Rating:
15
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Harry Potter Sirius Black Severus Snape
Genres:
Alternate Universe Mystery
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince Deadly Hallows (Through Ch. 36)
Stats:
Published: 06/10/2008
Updated: 04/06/2009
Words: 80,060
Chapters: 25
Hits: 25,910

Crucio

NotEvenHere

Story Summary:
When Umbridge subjects Harry to the Cruciatus, Snape intervenes, veering not only his own life off its intended course, but Harry’s and Sirius’ as well, spawning tragedy and devastation in its wake. First story in the Unforgiveables trilogy. In response to the OOTP: Crucio Challenge by royalnavigator on Potions and Snitches. Rated for violence and character deaths.

Chapter 07 - Circling

Posted:
07/20/2008
Hits:
1,133


Wide eyes were staring down at him.

Harry jerked away, startled at the sudden intrusion. He almost fell off the bed.

"Dodgy must apologize to Harry Potter."

The little house-elf smiled in a watery sort of way. Harry rubbed at his eyes as he levered himself back onto the bed. "S'allright Dodgy," he muttered. "And, it's just Harry," he corrected, not really wanting to be called Harry Potter for however long he was forced to stay here. Dodgy shook his head, beginning to wring his hands again. "What is it?" Harry asked tiredly, scrubbing his fingers across the back of his neck. His entire body seemed to be aching.

"Dodgy had to tell Master Snape, Harry Potter, sir," Dodgy answered sadly, his already large eyes huge with remorse.

Harry yawned. "Just Harry," he repeated. And then Dodgy's words penetrated his muzzy brain, and he tensed. Dodgy must have told Snape that he had woken up in the middle of the night, with pain in his scar. "I wasn't in any danger," he said stiffly. Dodgy blinked his eyes sorrowfully.

"Master Snape asked Dodgy if Harry Potter slept without waking. Dodgy had to tell Master Snape the truth," he offered apologetically. Harry grimaced as he shifted slightly away from the house-elf, irritated at the little creature's loyalty toward Snape. "Master Snape is very concerned about Harry Potter's pain."

Bitter laughter escaped Harry's lips. "Snape doesn't give a damn about my pain, Dodgy," he said in a hard voice.

Dodgy shook his head quickly. "Master Snape is keeping Harry Potter safe," he protested. Harry scowled at him.

"Snape is doing what Dumbledore told him to do, nothing else," he snapped. Dodgy flinched, his ears flattening against the sides of his head. "Go away," Harry mumbled, feeling bad for scaring the little elf, but he didn't want Snape's spy staring at him. Dodgy nodded slowly. But before he hopped down, he scooted a tray of food toward Harry. Harry turned away, hunching his shoulders up as he stared at the wall.

"Harry Potter must eat," Dodgy said quietly, but he seemed to have lost the vehemence he had had yesterday about the subject. Harry said nothing as he continued to stare at the wall.

--

Severus frowned as he watched the house-elf walking dejectedly out of Potter's room. Dodgy blinked up at him sadly. Before he could prattle on about Potter's lack of appetite, Severus waved his hand in dismissal. Dodgy's tiny shoulders slumped and then he was gone with a loud crack.

Severus stepped into Potter's room cautiously, wondering just how sensitive Potter actually was to his movements. But Potter didn't seem to notice him. And he hadn't seemed to notice Dodgy's noisy exit. Severus stepped closer to the bed.

"Leave me alone."

"Mind your tone, Potter," Severus returned automatically. But there hadn't been any defiance in the boy's voice. It was a plea more than anything. Severus almost cleared his throat, feeling oddly uncomfortable as he stood, staring at the lump that was Potter; his feet were curled up so far, his heels were pressed into the backs of his thighs. "Did any dreams accompany the pain in your scar last night?" Best to get right to the point so he could get out of here.

"Go to hell, Snape."

The words sounded so innocuous, they could have been a request for apple treacle. Severus ignored them.

"Did you dream of Black?" he repeated, an edge of impatience creeping into the question. Potter whipped around, his cheeks flushed with anger, or so Severus assumed.

"Yes," he said, the single word shaking, "Voldemort let me watch you torture him." Potter glared at him, his eyes flashing. "You knew he was going to, didn't you?" he demanded. "That's why you asked Dodgy about me. Just so you could make sure I was forced to see it. Are you happy now, Snape? Are you?" he suddenly raged as he pushed himself up on his knees, his fingers knotted in the crushed sheets.

"Don't say his name, and spare me the theatrics," Severus gritted through his teeth. He hardly needed to be made to deal with an adolescent temper tantrum.

"Theatrics?" Potter echoed, as though he wanted every neighboring town to be able to hear his outrage. "Voldemort," he continued, almost jeering the word, "is trying to make me come find Sirius, which I can't do, because you have me locked up in here like a bloody prisoner and I have no way of knowing how much longer he'll be alive, or even if he's not dead already!" he shouted.

Severus, surprised that Potter, who was usually particularly thick, had caught on so quickly to the Dark Lord's plan, did not even stop to correct Potter's use of the Dark Lord's name. "Precisely why I've locked you up, Potter. You are much too stupid to pay heed to your own safety. You cannot do anything for Black."

"But you can," Potter countered with a faltering scowl. "You can free him...help him escape, and you could let my aunt and-"

"As simple as that, Potter?" Severus mocked, interrupting the flow of words that was beginning to sound uncomfortably desperate. "What do you wish me to do? Simply walk into the Dark Lord's midst, unchain Black from his wall and lead him right back past the Dark Lord?"

Potter swallowed. "You could do it, if you wanted to," he said quietly, his features shifting to something less furious but then his green eyes flashed again. "You only won't because you hate him so much," he accused. Potter looked surprised at the sharp words.

"I won't because my position as a spy is more important than your mangy godfather's life," Severus growled, waving his hand to emphasize his point as he lost his patience with Potter's idiocy.

Instead of shouting at him about how precious Black's life was, as Severus would have expected, Potter brought his hands from the sheets and pressed his arms into his stomach. The motion was strangely protective. Potter swallowed again; his eyes became empty hollows. "But if I don't go to Sirius, Vol-the Dark Lord will give up after awhile and kill him," he said shakily.

"He will be killed anyway, as soon as the Dark Lord has you within his sights," Severus told him bluntly, thinking it should have been perfectly obvious. "Stop being childish, Potter. Black is gone."

Potter stared at him. "But then you've as good as murdered him," he whispered, and Severus could clearly hear the horror in the boy's voice. Severus gazed back at him.

"If murder were my only crime, Potter, I wouldn't be here now, with you," he returned blandly. Potter's expression changed to one of confusion and fear. Lest last night repeat itself, Severus abruptly changed the subject. "I am not going to waste my time arguing with you about eating," Severus went on, ignoring Potter's slightly glazed look. "Either you will eat of your own volition, or I will spell the food directly into your stomach," he explained simply. Potter said nothing. And then he was turning around again to face the wall.

"I don't care what you do," he mumbled as his torso folded over his legs. His arms were still wrapped around his waist.

"I assure you, Potter," Snape told him, trying not to pay attention to the way the boy was hugging himself, "you will care if I have to force food into your stomach. It is not a pleasant sensation."

Potter only become smaller as his shoulders slumped even further. There was no further response, and Severus glanced in annoyance between the tray of Dodgy's carefully prepared breakfast and Potter's pathetic form. Following through on his threat would really be more troublesome to him than to Potter, especially if the spell affected Potter the way it affected most wizards. Severus would rather graze the Dark Lord's infected toe with his lips than nurse Potter's sour stomach. With an irritated growl, Severus turned and stalked from the room, promising himself that he would find some way to repay Potter for being such a nuisance. But he would not cater to him, and when Potter was hungry enough, he would eat.

--

What did it matter if he didn't eat? No one, except Snape, would ever know, even if he slowly starved to death. And somehow that fate seemed better--or maybe simply easier--than staying here, completely alone and scared of things he couldn't even identify.

Snape probably wouldn't even bother telling anyone else. The Weasleys and Hermione might care of course, but there wasn't anyone else. Snape wouldn't help him. Petunia and Dudley were going to die--not that they would be particularly sad if he popped off. Sirius would have cared...

Harry brought his knees up, trying to press the gnawing ache in his stomach away. Food wouldn't take this pain away. He tried not to focus on the image of Sirius, just hanging there on a wall. But he'd never see his godfather again otherwise. Not in this life anyway.

--

Hours later, Potter was again curled up on his side on the bed. His tray of food was untouched; it hadn't even been moved, even though Potter's shoulder and elbow were dangerously close to the small dish of butter. Severus glared down at the sluggish boy. Potter continued to stare listlessly at the wall.

"You may have been allowed to lay idle while at your relatives' house, Potter, but I am well aware of how shoddy your summer homework always is," Severus said with a sneer. "I am certain an attempt to write a passable essay would be a better use of your time than staring at a wall."

Potter didn't react at all. Severus scowled. Surely the little whelp was simply playing with him. Perhaps he thought to try a new tactic--annoying the hell out of him.

"You will show me respect when I'm speaking to you, Potter," he growled warningly. Potter turned his head at the order, but his eyes were dull and lifeless. "Get up," Severus snapped, unnerved by the shadows in the normally defiant eyes. Potter rolled the rest of his body around and slowly sat up, his movements listless. The circles under Potter's eyes were more pronounced, deeper than they had been when Severus had first entered the room this morning. It was unlikely Potter would be able to hold out without food much longer. So then, he wondered furiously, why didn't the brat eat?

Severus reached for his wand to summon a new tray of food. He whipped it out of his sleeve. At the sudden movement, Potter threw himself against the wall, the movement so violent, that there was a sickening crack of at least one of Potter's bones on impact. Severus halted his unintentionally abrupt movement, his wand suspended in mid-air. But it was too late--Potter was already screaming. The sound was hauntingly mournful but there could be no mistake. Potter was enduring yet another round of the Cruciatus Curse.

Before he even moved toward Potter, Severus chanted the correct words. The screams changed to a quiet weeping, the sounds even more desolate than the screams had been. Severus approached as quickly as caution would allow, but it wasn't necessary. Potter's eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his thin frame was shaking with sobs that had no tears.

Severus entered the boys' mind quickly, expecting to find Potter screaming obscenities at him, insisting that he get out. But there was no resounding cry. Potter's mind was completely silent. And the barrier had changed. It was crossed with barbed Muggle wires and slick with what would have been blood if they had been in the natural world.

The barrier reverberated with a single, silent warning, and Severus understood it immediately. Potter fully intended to see fresh blood spilled against that wall--whether his own or Severus', Severus could not be certain.

But by the time Severus dragged Potter out from behind the barrier, it was crystal clear. It was Potter's blood that had adorned the wall.

Severus backed away from the boy convulsing on the bed, staring in closed-mouth horror at the blood that oozed from Potter's nose. He had been in Potter's mind for too long. And with each passing minute, the wall had spouted a new fountain of blood.

He had frantically plugged each leak, even as he continued to tear against the barrier so he could pull Potter out. It had become a race, and Severus had almost lost. The boy's will to live had been completely destroyed. And Severus was certain that if he had spent any more time ripping against the sharp wires, Potter's sheets would now be soaked in crimson.

Potter was crying softly, and Severus couldn't pull his eyes away as tears tracked down the boy's face. He could not do this. He had failed, as surely as if he had killed Potter himself. The Dark Lord would win. And Severus would die, with his fingers still spotted with Lily's blood.

Potter's blood...

Severus waved his wand sharply, effectively distracting himself as he diagnosed and repaired the two broken bones in one of Potter's arms. Potter didn't even seem to notice. He continued to cry, the piteous sound grating against Severus' ears. He turned and left the room.

Not wanting to feel the walls of the tiny room pressing in on him, he passed his bedroom and went back to the sitting room, though it was hardly larger than his own cramped room. He gripped the back of the settee where he had first deposited Potter.

It was impossible, Severus told himself firmly. He could not bring Black here. But if he did not...if he couldn't find someone who Potter would trust, the boy would either die, trapped in his mind after enduring a Cruciatus Curse or else he would simply cease to be mentally functional. Neither option was acceptable if Severus was going to keep his vow.

Severus drew in a deep breath as he weighed his options. Potter's friends would be of no use--their magical powers were not developed enough for them to be able to act as guides to lead Potter out of the maze that accompanied each new curse cycle. Molly Weasley might be able to give Potter enough stability, but she was in no position to be at Potter's beck and call, not with the Weasley Patriarch lying critically injured in St. Mungo's, after his efforts on Privet Drive. And if Molly failed, Severus did not think he would be able to manage the same feat that he had performed today. Potter would remain trapped in his mind.

Severus closed his eyes briefly as the harsh truth washed through him. He needed Black's help. The knowledge coursed through him angrily and with a furious growl, Severus smashed his fist into wall. He would have to admit to the mutt that he was a failure...that he was useless. And Severus hated James Potter's spawn even more than he ever had for forcing him into this humiliating position, begging for help from Sirius Black. He could practically hear the elder Potter's mocking laughter.

--

Severus waited until Potter's scar began to burn. Potter had barely even flinched from the pain, but Severus could see the raw, reddened zigzag from where he stood outside the bedroom. Dodgy attempted to say something soothing and even handed the boy a dampened cloth, but Potter simply shook his head and turned away, muttering something about the pain being nothing.

It would be a few hours until the Dark Lord gave up his hopes of hosting Harry Potter as his guest at the burned-out shell that used to be Number Four Privet Drive. And so, Severus slipped out of the run-down shack and Apparated to Riddle Manor. No one would be expecting him, not yet. But the Dark Lord would be well pleased with Severus' surprise appearance.

The front door opened for him. Pettigrew stuttered through a greeting as Severus stepped into the deserted foyer. "I have news for our Lord," Severus rapped out importantly. Pettigrew licked his lips eagerly and nodded his head.

"He-he is resting...in preparation for tonight's festivities," Pettigrew explained, pointing toward the sitting room. Severus nodded curtly. He flipped the edges of his robes out of his way and pivoted toward the indicated room. The dark material flapped behind him as he walked with impatient steps. He could hear Pettigrew's scuttling steps behind him. Everything was going just as he'd planned it.

The parlor was even more shadowed than it was when the Dark Lord held court in here. It took Severus' eyes only seconds to adjust to the dimness.

"You have news for me, my Severus?"

The languid voice floated over to him from the farthest corner of the dark room.

"I have, my Lord," Severus answered, bowing his head respectfully as he moved toward the two shadowy figures.

"Come forward, and tell me, Severus," the Dark Lord invited. Severus complied, gliding toward the voice. Bellatrix stood close to her Lord's side, her eyes sparkling with devotion, even in the flickering candlelight.

Severus bent on one knee and scraped low against the floor. Voldemort's fingertips pressed lightly against his hair. "Harry Potter receives your visions, my Lord," Severus said in a low voice. "He has fled from Dumbledore."

A satisfied hiss escaped Voldemort's lips. "And we will be ready for him," he drawled, almost purring in excitement. "You must find him, Severus," Voldemort continued, "and make certain he finds his way to me."

Severus nodded, accepting the assignment he had been hoping for. "Dumbledore is intent on finding Black, my Lord," he continued to lie as he kept his head carefully bowed. Voldemort's brittle fingernails dug lightly into his scalp. The soft click and hiss of billowing candles was the only sound in the silent room.

"Black need not accompany us," Voldemort finally mused in his soft, shushing voice. His head snapped up to pierce Pettigrew's jittery gaze. "You will remain here with him, Wormtail," he ordered. Pettigrew's eyes widened in worry, but he nodded quickly in acceptance anyway. Severus congratulated himself silently. He had known the Dark Lord would leave the rat behind. He was almost never allowed to accompany the other Death Eaters on important missions. He was too weak, of both mind and stomach.

"You wish to visit your old boyhood tormentor one more time, Severus?"

"You are much too generous, my Lord," Severus simpered. The long fingers caressed his hair once and then the slight pressure was lifted. Severus rose and stepped back as the Dark Lord's wrist flicked toward the door.

"Enjoy yourself, Severus. And make certain Black will not be able to leave," he added, his ruby eyes sliding over toward Pettigrew in appraisal. Severus dipped his head. The Dark Lord almost smiled. "You and Bella will have to fight over who gets to kill him after I have taken care of Harry."

Bellatrix grinned, her head tilting much too far to the side as she leered at Severus. Severus raised his eyebrow. "I will enjoy that," he told her, quirking his upper lip into a half-smile. Bella laughed her sultry, high-pitched laughter.

"And I will win," she assured him with her own satisfied purr. Severus narrowed his eyes in response, and then with a bow for the Dark Lord, he once again followed Pettigrew into the dungeons.

Pettigrew was wringing his hands and making those same small smacking noises as he led the way. And this time, Severus was content to follow at the small man's pace. Everything was going perfectly.

The stairwell seemed to have grown even mustier. His lungs felt clogged with mold. The sensation was even worse as they stepped into the small cellar. The stench was foul and Severus fought an urge to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve.

"What is that odor?" he demanded of the little balding man. Pettigrew scurried back a few steps at the harsh tone.

"No-no toilets," he stammered, the answer a question more than anything. Severus scowled and went to Black's door. He pushed it open. He had to stifle a gasp. The Dursley boy was obviously dead, his large body sprawled across the floor, and purpled with bruises.

Pettigrew registered no surprise at finding the boy there. He simply stepped around the mass and waited expectantly for Severus. Severus pulled his gaze away from Potter's abused cousin, not able to wait for the churning in his stomach to still.

Black was still hanging on the wall. And he was sporting new bruises as well, across his face as well as his bared chest. But at least he was alive.

The thought startled him. When after all, would he have ever expected such relief to find Black alive? He squelched all thoughts of that ilk beneath his shields.

Black's head had lifted just the slightest bit when Severus had thrown the door open. He seemed to be trying desperately to look anywhere but at the Dursley boy. He glanced warily between the two Death Eaters. Severus turned to Pettigrew.

"I need your assistance, Pettigrew," he snapped. Pettigrew, his eyes lighting with hope, scrambled over to him. Severus moved his wand so quickly, Pettigrew had no time to move. "Imperio," he snapped. He heard Black making a strangled noise of surprise.

Pettigrew stared at him, his eyes wide as Severus plucked a single hair from the balding head, and then one from his own. Then he took a vial from his pocket and without further ado, Severus uncorked it and dropped the long black hair into it.

The brew sizzled.

He handed it to Pettigrew and ordered, "Drink it."

Pettigrew obediently took the vial and downed its contents. Severus and, presumably Black, watched as Pettigrew's ugly face became leaner, the bones sharpening in the pale face. Pettigrew's round body stretched upward.

"What the hell?"

Black's voice was even scratchier than it had been yesterday--it sounded slurred from extreme exhaustion as well. But water, and sleep, would have to wait. Severus didn't answer the other man's confused query. He simply took out another vial and dropped in Pettigrew's wiry hair. He drank it in one gulp and endured his change without a sound. He turned to Black.

"What's going on?" Black asked shakily. Severus gazed at him through Pettigrew's eyes.

"We're leaving," he answered brusquely.