Nox

Chapter 2 - Pain and Mortality

It was two weeks before the school year started. Harry Potter was doing some gardening at Number Four, Privet Drive. At the moment he was fussing over a big bush in the middle of the lawn. Then he put down the pruning shears, and wiped sweat off his face with his hand full of cuts, for the Dursleys never bothered to give him working gloves. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with his dirty, over-sized shirt, which used to belong to his overly large cousin, Dudley.

Harry looked at the watch on his wrist, which he had gotten for his fifteenth birthday from Hermione. 12 o'clock; it was already noon. He wondered if the Dursleys would let him in for lunch, his stomach was starting to make growling noises. Then he decided, beside himself, to do the finishing on this last bush and after that he would go back into the house.

When he finished his work, his stomach gave a loud grumble. "Shut up!" he told it, and started to make his way back into the house. As he was retreating to the cool house, he heard some noises from a back alley. At first he had mistaken them as some neighborhood children playing around, but then he heard distinct men voices. Then he stopped dead in his trucks. He could have sworn he heard the word Muggle.

Could it be? Did Dumbledore send people to take him to Diagon Alley? But then, why didn't anyone tell him? Or could they be... other people?

~*~*~

The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade was having a quiet evening. The Inn was full of witches and wizards, all talking cheerfully over their drinks and enjoying the warmth of the fire. At one of the tables sat Olivia and Jacob Heartway with their friends, Josephine Sinn and Leon Libellus, all out to celebrate Mrs. Heartway's birthday.

Mrs. Heartway was happily drinking her Firewhisky, which was enchanted to shoot sparkles every now and then, and listening to the conversation her husband and Josephine Sinn were having animatedly about Quidditch; while Leon Libellus was engaged in reading a little book titled Pegasus on the Run.

All of a sudden, he appeared, right on their table, knocking down a glass of Martini. The glass fell down to the floor and broke into pieces with a loud shattering noise. That and the ladies' screams of fright drew the attention of all the Inn's residents, who all fell quiet and were looking at the table, to see what happened.

His body was limp, skinny and pale, full of scratches and bruises. His clothes, Muggle ones, were torn, and he looked deadly ill. His glasses were broken, and crooked on his nose, and his arm looked broken too - twisted in a funny angle. Nonetheless he was breathing.

"Merlin!" said Mr. Heartway, who recovered first. His eyes traveled through the boy's injured body and stopped on the scar very audible on his forehead. He looked at his wife and friends, trying to figure out what to do. "Boy!" he said, shaking his shoulder gently, for fear of hurting him more.

Madam Rosmerta came hurrying towards them. "Oh my!" she said. In the meanwhile Mr. Heartway was still shaking the boy gently and calling for him, with the help of Leon and Josephine.

Josephine put her hand on his forehead to see if he had a fever. "He is burning!" she said, and Leon poured some cold water on him with his wand. Rosmerta pitched in a wet towel to put on his forehead. After a few more minuets the boy finally awoke, and immediately tried to get up, but Leon held him back.

"Calm down," he said, somewhat kindly, "It's all right." And then he fixed his glasses with a Reparo charm.

"WhereamI?" asked the boy hurriedly, his eyes traveling on all of them.

"You're in The Three Broomsticks, dear," said Madam Rosmerta, and his eyes stayed on her, maybe registering that she was telling the truth.

"What am I doing here? How did I get here?"

There was silence. "Um... we aren't sure," said Leon Libellus, "You just appeared."

"Out of thin air," helped Mr Heartway.

"You couldn't possibly have Apparated, you were not in shape to do so."

Harry tried to recall the last thing he had done, which gave him a headache. Images and memories appeared in front of his eyes, and he gave a shudder. "Now run off to your dear Dumbledore and give him my message," a cruel, cold voice, screeching at the back of his mind. "I have to go!" he said frantically, and set up at once. Pain suddenly attacked him from all parts of his body.

"No, wait!" said Josephine Sinn. "At least let me take care of your arm," she continued.

Harry looked at his right arm; it was definitly broken, sticking out in a funny angle. He tried moving it, but the bottom part didn't cooperate. He stifled a cry.

"I'm a trained Healer," said Josephine taking her wand out, "I can easily fix that for you." Harry nodded his head, and then she tapped her wand twice on his arm and said an incantation, and Harry felt a warm wave rush through his arm as the bones reattached themselves. A second later his arm was healed.

"Thank you," he murmured, and without another glance sprinted out of the Inn.

The room, which was silent throughout the conversation, was left with that still silence.

~*~*~

Harry automatically reached for his wand, but of course he didn't have it with him. Before he could decide what to do, the men showed up, four of them, all wearing dark robes and masks. They were coming from the alley, down the street. Harry wanted to run to the house and hide in there, or at least get his wand, but as he started running, one of them spotted him.

"There he is!" the Death Eater pointed Harry to the others. Another Death Eater took his wand out and aimed at Harry.

"Stupefy!" he said, and the boy on the run froze, unable to move. The four Death Eaters laughed. The tallest of them Summoned Harry to them, and another one took out a large bottle. "How much time?" he asked the Death Eater that Stunned Potter, who looked at his wristwatch and answered, "Twenty minuets. We didn't think it would be that easy."

And so they waited twenty minuets; two of them walked around the street bewitching random objects to bite Muggles, while one guarded the Potter boy, and the last one paced on the Dursleys' lawn in wait.

"I wish the Lord would let us kill and torture all those Muggles living here. I can't stand being here. I can feel their filthy presence all around me," said the latest.

"I know," agreed the one guarding Harry, silkily. "I too wouldn't mind tormenting those stupid, unworthy Muggles; but the Lord said we are not to draw attention. We don't want them to find out we've got Potter too soon."

"Yes, yes. Bloody Harry Potter. I can't see what can be so threatening about this stupid boy," he threw the unconscious Harry a dirty look.

When it was time, they all put their hands on the bottle (including Harry's), and in a few seconds' time they disappeared from Privet Drive.

~*~*~

When Harry came back to consciousness, his first instinct was to run; so he tried running, in every direction. Unfortunately this was impossible for a few reasons: 1) No one can move in every direction at once. 2) He was sitting down, which made it more difficult to run. 3) He was tied up, and could barely move at all. The resolute of all of these combined was very painful to Harry. As if that wasn't enough, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the ribs. He gave a moan of agony.

He looked around, trying to gather his surroundings. He was not in Privet Drive anymore, rather in a cold room, probably a dungeon, for it had no windows. The Death Eaters must have gotten to him and took him there, he thought. Actually, one of them was standing right in front of him, and it was reasonable to think that he was the cause of Harry's pain in the ribs, for he once again kicked Harry in the ribs and it had the same affect. Harry moaned in pain again.

"Potter," said a voice coming from behind the white mask. Harry looked at him from behind crooked glasses. "Don't dare to move a single inch, or I'll break your face. Don't talk, don't make a sound at all, and don't you dare defy me, unless you want to experience the worst pain in your life." And to show he wasn't kidding, he kicked Harry hard in the stomach. Harry cringed, but otherwise stayed quiet.

His scar hurt. Harry watched as the masked man sat himself on a chair, at the far end of the room, and opened the Daily Prophet. The room was square and small, it had stone walls, a floor, and it was cold, given it was summer. His arms were tied at his back by magical ropes, that would get tighter when he tried moving. His legs were also tied up, but he couldn't move them at all, they were as heavy as lead.

'I wish I had my wand with me,' Harry thought desperately. He didn't know how long they sat there, but it seemed long enough. He tried thinking of a way to get himself out of there, but he could do next to nothing in that situation, and he desperately needed his wand. His best idea yet was to stay quiet until something happened.

After a short amount of time, the Death Eater seemed to have gotten bored with the Daily Prophet, and he moved on to a more interesting activity, like torturing Harry.

"Tell me, Potter," he said, coming to stand above Harry. "How does it feel to know that all you Mudbloods are soon about to die?" Harry tried squirming and kicking him, but all it resolved in doing was tightening the ropes around his arms, to the Death Eater's amusement. "Not you, though," he added as an afterthought. "You are probably going to die today, and won't be able to see all your little Mudblood and Muggle-loving friends go. You know I had the pleasure of meeting your Mudblood mother?" his eyes lit with an evil spark.

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER, you filthy bastard son of--"

"Silencio!" said the Death Eater coldly. "Don't think for a second that I am interested in anything you have to say, stupid kid. Crucio!"

Sheer pain; pain beyond imagination attacked Harry. Every bone, muscle and fiber of his body hurt. His eyes were rolling in their sockets, he writhed on the floor and screamed in pain, but no sound came out. The room was filled with the laughter of the Death Eater, who found it highly amusing. After what seemed like forever, he lifted the curse off him, and Harry fell face down, to the stone floor. His nose gave a funny crack when it hit the floor and blood drooled out of it. But it was the least of his worries, because his entire body was hurting, especially his scar. He was shivering with pain. He felt as if a truck ran over him, over and over again. He had barely managed to move his head aside before he went sick. Blood came out as well.

"Nasty, isn't it?" said the Death Eater from somewhere above Harry. "And I can do much worse..." he left it hanging in the air. Harry didn't care what he could do. Right now he wanted to die, to end it all. He closed his eyes; they were so heavy. His ears were pounding and he was breathing heavily, though it could not be heard.

~*~*~

Harry woke up abruptly. He didn't realize that he fell asleep. He was sitting up against a stone wall, and looking around, he acknowledged that there were now three Death Eaters in the room with him. His body still hurt.

"Uge!" he said, and looked stroked at the realization that he could talk again. All three Death Eaters turned around to look at him.

"So nice to see you're awake," said Wormtail's fake kind voice from behind his mask, as he approached Harry.

"Wormtail," Harry groaned, focusing his eyes on the wizard in front of him. "What do you want from me?"

Wormtail laughed. "It's not what I want, Potter, rather what he wants." He walked away and out of the room. Harry bit his lip harshly. It was pretty much the only thing he was capable of doing. A few more minutes of quiet, when the Death Eaters were talking amongst themselves in the corner of the room, and then Wormtail returned, walking behind his master. Both wizards were followed by Voldemort's gigantic snake - Nagini.

The second Voldemort had entered the room, Harry's scar started burning as if it was on fire. It was the worst Harry had ever felt it. He tensed up and glared at the wizard in front of him.

"Harry," said Voldemort in a hiss, sounding amused. "How are you feeling, boy? Enjoying my hospitality?" Harry just kept glaring fiercely at him. He could feel his blood boiling in his veins, pure hatred running in them. "It is not polite, Harry," Voldemort said calmly. "Not to answer people when they ask you something."

"But I don't see any people in here," said Harry quietly, but looking Voldemort square in the eye, and sounding much braver then he felt inside. In fact, his insides were bobbling with a toxic combination of fear, terror, rage, and something much stronger that maneuvered him; it was like confidence, but not quite the same. It was, Harry realized with quite a shock, desperation and somewhat acceptance. If he was going to die, and he was, probably soon enough, then what did it really matter? If he wasn't going to stick around, then why not at least enjoy his last minutes?

Voldemort drew out his wand slowly. "Don't test my patience, boy," he said, his red eyes flaring. "I have none." And very softly he added, "Crucio!"

Every bone in Harry's body was burning with pain, his head was surly about to split in half. He was screaming his lungs out, and this time it was loud and clear, full of agony and sheer pain. His screams were bouncing off of the walls, echoing in the small room, and overcoming the sound of the Death Eaters' and Voldemort's harsh laughter. He fell to the floor, once again writhing with pain, scratching his body on the hard stone. How much longer will he have to take this before he will be allowed to finally rest in peace?

A few more painful minutes and the curse was off of Harry. He let out a sigh of relief, which sounded more like a whimper. He was quivering on the floor, at Voldemort's feet. Nagini slithered closer to him and sniffed him with her tongue. "Not now, my dear," Voldemort said, and Harry knew that he was talking in Parseltongue. "But soon enough."

"Why-" Harry choked out. "Why am I here?" And he spit blood on the floor.

"Because," said Voldemort simply. "I wanted you here."

Harry looked up from the floor at Voldemort. Everything was spinning around him, he opened his mouth to say something but then suddenly everything became black, and he became re-acquainted with the floor.

~*~*~

When Harry woke up the next time, he was no longer in the small room; he was now in a rather large room, with a few small barred windows, close to the ceiling. Harry was inside a cage, placed in the middle of the room. Instead of solid walls, the cage was bound by what looked like magical force fields. They were four force fields, all reaching the ceiling, and they were lavender-coloured. So thin that Harry had to squint hard just to make them out, unfortunately, giving him a headache.

Harry was lying on the floor when he woke up. He wanted to stretch out his arms, but realized that they were still tied. He gave a loud groan of annoyance, and shut his eyes tightly. He was weak and in pain, and his damn scar was hurting. He didn't know what time it was, or what day, or even how long he'd been there, but worst of all was that he didn't know why he was there. He thought that Voldemort probably wanted to kill him, but then, shouldn't he be dead by now?

He lay there, waiting for something to happen, preferably he would spontaneously combust and all misery will come to an end. It was very quiet. There was absolutely no sound from the outside, and no sound inside as well. In the complete silence Harry could make out the ticking sound of his wristwatch. Tick toc, tick toc, tick toc. It was driving him insane.

Time passed by, Harry didn't know, nor care, how much. Soft footsteps were heard making their way towards the room. Harry didn't bother opening his eyes. The door to the room opened with a crack, and in walked three or four people, by the sound of it. Harry's scar hurt him once more, and he took slow and steady breaths, to ease the pain.

"Get up," said a cold voice Harry recognized as Lucius Malfoy's. He opened his eyes automatically. "Get up," the voice repeated.

Harry was staring straight ahead at the ceiling. "Oh, you see," he said in a soft voice. "I can't. My arms and legs are tied up."

Voldemort waved his wand, Harry could sense him moving, and suddenly he could feel something creeping on his legs. He looked up and saw a black snake making it's way up his body, and there was probably another on his back.

"No," he whispered to them, "Move away. Get off me!" he said, irritated. And the snakes obeyed him; they slid off him and laid on the floor, waiting for his commend. "Bite him," Harry said, smirking, and jerking his head in the direction of Lucius Malfoy. The snakes crawled toward the masked man and one of them jumped straight at his foot, opening its jaws wide, ready to bite. But right before it could close it's fangs on the flash, Voldemort said "Finite!" in a bored tone, and both snakes turned into a puff of blackish smoke.

"Get up," said Lucius Malfoy, for the third time waving his wand, and Harry felt himself stand up against his will. Voldemort stood in front of his cage, and on either side of him was a Death Eater.

"You know, Potter," he said in a soft voice, cutting like a knife in Harry's ears. "We visited your school today. Your little Mudblood friend says hello."

"No..." Harry whispered, his eyes growing huge with terror. Visions of all his friends at Hogwarts being murdered, crying out for help, dead bodies, lots of blood, were all passing in front of his eyes. "No," his lips uttered, but no sound came out.

"Yes," Voldemort said slowly, and smiled, very devilishly. "She was screaming your name on her last moments, it was awfully romantic. 'Harry, oh Harry, save me!'" he mimicked a girlish voice.

"No!" Harry's face was full of rage. "No, you're lying! Hogwarts has protections, you couldn't have gotten there!" But his face was bone-pale. He was shaking with rage and fear. He reached his hand and straightened his glasses up the bridge of his nose, for they almost fell down.

Voldemort continued speaking as though Harry had never interrupted him. "The Weasley girl was also calling your name," he said. "Jugson here, says the Weasley boy was also crying your name right before he died. Quite popular, aren't you, Harry?"

"Shut up!" Harry shouted. "You're lying! It's not true!" but his voice was cracking, "you're lying...." And he advanced towards the cage wall, and kicked at it as hard as he could. Harry bounced off the force field, and crashed at the floor. He felt like a rush of cold electricity ran through him, and he was shaking again. He heard laughs, coming from the general location of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and he barely registered that the cage walls all changed their colour to electrical blue. He heard a soft "Crucio!" and that was the last thing he remembered before regaining consciousness.

~*~*~

From then on it became a routine; Harry would wake up to the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, and after what seemed like eternity, he would pass out on the floor, until he woke up again. Sometimes he would wake up to find a bowl of water and some bread on the floor, and that he didn't understand; why would they want to keep him alive?

He tried throwing the bowl on the wall, but it only bounced back unharmed. He tried kicking the wall again, and this time he felt as if his veins were on fire. The walls' colour turned vivid red.

He didn't have the strength anymore, so he gave up. Let them do whatever they want with him. He thought about what Voldemort said to him a lot, but it couldn't possibly be true. He couldn't have killed them all, Harry would have known if he did. Somehow he would have. No, they couldn't all be... dead. But tiny bits of doubt had managed to penetrate through his certainty, and they were biting and chewing through it like mice on cheese. "They're not dead!" he told himself harshly.

One time Harry woke up, but it wasn't a Death Eater torturing him, it was the Dark Lord himself.

"Enjoying yourself?" Voldemort asked, after putting out the curse, and with a flourish of his wand, the walls of Harry's cage disappeared.

"You," Harry coughed from the floor. "You... have no..." he coughed again. "Idea."

"Stand up, idiot boy," said Voldemort, his red eyes narrowing with loathing.

Harry scrambled to his feet gracelessly. He was by far shorter than the wizard in front of him. Harry's glasses, slipping down his nose, were broken, there was a trickle of blood running down from his nose, his face was full of cuts and scratches, and he was shaking.

"Foromentis!" Voldemort whispered.

Harry's body all of a sudden felt numb, as if he wasn't quite in it anymore. He was sure his legs would have given up on standing, if his entire body wasn't as stiff as a rock. His eyes filled with green mist, they were like a cat's - only colour, and no pupil. His mind felt as if someone was attacking it with a sharp knife, over and over. But Harry was only vaguely aware of all this.

After a while, Voldemort said the counter spell, and Harry felt everything regaining it's usual composure. He was now very much aware of the pain in his bones, the stinging of his scar, and the feeling that his mind had been steped on by a giant. He wasn't even sure how a mind could hurt, but just thinking about it gave him a headache. He could no longer stand up, and he fell forward; as he crashed to the floor, all his weight toppled his arm, which gave a loud crack, and Harry was sure that it was broken. He gave a moan of pain.

"Very well," Voldemort said. He waved his wand, and Harry rolled over, so he was lynig on his back, his eyes staring fixedly at the red ones above him. "Harry," his voice was menacing, and his grin evil. "You shall be my Herald Angel, announcing my return to the world. I want you to go to your friend Dumbledore and give him my message: knight to c6," he emphasized the last four words. "I shall see you again, for the last time. Now run off to your dear Dumbledore and give him my message," he uttered a spell under his breath and Harry disappeared from the room.