Into Darkness - Moment by Moment Book #1 (Harry Potter, Drarry)

The New Life

Harry let the world come back slowly. It was an uncomfortable place where even his bones ached, and his scar was burning still, and the young man tried not to move as the mists lifted. Finally, however, he met reality fully and opened his eyes onto a rough, grey wall. He stared at it for a while, keeping his thoughts largely blank, but life wanted to re-impose itself, despite the numbness he was trying to maintain. With a little sigh, which became a deep groan of tribute to his aches and pain, Harry gathered the courage to roll over, and turned to face his new life.

It was a cell: a close, four-walled prison of granite without a window. The prisoner stifled the chill and insignificance he felt, curled in the corner of the chamber on a hard, wooden cot, and pulled up a thin, rough blanket that had been thrown haphazardly over him. He was cold, his heavy robes gone, replaced by an itchy shirt and trousers that were as grey as the heat-leeching walls.

A dim glow from the other side of the cell door was his only light, but it was artificial, lifeless, so he ignored it and closed his eyes again, trying to hold back any thoughts with an exhaustion that made his limbs heavy. Sleep wouldn't return, however, as the fight to stall his memory became more difficult. The jeers of his enemies came back to his mind's ear, and his own sickness at the lack of humanity which allowed such horrors made Harry's stomach churn.

This was life now, life at the whim of a power-crazed despot. Harry bit his lip to halt a mew of dismay: he would not show weakness to this world, the very idea made him angry. The young wizard grabbed on to that emotion; he was a Gryffindor, an Auror, a human being, and he would not give in to the depravity of others. Deliberately, he sat up and glared at his surroundings; he ignored the soreness of his body and pushed any musings to the back of his mind. Now had to be faced, and he would do it with the stubborn spirit which had earned him a place in his former house.

Harry stood up and stretched; a shiver ran gratefully down his spine. He chose to explore his limited world, taking a few paces away from the bed, and realised that within the shadow of the opposite wall was in fact a small table on which stood a pitcher and bowl. A dark shape next to the bowl turned out to be his glasses, but Harry didn't bother putting them on, it was too dingy to make any difference. Instead he explored the contents of the pitcher, and finding water, poured a little into the bowl. The chilly liquid was refreshing on his face, washing away some of the tight feeling Lucius' ministrations had left over his skin and cooling the almost constant burning of his scar.

Splashing some more water down the back of his neck, the prisoner then moved to the door and looked out through a tiny barred window to the corridor beyond. He couldn't see much, the light from a musty oil lamp that hung opposite him was dull, but he could see the shadows curve on a wall that bent round and then down a spiral staircase: he was in some kind of tower. Harry backed off from the bars of his cage then, all the information gleaned from the limited view, and turned around in his new home. He was truly alone now.

Harry's musing did not last long: he heard the bolt of the door begin to move, and spun on his heel, his heart jumping into his throat. Back to the present, anxiety rushed through the young man as he considered what could be coming through that door. He thought about grabbing a weapon, but the pitcher seemed inappropriate, so Harry just balled his hands into fists and poised himself for whatever came at him. The door swung in almost leisurely, and two figures stood there, framed by the light which they almost blocked out. Harry didn't like their size, both men were thickset and their muscles had muscles. He took a deep breath and grimaced.

The young man's show of defiance seemed to do no more than amuse the newcomers. The slightly shorter of the two goons, at about six foot, Harry guessed, glanced at his compatriot, and grinned.

"Looks like our guest doesn't like the accommodation, Brutus," he drawled and sniggered at his joke.

Brutus just grinned, and slapped something in his palm. Harry couldn't quite make it out, and regretted not having put on his glasses, but it quickly became irrelevant as both men closed rapidly on him. He shifted to meet the advance, but found a body barrelling into him which he couldn't stop.