A Capacity to Love

1. Welcome to Prison

"Crucio!" he exclaimed.

The determined smirk on Voldemort's pale white face showed that he was getting satisfaction from inflicting the maximum amount of pain on the young woman in front of him, one that the Snatchers had caught for him.  But there was something pecuiliar about her.  The Snatchers had told him the story of how they had used Sectumsempra on her, yet here she stood in front of him without a scratch.  He wanted more than anything to know how that was possible.  It may be the key to defeat Harry Potter once and for all.  And she was being difficult.

"Crucio!" he yelled again.

"Stop!" she screamed.  "Please!"

His beady eyes narrowed.  "Is our guest ready to talk yet?  I ask you again.  How did you do it?  How did you heal yourself so fast?"

The girl on the floor at his feet was shaking.  She wanted desperately for the pain each curse caused to go back on its caster tenfold, to let him get what he deserved.

"I-I don't know," she stammered.  "I was born this way."

"Rubbish!" he squealed in a shrill voice.  "You just refuse to tell me."

"No!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.  "I really don't know."

Voldemort sighed wearily.  He had already been going at it for an hour.  Still her story had not changed.  But she was lying.  He hit her mercilessly with another blast of the torture curse.  She screamed out in agony causing the Death Eaters, in the room witnessing the torture, by their master's side, to wince.

"Let's try this again.  How did you make those wounds go away?"

She was writhing in pain on the floor in front of him, the pain white hot in her muscles and joints.  She felt like she was on fire.  Tears flowed from her eyes like a steady river.  She wasn't going to make it through this and she knew it.

Voldemort bent down close to her, his putrid breath only inches from her face.  A wicked sneer spread across his snakelike lips.

"You will tell me or you will die a slow and terrible death.  I need the power to do what you have done.  Tell me how."

Shaking and twitching involuntarily now, she raised her head slightly from the ground to look him in the eye.  She didn't know what else to tell him.  There was no method to her healing herself.  It just happened.  She had never questioned her ability.  She had never had a reason to.

"Piper, start talking," he pressed her.

"I-I don't know," she sobbed.

Voldemort slammed his fists down on the floor beside of her, causing her body to shake worse than ever.  He bolted upright and took out his wand.

"Very well.  It is obvious you do not wish to give me this information."

With a wave of his long white arm, Piper was blasted back against the wall, knocking a few Death Eaters down in the process.  Voldemort was really starting to lose it.

"Tell me now!" he screamed.

Piper was hysterical now.  Tears were flying out of her eyes.  She knew she was dead.  This was it.

"I don't know!" she whispered.  "I told you the truth.  I was born with the gift."

"Ahahaha!  This is getting me nowhere!"  Voldemort turned to Yaxley who had been quietly enjoying the show.  "You are sure you saw her do this?"

He nodded confidently.  No way would he ever lie to the Dark Lord.  "With my own eyes.  A bright light appeared and the blood retracted like it had never been spilled."