Survival Bonds

Chapter 2: The Attack

The pounding earthquakes came and woke me from my half sleep. Instinctively I hid further under my invisibility cloak in my special place under the bed. Sounds similar to bombs exploding ring in my ears and my instincts are too heightened too allow me to move. From under my bed hidden, I can see the door being kicked in and several sets of boots stomping violently across the floor. With my cloak, I run. There are so many infiltrating this house and I already know who they are, but I'm afraid to think the word out loud. The door is blocked as they search. For me. Distantly in the back of my head, I know I should be worried for the muggles that have taken me in, but first I need to worry about my own survival.

My legs scream run, but my brain screams hide. I use the commotion to hide in my cupboard. It is the only safe place that I can think of. I can hear some of them barking orders.

"Leave nothing unchecked. Find the boy." I'm scared. I never suspected that I would be facing this alone. I can't take on all of them and I can't escape. I fight the screams down when the door opens to my safe place and I'm faced with a tall man in dark robes and a grotesque misshapen mask.

"This one is empty." The man barks, but doesn't look away from my hiding spot. My hand quietly slaps over my mouth to keep me from breaking shaky breaths to loudly. Merlin. Keep going. You already said this place is empty. Leave. Leave. But the figure doesn't leave. It looks in longer as if seeing me, but that's impossible. A lifetime later, the same man grabs me and only the teeth biting down on my bottom lip keeps me from screaming. The boney hand grasps my wrist and I'm frantically trying to pull free. I can feel individual fingers long and pointy digging into the soft flesh.

Then I'm weightless. I can only feel fingers bruisingly engulfing my wrist. This is where I die. I'll be presented to Voldemort. No more Harry Potter. No more wizarding world. Or muggle world for that matter. I failed everyone. I refuse to cry though. I will face my death with calmness. And I will go down fighting.

I don't give myself a moment to take in my surroundings when the magic wears off and we've landed. My fist, as tightly wound as I can, connects to this monster's chest. With a groan, the man squeezes me tighter before throwing me in a nearby room. The mask is removed, but I'm to busy preparing for my next lunge at him.

"Potter. You will do well to not harm your savior. Dumbledore is on his way, you will remain in this room. I must go back." Snape's voice is booming and allows for no argument. He looks at me hesitantly for a beat of a moment then with a crack, he vanishes. His eyes baring into my soul leave a lasting image. The entire exchange was so quick I question if it really happened.

Alone in darkness, fear grips me. What if he's lying. What if the person that is really on his way is Voldemort. Can I really trust Snape? He's never been particularly kind... more like he's never been particularly human. But if we were waiting on Voldemort, then Snape certainly wouldn't have left me unguarded. Right? Those robes though and that misshapen mask that is a parody of a tortured face. He is a death eater. I remember looking in the pensive, but Dumbledore trusts him. But I saw him among them. But right now. He saved me, right?

I can still feel the tight grip on my wrist and I rub it to alleviate some of the pain. The scar on my forehead is burning as well. I was told not to leave this room. For now, I will trust my teacher, but only because he saved me. That doesn't mean I have to numbly wait for Voldemort or Dumbledore. Now that I can breathe again, I take in the room around me. It certainly looks like a place for death eaters to congregate. The wallpaper is pealing, and the small lightbulb flickers- hardly lighting the room. The smell is musty like most old dilapidated buildings are. The furniture lacks any modern appearance. The furniture in the room consists of a bed- with stained and ugly sheets, a chest of drawers- that appears half broken, and a cushy chair with torn upholstery.