“Itty-Bitty Potter is awake from his little nap”
From the ebony door walks in a woman with wild hair and a dangling dress in black, playfully twirling her arched wand between her skeletal fingers. Bellatrix Lestrange’s iconic hooded gaze sweeps across the boy’s features, letting out a loud snort, setting her claws into his hair and him towards herself like a master’s collared dog. Her piercing laughs harmonized with the shudder of iron bars.
“My, my… you should have fixed your awful bed hair.” Her teeth flash dangerously as she pulls Harry’s hair harder, he can feel his head screaming from both the headache and scalp almost getting torn off.
“So undignified, yet not surprising. Impurities like you have yet to learn proper manners, the dark lord shall be so disappointed in your bad behavior.” Harry flinches as the dark witch taps her wand on his cheek lightly, holding back a yelp of pain that he moved the shoulder a little too hard. Just like looking at a goldfish frightened by a tap on the glass, her wand divided further into the flesh. “Ooo, what a fierce little boy, just like your disgusting mudblood of a mother. Don’t follow her footsteps like a little puppy just like a muggle lover you call Potions professor.”
Yanking off the touch, he spits the blood that has been slowly pooling in his mouth onto her face.
The short-lived moment of triumph ended as the face in front of him twists into one of a rabid predator, eyes wide open like the jaw of a serpent.
Oh no.
With a growl, Bellatrix chugs Harry’s head against the iron repeatedly. He can feel his consciousness slowly leaving, he can feel droplets flung off his hair each time it leaves the bars, small spots of white gathering across the edge of his vision. Lestrange roughly shoves the teen back onto the cell floor, with a flick of her wand like an invisible knife, blood spurts out from the thin lines across his arm.
“FILTHY LITTLE SHIT!” The madwoman screeches, stray strands of black lift, and falls with her heavy breathing.
With her sleeve, Bellatrix roughly wipes off the spit across her cheekbone. More cuts slash open as Harry continues to twitch on the floor, biting any scream back into his throat, he could feel bile forcing up as his inners constrict with tension.
As Harry staggers back to the corner of the cell, Bellatrix grins as she lifts her wand once more, “ CRUCIO!” Immediately, an agonizing sensation washed over his body, the very same during his time in the graveyard, his body convulsed in protest, limbs twitching uncontrollably, letting out a blood-curdling scream as he couldn’t take it any longer, yet it sounds unfamiliar, mixed with someone’s deeper, hoarse voice. After what seems like an eternity, the unforgivable is lifted. Bellatrix's lips curled with satisfaction as she sees the prisoner retching and heaving against the corner.
Harry lets out a frustrated grunt as he attempts to send the death eater a glare with all the hostility he could come up with, only to be replied with a mocking chuckle.
“Potty Potter is still not asleep? Well, I guess I could have some more fun with our baby.” Bellatrix crouches back down, gazing at the captive with morbid fascination, sliding her wand back and forth across the metal bars as if she is playing the xylophone. The taunting melody synchronizes with whoever’s scream beyond the black door, Harry flinched as the loud cry starts anew along with a commanding “crucio”, yet the woman clad in black seems unfazed by the commotion outside, instead of looking a little annoyed. He hears her muttering about useless info and herself being the most loyal. Hooded gaze turns back to him when the cry goes silent.
“Our Lord doesn't tolerate failure, such obstacles shall be removed for him to reach the noble goal.” Harry could see Bellatrix swooning over her master by just referring to him, he audibly gulped as a sickeningly sweet smile started to appear on her face.
“So how about you be a good boy and scream louder for mommy to make my lord proud.”
Facing the eyes of deranged Harry curls up, even more, trying to make himself as small as possible, while bracing for the next wave of agony as the dark witch raises her wand once more, he doesn’t dare to look away from her.
“CRUCI—”
“Bella.”
A familiar cold, velvetine voice announced his presence.
Bellatrix turns her head with lightning speed, quickly pointing the wand towards the hooded figure at the door.
“What are you doing here.” She barked, not lowering the wand. The man walks closer until the tip of the stick almost touches his chest.
“The dark lord requires your presence.” He replied nonchalantly.
Harry tries to breathe as quietly as he can, trying not to draw any attention back to himself. From his blurred vision, he sees the deathly pale skin under specks of moonlight, porcelain uncovered by the black garment, the body still like a statue despite being at wand hold.
Bellatrix eyes the figure cautiously, hesitates, then slowly lowers her wand. Knocks the man’s shoulder as she stomps towards the half-closed door, she suddenly turns around and casts a red streak, aiming at the cell. As Harry tries to dodge it, the spell was deflected back towards the caster wordlessly, hitting the door frame.
“Watch it, Snape. Don’t have too much fun” the witch spits each syllable out as if it left a foul taste in her mouth. With that, she flings the door shut.
Silence fills the air, their ragged breathing is the only thing left to be heard.
“Traitor, you sodding trai—”
Before Harry could finish, Snape’s wand is pointed at his throat.
And a screech breaks out of his throat.
Except, he isn’t feeling any sort of stabbing pain similar to a couple of minutes ago, only his mouth going dry as the involuntary screaming goes on. He looks at the still hooded professor, half of his facial features shadowed by both his lumps of hair and fabric. Perhaps the man saw his questioning eyes, he simply shakes his head and continues the spell. He raises his left hand and pounds the bars next to the one Harry is leaning onto, he could feel the metal vibrating violently across his cheek.
The clanging lingers for a moment.
After a moment, he lowered his wand and gestured a finger in front of his lips. the sound of clicking boots goes away from the door, fading into nothing. Harry hears Snape let out a long breath.
“Muffliato.” The man mutters and sweeps across the air above them, then kneels in front of him.
He levitates out a glass vial with red liquid from the cloak's inner pocket “Drink it.” he whispered. Harry thinks Snape’s statement about him being an open book might be somewhat accurate, as the potions master scoffs after a brief look at him, “Blood-replenisher.” he states. Harry downs it hesitantly, feeling better as the potion works throughout his body, as well as providing some moisture for the mouth, then hands back the vial between the two poles to the man.
“Cruciatus?”
Harry nods, still feeling some after-effects coursing under his skin like growing vines.
Snape reaches his left hand deeper into his wand holster, holding up a flask with half-filled lime liquid, using his thumb as the stopper.
Under the pale moonlight, Harry sees the professor’s hands shaking profusely and jolting when he touches the hand. The pain dulls gradually as a light thrumming spreads across the muscles. Once again he returns the empty container.
“Lie down, for now, I’ll be back later,” he murmured, as he stood back up, trembling, with a hand against the wall for support.
“Sir are you alright?” Harry looks up, still focusing on the man’s pale, bony fingers still shaking as he sheathes the wand back into the holster.
The professor waves it off, before stiffly sliding out a thin rod from his sleeve, passing it to Harry. The long, thin stick of silver glimmers in his hands.
“I can't find your wand,” the man said, hands clasping one another “it’s my secondary, hide it in your trousers, you'd need that when we leave.”
Snape turns and heads towards the door, before feeling a tug at his cloak.
“Be silent and or I’ll leave you here forever you insolent boy.” he tries to sound intimidating, but it comes out the opposite.
Harry stares at the professor’s back as it gets further away, finally disappearing as he barges out the door.
He slumps back down onto the stone floor, twisting the silver between his fingers. A soft hum could be heard as he felt the “wand” resonate with his magical core, foreign, yet familiar.
He closes his eyes for a moment, imagining his friends surrounding him, Ron and the twins engaging in a playful fight, Sirius holding up two brooms while beaming at him. As they soar across the pains surrounding the burrow, euphoric tears threaten to fall, heart craving for the sweet freedom. As they flew further to the horizon, the plains switched to a sea of violets, flowers shimmering under the sun.
There stands a girl with auburn hair, waving wildly at them with an infectious smile. She opened her mouth, then came the voice of a mother.
“Harry.”
His heart sinks into the warm embrace.
Ch 2 Viola Sororia
Chapter End Notes:
