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Author: Rosina Ferguson Story: Harry Potter and the Book of Ages Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 7 Words: 64,426
The swirl of colours and sounds faded and Harry fell forward onto his knees on cold wet grass, his glasses falling from his face. Trying hard not to panic, he ran his fingers over the grass until he felt the familiar frames. He picked them up and placed them on his face and looked around through the smeary wet lenses. Harry was in the centre of a field, but he was not alone; he was surrounded by at least a dozen black-robed and masked Death Eaters. He quickly registered one fact – they all had their wands trained on him! The sun had finally slid beneath the horizon and all that remained was the deceptively warm and welcoming glow in the far distance. The field was lit by the flickering orange-red light of flaming torches held by shrouded dark-cloaked figures whose features were hidden by their raised hoods. The torch-bearing sentinels were standing in an outer ring some ten or more feet beyond the Death Eaters. Reckoning there were two torch-bearers for each of the thirty or more Death Eaters, Harry realised that Voldemort's efforts in building up his forces had been far more successful than the Order was aware. Harry knew that he had to get away and get away quickly. Moody had drummed into Harry that he must never go out unarmed and it had been an automatic action for him to tuck his wand into his sleeve when he had changed to go out, but what good would that do him now? One wand up against so many – he didn't stand a chance! He stood and kept his wand concealed, thinking that with a bit of luck the odds might change in his favour. Well, with quite a lot of luck really. One of the anonymous number stepped forward and raised his wand to cast a spell. Harry prepared himself for the worst and expected to feel the extreme pain of the Cruciatus Curse or one of the other agonisingly painful spells the Death Eaters were so fond of, but no….. Long thin cords sprang from the Death Eater's wand (was that a snake's head he could see grasped in the Death Eater's hand?) and Harry found himself tightly bound from shoulders to ankles. Immediately Harry fell to the ground immobilised. Another 'If only' sprang to mind. If only I had learned to become an Animagus, I could escape just like Wormtail, thought Harry. This, however, was another skill he had yet to master…. if he ever got the chance. Lying flat on his back in the long grass, all he could do was stare up at the clear bright sky. Mars is bright tonight, thought Harry recalling Firenze's words, and so is that jet stream. Harry suddenly realised that he could see the same streak in the sky from the holidaymakers jet that he had seen on his way to the shop, so that could only mean that he was still in Little Whinging. A masked figure bent over Harry and a quick search revealed Harry's wand which was taken ….. along with a cutting of his hair. Knowing of only one reason to take his hair, Harry guessed that it was to be used in some Polyjuice Potion and that someone would be impersonating him. Struggling even more in his bonds, Harry could feel panic start to rise inside him. Someone was going to be going about looking just like him and with his wand. Harry knew nothing good could come of this, but still could not break free. The robes of another masked Death Eater approached Harry slowly, removing his mask as he stepped into a pool of torchlight. It was Lucius Malfoy. "I hope you are feeling very uncomfortable, Mr. Potter. It's not much fun being restrained, is it? When Dumbledore tied me up in that Anti-Disapparation charm in the Ministry last month, I didn't like it much either nor did I enjoy my brief stay in Azkaban. The Dark Lord, of course, awards his faithful followers; as you can see I am free once more to do my Lord's work. How soon do you think your friends will rescue you, Mr. Potter? Not for a very long time if I have anything to do with it. You will suffer as I suffered, I shall see to that!" Harry braced himself, expecting indescribable agony, but Malfoy simply pointed that snake-headed wand at him and quietly said, "Stupefy!" and Harry's world went black. -o-O-o- Harry felt extremely sick, thirsty and hungry when he awoke. He had expected to still be bound hand and foot and to be lying in a damp dungeon somewhere, but for a fleeting moment he thought he was back at Hogwarts. He was lying on a four-poster bed with hangings of green and silver. Harry had to part them so that he could throw up on the floor. Shivering violently and wondering if he had somehow been poisoned as well as imprisoned, Harry laid back on the bed in an effort to stop his teeth chattering. Confused by the sudden turn of events, Harry looked around the luxuriously appointed room. Far from being a dungeon Harry guessed he must be on an upper floor as the window was level with the treetops visible outside. Apart from the very comfortable bed, the room contained a large leather chesterfield sofa and two matching armchairs. These were all grouped around a magnificent fireplace with a large and elaborately carved mantelpiece. Harry expected to see tapestries or paintings hung on the walls, but they were strangely bare. After a few minutes a house-elf popped into being at the side of the bed and wordlessly cleared up the vomit while a second elf placed a tray of wonderful smelling food and drink on the bedside table before Disapparating once more. As he picked up his glasses where they had been moved beside the tray, Harry saw a covered plate of bacon, sausages, eggs and tomatoes. There was a rack of toast with dishes of butter and marmalade and a pot of tea for one with milk and sugar. Well, I expect they are just giving the condemned man a hearty breakfast, thought Harry, but he thought too of what Moody would say if he ate or drank anything given by a known enemy. Moody's advice had saved Harry's bacon once before and he wouldn't ignore it now. Turning away from the temptation on the tray, Harry continued his survey of his surroundings. The room had a high ceiling with an ornate and many-branched candelabrum at its centre, its light reaching into the farthest corners. He went to stand up and walk to the window to try and get his bearings, but as soon as he put his feet over the side of the bed he was struck by wave after wave of nausea and he was forced to lie down again. Whatever they've poisoned me with I hope it wears off soon, thought Harry as he laid his head down on the pillow once more. He closed his eyes to try and calm himself and realised that the canopy of the bed also had light coming from it … bright penetrating light that seemed to sear through his eyelids and into his brain. Placing one arm over his face to try and get some respite Harry tried to formulate a plan of escape, but he quickly realised that he had too little information about his surroundings and feeling as sick as he was he wasn't going to be able to do anything. Sleep, that's what I need to do, sleep. Rest and recharge the body and hope I'll feel better when I wake. Harry turned over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow and tried to shut out the world. -o-O-o- The sun was high in the sky and bright sunshine was streaming through the beautifully proportioned windows hung with thick dark green velvet curtains. The sunshine was also going straight into Harry's eyes as he awoke. Once more he sat up groggily and found he had to reach for his glasses (someone had obviously removed them while he slept) from the bedside table. The tray of breakfast had been removed and in its place was a tray containing a basket of rolls, a covered cheese board with a selection of cheeses, dishes of butter and pickles and a large bowl of delicious looking fruit. A glass and a jug of what looked like pumpkin juice was next to the tray. Harry sat up and was rubbing his right forearm with his left hand as he swung his legs out of bed once more. Again the world spun round and round, again he felt the extreme nausea he'd felt earlier. Lying back, Harry rubbed once more at his arm as he felt irritation there. Cautiously he sat up and pushed up the sleeve of the sweatshirt he was wearing. There on the inside of his right arm was a patch of angry red skin. "What the….?" Rubbing at the skin wondering what had caused the itching, but guessing that some potion had been used there, Harry quickly raised his head when he heard the sound of the door being opened. Into the room strode Lucius Malfoy, arrogance and supreme confidence screaming from his poise and bearing. Malfoy walked over to the huge fireplace and pointed his wand into the grate, flames immediately roared to life. "Feeling comfortable, Mr. Potter? Settling into your new surroundings? I do hope not!" Harry screwed up his face in puzzlement at Malfoy's words. "Are you truly aware of your situation?" Malfoy continued. "I hardly think that you are. You see, Potter, while you languish here in the lap of luxury you are also being sought by the Ministry of Magic. Why, you may ask, am I telling you this? Well you see, one Harry James Potter was last night witnessed performing Dark magic… the Darkest magic right in front of two members of the Order of the Phoenix! Yes, Potter, Lord Voldemort is aware of the Order's existence and Dumbledore's feeble efforts at rallying support against him, but his best efforts will be in vain. Dumbledore depended so much on his 'Saviour' … you, Potter, … coming along to save the day! But no more, Potter, no more! The wizarding world will turn its back on you now, no not even that Muggle loving fool will make any effort to save you, not when you have been witnessed committing such unforgivable crimes." Harry's confusion only grew …. Unforgivable crimes? What did he mean? Malfoy drew a copy of the Daily Prophet from inside his robes, strode over to Harry's bed and nonchalantly threw it onto the covers before letting out a roar of laughter. "By the way, just in case you thought you might try and escape I warn you now, this fireplace is not connected to the Floo Network so you should just lie back and accept your fate. Not that you have any choice! I once said to you, Potter, that one day you would meet the same sticky end as your parents and that day will soon be here!" he snarled. "But not before the Dark Lord ensures you suffer as he suffered," added Malfoy before sweeping disdainfully from the room. Fearing another Portkey, Harry looked down at the paper without touching it. HARRY POTTER - THE BOY-WHO-KILLED The headlines screamed at Harry. The article went on… Death and destruction came to the town of Little Whinging, Surrey, last night. The peace of this suburban community was shattered as four bodies were found in the burned out ruins of the home of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Potter (16) had been thought of as the possible saviour of the wizarding world, but this hope was cruelly shattered as witnesses claim that the Hogwarts student was seen to cast the Dark Mark in the sky over his former home. Experts from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad claim that the four bodies were killed by Avada Kedavra and if tests confirm that Potter did in fact cast the spell, he will receive an automatic life sentence in Azkaban. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge stated that he never did believe in Potter's innocence at his hearing last August. "I said then that he was guilty and I still say that he is guilty. Too many times has Dumbledore bailed that boy out of trouble, but we have witnesses this time and witnesses from Dumbledore's own Order of the Phoenix to boot!" The witnesses, presently being held in protective custody by the MLES, were one William Weasley (29 of Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon) and Mrs. Arabella Figg (aged 69 of Little Whinging). Ironically it was the same Arabella Figg who stood as witness to Potter's innocence when charged with illegally using the Patronus Charm last August (for a recap on that charge see page 5). Mr. Weasley attempted to disarm and capture Potter and, although he managed to escape, he did so without his wand. Experts from the MLES are currently running tests to determine exactly what spells Potter had cast thus obtaining irrefutable evidence of his guilt. Harry slumped back onto the pillows. Murder! They were accusing him of murder! Well the one place the MLES wouldn't look for him was in the hideout of the Death Eaters, not that that would help him any. If he managed to escape he'd end up having to run from the MLES as well as from the Death Eaters. Oh joy, isn't life just grand? What other challenges are going to be thrown at me? Harry wondered. Lying on his back the sweat now running down his face, Harry tried to think of what Sirius would say if he were here. After all Sirius had been on the run for two years after escaping from Azkaban, he surely would have been in tricky situations like this, what would he have done? Cursing again the fact that while he had the chance to talk to Sirius when he had stayed in Grimmauld Place, Harry in fact had asked his godfather very little of what he had gone through and now he would never have that chance. Sirius was gone. Sirius had spent 12 years in Azkaban, but then Sirius had been an Animagus and had been able to change into his animal form, that of a huge black dog, and thereby escaped the worse effects of the dementors. What if I end up in Azkaban? worried Harry, but he quickly added, Fool, what are you worrying about Azkaban for? The Death Eaters are probably going to do you in long before then! Turning his thoughts back to his immediate problem of escape, Harry tried once more to check out his surroundings. The feeling of nausea had gone. Perhaps all the sweating from the fire's heat has sweated some of the poison out of my body, thought Harry as he realised he could stand on the bed and not feel dizzy, but as soon as his foot touched the floor…..Okay, I guess that means that the floor is enchanted to cause nausea to keep me in the bed. Harry lay back and counted up to 200 breathing slowly and steadily until the world steadied once more. Shoes… where are my shoes? Harry hung himself over the edge of the mattress, but there was no sign of his shoes anywhere. No shoes! What a simple, but Harry had to admit effective, way of reducing a prisoner's ability to escape! Standing up on the bed again, Harry was able to look out of the high windows to either side of the four-poster; he could make out beautiful landscaped parklands surrounding the house. He appeared to be in one wing of a large Georgian country house. The way he was strutting around as though he owned the place Harry guessed this was in fact Malfoy's mansion, Malfoy Manor, and that would mean he was in…. Wiltshire. The Daily Prophet reported that Malfoy's home was in Wiltshire when Umbridge's appointment as Hogwarts High Inquisitor appeared in the paper last year. That's where I must be then and that means that I'm not that far from the Burrow. Thoughts of the Weasleys came to mind quickly, but just as quickly came the question, Will they believe as Bill does that I'm a murderer? Or will they help me to uncover the truth and prove my innocence? Survival! That's the name of the game, thought Harry. Standing up on the bed Harry looked around to see what resources he had on hand. Looking at the bed head above the pillows there were a number of small tapestries protected behind glass; the centre oval was about 12 inches by 10 inches and it was surrounded by at least ten small circular panels, each about four inches in diameter. Taking the pillowcase off the bottom pillow, Harry carefully held it over the largest oval. It was tougher than he thought, as the glass was convex as well as oval, and it took three or four attempts before it at last broke into three large pieces and one smaller one; miraculously all the pieces stayed in the frame. Protecting his hands with the pillowcase once more, Harry carefully lifted out the smallest piece. It was triangular and the two long edges were wickedly sharp, the third side had been part of the edge and was bound with fabric tape glued to it. It took some tugging to finally remove it and using the Daily Prophet (excluding the front page and page 5) Harry wrapped it so he could hold it like a knife without cutting himself. All the knocking and tugging at the bedhead had loosened one of the small circular glass covers and Harry picked one up and wrapped it carefully, tucking it into the pillowcase. The inside of the ceiling of the four-poster was lined with what Harry could only assume was enchanted canvas of some sort. It glowed with a very bright light, so bright that it hurt his eyes to look at it for long. Glad that he had grown a few inches over the summer (despite the meagre portions provided by Aunt Petunia) Harry found that if he stood on the pillows he could reach the canvas. He began to cut it away from the frame with the glass fragment. It was tough going and made his arms ache from reaching above his head, but finally he'd cut away a fairly large piece that continued to glow so he tucked that too into his makeshift rucksack. Climbing up through the hole, Harry was able to sit on the top frame of the bed. The bed was positioned against the outside wall of the house with the bed head between two very tall elegant Georgian windows. The dark green velvet curtains were tied back on either side, but had cords attached to them so they could be closed; they looked as though they hadn't been touched in years, the outside edges of the pleats being faded and the inside retaining the original colour. Those silk cords could come in mighty handy, thought Harry. He reached up to cut as long a length as he could. He had just moved the top of the curtain when Harry saw they were infested with doxies. Harry remembered how careful Mrs. Weasley had been when dealing with doxies in Grimmauld Place; their sharp teeth were poisonous and they'd used Doxycide on them. Not having any anti-venom, Harry gave the doxies the respect they deserved. Dropping back down onto the bed, he removed two more pillowcases and, once he was back on the bed head, he used one to grab hold of a couple of doxies and tie them securely inside the other. Tucking the bundle of cloth inside the first pillowcase, Harry at last was able to cut the cords and stash them in the makeshift rucksack. Balanced on top of the bed frame, one hand holding tight to the curtains, Harry was able to reach across to the catch that secured the window. Fortunately it was a sash window, but two large screws fixed about three inches above the lower sash meant that it would only open enough to let in fresh air, but not enough to let Harry escape. If the bottom window couldn't go up though, Harry realised, the top window could go down. Stretching across once more Harry pushed and pushed until he thought his fingers would break, but it wouldn't budge. Standing precariously on top of the bed frame Harry reached up to the curtain pole and found that it was more than strong enough to hold his weight. It was a large brass pole with very strong fixings to the wall. He grabbed hold of it and began to make his way across to the middle of the window, the pillowcase slung over his shoulder. From this position Harry now found he could use his feet to push down on the top sash. Slowly, oh so slowly, it eventually moved down about eight inches, but it was more than enough for Harry's slim frame to slip through. Thankful for his years of Quidditch training which had made him very supple and wiry, Harry slipped his legs through the gap and after much twisting and squirming, he was able to release the curtain pole and reach one hand through the window to grasp the thick ivy covering the outside of the house. The ivy stems were thick, old and twisted and gave Harry plenty of hand and footholds to assist with his passage towards the roof. (He had originally planned to climb down, but seeing light spilling out from the rooms below on the terrace, Harry decided to go up first.) The ivy was dark green variegated with silvery grey, but intertwined with it was another plant that Harry quickly recognised from Herbology. Giving thanks to Professor Sprout, Harry moved towards the nearest strands of the whispering vine. One of the main uses of this wonderful plant was for communication; indeed it was strands of whispering vine that made up the main part of Fred and George's highly useful Extendable Ears that had come in so handy over the last year. Harry reached over and held a leaf to his ear, immediately being able to hear all that was being discussed in the room below. Harry could make out the soft silky tones of Lucius Malfoy and, although his tones were soft and silky, the words were harsh and cruel. "Soon the time will come when Fudge and the Ministry will come crawling on bended knees, pleading with the Dark Lord for assistance. As far as the rest of the wizarding world is concerned, Harry Potter has finally gone berserk and broken free of Dumbledore's control. He's gone rogue and yet still Dumbledore won't hear a thing against him, so who can Fudge turn to? Why he will turn to me! Yes, Bella, I have been carefully cultivating Fudge for many years now and he is almost ripe for the picking. He showed last year just how willing he is to believe in his own judgment and discard the opinions of those around him. Such an arrogant self-centred fool he is. It was all going so well until Dumbledore turned up at the Ministry. Yes, it was a pity that Fudge witnessed the Dark Lord's brief appearance, but no matter. A carefully cast Memory Charm and he was all too willing to believe it was all a trick by Dumbledore to try and regain some of his lost power." At that moment Harry heard a door open and a voice announce, "Your guests have arrived, m'Lord, I have shown them into the library as instructed." "Thank you, Carstairs, please go and tell my wife so that she may entertain our guests until my arrival." "Very good, m'Lord." Harry heard the door close and Malfoy speak once more, "If there's one thing your dear sister is good for, Bella, it is playing the hostess. She can be charm personified when she chooses, but what she lacks is passion. That is one thing you have always had in plenty, my dear, is it not?" Footsteps were heard to cross the floor and the sound of a hand striking a cheek. "Yes, I am passionate, Lucius, you are quite right. I am passionate in my desire to serve one lord and one lord only. My life, my body, my very soul belongs to the Dark Lord and you should remember that! You chose my dear sister many years ago, Lucius, and she has served you well, given you a son and heir and provided you with the perfect position in society to enable you to carry out the Dark Lord's will. Do not be so ready to discard her now! You know my family motto, do you not? 'Toujour Pur,' always pure, and that includes our hatred of our enemies. You do not wish to make me an enemy, do you, Lucius?" Now it was Bellatrix's voice that was silky, but the tones were decidedly dangerous. Harry supposed the two of them must have left the room together as he heard no more. Climbing steadily higher, Harry came at last to the stone balustrade that ran round the top of the house. Peering over the top he could see someone who could only be Goyle Senior standing guard with a pair of Omnioculars in his hand. Ducking down quickly, Harry climbed back down the ivy to a point where he could hook his left leg behind a particularly thick branch, freeing his hands to reach for his makeshift rucksack. Carefully Harry removed the pillowcase containing the two doxies and slung the remaining bag back over his shoulder. Back up the ivy he went as silently as he could manage. The sun was dropping towards the horizon once more and Goyle Senior, showing an appreciation of the beauty of the sunset that surprised Harry, was standing gazing at the splendour of the sky. Harry didn't waste this unexpected opportunity and he hopped nimbly over the balustrade, dropping into a crouch on the other side. The roof had narrow stone walkways around the edge and in the centre were a number of glazed skylights, some quite simple, some very ornate like miniature conservatory roofs. Harry crouched down out of Goyle's sight and looked through the glass into the room below. It obviously was the library. The room was two storeys high and had a wide balcony running all the way round the inside with a spiral staircase down to the main floor level. It was beautifully proportioned and contained many thousands of books and, Harry guessed, a good number of them would probably belong in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. An impressive stone fireplace filled one wall flanked by two leather couches. In the centre of the library was a huge table with a map of the whole of the UK on it. It seemed to be an enormous version of the Marauder's Map with labelled dots moving across it. While Harry was staring at it and wishing he could see the details more clearly, he suddenly remembered the Omnioculars Goyle was holding and wished he had them instead. What he did have, however, and which had obviously been overlooked by his captors, was one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears tucked in his pocket. Thank goodness it looked just like a ball of pink string, thought Harry. Unwinding the ball, Harry found that he could wiggle one end down through a crack in the glass and was able to lower it into the room. Sticking the other end in his ear, Harry was able to listen in on the conversation in the room below. "…… should have the desired effect. Fudge is due to address the final Sitting of the House on the night of the 1st August. The Parliament won't meet again until 24th September, after the summer recess; that gives us almost two months to make sure everything is in place before the start of the Autumn Sitting. The Dark Lord will arrive at the Circle at fifteen minutes to midnight on the night of the Equinox, 24th September, and he demands that everything be in place for the ceremony to take place at midnight precisely. We have Potter, but we still need his sword, the talisman, the staff and the book. Once the ceremony has been conducted the Dark Lord will be invincible. No matter what Dumbledore tries, he will not be able to stop the Dark Lord once he has absorbed Potter's magical core. Progress reports please, Ladies and Gentlemen…….."
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