Paradigm

Par·a·digm (par-uh-dahym,pâr'ə-dîm', -dĭm')


-noun


1. Grammar.

a. a set of forms all of which contain a particular element, esp. the set of all inflected forms based on a single stem or theme.

b. a display in fixed arrangement of such a set, as boy, boy's, boys, boys'.

2. an example serving as a model; pattern.

3. A set or list of all the inflectional forms of a word or of one of its grammatical categories: the paradigm of an irregular verb.

4. A set of assumptions, concepts, values, and practices that constitutes a way of viewing reality for the community that shares them, especially in an intellectual discipline.

(Middle English, example, from Late Latin paradîgma, from Greek paradeigma, from paradeiknunai, to compare : para-, alongside; see para-1 + deiknunai, to show; see deik- in Indo-European roots. --Excerpted from American Heritage Dictionary)



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Eros is passionate love, with sensual desire and longing. The Modern Greek word "erotas" means "(romantic) love". However, Eros does not have to be sexual in nature. Eros can be interpreted as a love for someone who you love more than the philia love of friendship. It can also apply to dating relationships as well as marriage. Plato refined his own definition. Although eros is initially felt for a person, with contemplation it becomes an appreciation of the beauty within that person, or even becomes appreciation of beauty itself. It should be noted Plato does not talk of physical attraction as a necessary part of love, hence the use of the word platonic to mean, "without physical attraction". Plato also said Eros helps the soul recall knowledge of beauty, and contributes to an understanding of spiritual truth. Lovers and philosophers are all inspired to seek truth by eros. The most famous ancient work on the subject of eros is Plato's Symposium, which is a discussion among the students of Socrates on the nature of eros. --Excerpted from Wikipedia



Philia (phil'eda) means friendship in modern Greek, a dispassionate virtuous love, was a concept developed by Aristotle. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity. In ancient texts, philia denoted a general type of love, used for love between family, between friends, a desire or enjoyment of an activity, as well as between lovers. This is the only other word for "love" used in the ancient text of the New Testament besides agape, but even then it is used substantially less frequently --Excerpted from Wikipedia



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Prologue

A heavy rain began to beat down on a castle atop a rugged crag, which overlooked an enraged grey ocean; to the naked Muggle eye it was no more than a wobbly ruin but for a few cold splats that every once in awhile could be seen bouncing off the age-old cloaking enchantments. The heavens had veritably burst and mercilessly drenched all; thunder occasionally rolled across the coast to catch an errant animal and stoic tree. Though it was mid-morning, the darkness the storm cloaked the land in made it appear to be night.

A roly-poly rat that was hapless and soaked was one of the many living things wandering through the storm. It scurried to and fro in a desperate search for shelter and came to the dangerous ruin, which it ran headlong into. It stared in pitiful bewilderment for a moment before scrabbling desperately against the rough and unforgiving stone in a futile attempt to pass the magic and find safety; with an almighty clap the thunder drummed against the cliffs. A bolt of light soon shook the ground as it claimed another helpless victim; drenched and split open, the charred rat temporarily wafted tendrils of black smoke before the rain doused him quickly.

The smell was still enough, however, to attract a nearby opportunist that was hiding within the ruined gatehouse; skittish as it was it slunk down to investigate against its better instincts. A second loud crash sent the startled creature clambering up a ruined wall and into the rest of the magically restored tower where it ended up standing in a dark lobby. There were voices being carried through a door ahead and the spider took care to avoid the heavy wood as it skirted around into the Great Hall to where it could sense food.

The slightly furry arachnid was sent tumbling however as the door in question was thrown open violently by a cloaked human who fell out of the next room. The person was writhing for a time before he stopped and managed to walk back in to bow before a figure that sat on a dais; as he was murmuring his apologies for speaking out of turn, the spider righted itself and scurried off into the relative safety of a nearby gap between the stones in the wall.

It was a regal figure who glared coldly at his hooded followers from his place in the Great Hall. The castle had been built by a medieval descendant of Salazar Slytherin whose fortress of a home had been left to decay for century after century until Lord Voldemort had realised the strategic positioning of the coastal ruin. He had restored the great gatehouse to what it had been and was now sitting in a chair that vaguely resembled a throne at the head of the huge stone room. A fifteen foot serpent lay draped across the back of it as she lazily flicked her forked tongue out every now and then.



"Severus!"

The emotionless command brought a black clad Death Eater to the fore; like his Lord he showed no feeling in his beady black eyes. He had lost the right to hide his face some months before.

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort hissed out; his scarlet eyes were alight with twisted mirth.

The Potions Master fell to the floor where he twisted and twitched without stop as the serpentine wizard did not release him until he had wrung a scream from the stubborn man; Snape remained on the floor for several long moments after the spell had ended. The Dark Lord stared down at him coldly with an impassive face all the while.

As soon as the former teacher found his shaky feet again the other wizard gestured to the gaunt witch at his side. She kicked Snape in the stomach and sent him crashing to ground again. The Death Eaters who encircled the three laughed; some had frightened faces, however, whilst others were gleeful. It had been some time since the man had transgressed, but his 'lessons' had not ceased and would not until Voldemort tired of playing with him.

The chamber was cold and made of stone like the nearby tower that served as a dungeon; there was no decoration except for an occasional sconce to light the hall as it only had one small window. The Dark Lord had redesigned it be very similar to the Chamber of Secrets; because of him there were delicate but nevertheless detailed carvings of snakes twisted around the few columns that supported the roof. The throne he sat on was lined in much the same way, and although he said it at every gathering, he repeated himself for the umpteenth time.

"Remember,” Voldemort intoned, “should you choose to disobey me, you will suffer the same fate!"

He paused to let his words sink in as he always did.

"Yaxley! Remove him from my sight!"

The greasy wizard was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and dragged from the Great Hall; Yaxley led him down a staircase and out of a small side door in order to propel him through a corridor that had been cut into the curtain wall. It led to the tower next door that served as a prison and dungeon. He shuddered at the thought that the desiccated corpse of Narcissa Malfoy would be there to greet him but he was nevertheless relieved that the Dark Lord had granted her a swift death. He had killed the woman with a mercifully muttered Killing curse that proved that he was not entirely heartless after all. A woman protecting her child did not deserve that same harsh fate as a man who disobeyed without such a cause.

After Snape had been dragged off, the Dark Lord snorted to himself as Lestrange eyed him warily. He glanced into her mind and read her thoughts easily to find that she was uneasy over her part in the fiasco that Snape and the Malfoy boy had caused. He snorted again and knew that she had every right to feel afraid. She was loyal and always had been and that inclined Voldemort to allow her a degree of leniency, but even so, his courtesy only extended so far; despite being his favourite, he could not overlook her two previous failures. She would have to be punished at some point.



He decided though that he would permit her to languish in her uncertainty for the time being for it was better to leave her waiting in fear for a time; that itself was a form of punishment.



The anticipation.

As for the young Malfoy, he would be lenient. The boy was young and someone had to continue the Malfoy line. He was also malleable so he decided against killing him and opted instead for locking him away in one of the more liveable cells in the tower where he would remain until his punishment had been decided. He would never be able to trust the worthless child and so that meant that he would have to have Draco watched closely. He was wilful and would not follow orders easily, and Voldemort mused that he would have to retrieve Lucius from Azkaban; Draco would be more likely to obey if his father were there. The punishment of the family patriarch was acceptable- the death of his wife, the time in Azkaban, and disgrace of his son - and with a few additional bouts of the Cruciatus curse he would feel able to trust the blond again.

The snaky wizard glared at his Death Eaters impatiently and snapped, "Report!"



A lesser servant stepped forward with his whole body bowed in reverence.

"All goes well, my Lord. Nothing of significance has happened on any of the raids."

The former nodded and dismissed them all with a wave of his hand; they filed out fairly quickly and Voldemort was left to ponder the fact that he would have to dish out a little more punishment in order to make sure that they knew their places. The whole lot of them had been growing ever more disrespectful as of late and the matter made his blood boil. He rose and stalked to the circular stairwell that existed between the lobby and hall. It led up to the second floor where his few and most private chambers were. He was halfway there when he realized that he had nothing on his agenda for that day; such a thought brought mild boredom into the forefront of his mind.

For some time now he had been intending to end Severus' punishment, he just hadn't gotten around to instilling the proper understanding of what would happen should he be disobeyed again into Snape's mind. He couldn't very well let him go without being sure the greasy-haired wizard understood the punishment he would receive should he make another mistake.

He redirected himself to where he had ordered Snape to be kept; at a brisk trot he managed to reach the "dungeon" in a decent amount of time. It was strangely comfortable, however, for a place to hold his worst enemies; even the room where the Potions Master had been contained was made from finely worked stone. The man in question looked up as Voldemort entered. He was sporting deadened black eyes that were prepared for the fate that awaited him. Voldemort unhooked the chains from the wall with a yank that pulled on the cuffs which they were attached to and hauled the dejected wizard along as one would a dog while he made his way to the converted chapel on the first floor of the gatehouse.

He had done some creative redecorating since his rediscovery of the castle; most of the rotten pews had been removed although the two best ones had been pushed together. The back was torn out of one of them so as to create a wider surface area to which he could affix a prostrate person to; there were dull chains attached to the pews for that purpose. He had put down a lush carpet over the stone floor, and the walls were littered with several benevolent tapestries as well as a cross hanging.



There were candles in brackets on the walls, and several pleasantly aromatic candles on stands scattered about the room, which created a peaceful atmosphere but for the ravaged statue of the Virgin Mary. Her eyes had been carved out, and the resulting holes painted in so artistically with red that it looked as though they had been gouged out and were dripping blood. An iron collar had been draped about her neck and a chain whip placed in her hand for further emphasis.

Snape shuddered.



The Dark Lord smirked at Snape, with an insane light in his eyes as he gestured for the greasy-haired wizard to have a seat on one of the pews while he walked to the adjacent sacristy. The other wizard clenched his teeth in trepidation, and sat on the pew as bade. He had a fair idea about what was in store for him and he knew that disobedience would only worsen the situation. He had to content himself with the thought that at least he had saved the life of Draco Malfoy; nevertheless, he steeled himself for what was to come.

His Lord returned. The insanity in his face was more apparent than ever and in his arms he clutched in his hand a small, odd shaped object. Snape eyed it with uncertainty, wondering what it was and why Voldemort would keep what looked like a muggle torture implement; he had not seen the Dark Lord use such a tool before.

He smirked, and said, "It was an idea I got from Dumbledore, actually. He was always insisting about how muggles and mudbloods had some measure of worth, so I decided to indulge him and see what value they might hold, and look what I found!"
He held up a strange sort of contraption, with intricate designs, which was shaped like a pear.



"The muggles call it the "Pear of Anguish"; I believe that is meant to be inserted into one of the three bodily orifices, and look what it does!"



The Potions Master gave it a look of unbridled horror as the other wizard twisted the screw at the top, which separated along four "leaves" that expanded rather far. The Dark Lord laughed darkly at the look on the hook-nosed face before him.

"It is considered to be a hideously cruel device; most muggles have not the stomach to use it, but I can assure you that I do. I find that, although the Cruciatus has the potential for more pain; it is too widespread and impersonal... I would prefer more... localized methods. With insanity as a side-effect- it is rendered unhelpful for long term usage and... enjoyment.”

The former teacher gritted his teeth again, and understood now what was coming to him. He could only hope that his Lord would have pity on him and not drag it out too long, and kill him soon after.

The serpentine wizard laughed again.

"Worry not, Severus. I have decided I may have use for you yet; consider yourself blessed that I have decided to be most merciful. Your punishment is far from over, but I will not be ruining you or torturing you into death... these tools are reserved for traitors, my... worst enemies, and information gathering only. Of course, should you disobey me again...you can consider this your fate."

He ended his speech with a pointed look; Snape finally understood then why Voldemort had brought him here - as a warning. He knew it was a mistake to open his mouth but he did so regardless, and said,

"My Lord, if I may be so bold…why do you have a chapel?"

The other man chuckled darkly.

“I had so hoped you would ask that. Do you know what this muggle statue stands for?"
"Yes, my Lord." Snape duly replied as he stared at the mutilated statue of the Virgin Mary that was decorated with torture implements.



"Do you not think it fitting that, whatever mudbloods or mudblood lovers I need to interrogate, will all be faced with this visage when I am gathering information?"
His prisoner had to concede to that point. The figure certainly did the job; even to him, in fact, because despite that he had been raised a wizard, the sight was intimidating.

"Yes, my Lord, it is. As ever, you remain an ingenious and masterful wizard."
A spidery hand twitched towards a pocket as red eyes narrowed; Snape rapidly amended himself.

"The most masterful."

The Dark Lord nodded and returned to adjoining sacristy. He replaced the Pear of Anguish to the space on the shelf where it belonged neatly between the Noise Maker’s Fife and temporarily shrunken pendulum device. On his return he sat down on the pew beside his prisoner as though nothing in the world were out of place; Snape sometimes wondered if that was the only purpose that Voldemort had to his behaviourisms -to put on a facade of absolute sadistic insanity to merely manipulate those around him into fearing him all the more.



A particularly piercing look was shot his way and the greasy man knew that his mind had been read. He had the grace not to blush.

"I have something I believe I will require you to do; as soon as I retrieve Lucius, he will take over your easier potion-making duties, so that will leave you more time to take on this task. I want you to break in the Malfoy boy. He does not follow orders and if he cannot behave properly then he is of no use to me. Am I understood?"

Black eyes widened and he nodded with utter understanding. The snake like wizard wanted him to dominate young Draco, to whose pride as well as Lucius' would be a horrific blow; Snape found the thought oddly appealing none the less as Voldemort smirked at the expression on the sallow face.

The latter could tell that the younger man would enjoy his appointed task; although the Potions Master had disobeyed him, he could hardly go about killing him. The Malfoy patriarch was adept at handling most potions but Snape had far more expertise, particularly with anything unusual, rare, or illegal.

He thus decided it was about time to let Snape off some of his punishment; such a light warning would have to do as Voldemort walked over and waved his wand so that the bonds holding the other wizard fell away in a wordless pool. The Dark Lord smiled genially and gestured for Severus to follow him into the sacristy; the greasy haired wizard obeyed without question.

As lightning flashed outside the worn old castle, the sudden screams of the unsuspecting black-eyed wizard were drowned out among the thunder.

TBC...

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After Notes -

NOTE that if you've read this on FFnet, this version is #slightly# different, and will have more adult themes throughout/in the future.

Also, the slash won't be happening for quite awhile.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I make no money off this work of fan fiction.

Beta: MaddevilleChilde, DarkAngel35



Odd cut off point, I know. Apols for any errors.

A sacristy is a room for keeping vestments(such as the cassock and chasuble) and other church furnishings, sacred vessels, and church treasures. The sacristy is usually located inside the church, but it could be an annex or separate building (as in some monasteries). --Excerpted from Wikipedia.

The room plan for the castle was taken from a nearby contemporary, Warkworth but the castle itself is Dunstanburgh.

So, in this chapter I based my characterization of Voldemort on the conversation between Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Severus; also on the graveyard scene, and Atrium battle with Dumbledore. The impression I got is that he is semi-forgiving, in that he will punish his Death Eaters but not kill all of them off - he does need them, after all; he thinks of a quick death as merciful while at the same time thinking it's the ultimate punishment. Hopefully I did an acceptable job, but let me know if anything's off and I will try to fix it.

As for the whole chapel thing, I just had to add that in, I think he'd have a dark sense of humor like that, or at least it's possible that he could. To any offended catholics/christians: I mean no offense, though I don't ascribe to your faith I appreciate your conviction. If you wonder why a wizard would have a chapel, keep in mind that a decent amount of stories/games depict vampire's castles as having chapels, and well, they're vampires. Voldemort having a chapel for a torture chamber is hardly more implausible than that.