A Tale of Two Brothers

Chapter 35

December 15, 1995.

There was no way to get used to the pain of the cruciatus curse. Harry had thought that after the number of times Voldemort had put him under it, maybe it would lose its effects, maybe he'd get used to it. But that was not the case. It felt like every time the curse was used on him, the pain only became more and more unbearable.

Finally, the cruciatus was lifted off him and the cold voice of the Dark Lord cut through the haze in his mind.

"Get out, Potter. Next time, bring some useful information."

With great effort, Harry stood up and bowed. "My Lord." Without looking up, he turned away and walked out of the hall as fast as he could. He continued walking until he was at a safe distance from the enraged Dark Lord and then collapsed on the floor. The incessant pain of the curse never left. He sat on the floor for a while, breathing steadily to get himself under control. Time passed by slowly as Harry rested there. He reminded himself that he deserved something far worse than this for everything he'd done so far. Sometimes, the guilt was so bad that he was physically unable to breathe, but when it was not there, even the memory of it was gone, until the regret came back in full force piling up with all the terrible things he did until then.

Harry made himself stand up when he heard the familiar sound of footsteps in the hallway.

"Again?" Graham said when he noticed his still trembling fingers. "It has been over two months now."

"Yes." Harry breathed shakily and started walking towards the entrance of the manor. "How did the meeting go?"

"Our Lord is disappointed by the performance of the new recruits. Or should I say rather the lack of it." They were finally out on the grounds. Graham looked around, searching for the Dark Lord's snake. "It's of no use, punishing you over something you had no control over." He whispered.

"His entire inner circle is in Azkaban with the exception of Snape. Even I wouldn't get over that."

"The disrespect." Graham murmured, though the words had no real heat behind them. At this point, he was probably used to it. "My father would hang me by my toes if such words came out of my mouth."

"The thing is my father encouraged it on the other hand." Harry spotted a house-elf trying to get out the blood on an old fountain. He wondered what happened there.

"Harry." This time, there was a slight reprimand in the older man's voice, which he knew had no effect on him. "How is the Dark Lord planning to get them out? That is why you were there, right?"

"Yes. Our Lord has decided that since I escaped while his worthy Death Eaters were caught, it is my responsibility to get them out." He would rather like to leave them to rot in that prison. Maybe it would be much better to kill the Dark Lord before he got control over the Ministry. He wanted to, he'd give his life to do so, but Harry feared that Voldemort would somehow return even if he managed to kill him. He first had to figure out how the man did it. What allowed the Dark Lord to return back from death?

Graham, unaware of his musings, continued talking. "So, you are in charge of the rescue?"

"You can say that."

"I am almost jealous. You get assigned with such important tasks, while all I get are children barely eighteen to train." He said with a small, amused smile.

Harry shook his head in exhaustion. "Believe me, it is not a gift. This is a punishment for our failure."

Finally, they reached the main gates. Harry lifted his hand and pressed it on the iron bars, clenching his jaw when it burned by the intensity of the wards.