"What, nothing to say?" the older man mocked, stepping closer, his heeled boots clicking on the stone floor. "No diaries to return? I still owe you for that, Mr Potter. Never let it be said that a Malfoy doesn't pay his debts."
With that, he reached down and viciously backhanded Harry across the side of the face, his signet ring flaying open a cheek.
Harry felt the pain and the sheer physical jolt try to draw him out of his mental fire, but he was easily able to redouble his efforts and keep his thoughts submerged. All that practice Occluding while I brushed my teeth, while I ate, while I read, even, he pondered, deep down beneath the fire, where it was safe to think. All that practice . . . good thing. I'm safe against distractions, I can do this, I can stay in the fire no matter what they do. They won't know the things I know, I won't let them see . . .
But what he knew, Harry didn't dare to think, not even beneath the fire protecting his mind. Discipline, discipline, he told himself, as he kept his eyes trained on the floor and concentrated on thinking things he didn't mind Malfoy seeing. Hogwarts, Quidditch. Hating Snape. The giant squid. Ron laughing with his mouth full. Dobby . . .
Malfoy raised his hand to strike again, but another voice interrupted him. A chiding voice. "Samhain, Lucius."
Harry glanced up quickly through his lashes and saw that a second man had Apparated in, one he didn't recognise.
"Indeed," Lucius drawled, dropping his hand. An expression of rank disgust crossing his sneering features, he angled his wand at the floor and murmured a contemptuous Scourgify, then pointed his wand at Harry. Expecting Legilimens, Harry braced himself against the wall and dove his thoughts all the way to the bottom of a well of fire, but Malfoy merely repeated the cleaning spell to mop up Harry's clothes, though he did nothing to stem the flow of blood trickling down his cheek.
Incantations filled the air, and a thin, vertical opening appeared in the stone wall behind the two men. Lucius waved at it, his wand executing an elaborate flourish before he thrust it back into his elegant walking cane. "Your accommodations, Mr Potter. I do so hope our Lord's hospitality meets the high standard of habitation you have long been accustomed to."
Since Harry wasn't willingly going anywhere Lucius Malfoy wanted him, he didn't move a muscle.
"Oh, come now," the blond wizard mocked, his voice that syrupy sneering one Harry had always hated. "Surely you aren't afraid of tight spaces, after all that time spent huddled in a cupboard?"
Against his will, Harry visibly flinched.
"Oh, but you are afraid," Lucius continued in mock consideration. "Poor boy, you're a veritable mass of scars. Such a shame your relations had no concept of the proper way to treat a wizard, but that's what one gets for having a Mudblood mother, I'm afraid." With that, he took hold of Harry's injured shoulder and thrust him through the crack and into a much smaller stone room. "You'll wait here for the Dark Lord," Lucius hissed. "And while you're waiting, Mr Potter, why don't you spend your time wondering what else we learned from your great fat lout of an uncle? Oh, my, yes. We do know a few things about you, Mr Potter. It must be awful to have relatives who are so very . . . common, not to mention Muggles, of all things."
Harry stumbled, falling to his knees after he was shoved inside the smaller room, and thought to himself, Fire. Fire fire fire. Firefirefirefirefire . . .
But his mental discipline could not sustain all Occlusion, not when Lucius Malfoy spoke again.
"I really must remember to thank Draco for letting me know you'd wandered far afield of Hogwarts," he drawled. "I wonder what would be appropriate. A new broom, do you think? Perhaps a house-elf of his very own? Ah, well." Lucius turned away slightly, and addressed his companion, all sneering humour entirely gone from his voice as he gave the command.
"Annihilate the dwelling standing at Number Four, Privet Drive."
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Twenty-Four: What Must Be
~
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 24: What Must Be
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=24
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Twenty-Four: What Must Be
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This stone room, Harry instantly recognized, was the one from his dreams.
An instant after Malfoy had thrust him inside, the narrow vertical gap between the stones vanished. Hoping the solid surface was just an illusion, Harry threw himself against the wall, but of course it was useless. Malfoy wouldn't knowingly leave him a way out.
Time to take stock, Harry thought.
Not that there was much to take stock of. This was more a cell than a room, and so tiny that he could sit down only if he bent his legs. A soft glow emanating from the blocks meant that he could see despite the absolute lack of natural light, but there were no windows, no doors, no openings of any kind, just solid block, and all of it several feet thick if the gap he'd been thrust through was any indication.
Now that he was secured in the cell, there were doubt anti-Apparation wards up all around to keep him in place, not that he had ever Apparated on his own, or had the slightest idea how to go about it, even. But such wards would keep anyone else from showing up to rescue him. Knowing Voldemort, they'd even prevent the use of portkeys, though of course only Voldemort's closest henchmen were likely to have one linked to this place. Closest henchmen...
Still Occluding his mind, though less fiercely than before, Harry carefully avoided thinking anything that would incriminate... anyone. Not even in his deepest mind did he permit himself to attach a name or an image to the vague hope stirring deep in his soul. Truth to tell, he tried to squash the hope, too, just in case it was too much a giveaway.
He concentrated on his own situation, such as it was. Even that required him to tread carefully through his mental fire, lest Voldemort, unbeknownst to him, was attempting to access his true thoughts. Was the ugly git such a skilled Legilimens that he could, without using eye contact, or even being physically present, sneak past Harry's formidable defenses, undetected? Harry simply didn't know, but he was all too aware that just a few months earlier, Voldemort had actually possessed him. Not that he'd been Occluding at the time, but still...
Harry saw no reason to take any chances, so he deliberately didn't think about having lost proper access to his magic. He merely pondered, at the forefront of his mind, I don't have my wand. Malfoy took it, and refused to consider the greater issue at stake.