The next morning, just as the sun seemed to peek over the hills, although none of its light or warmth seemed to reach into the menagerie, Harry was woken by someone dropping what looked like slop into his bowl. Stomach growling, he scrambled out of his bed and crawled over to the bowl, but waited with a glare until the guffawing Death Eater had left before attempting to drink it. He awkwardly angled the bowl to his face, careful not to drop it, and tried not to grimace as the thin soup slid directly down his throat.

Finished, he awkwardly relieved himself, then sat back on his bed and waited for something to happen.

Several hours later, when his stomach was grumbling again and his throat was feeling dry, he heard the door to the menagerie open. Voldemort entered, with Snape on his left and Lucius Malfoy on his right, and two more Death Eater guards behind them. Harry was so bored that the distraction was almost welcome. Almost.

The party approached his cage, but Harry stayed in the back on his bed. Snape’s face remained impassive, but Malfoy’s bore a smug smirk, and Voldemort’s was once again creepily arranged into a twisted, leering smile.

“Come, Pest,” Voldemort ordered. “It is time for a walk.”

When Harry did not budge, Voldemort flicked a hand at the two guards behind him and they approached, carrying thin rods that Harry had not noticed before. They positioned themselves on either side of his cage and began poking at him cruelly. Now Harry learned the reason for the narrowness of his cage. Even if he went as far to the middle as he could, he was not able to escape the pointed rods. Slowly, taking turns poking at him and barring his retreat, they forced him to move down the cage towards the gate. At last he was close enough that one swiftly unlocked and opened the gate, and when Harry might have bolted, the other easily snagged his collar and hooked the leash on before he could do more than lunge through the gate. The handle of the leash was quickly handed over to Voldemort, and before Harry could even process what had just happened, the collar was tugging at his neck and he was trotting unhappily at Voldemort’s side.

He was brought back to the audience chamber, where Voldemort now commanded him in his tricks. His initial refusal brought a warning glare from Snape and a cursory ‘crucio’ from the Dark Lord, until he grudgingly began performing, all the while scowling at his captors.

Finally, Voldemort told him to stop. Panting slightly from the extra effort of doing odd tricks in his ungainly body, a body he was still not really accustomed to, he sat back on his haunches, his thighs stretched out straight in front of him and his hands planted just outside of his knees for balance. He hardly noticed how like an animal he probably looked in this position.

Voldemort’s smile remained fixed on his face as he rose. “Now,” he began, “let us see whether you are truly learning, or merely performing. You are my leopard, and you shall act appropriately, of course.” He withdrew from his robes a small stuffed mouse with a long tail and threw it at Harry.

Stunned for a moment, Harry let the mouse bounce off his shoulder and fall to the floor.

“Now, now, Pest,” Voldemort admonished him in a warning tone. “You are to play with it. All cats like to play with mice, don’t they?”

Face burning with rage and humiliation, Harry slowly got back up onto his hands and knees and gave a halfhearted swat at the mouse.

“Good,” Voldemort purred, then began to make the mouse bounce around the room with his wand, watching with his evil smirk as Harry was made to chase after it.

When Voldemort finally grew bored of this, Harry was made to sit next to his chair, on the opposite side from where Nagini lay coiled. The snake-like man patted his head and then called for his guards to bring in the guests. From next to the Dark Lord, his leash held loosely in one of the slender hands, Harry was forced to watch first several muggles be tortured, then several Death Eaters report with varying degrees of punishment. All the while he tried to ignore the pressure that was now building in his bladder. Finally, a dark and imposing looking man was led into the chamber.

From the man’s accent and the brief, dancing conversation that occurred between him and Voldemort, Harry gathered that the man was a potential powerful recruit from France. Harry was showed off to him, and it was clear that the man saw only a leopard, making Harry feel even more humiliated. He was forced to perform tricks once again, until the man was dismissed, and Harry was finally led back to his pen. This time, he was too weary to protest being shut inside. He went immediately to his litter box and relieved himself, then fell asleep easily on the hard bed.

ooooo

The days soon began to blend into one another. Harry spent countless long, bored hours in his depressing pen. Several new animals were brought in at various points and left in their own cages. The birds, he learned, almost never shut up until the sun went down. He was hungry nearly all the time, being fed usually only once a day. Sometimes Voldemort would not come for him for days at a time, and it was then that he struggled not to wish that he would come if only to relieve the boredom. When Voldemort did call him, it was sometimes for the entire day and sometimes only for a short walk around the sizeable castle. When he was with Voldemort, he was never given food, water, or bathroom breaks. He learned quickly not to attempt to ask for them.

However, he did begin to learn his way around the castle, and began attempting to formulate an escape plan. He had no real idea of how long he had been held captive, but as the days passed he grew less and less confident that the Order would ever find him, and more sure that he was on his own in escaping. However, all he ever seemed to come up with was to force his way out of the cage when his litter box was emptied (an unfortunately rare occurrence, both for his plan and for his nose) and try to make a dash for it. Some part of him hoped that Snape might actually be able to help him if he made it that far, but he refused to count on that.

This hope was dashed abruptly one afternoon. Harry had been stuck in his pen for going on three days, and was trying to keep his mind busy with attempting to remember the brewing instructions for various potions (he was really bored, and the birds were really annoying), when the door to the menagerie was flung open. Harry looked up and saw a tall dark figure being led by several Death Eater guards, struggling weakly, with Voldemort bringing up the rear. When they drew closer and stopped by the empty pen next to Harry’s, he realized with dread that the tall figure was Snape.

He looked even paler than usual, his hair hung limply about his face, and his hands appeared to be bound behind his back, although Harry could not see any ropes. The gate was swiftly unlatched and Snape was shoved inside and locked in. Voldemort approached the gate, towering over the crumpled figure on the floor.

“You will remain here while I determine a fitting punishment,” he whispered, then whirled and left the room on silent, gliding feet, the coterie of guards following.

The room was quiet, aside from the birds, for several minutes. Finally Harry could not take the suspense any longer, and he grunted in an attempt to get Snape’s attention. Snape startled slightly and looked over, struggling to pull himself into a sitting position with his hands still behind his back.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “It’s you.” Harry merely looked at him and Snape elaborated, “I did not realize he would leave us so close together. I would have expected to be separated.”

Harry nodded and then gestured at him with one paw-like hand.

Snape merely glared for a moment, then sighed and relented. “He believes me to be a spy. The Order has evidently been planning a rescue attempt, and he is convinced I am involved in it.”

Harry nodded his understanding, then watched with curiosity as Snape shuffled over on shaking legs to a water bowl in the corner and lowered his head to lap from it. When he finally straightened, he settled himself against the bars of the cage with a grimace, then glared at the watching Harry.

“Amused?” he asked irritably, but his tone lacked the usual bite.

Harry only shrugged.

“I suppose there is not much to do in here,” Snape answered himself. “Do they ever shut up?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the birds.

Harry shook his head.

They were silent for a moment, then Snape murmured, “He has not decided my punishment yet.” He looked at Harry with an expression it took a moment to decipher, then Harry realized it was a mixture of fear and pity. Harry looked away, not wanting to see either, especially not on the face of his bullying potions professor.

“I suppose you are missing your relatives by now.”

Harry looked over at Snape, startled by the comment.

Snape gave him a shadow of a smirk. “I get the impression you do not particularly enjoy it there. Still, they must treat you better than this, than an animal.”

Harry considered this, and was surprised to realize it was true by a slimmer margin than he would have expected.

Snape was still talking. “My father did not treat me like an animal, but he was an animal. I did not enjoy going home for the holidays either.” He trailed off, then whispered, “Muggle bastard.”

Harry began to wonder just how many ‘crucios’ Snape had been given before he had been brought to the menagerie. The ordinarily precise and succinct professor was beginning to ramble.

Snape seemed to be thinking along similar lines. He scowled, then turned his face away from Harry and became silent.

ooooo

For two days, Snape and Harry were left alone, aside from being left meager rations in the morning. Snape did not talk much after the first afternoon, and Harry saw how his limbs trembled when he moved and he seemed too frequently to shiver.

It was in the wee, cold hours of the third morning that Harry was roused from an uneasy sleep. He squinted through the pre-dawn darkness to see a sliver of light appear where the door to the menagerie was, then widen as the door opened. Several lit wand-tips entered the room, and as they drew closer, Harry could make out seven cloaked figures approaching his and Snape’s cages. He glanced over and saw that Snape was also awake and watching.

The men split off when they drew close, three moving towards Harry’s cage and four towards Snape’s. Harry tried to resist at first, frightened by the break from routine, but it did not take long before he was out of the cage and clipped into his leash. With his leash held firmly and two wand points directed at him, one of the three men quickly slipped a metal harness around his torso and clipped a second, metal leash to its back. Once finished, they stepped back, two holding the leashes and the third keeping his wand trained on him. Harry looked fearfully over at Snape, who by this point had been wrestled from the cage and was being held by two men by his bound arms, the other two keeping their wands trained on him.

They were led in this manner to the audience chamber, where Voldemort sat on his usual throne with what looked like nearly all of his Death Eaters arranged around him in a semi-circle. Harry was astounded to realize how much the ranks had swelled since the night in the graveyard just over a year ago. Harry was led to Voldemort’s side, his leather leash handed over the Dark Lord as usual while the metal one remained in the hand of the guard. Snape was tied to the hook several feet in front of the dais as Harry had been when he had first arrived at the castle.

“Ah,” Voldemort purred, “My pet. This entertainment would not be the same without you by my side.” He rubbed behind Harry’s ears and Harry barely resisted the urge to growl.

“I trust you will recognize our prisoners.” Voldemort gestured to the far side of the room, and Harry’s gaze snapped over to follow his hand.

Somehow his first inspection of the room had passed over the seven captives who stood in a row in front of the circle of Death Eaters, facing Voldemort. Eyes widening in horror, Harry recognized Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny, and Fred and George. They looked disheveled and sweaty, and each of them had their feet bound by short chains to hooks in the floor that Harry was certain had not been there previously. Harry could see tears beginning to course down Hermione’s cheeks, and he saw Ron mouth ‘Harry’ in horror. The faces of Neville, Ginny, Fred, and George ranged through mixtures of fear and horror at their predicament and at seeing the leopard they knew was their friend. Luna looked almost bored, glancing around at the architecture of the room.

“They tried to rescue you, when the Order’s plans failed,” Voldemort explained in an amused voice. “Foolish, to think it was possible. Silly, to think my pet would be in need of rescuing. You are well cared for, aren’t you, Pest?”

A growl built low in Harry’s throat, but Voldemort laughed and gave him a light but stinging swat on the cheek.

“None of that now, Pest. Mind your manners,” he admonished. He waved a hand at the guard who still held Harry’s metal leash. “You need not stay any longer. He is well-trained. I feared the shock may cause him to forget what he has learned, but he is a good boy.”

The Death Eater bowed, unclipped the leash, and stepped back to join the ranks of the Dark Lord’s followers.

“Now, who to begin with?” he hissed. “The traitor, or the young fools?”

Harry waited tensely in the leaden silence until Voldemort spoke again.

“The children, I think. They are such good entertainment.”

Harry watched in horror as the circle was widened around his schoolmates, and the Death Eaters began to one by one, under Voldemort’s directions, cast curses of varying severity at his friends. They ranged from tickling charms to Cruciatus Curses, and screams and moans mixed with jeers and guffaws to fill the room.

Eventually, when his eyes were filled with tears and the rage was building until Harry did not think he could take it anymore, Voldemort called his followers to halt.

“Now, it is time to finish the job,” he said as he rose to his feet, tugging the leash so that Harry heeled next to him. Harry could feel the rage and anger and sorrow building inside him, the frustrating mounting at his powerlessness as he stumbled at the Dark Lord’s side.

Voldemort stopped five paces from the huddled forms and raised his wand, and Harry felt the dam break inside him as the love he felt for his friends mingled with his anger and overpowered it.

“Avad--”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGGGLL” Harry screamed, the sound erupting from him as his power spilled out into the room. Voldemort’s words were cut off in a blinding flash of light that filled the room for several seconds, then suddenly was gone.

Dazed and suddenly incredibly fatigued, Harry lay down heavily, feeling too weak to move. He had to blink several times before his vision cleared enough to look around.

His friends were all alive, and now free of their chains. They were dazedly helping each other to their feet, seeming just as confused and disoriented as Harry was feeling. Harry swung his head around weakly to see Snape’s chains had also come loose, although he had recovered from the shock much more quickly and was already stalking on shaking legs to the circle of Death Eaters, who seemed to be taking much longer to recover. Shifting his eyes towards to his left side, Harry saw that Voldemort lay facedown on the ground. He was almost certainly dead, based on the charred state of his body, and Harry tiredly shut his eyes, not wanting to see the apparent consequences of his actions. He fought to open them after a moment, knowing the fight was not over, but unconsciousness tugged at him. He was vaguely aware of shouting around him and flashes of light before he slipped down into the depths of sleep.

Harry woke briefly when he felt himself being lifted by shaking hands. He opened his eyes enough to see the pale face of Snape above him and moaned.

“Shh, Potter,” Snape said in his ear, trying to be heard above the sounds of battle around them. “The Order is here. We need to get you out; you can’t lie there in the crossfire.”

Too fatigued to protest, Harry’s eyes slipped shut and he fell asleep once more as he felt Snape rush him across the floor.