Chapter 9

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It had been three days…...three days filled with nasty tasting potions, tasteless food and forced sleep and these damned restraints. Harry lay awake in bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. He hadn't wanted any of this. He hadn't needed any of this in his already shortened life. Harry closed his eyes and struggled fruitlessly against the restraints. He had considered telling Voldemort countless times in the past three days, anything to get these restraints off but every time he had willed himself not to. He would not tell Voldemort anything. He would not prove himself weak. He was not weak.

Harry was gripped by an intense fit of coughing. Harry struggled hard against the restraints. He was going to vomit out blood. He knew that it was inevitable. No, Voldemort would find out if he vomited here. He wouldn't let it happen. He wouldn't let Voldemort know. Harry willed the restraints to vanish. He willed it with all his magic. Suddenly Harry felt them vanish and he jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom where he vomited out copious amounts of blood.

Harry slipped down to the floor, his body trembled uncontrollably. Harry held himself tightly and drew in deep breaths. It was getting worse. He had to get out of this place. He had to get away from Voldemort. He refused to die in front of Voldemort. Harry contained himself. This wasn't the time and place to fall apart. Harry rose to his feet unsteadily. He splashed water over his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. This was the perfect time to get away. He needed to escape now while everyone believed that he was restrained to that bed.

Harry stepped out of the room and looked around the room. He located his shoes and socks under the bed. He pulled them on as fast as he could and slipped out of the room. His brain was working at a thousand miles an hour. He heard approaching footsteps and slipped into the closest door, which turned out to be a broom closet. Harry heard intently to the sound of clicking heels and recognized the gait as Narcissa's. She was going to his room. She was going to discover his absence and report it to Voldemort.

Harry cursed the timing and ducked out of the broom closet and looked for a way out. He sneaked through corridors until he reached a flight of stairs. Harry moved down and found himself in the foyer. He felt joy and adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was finally going to get out. Harry ran to the oak door and tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. Harry cursed and tried harder. He had to get out. Harry was aware of the fact that his magic would not help him now. He had worn it out when he vanished the restraints. Harry heard rushing footsteps and he ran to the nearest door. He realized that it led down to the dungeons.

Harry ran down the steps and found himself in the cold dark dungeon. Was this where he had been kept? No, this was different. Harry continued to run and found a potions lab. Something was better than nothing. Harry entered it and found another door leading to a supplies room. Harry ran in and closed the door, hoping that no one would come looking for him here. He heard footsteps thundering overhead and shouts and cries permeating the air. Voldemort had probably employed all his death eaters to search for him. Harry slipped back behind the shelves of ingredients and sat down on the floor. There was nothing left but to wait it out now.

Harry sat against the wall and continued to listen intently to the distant sounds. He stared emptily at the jars full of colourful contents and contemplated on his situation. Was he being a coward? No, this was about surviving. He would not let Voldemort catch him again. Harry heard rushing footsteps just outside and he felt his heart beating out of his chest. He backed further behind the shelves and hoped that no one would look for him here. The footsteps drew nearer. Harry looked around but there was nowhere he could go now.

The door opened and Harry laid down on the ground, flat on his belly. A gruff voice spoke,

"What's the point of this? He's probably long gone."

Another voice spoke from the lab,

"Yeah, you're right. I'm tired of running around. This is the Dark Lord's problem."

The footsteps began backing away and Harry breathed out sigh of relief. He raised himself into a sitting position and wondered how long he would have to stay here. How long could be possibly stay here? Harry was just in the middle of these thoughts when his scar came alive with pain and burned excruciatingly. Harry immediately bit down on his knuckle to stop himself from screaming. The pain was too intense, too all consuming. Harry felt his teeth break the skin and he felt the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth. He wouldn't scream. He would not scream. This was Voldemort's way of tracking him down.

Harry closed his eyes as the pain grew increasingly worse. Voldemort's magically amplified voice filled the manor,

"I am aware that you are still present within these walls, Potter. You cannot hide forever. Come out willingly and I shall be merciful. If you do not comply then I shall seek you out personally and you shall regret ever trying to escape."

The voice died down but the pain remained. Harry laid down on the cold stone floor and curled up tightly so that his face was buried in his chest. He had to endure. He just had to get through this. The pain grew dull and Harry relaxed. He opened his eyes and looked down at his hand which was bleeding profusely. He tore off a piece of cloth from his sleeve and wrapped it tightly around his hand to stop the blood flow.

After recovering completely from the after effects of the pain, Harry looked around. Voldemort's threats were not empty. That pain would return a thousand times worse and he had to be prepared for it.

Harry looked around and mentally slapped himself. He was in a potions lab for crying out loud. There had to be something here to relieve or at least numb the pain. Harry crawled out from behind the shelves and looked through the closets full of phials and flasks.

He felt relieved when he realized that the potions were categorized by purpose. Harry went over the sleep section and looked for the pain section. He found it with ease and looked through the various bottles for a pain-relieving draught. He couldn't believe his luck when he found a flask at the very back of the shelf. He pocketed it carefully and then looked for a healing salve for his hand. Harry thanked whoever had arranged the potions so well upon finding the healing salve. He was just returning to the supplies room when something caught his eye and made him stop in his steps.

If you have the time, then check out my new Harry Potter fanfic labelled "Desperation" Just visit my profile or click on the link below,


Check out my other fanfic named "No Escape." If you haven't checked it out yet. Just visit my profile or click on the link below