circumstances, but never mind - you are here and that is all that matters." As he had spoken, the man had shifted his position slightly and was presently silhouetted against the firelight behind him. He was an inhuman creature that was truly ghastly to behold - pasty and thin and very tall, with pitiless glowing red eyes and flattened slits for nostrils. Harry found himself looking at the face where his worst nightmares met reality - he was staring with absolute horror into the snakelike visage of Lord Voldemort.

"Shall I, Master?" asked a woman's voice from close by, it was nearly as cold and evil as her master's.

"Be my guest, Bella. You have earned it."

Without warning, Harry then felt his head being pulled back by the hair as Bellatrix Lestrange grabbed at him viciously. Harry was lying flat on the raised altar, still bound extremely tightly by the strong metal chains Pettigrew had conjured. Harry saw the flash of a thin shining blade, but instead of cutting him, Bellatrix merely trimmed some jagged locks of his hair and handed them to Voldemort.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort summoned. "It is time."

"Y-yes, Master," Pettigrew stuttered, as he then took the black locks of Harry's hair from Voldemort's outstretched hand.

"Continue, Bella," Voldemort ordered emotionlessly. And Harry watched as this time she took the blade to his throat.

"Master!" Bellatrix shrieked excitedly. "We could do it this way, Master! It would be slower and so much more painful!" If Harry hadn't already been so terrified, he would have been genuinely disgusted by her. She was looking at his throat gleefully, almost longingly, as if slitting it would give her the greatest joy in the world.

"NO BELLA!" Voldemort boomed, his shout echoing chillingly against the cave walls as he snatched the blade from her hand. "It must be done my way. If it works properly on him, then I shall know that it is the right mix for me as well. This must be done with precise care - it's too important, and I won't let you ruin my plan just for your own base pleasure."

Pettigrew was bowing at his master's side, waiting quietly - apparently for further instruction. Voldemort then pulled from inside his robes three small crystal vials, they each seemed to contain something different. Harry squinted at them, nervously trying to discern what was in them. One of the vials appeared to be filled with a milky-white substance, the next looked to contain something black and opaque, and the third appeared to be either empty or holding a clear and transparent liquid.

"Bella, make yourself useful," Voldemort snarled at her, she had been standing off to one side somewhat sulkily after not being allowed to slit Harry's throat. Now, however, she began to stride forward anxiously and with a renewed vigor since her master had included her once more. "Take the boy's hair and dip it into the cauldron." Lestrange did as she was told. "Then add the snake venom, the poison, and the Veritaserum - in that order."

Harry watched as smoke and colored steam poured out of the cauldron with every ingredient added, and bizarrely, Harry found himself wondering if Snape might be able to identify what particular potion this was. Voldemort then began to walk away from him and when he returned, his long white fingers were wrapped around the pot of what looked at first to be an ordinary if ugly houseplant. Voldemort seized the blade once more and sliced a large chunk out of its center. The plant convulsed fiercely and then oozed a strange sickly-green liquid from where it had been cut. He carefully took the cutting and placed it in a flat round bowl. With the knife, Voldemort then sliced the stalk into eight perfect sections and with great care, passed it into Pettigrew's waiting hands.

"Don't spill that, Wormtail, or I'll add you to the potion as well, piece by cowardly piece," Voldemort spat venomously, and Pettigrew moved even more slowly. Voldemort glared at Pettigrew while he cautiously added the diced plant to the cauldron, and then turned on his heel and faced Harry, his red eyes leering into Harry's like a demon's. "Well, Harry. What do you think of my new potion? You get to be the very first to try it, so you should feel quite honored." Harry remained silent, though his pulse was racing so fast that he was beginning to feel dizzy.

"What, have you no opinion? Come now, Harry, I had hoped to begin this on friendly terms. After all, you helped me to become reborn, and now you shall help me to approach immortality!" Voldemort cried exultantly, and then laughed his awful high-pitched laugh. Harry heard more wild laughter coming from Bellatrix as well, and the sound made him cringe inwardly, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight on end. After the laughter died away, Voldemort fixed Harry with a savage glare and Harry looked away fearing another mental attack. This only served to infuriate Voldemort all the more, however, and he suddenly moved so close that Harry could feel his bitterly cold breath on his face. At this range, Harry could see the sickeningly white snakelike face clearly, and Harry felt his scar sear so piercingly that he actually drew blood as he bit down hard on his cheek to stay silent. After a moment, Voldemort turned away and addressed Bellatrix Lestrange once more.

"Why Bella, it seems our guest wishes to refuse our cordial hospitality," he hissed, his evil red eyes glowing dangerously. "How disappointing."

"Master, I know why he will not speak. He wishes to protect those he loves - just like he wanted to protect my dear cousin - that worthless dog, Sirius Black," Bellatrix taunted Harry cruelly, trying to provoke him. Harry tried to ignore her - he tried to clear his mind, but he couldn't block the pain of that memory any more than he could stop the beating of his own heart. "See, he continues to mourn him even now. Yes Master, look, you can still spot the signs of sadness in his face - it is written all over him." Bellatrix cackled again, and Harry's jaw clenched as his stomach began to churn with revulsion and anger.

Voldemort had begun to stare at Harry almost appraisingly, as if trying to ascertain if that were true. "Mourning," Voldemort said icily, "I have no use for it. You may think it noble, but it's really a ridiculous concept - a waste of time and power. Why do you insist upon this stupidity? People like you or that foolish headmaster of yours can spend whole eternities pining after someone that is gone. It is his greatest weakness, just as it is yours."

"You're wrong," Harry said, quietly. He hadn't meant to rise to the bait, but he couldn't bear to listen to them taunt him about Sirius. Harry couldn't not defend his godfather, it was an insult to everything he was.

"Found your tongue after all, have you? I thought so. Bella, I believe we have touched a nerve. First it was your father, then your mother, and now your godfather - my, my, my - we are getting rather effective at ridding you of excess family members, aren't we?" Voldemort continued, playing with him like a cat plays with a highly excitable mouse. Harry closed his eyes. He could feel his hatred for Voldemort and Bellatrix boiling through his veins, making him want to strangle both of them with his bare hands. Their sick little game was momentarily interrupted by Pettigrew's weak voice, however.

"M-my Lord, it is ready."

"Excellent, Wormtail. That is twice now that you have not disappointed me. I was beginning to think you had 'turned tail,' as it were - or that you had perhaps been so inept that you had been discovered there in the boy's dormitory, but after weeks and weeks of waiting you have finally succeeded. I may yet let you live after all," Voldemort sneered, as he slinked his way over to the steaming cauldron. Once more, Voldemort reached into his robes, and this time he extracted an oversized glass potion vial - it had the same dimensions as that of a small pitcher. As he dipped it into the potion, Pettigrew twittered nervously off to the side and Bellatrix's mad eyes glittered with anticipation.

"Here, Bella. Mind you get as much down him as you can," Voldemort ordered.

"With pleasure, Master," Bellatrix replied faithfully, as she turned once again toward Harry. Harry was bound but not gagged, and he could now see why. Bellatrix Lestrange had swiftly strode up to Harry's side and was attempting to tip the poisonous potion down his throat, but Harry wasn't going to make it easy for her. When she tried to pry open his mouth, he bit angrily at her long thin fingers. Bellatrix, however, merely laughed sadistically.

"I always prefer it if my prey fights back," she said, a cruel humorless smile on her ruined face.

"Well, normally I would agree, Bella, but I grow impatient. Why don't I assist you," Voldemort intoned callously as he almost carelessly lifted his wand.

"Crucio!" Voldemort roared, and Harry found himself writhing in absolute agony in his bonds. He tried extremely hard not to yell or cry out or even to open his mouth at all, but it was impossible. The more he resisted, the more power Voldemort put behind the curse until Harry let out a horrible resounding scream that echoed hellishly in the dark and eerie cavern. As soon as Harry had opened his mouth, Bellatrix poured the entire contents of the acid-green potion down his throat; it burned fiercely all the way down, and Voldemort had only let up on the Cruciatus Curse once the large glass vial it was in was utterly empty. Harry coughed and sputtered violently, but he knew it was too late - he could already feel the poisonous concoction smoldering its way through his system even as he struggled vainly against it.

"We should know in just a moment," Harry heard Voldemort mutter in low tones. After a brief pause, Voldemort glared into Harry's face and demanded with a mirthless smile, "So, Harry, what shall I discover first? I know. What precisely is the full content of the prophecy made about us before you were born?"

Harry had begun to feel extraordinarily strange. He felt weak and achy from the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, but also thoroughly detached, as if anything he revealed, no matter how secret or critical was really of no consequence whatsoever. Harry felt his mouth open and begin to tell Voldemort exactly what he had asked for, when something stronger and purer interrupted. Some piece of consciousness at the very back of Harry's mind was disagreeing vehemently with the given order. No! You mustn't! You mustn't ever tell him! Harry tried to clamp his mouth shut but couldn't, so he simply mumbled, "I-I don't know."

The smile on Voldemort's face disappeared astonishingly fast. "What do you mean 'you don't know?' I know that you know, boy! I know that Dumbledore has told you!" Harry was finding it incredibly difficult not to answer Voldemort's questions, but somehow he was managing to hide the truth from him, at least temporarily. Harry's mouth worked furiously as he spoke the words once more.

"I d-don't know."

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at him shrewdly as he tried another tack. "Where is the location of the Order of the Phoenix, then?" he inquired softly, but the underlying tone of his voice was as hard and unrelenting as Harry had ever heard it. Harry swallowed audibly. For some reason, he had been able to fight off the effects of the potion, but he knew he couldn't hold out forever. Harry's scar began to sear more intensely again as Voldemort's anger continued to mount, but he knew he couldn't betray everyone - it was too important.

"I - I d-don't know," Harry stuttered out, at last. Harry's breathing became more erratic as the poison continued to saturate his body and he could feel his pulse began to fly even more wildly out of control, but he was still hanging on to the last threads of his resolve, if only just.

"Who are the members of the Order? Which of them work both for the Order and the Ministry of Magic?" Voldemort snapped dangerously.

"I don't know," Harry answered wearily, in the barest of whispers.

"Who is the spy that continues to work both as a Death Eater and as a member of the Order?" Voldemort asked insistently. This time it was easier as Harry didn't honestly know the answer for certain.

"I don't know."

This answer though, or lack of one, evidently pushed Voldemort too far, and he lost his temper totally. "You will tell me, Harry Potter! You will! A source that was once close to you has informed me that you have the answers I seek. You may have learnt Occlumency to keep me out, but there are few Occlumens as strong as Lord Voldemort, and they haven't just taken Veritaserum Poison!" With that, Voldemort began to lean over Harry in his prone position and stare forcibly into his green eyes as though trying to peer straight through them. "Legilimens!" Voldemort shouted right in Harry's face.

Even though Harry had no wand, he closed his eyes and put every single ounce of strength that he had left into repelling the mental assault that Voldemort was now waging against his mind. Harry shut out the pain, the terror, and the certainty of death that he had been feeling ever since he had arrived here in the cave, and focused inwardly, stubbornly on that protective wall - his whole body trembling with the effort. The next thing that Harry heard was a frustrated high-pitched screech as Voldemort went insane with fury.

"THIS CANNOT BE - THIS JUST CANNOT BE!!! Harry Potter is not stronger than I am! He is nothing - he's just a boy, and I am the most powerful Dark sorcerer in the world!" Voldemort bellowed deafeningly, his cold voice bouncing frighteningly off the cave walls. He rounded on Harry and shrieked the Cruciatus Curse at him once more.

But this was too much - the agonizing pain along with the poison in his system and Voldemort's mental attack finally broke down Harry's resistance as his barrier shattered into a million tiny pieces with that single blow. Harry screamed so loudly, so violently, that he could fully appreciate how the Longbottom's had been driven insane by this very curse. Eventually, after what seemed to be an eternity, the pain lessened and the curse was lifted. At that instant, however, Harry's mind was laid bare, it felt as wide open as a book - ready for Voldemort to read at his own leisure and convenience. Harry no longer had any way of resisting him.

"Let's try again, shall we, Harry? How about something simple - who is the Headmaster of your school?" Voldemort asked him, his voice deceptively calm.

"A-Albus Dumbledore," Harry said. He couldn't stop himself.

"And he's the leader of the Order as well, is he not?"

"Yes," Harry answered in a small voice.

"Better, Harry. Much better. Now, what does the prophecy say in its entirety?" Voldemort asked again. And suddenly, uncontrollably, the exact words of the prophecy filled Harry's mind and wholly against his will, he began to recite them in an almost soundless whisper.

"'The - the one with the power to v-vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... B-born to those who have thrice defied him, b-born as the seventh month dies... and..." Harry choked out slowly, feeling desperate tears spring to his eyes. He felt absolute horror at what he was doing - he was betraying the Order, Dumbledore, and himself, but he was still utterly unable to prevent it. "'And the Dark Lord will m-mark him as his equal, but he will have p-power the Dark Lord knows n-not... And either must d-die at the h-hand of the other for n-neither can live while the other s-survives... The one with the power to v-vanquish the D-dark Lord will be born as the s-seventh month dies...'" It's all over, Harry thought in anguish, I've gone too far, and there's no turning back - it's all over, now... Harry then heard both inside and outside of his own mind the cruel evil cackle that had just managed to penetrate into the innermost reaches of his consciousness.

"It's not all over yet, Harry," Voldemort breathed maliciously, smiling his hideous smile. Harry lay there feeling terrified and tremendously exposed. Harry could feel Voldemort's cold presence lurking inside of his mind, and a sense of hysteria rose within him as he realized that his worst enemy now had access to his every thought. Once Voldemort had Harry specifically where he wanted him, however, the look of eager anticipation faded from his face and instead of asking another question that Harry would be forced to answer, Voldemort then began to turn away. "Everything is as it should be," Voldemort was muttering offhandedly. "Let us continue."

At this point, Harry had screwed up his eyes very tightly as he prayed silently for some small miracle - anything at all - to come and stop what was happening. Terribly, it was precisely because of this that he did not realize what Voldemort was getting ready to do. Everything had gone deathly still now; the only thing that Harry could hear was his own rapid breathing and the incessant sound of water trickling quietly throughout the depths of the massive chamber. Abruptly, Harry felt the shining silver blade at his throat again. This time, however, he felt a sharp sting as the knife sliced into him - Voldemort had opened a deep wound on the side of his neck right above his collarbone. As the blood flowed freely, Voldemort called Bellatrix Lestrange to attention once more. "You are keeping a record of this, are you not, Bella?"

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix answered, and Harry blearily opened his eyes again. A piece of parchment had appeared next to her in mid-air; it was covered in a thick but glistening blue ink. In some part of Harry's traumatized mind, he remembered Rita Skeeter and her Quick-Quotes Quill. Bellatrix Lestrange was apparently using something similar to record every word that he spoke aloud. On Harry's other side, Voldemort had summoned another glass vial into his spider-like hands and was collecting the blood that was steadily flowing out of Harry's neck. After filling the vial completely, he then took a step backwards and pointed his wand at the splintery wooden altar on top of which Harry continued to lay.

"Sacrificia Septicemia!" Voldemort thundered, and Harry could see red and orange sparks flying from the side of the altar as if it had just been ignited. Harry felt his heart pounding frantically against his ribcage - was Voldemort going to burn him alive? Within seconds, though, the flames diminished and Harry could detect the smell of scorched wood. As Harry tilted his head slightly, he was just able to make out some fuzzy shapes that had been burned into the altar - it reminded him of the runes he had seen in one of Hermione's textbooks, though his thoughts were beginning to grow so clouded that couldn't honestly be sure of anything at the moment.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort called imperiously. "Put this in the cauldron." Pettigrew had appeared at Voldemort's side and had then stumbled off in the direction of the fire. Harry wasn't certain if it was simply his imagination or not, but for some reason Pettigrew's overall bearing and attitude was beginning to look subtly different to him. Pettigrew seemed almost dazed as he made his way back to the bubbling cauldron, rather like his mind had just grasped something important for the first time. When Harry's blood was added to the potion, billowing clouds of shimmering white steam rose from the cauldron, and Voldemort and Bellatrix began to cackle madly together again. After a few seconds, Voldemort turned his gaze upon Harry once more.

"It is amazing to me, Harry, just how useful you have proven yourself to be. I had thought for so long that you were only a nuisance - an annoying thorn in my side - pathetically pure of heart and upright in your intentions, but I confess that I was somewhat mistaken. That young brain of yours is holding a virtual treasure trove of information that I am happy to peruse. I knew I would find a way into your mind eventually - I've been getting closer and closer throughout the past several weeks. You have thwarted me before, it is true, but no longer. You and everything you know belongs to me now, and I shall use your knowledge to put an end to those who would oppose me," Voldemort said triumphantly, looking keenly into Harry's face.

"If you don't believe me, just ask your delightfully twisted Potions master. Just when he had thought that he had successfully left my service, and had somehow even avoided my wrath - I proved to him how very mistaken he was. I shall crush everything that he cherishes first - he will pay his debt to me in full. You have helped me, Harry, but you shall pay your debt as well. It seems that you are destined to try to defeat me - yes, even destroy me - but you are hardly in a position at the moment to attempt any such endeavor." The poison in Harry's body was making him feel as though he was falling through some unknown darkness from which there was no possible escape. Distantly, he heard more laughing - it seemed to be coming from somewhere close by and yet seemed far away at the same time. Voldemort was continuing to speak maniacally, turning towards the evil woman beside him once more.

"Did you hear him, Bella? Did you hear what the prophecy says about him? He, Harry Potter, is the chosen one. He is the only possible hope for those pitiful fools who seek my destruction! What utter nonsense - he will serve his purpose for me and nothing else." Voldemort turned and faced Harry again. "No, it is not over yet, young Harry, but it will be - it will be. You have been sacrificed to a greater cause and you will die before the end, but I shall make sure to tie up all of your loose ends first. I have already begun, but then you may have realized that by now." Voldemort paused and Harry felt his scar blaze almost past endurance as the horrible snakelike face glared into his, then smiled ecstatically in callous recognition. "Oh, yes. You suspected that I was the one responsible, I see. Then you also know that a few months ago I searched your mind and found out some rather interesting things about you. I discovered that you were especially close to a particular family of blood-traitors by the name of Weasley. Fortuitously enough, one of my devoted servants knew exactly where to find one of them. He was quite alone, an easy target. He didn't have the information I sought, however, so I disposed of him. Of course, I shall see to the rest of the family soon - very soon, in fact. Perhaps they shall prove to be more enlightening - what do you think?" Voldemort sneered mockingly, leering at Harry as if willing him to react. Normally, Harry would have responded with a furious hatred, but the effects of the potion were beginning to strike with an unwavering vengeance. Harry felt his mind twisting and plummeting like a brittle leaf caught in a fierce gale; Voldemort had said he was going after the Weasley's - one of Harry's worst fears was about to be made a reality.

Voldemort was looking closely at Harry again - he was staring probingly into his eyes as if trying to find something else that he wanted. Whatever the monster saw there seemed to satisfy him then, as with a vindictive smile he turned to Bellatrix Lestrange once more. "The full effects are beginning to be realized in him, Bella, just as I had foreseen." He turned once more towards Harry. "You are now experiencing the aftereffects of my ingenious creation, Harry. My Veritaserum Poison has been designed to absolutely ravage the mind and emotions of those who ingest it. Soon you will be lost in the devastated construct of your own mind and your emotions shall fly free to the winds - uncontrollable and irretrievable. And do you know the best part, boy? This same potion that shall destroy your mind and ultimately take your life, will help me to live forever! In a short while, you shall be dead, and no one will dare question my power ever again! Wormtail, bring me my immortality!"

Harry felt as lost and frightened as he had ever felt in his life; from deep within, he could feel the poison taking complete hold. He had betrayed himself already, and in a moment he would betray everything else he held dear. Harry knew with an uncanny certainty that he would not live out the night, but what bothered him most was the knowledge that he was failing to protect those who had always trusted and believed in him - those who were depending on him not to fail. Before Harry could lose his grip on his sanity entirely, however, even before Voldemort could drag more information out of him against his will - something happened. Harry heard a voice ringing distinctly above the constant drip-drip of the cave; it was a voice that he almost didn't recognize.

"NO! I CAN'T LET YOU DO IT!" it cried. Harry saw Bellatrix Lestrange's black head whip around quickly as the red beam of a Stunning spell hit her in the back. As she began to fall to the ground, someone then slammed into Harry, knocking him off of the altar and unto the cave floor below. Harry gasped painfully as he landed with great force onto a patch of the long sharp crystalline fragments he had glimpsed at earlier. The crystals pierced through the chains still wrapped tightly around his body, and though Harry found that it was suddenly difficult to breathe - he squinted up to see who or what had just pushed him off the altar. What Harry saw seemed beyond impossible - the fuzzy image of Peter Pettigrew was standing above him, pointing his wand at Harry's chest. Miraculously, the heavy chains encasing Harry's body then fell away and disappeared into nothing as Pettigrew pushed an old newspaper, the Portkey, Harry realized - towards his face. Harry tried desperately to move towards it, but the poison had now worked to utterly immobilize him, and try as he might to fight its effects, Harry found that he quite simply had no more strength left.

"What are you doing, Wormtail?" came the deadliest of voices. Harry knew that Voldemort had been standing just on the other side of the altar, but Pettigrew's actions had apparently taken him totally by surprise.

"I can't let you do this, my Lord. I can't let you kill Harry Potter," replied Pettigrew, and for all of his usual cowardice and sniveling, he was speaking this time in a strong clear voice.

"YOU CAN'T?" Voldemort fumed alarmingly, but then Pettigrew did two unexpected and nearly simultaneous things. First, he sent a jet of sparks over his shoulder at the seething cauldron on the fire, causing it to crash sideways onto the flames beneath it and slosh out in a oozing mess. Second, he began to run headlong at Voldemort, and as he did so his foot caught the newspaper and pushed one of its pages across Harry's chin.

"NOOOOO......" Harry heard remotely as he again felt the pull behind his navel that indicated that the Portkey had been activated once more. Harry's consciousness then fell steeply away from reality as everything disappeared and swirled into a disorienting nothingness. As his poisoned body was being flung across unknown distances, Harry was thinking one thing and one thing only... It's already too late.