Twenty-Four Hours

Twenty Four Hours (4/?)

Suddenly a loud bang came from the entrance to the Castle. "Michelle," Lucius drawled lazily, "would you mind..." Michelle leapt up and headed towards the unusual sound coming from the main entrance.

Bang! The noise repeated itself briskly again and again until Michelle, fed up, pulled the French doors open to find...

"Weasel? Mudblood?" she demanded, her jaw dropping in shock. The two Gryffindors were standing pink-cheeked in the snow. Even if it was only September, Riddle Castle was very far from England- on an unnoticed continent, in fact- and it was always cold. Trying to cover up her astonishment, she added, "Left it to the last minute, haven't you? Potter's life not as valuable as your spare time? I agree wholeheartedly." Remembering the Plan, she quickly wiped the smirk from her face and mock-miserably looked down at her feet.

"Cut the crap, Mini. Where is he?" Ron demanded, pulling the girl's collar towards him in an intended- yet unsuccessful- plan to induce fear. She merely stared at the boy for no longer than two seconds and he quickly let go, although he was still fuming with anger and hatred towards her. "Where is he?" Michelle bit her lip, debating between the Plan and her personal preferrance, her head and her heart.

Her heart won. "Oh, around," she sang, swinging her arms carelessly. Ron looked ready to kill, but even he was not fool enough to murder his best friend's jailer. Instead, he curled his hands into fists and approached her looking infuriated.

The Mudblood pulled him back. An uncharacteristic scowl appeared on her usually calm face, and she seemed to be biting back a surpisingly colorful vocabulary of swear words. "Where is Harry?" she demanded, sounding just as hateful as Ron.

"Harry who?" Michelle asked sweetly. Before the Gryffindors could reply, she glanced at the entrance to the Dining Hall. Draco emerged from the doors and his eyes widened in shock as he stuttered uncomprehendingly. "Hey, Draco," Michelle greeted him. "Our two newest prisoners have arrived, believe it or not."

"Ah, yes," came a third voice. "Welcome to our esteemed palace, Weasley, Granger." Lucius stepped forward and hissed several spells, which were successful. The two helpless Gryffindors were instantly bound to a newly Transfigured set of bookcases. "Well, well, well. Draco, it seems you were right after all. We did not need to put them under the Imperius Curse to bring them here; it seems they came willingly." He put an emphasis on the last word, and Hermione choked back a retort.

Lucius clapped his hands and three other masked people appeared. "Avery!" he barked. "Take these two to the dungeons. Keep them as far apart from Potter- and each other- as possible. Do not torture them yet." The tallest of the Death Eaters obeyed, ripping the two Gryffindors from the bookcases yet somehow keeping them bound to one another.

Lucius turned to the second man. "Zabini. Bring a boggart down there to entertain our guests. I daresay the hopeless children will find it amusing." Michelle smiled eagerly as one of her father's remaining companions rushed off to do as he was told. Finally Lucius turned to the last man. "Macnair. Awaken Potter. Tell him to clean up after us, as our dinner has stretched quite long enough. Remind him of his status here and of our power if necessary." The last man hurried off into the Dining Hall, and a moment later Chris arrived.

"What happened?" he asked, quickly kissing his girlfriend on the lips before turning back to Lucius.
Draco answered before his father had a chance to. "Mudblood and Weasel arrived, and they're now in the dungeons. To quote father, they're being entertained by a boggart." He smiled wickedly. "Potter's going to clean up from dinner, and then of course the Dark Lord will torture him some more. It was really pretty funny, the way he kept screaming and squirming like that."

Chris nodded. "So what do we do next? After he's back in the dungeon, I mean. Surely we're not leaving him there without a dose of interrogation, are we?" Draco smiled that nasty little smile again before glancing at his sister.

"You know what the Plan instructs Michelle to do. As for us, we are free to annoy the little brat as much as we like. I daresay Bellatrix will go down there as soon as time allows. But," he added, glancing once again at Michelle, "we're not allowed to do anything Unforgivable- what a horrible description of my favorite curses, honestly- to him. That's for Him to take care of. Unfortunately."

Chris smiled, mirroring Draco's nasty although excited expression. Michelle, however, glanced at her father before speaking. "Father, Draco, Chris, I think we should put in more to what we're doing. Potter is very desperate for help right now, and he does not know who we have captured in our very dungeon at this moment. I have convinced him that I am trying to help, but I think that it would be more essential if I convince the others that I'm buddy-buddy with Potter."

The men glanced at each other and nodded slowly, not quite knowing what Michelle was getting at. "If I prove to them that I am being loyal to Potter- which I'm not- then they'll get pretty ticked off. Weasel will be disbelieving, Mudblood slowly accepting. Her common sense will win me over, and Weasel will have no choice but to go along with it. Then, without using the Unforgivables, I'll get them to willingly tell me about Dumbledore's plans." Michelle swallowed, and continued.

"You know the Plan states that we must get them to do this willingly. Although I would so love to torture them by means of Veritaserum and the Imperius Curse, that would not fulfill the Dark Lord's request. Don't forget, Draco, that this is your initiation project. If we succeed and all goes well, you will have a lovely mark on your arm to show off at parties." Draco choked back laughter.

"Well thought out, Michelle, very well thought out indeed." Lucius smiled at his daughter, who was shifting nervously from foot to foot. "Of course, most of that was nothing more than restating the Plan. Still, I appreciate your attentiveness and how much you were paying attention when my Master told us about the Plan."

Chris nodded. "Sir," he began, for the first time in a while addressing Mr. Malfoy directly. The man looked at him curiously. "Why was Michelle chosen to act as their spy?"

Lucius pursed his lips, as if he did not really want to talk about it. "Michelle," he said finally, "is very organized and responsible. She is clever and not nearly as impulsive as you two. She is cunning and sly and does what she is asked to do the first time." Draco's cheeks went slightly pink, the way all Malfoys' do when they are embarrassed.

"As do I," Chris muttered indignantly, slithering his arm up his girlfriend's neck lovingly. Lucius nodded thoughtfully, as if he was considering the boy's talent.

"True, Christopher, very true." Draco shot a nasty look at his father, but as Lucius was a fully trained Dark Wizard, he ignored it- although considering once more using a little hex to teach his son a lesson. "However, I daresay Michelle's image is a bit more innocent-looking than yours." He spat, as though a Malfoy with an innocent image was disrespectful.

"Now, I would like to watch Potter struggle with his task," he finally told them. Opening the door to the Dining Hall, he led the way for the three children inside and up to the High Table.

Potter, apparantly no longer unconscious, was cleaning off tables, bowing to each of the Death Eaters on their commands. They were hexing him, taunting him, and all in all having the time of their lives. Bellatrix watched from the High Table wistfully, as though she wanted more than anything the opportunity to mess with Potter's head. Draco agreed; he had always wanted the chance to have a huge advantage over his rival, and here it was.

Leaning over to whisper to Draco, Michelle had a huge smile on her face- one nobody had seen since she had been four years old. That had been when she had taught herself to use the trademark Slytherin facial expressions: scowls, smirks, sneers, and other naturally nasty ones. She muttered in her brother's ear for a moment, and then Draco smiled equally nastily and whispered the message to his father.

"Excuse me?" Lucius demanded, fighting back a laugh at his son's foolishness. Draco just smiled apologetically, as if to say 'my ideas are naturally brilliant, I can't help it.' "Well, I suppose that's all right," Lucius finally agreed, and Draco nodded excitedly to his sister. Michelle had a wicked little grin on her face, and her brother knew exactly what she meant.

* * *

He dropped into a low bow, although it was clearly unwilling. Then he pulled out a dirty, dusty rag from his pocket and began polishing the table with it. "Excuse me?" Draco drawled, stretching the phrase into eight or nine syllables. "What, exactly, is that?" He pointed disgustedly at the rag Potter was holding, as if he could not bear to look at it.

"Your supplied cleaning product," Harry replied through gritted teeth. "Don't like it, buy another one. I happen to know that you could afford it."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Will you never learn?" Draco asked sorrowfully, as if it pained him to see such a horrible display of a human. "We--" he indicated himself and the other members of the High Table- "are your captors, your jailers. You are a prisoner to us, a mere slave. And you will address us with respect and consideration or you will pay." He looked at his father, whose face was inscrutable. Part of his training as a Death Eater had been to not show emotion when enemies were around.

Bellatrix, however, seemed to be egging him on with her eager facial expression and anxious tapping of her foot. So Draco continued. "Try again, slave. Try to address me with the necessary respect. Why don't you call me... Master? Call everyone 'Master,' for that matter."

Harry's eyes scanned the surrounding Death Eaters and he felt just as he was- captured, helpless, as good as dead. His enemies were all around him, deadly and fierce as ever. He felt true hate; the hate he had felt when Bellatrix had killed Sirius, when Tom Riddle had tried to keep Harry from Ginny, and when he had thought Sirius Black was responsible for his parents' deaths. But he was not in a position to express his emotions. He was not in a position leaving him any choices at all.

"I haven't all day, Potter," Draco drawled lazily, pointing to a stack of clean washcloths across the room. "Bow to me before you go fetch one." Harry uttered a long stream of R-rated swear words, but Draco only laughed. "We will not be allowing that type of language directed towards us, Potter. Scourgify!" And just as Harry had seen his own father 'wash out Snape's mouth,' Draco did the same to him.

He fell backwards onto the floor, caught by surprise. The soapy liquid streaming in his mouth was gagging him, choking him. Draco held his wand up, conducting the bubbles around, laughing. Finally, just when Harry thought he would die from lack of oxygen, Draco stopped the spell. "Now, now, now, Potter. What do you say when someone does you a favor? I didn't let you just die there, did I? Apparantly Muggles don't teach manners, and your parents sadly are no longer among the living."

"How dare you," Harry gasped, groping in his pockets for his wand. Of course, it was not there, since it was in the Riddle Castle trophy room. "HOW DARE YOU! YOU CAN'T--YOU CAN'T TALK ABOUT MY PARENTS THAT WAY! AT LEAST THEY DIED PROTECTING ME! YOURS WOULDN'T EVEN DIE FOR THEIR PRECIOUS MASTER, THAT'S WHY THEY AREN'T IN AZKABAN! I DOUBT THEY'D RISK ANYTHING FOR ANYTHING, LET ALONE THEIR LIVES. YOU'RE NOTHING BUT SCUM, MALFOY. LOWER THAN THAT--YOU'RE POND SCUM."

Draco watched him lazily. "Are you quite finished?" he asked at the end of Potter's little outburst. "I don't appreciate being called 'pond scum,' Potter, but I suppose I can blame it on genetic traits that you are... hmm... let's see. That you are prone to outbursts, incredibly foolish, very Gryffindor-y, constantly acting the hero, shall I go on?" He did, without waiting for answer. Harry looked the other way, taking no notice of Draco, but the words were crushing him inside. To hear such a low, tratiorous bastard speak ill of his father was sickening. But what was even more sickening was that Harry knew the truth about James, and simply with milder vocabulary, he secretly agreed with what Draco said. Yet the moment Draco began using horrific swear words, Harry lost control.

Slamming the rag onto the table, Harry clenched his fists in anger the way he had five summers ago, just before his third year. He was filled with undescribable hatred for Draco. Not even because the Slytherin was insulting him, but because he was insulting his, Harry's, father. The man whom Harry had thought of with unlimited respect until a mere two years ago. James Potter, the one who had died for his one-year-old son.

But now Harry controlled his anger, kept it to a minimum, so as not to do wandless magic and be punished severely. So he resorted to the closest way possible of expressing his anger. "You shut it about my father," he hissed, his voice snapping in the unsuccessful effort to sound evil. "'Cause he was better than you'll ever be, he's done more great things on a single Halloween than you have in your entire life!"

Silence fell upon the room. Of course, the Death Eaters all knew about the evening the boy was talking about, and laughed at the thought of it. But the menacing look on Potter's face proved the situation far from laughable. Yet comparing it to Draco's made it seem kindly and angelic. Michelle, however, seemed to be as carefree as she was two hours ago, forging a certain letter to a pair of Gryffindor losers.

However, it was neither Michelle nor Draco who exacted punishment on the boy. Lucius, eager to torture the so-called "Boy Who Lived," stood up. "So you dare to speak to one of our number that way?" he demanded, keeping his voice to a low, frightening hiss. The hiss one would expect to hear from the Dark Lord himself. The raven-haired boy raised his chin defiantly and nodded, although nobody missed the flash of fear dashing across his eyes.

"You will learn not to take lightly the power of a Death Eater, Potter." He raised his wand, gray eyes sparkling nastily, and sliced it through the air while hissing "Crucio!"

Apparantly, anti-bodies can not be formed against Unforgivables, and no matter how many times that evening Harry had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, it hurt more each time. He wondered, while unknowingly shrieking in agony, why he didn't just give up.

* * *

"Ron!" the girl cried, horrified. Her boyfriend of three months was suddenly lost in her gaze, as if he had gone into a trance. She remembered Harry's description of Professor Trelawney when she Saw something and wondered if Ron could be doing the same thing. No, that can't be, she thought. He'd tell me if he was a Seer, and he certainly isn't. Plus, predictions are made alound, not in visions.

Suddenly Ron's blue eyes snapped open. "Hermione?" he asked groggily. Relieved, his companion hugged him, although the chains binding her certainly kept her from actually locking her arms around his neck. "W-what happened?"

"After that Death Eater brought us down here?" she asked wearily, remembering their arrival in this dungeon. Ron shook his head.

"I don't remember anything after Michelle opened the door," he told her confusedly. She looked at him oddly, but launched into her retelling of the event in great detail.

"Well, she was being all nasty to us--Michelle, I mean. She asked us if Harry's life was as important to us as our free time, and you stepped forward but I held you back. Then Lucius showed up-" she shuddered- "and he demanded that Avery take us down here and keep us as far apart from Harry as possible. I guess that's what he did, because I don't see Harry anywhere."

She took a deep breath. "Anyway, on the way down here I think we were Stunned, because when I opened my eyes I was here and I didn't know how I got here. A Boggart came, and it transformed into Harry being tortured by... You-Know-Who. I got rid of it. Then we were talking for a while- about Harry and if he's all right- and you seemed to snap into a trance for a moment. Then just a moment ago, you asked me what happened, and..."

"Oh," Ron finally said. He sat in silence for a moment, and then decided to tell Hermione what he had seen a moment ago. "Hermione? I- I- I- I think I had a vision just now."

"A vision?" Hermione scoffed. "No, don't be silly, Ron, you can't have. Those are only for Diviners and Seers and other frauds."

"And Harry," Ron pointed out. He saw a tear drip down from his girlfriend's eye but knew she would not want it acknowledged.

"Tell me what you saw," she told him, resigned.

"Okay... it was like this..." Ron began.

***(FLASHBACK- RON'S VISION)***

A boy, with his back to Ron, stood chained and sulking in a corner. He had messy, tangled black hair that Ron recognized instantly. Yet something told him not to cry out, or he would be spotted. Not like he knew why he didn't want to be spotted.

Another figure, with its back to Ron, approached the first. This one had white-blonde hair and a very small- yet slightly muscular- build. As he turned to face Harry, Ron realized that it was none other than Draco Malfoy. He was accompanied by a gorgeous girl resembling Draco in so many ways that it had to be Ron's enemy Keeper, Michelle Lisabeth Malfoy. Also with them were black-robed, masked figures that had to be Death Eaters.

"It is time, Draco. You may begin the process," came a hissing voice from one of the dark-robed men. Although Ron had only met Lucius Malfoy a few times before, he recognized the man's voice and realized that it was he who was speaking.

"No, no! I'll do anything! Don't do it, please!" Harry shouted at them just as Draco rose his wand. "Please! Just not the Fregatus Curse, I'm begging you! Anything!"

After a glance at his father, Draco adapted his trademark drawl. "And why," he drawled, "should I do this for you?" Harry just sobbed into his hands. "I'm sure that, given the opportunity, you would do the same to me." Draco's voice was dripping icily, though he did not sound as amused with Harry's sobs as he usually would be.

"I--wouldn't..." Harry wailed. "I'll do anything for you, anything! Just not this, please! I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" repeated Draco, in a soft voice that Ron did not like the tone of. Just then, his eyes snapped open and he looked around and spotted Hermione.

***(THE PRESENT)***

Hermione gasped, but Ron, thinking about the 'Fregatus' Curse, suddenly remembered something he had heard about it in the past. Who had told him? Ah, yes, it had been Bill. "It's really awful," he remembered his oldest brother saying. "It forces someone to reveal their deepest, darkest secret and any other secrets that have anything at all to do with it."

But what deep, dark secret could Harry possibly have? Nothing, not counting the time he had made out with Ginny in Snape's dungeon when they had accidentally locked themselves in. But he, Ron, only knew about that because of glancing at the Map and quickly running down there to 'help' Harry. Much to his surprise, he had found Harry... but in a very cozy-looking position involving Ginny's thighs.

The Order.

He and Hermione realized this at the exact same time, and they stared at each other open-mouthed. "W-w-wh-what if Malfoy did it? What if he k-k-knows about the Order?" Hermione asked, horrified. Ron bit his lip, equally scared, but felt it his duty to protect Hermione and to keep her from being scared.

"He didn't, Hermione, or Harry would be down here and we would've heard it going on. Remember, it took place in a dungeon?" He wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure, himself or his girlfriend.

"Ron," Hermione explained patiently, on the verge of tears. "This is an incredibly evil castle. There could be fifty million different dungeons for the same reason as you just said, only from the Death Eaters' point of view." She collapsed into Ron's lap, sobbing uncontrollably.

After twenty minutes, she fell asleep and Ron just held her head in his arms (uncomfortably, of course, due to the chains) and stroked her soft, no longer bushy hair.

* * *

They sat together, in the Room of Requirement, without speaking at all. They had been waiting for the Trio for hours to start the meeting, but were unwilling to leave in case Harry or Hermione showed up soon with the excuse of a Head Boy/Head Girl meeting. However, as Zacharias Smith had pointed out long before, Ron would have shown up if that were the case.

Meanwhile, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were trying to keep the others in order. In the first week of Harry's sixth year, they had held 'elections' for the D.A.'s president, vice president, and so on. Luna had suggested it, and since Harry was in such a state that he would not have cared much if Hermione asked Voldemort out, nobody felt the need to argue with her. So Harry, of course, had been elected president, Ron vice president, Hermione secretary, and Ginny, Luna, and Neville "Junior Officers." This had led to many disagreements from the others, so Seamus, Dean, Zacharias, Michael, Colin, Dennis, Ernie, Hannah, Justin and Cho had been put on the "Ferret Patrol," a squad of people who took it in turns to keep a lookout to see if Malfoy or his gang was coming.

So the Ferret Patrol, or "Slythie Watch," were all pacing outside the Room of Requirement, looking for not only the Slytherins but the Trio as well. Ginny was teaching the class the Bat-Bogey Hex, while Luna sauntered around correcting grips and stances. Neville, on the other hand, was interviewing the DA members for some odd reason, whistling tunelessly as he did so.

After about three hours of this annoyingly boring lesson, Ginny agreed that even Wenda, a first-year who happened to be far more idiotic than Neville had been when he had been in his first year, had mastered the hex. Right after she came to that conclusion and began to ponder a solution, the entire Ferret Patrol came dashing into the room, pink-cheeked and panting heavily.

Everyone stopped their spell-casting as Seamus collapsed into a chair and began to tell what had happened. "Snape... found us... asked us what we were doing... said we were excersizing... he threatened us with Veritaserum... we ran... he chased us... he stopped running abruptly... we all came back up... but Snape just stood where he was, not moving." Ginny raised an eyebrow but, just to amuse the other students, leaned in to kiss her boyfriend.

"I'm so glad you got back all right," she murmured, and Seamus nodded, savoring the moment as he lost himself in the passionate kiss. Not missing a beat, about twelve of the younger students 'oohed' at their romantic display of emotion. Ginny, who had predicted that response, held out a handful of Knuts that she had collected from selling her brothers' sweets. The first-, second-, and third-year girls all scrambled for the money, but somehow only Kristen Hall, a Ravenclaw second-year, managed to get them all.

Seamus smiled at them as he released Ginny, and his already adorable cheeks went red as he spotted Dean put down Colin's camera disappointedly. He supposed that Dean had been about to take a blackmail photo of he and Ginny kissing, but they had broken apart a moment too soon. Colin's shoulders sagged, equally disappointed with his missed opportunity to have such an exciting photo.

"Okay, everyone," Neville announced, taking over Ginny's role as 'Junior Officer In Chief.' "Now we're going to learn the Impedimenta Jinx. This is used to slow things down, so I'd like you all to get into groups of three..."

* * *

He sat, sweating, in the freezing dungeon. Naturally, his sweat was caused not by heat but by fear, something he should be used to. Typically, world-wide famous heroes know a bit about fear, but nothing could have prepared him for this as her reviewed the night's events after he had been awoken from his thirtieth or so time under the Cruciatus Curse cast by Voldemort.

He had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse for talking back to Draco and, naturally, had been forced to bow down to him and call him "Master." He had refused, but when all three Malfoys cast the Imperius Curse on him at once, it had been impossible to resist. When he gave into the Curse, of course, all the Death Eater cracked up with laugher.

Then he was brought to a room that looked exactly like the last room of the Department of Mysteries that he had been in. There was even a black veil in the corner, and at first sight of it Harry had wanted to cry. He did not, however, and Michelle came in. She told him all about a spell called the Fregatus Curse that forced the victim to reveal his deepest, darkest secret and all related secrets. He did not like the sound of that.

Then he was brought to another dungeon. It was different from the first one he had been in, and yet it was equally horrible. Draco had threatened to use the Fregatus Curse on him, and Harry tried to stop him. He had made the mistake of telling the boy he would do "anything" instead of that particular Curse. Of course, Draco just had to use that to his advantage.

"Anything?" he had repeated, and Harry knew from that moment that it would be a very bad idea to agree. However, he knew it would be worse if Draco knew about the Order of the Phoenix. Or about the Prophecy--- the Prophecy! If Draco learned about that, Voldemort would know exactly how to kill him. If Draco knew about the Prophecy, there would be no Hope left.

So of course he had replied, "Yes." And Draco looked, smiling nastily, at his fellow evildoers with a suitably evil glint in his eye. Then Draco had done a quick spell with words Harry didn't understand and a long roll of parchment spilled from his wand.

I give Draco Malfoy the right to do whatever he likes to me. I permit him to torture me in every way he likes as I agreed to it in exchange for him not to use the Fregatus Curse on me. I will not struggle when he tortures me, nor will I insult him. I will take every insult he sends my way because I deserve it. I will follow every order set by a Death Eater.

Signed,

Harry Potter

His signature was still in the process of being etched into the parchment by a seemingly invisible quill when it landed in Harry's outstretched arms, and Harry looked up at Draco. He, Michelle, and all the other Death Eaters in the room were shaking with laughter, and he was still staring at his binding contract when the walked out, slamming the door behind him.

And so that led him to the situation he was in- sitting alone in a freezing dungeon with nobody to talk to or to listen to, knowing that in just a short time period he would be being tortured- or even worse, interrogated- by his enemies.

But just when he thought nothing could get worse, the horrible life he had came crashing down to a screeching halt.