My Godfather

Chapter XXX: The Price for Freedom

Sirius and Harry followed the goblins out of the ornate office and down the flights of stairs. They reached the carts that led to the thousands of vaults. They got into the carts but instead of going the usual way, the cart moved in the opposite direction. Sirius observed that this section was darker and colder than the rest of the bank. It was nearly impossible to make out anything in the darkness.

The cart rattled along the creaky rails and they went zooming downward. He felt Harry shaking against him; from the cold or fear of what was about to happen– he wasn't sure. The carts came to an abrupt halt in front of a massive oak door. It was a double door with a huge wrought iron handle in the centre. They jumped out and followed Arnok.

The goblin placed one gnarled hand on the door and murmured something. There was a grating sound as the doors opened. The interiors did nothing to calm him down. The place was as large as the office they had previously exited. It didn't have any decorations or anything. The entire place was constructed from stone, lit with fire torches. In the centre, a huge circle had been made from some powder like substance on which the legendary weapons had been arranged. He shivered involuntarily and he felt his father's arm pull him closer and was thankful for it.

"We are ready to begin any minute now. Lord Black, you will have to let go of Mr. Potter."

Harry was terrified of the pain that was about to come. At that moment, it didn't matter that he was a Gryffindor. He was afraid. Plain and simple. He threw himself against Sirius, locking his arms around the man's waist in a death grip. "Please don't go." He wanted to do this but that didn't change the fact that he was scared.

"Sshh. I'm right here. I'll be watching the whole time. I'm not leaving you, kiddo." Harry nodded against him and pulled away. He needed to be strong for this. His father kissed his forehead and offered him a warm smile. "I love you, pup. Never forget that."

"Love you too." Harry whispered before turning to the goblins. He knew that if he protested, Sirius would take him home. But, he had to do this. "I'm ready." He told them, hoping that his voice sounded steady enough. He stepped into the circle as indicated and stood in the centre, trying to stop his knees from shaking badly. He got a good look at the weapons now. One of them was the sword of Gryffindor; the second one was a jewel-encrusted dagger. There was a sabre and lastly, a spear.

"Mr. Potter, please lie down." He took one last look at Sirius who nodded reassuringly and got down on the floor. It'll be fine. He told himself. There was absolute silence for two minutes. Then, the chanting began. Initially, he felt nothing other than a mild prickling sensation all over his body. The pain began. At first, it was a moderate sting but soon escalated. Raw pain shot through every part of him. His scar was burning; his arms were already starting to feel sore and his chest felt trapped.

Suddenly, it felt like a knife embedded itself in his chest. At least that's what it felt like. A heart-wrenching scream ripped through his throat. He couldn't take it; it hurt. Then, two knives were driven into both his shoulders, at once. Another into his stomach; his legs, arms and finally; his scar. A burning stripe was laid across his chest: a whip. And so the torture continued. The small rational part of his mind was able to process the knowledge that it wasn't really the knives. It was the pain that Arnok had spoken about.

Harry screamed, sobbed and writhed in pure agony. He twisted in every possible way, begging for the pain to stop. The invisible knives and whips didn't let up for even a second. It hurt so much. He didn't know if he'd make it. Tears had blurred his vision and by now, all he could make out was the dim glow of the candles that hung from the ceiling. He heard voices– people's pain and suffering at the hands of Voldemort. He heard them begging for mercy and Voldemort's corresponding cruelty towards them. Their screams, sorrow and the heartache in their voice: Harry heard it all.