Harry Potter & Hell\'s Assassin

Chapter 5







Sirius did not sleep that night, and neither did Remus, for he sat up with his best friend into the small hours of the morning. Neither of them said a word to the other. They simply leant what comfort they could with presence alone. In the morning, there was another meeting. The third in so many days. This is when they started the research. The Black library was extensive in dark knowledge but still, more books were brought in. Hundreds and hundreds of them. From all over the world. Anything they could get their hands on was in the library in the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.



Those not yet deemed old enough to join the order were left to their own devices.



Up in the musty, damp rooms, huddled together on one bed were Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.



“I wish they would tell us more.” The brunet of the trio whispered. She must have uttered such a whim a hundred times already. But no matter how much they pleaded, the Order would not tell them a thing more about what had happened.



They had managed to squeeze a few meager facts out of Fred and George, but so far all they knew was that their best friend had been taken away by Death Eaters and no one knew where he was or what was being done to him.



Ron sighed and ran a hand over his freckled face. He tossed aside the news paper he had been reading over. It was from three days ago, the night of the incident, and he had all but memorized every word by now.



“This is bloody ridiculous!” He snapped. “Harry is our best mate, you think they would take some pity on us for Christ’s sake!”



“Ronald!” Hermione scolded for the use of his language, “That isn’t helping any!”



“Well it makes me feel just a little bit better, OK?!”



Ginny let her eyes fall to her lap as she twisted the worn and loose threads of the blanket across her knees. She hated it when her brother got upset. She knew how sad her brother was and knew that he was masking it with anger towards the Order. This was a devastating blow for Ron. A violent shove into reality. Up until now, nothing really serious had happened to any of them. But now Harry was gone…and maybe even –



“Harry could be dead for all we know!”



“Shut up, Ron! Just stop it!” Hermione screeched.



“No!” he pointed his finger at the girl before him. “You sit there and defend them like they have a right to keep this information from us! We’ve fought in this war too and I want to know what happened to my best friend!”



Ginny didn’t think she had ever seen that particular shade of red on her brother’s face before. But Hermione didn’t look much better. Tears were brimming in her brown eyes, ready to cascade down her cheeks at any moment. Her bottom lip was quivering and her hands shook as they grasped the sheets beneath her.



“I’m not defending them! I never said that what they are doing is right! I never-”



But Hermione never got to finish, for Ron had strode across the room, his hands thrown into the air in a gesture of anger and disgust. Whether it was directed towards Hermione or the general situation, Ginny wasn’t sure, but what she did know was that when Ron and Hermione fought, it got a lot worse before it got better. And apparently, that was not going to change this time.



Hermione had leaped off the bed to chase after Ron as soon as she realized what he was doing. She was gone out the door in a matter of seconds and Ginny momentarily entertained the idea of going after them.



She decided that there wasn’t anything she could really do. The two of them had always had to fight out their problems, and she guessed they always would. Even when they were married and had kids…



The youngest of the Weasley clan laid her head down on the pillow at the top of the bed and pulled the blanket that had been draped across her lap closer about her body. Closing her eyes, she waited for the screaming to begin.







* * * *







Hermione had not been this angry in a long time. For the past few days she had been able to feel nothing else but sadness at the loss of their friend. But, as she hammered down the stairs after her other best friend, her heart hammered and her skin burned.



She felt warm for the first time in days, as if a fire had been lit within her soul.



Maybe, if Ron and her could still fight, still argue like they always had, like normal, then, just maybe, Harry could make it through this, like he made it through everything else. Like normal.



She finally caught up with the red head just outside the entry way to the sitting room.



“How can you be so selfish?” she snarled, the tone of her voice sounding foreign even to her own ears.



Ron had stopped dead in his tracks, his hands clenching into fists. He turned on her.



“Selfish?” He repeated in a whisper. His eyes flashed suddenly in the candlelight of the hallways, shadows dancing across his face making it look angular, sharp and murderous. “You think I’m being selfish?”



Hermione forced air out through her nose, her nostrils flaring. “Your acting like you’re the only one this is affecting! Like none of the rest of us have a right to be upset. That you can yell and swear and holler all you want but when someone else does the same, you don’t understand why!” Her voice, she noticed, had grown steadily louder and more shrill with every word she spoke.



As Ron glared at her, she heard footsteps coming from the general direction of the library, where she knew the whole Order was hard at work.



“Well, I apologize.”



It took her a split second to realize he was being sarcastic.



“I’m sorry for being upset, Hermione! Your right! I am being selfish! Why should I want to yell and scream? After all, it was only my best friend that was kidnapped and taken to a Dark Lord!”



Something suddenly snapped inside Hermione at those words. An explosion of emotion erupted within her heart and, as she desperately tried to regain control of herself, dark spots danced before her eyes.



“HE’S MY BEST FRIEND TOO!” she screamed, slamming the palm of her hand against her chest, her throat feeling as if it would tear right down the middle. Tears were spilling down her face and her shaking hands were balled into fists as her glare slowly melted into a grimace of anguish and she collapsed against the wall beside her.



She didn’t see Ron slowly walk to her side, as her face was buried in her hands. But she did feel his strong arms envelop her as sobs wracked her frame. She leaned into him, pressing her face into his chest, her hands grasping at his jumper.



“I’m so sorry…” he whispered into her hair. The arms around her tightened.



Behind the two teenagers, several members of the Order were crammed into the entrance hall. Sirius felt his heart sinking as he watched Harry’s two best friends. They hadn’t really been paying the children that much attention since the night Harry disappeared, instead focusing all their energy on research and strategies to find and free the Boy Who Lived. None of the members had been aware, nor, if they were honest with themselves, had bothered to check, how the recent events had been affecting some of the most important people in Harry’s life.



“Come on you two.”



Thank god Remus was so good with people, Sirius found himself thinking. He had always been hopeless in these hurt/comfort situations.



Sirius sighed as the rest of the Order shuffled out of the entrance hall. The animagus assumed they would all rather pour over dusty, old, boring tomes than deal with the turbulent emotions of two teenagers.



So Sirius went into the kitchen to make some tea while Remus coaxed the two friends off the floor (and off each other). After they had all sat in silence, sipping the Earl Grey that may or may not have been laced with some calming drought, Sirius and Remus shared a glance.



Remus spoke, “We realize that this has been difficult for the both of you…and Ginny,” he added as an after thought, “And I admit that we haven’t really been paying enough attention to what has been going on with the three of you.”



The stony silence this statement received prompted Remus to clear his throat and press on with some more, hopefully appeasing, information.



“So me and Sirius have decided to give you a little more information.”



At this the two teens seemed to perk up a little, but the grave look on the faces of both men kept them from thinking any news they might receive would be good.



“The first thing that you have to know is that Snape saw the entire thing.” Sirius said.



Remus sighed and, immediately foreseeing the reaction those words would provoke, moved to explain quickly.



“There was nothing he could do to stop this without revealing himself as a spy, and right now he is all we have to collect any new information on where Harry is.”



These words seemed to placate Ron, though he still looked grumpy. Hermione, however, wore a puzzled frown. She looked up at Remus. “…where Harry is…?” she repeated Remus’ words. “But, I thought you knew where he was.”



Ron frowned now as well. “Yeah, didn’t you say You Know Who had him?”



Remus sighed again. “Well, yes. He did. But, then he sent him away.” The werewolf struggled to find the right words as Ron and Hermione exchanged perplexed looks.



Suddenly Sirius sighed, a harsh sound that revealed how truly exhausted and irritated he was with what was happening. He drained the rest of his tea as Ron and Hermione’s gaze settled on him.



“Bugger it all,” He muttered to the table top. He pulled his gaze up to meet those of his godson’s best friends and, with a quick glance at Remus, said, “I don’t care what the Order says, I’m starting at the beginning…”



Remus’ words of protest died on his lips when he saw the expressions on the teens’ faces. Their eyes filled with relief as they leaned forward and a tiny spark of hope glittered behind their tired eyes. He realized then, that they were all in the same boat when it came to Harry. These two had stood and fought beside Harry more times than most of them had and they were still being kept in the dark. Remus imagined what he might feel if something had happened to Sirius and everyone decided that he didn’t need to know anything about it…



The werewolf folded his arms atop the table and let Sirius tell the story to Ron and Hermione, even going so far as to hone most of his attention on the locked doorway to the kitchen and the hall beyond. He wanted to make sure that they weren’t interrupted.







* * * * *







The first thing he heard was voices. Snickering, squeaky, scratchy little voices. They were all around him. Their words indistinguishable one from the other. They taunted, with the intention of making him feel vulnerable and weak, their sound raspy and sly. He listened to them, slightly obscured by layers of oppressive cotton that wrapped about his body like a cocoon.



He struggled weakly to pull himself the rest of the way into the conscious world.



The voices hissed with laughter.



He was a corpse, they whispered, a nameless, empty shell from which the life had been drained, left to be consumed by the earth.



A stab of panic shot through his chest and he fought to keep the feeling under control. He couldn’t let it overpower him. He needed to think. He was in bed. He was just dreaming…



And then he remembered. Suddenly, his dry lips parted and a sharp intake of breath stung his fiery throat. And his certainties that this was a dream were gone as quickly as the voices, disappeared like smoke.



Or maybe like ashes…



Still wrapped in cotton that filled his head and mouth, that bound his thoughts and reason, he tried again to move his arms and legs. He could do so, but only with tremendous effort. He felt weak, as if he had slept, not for one night, but for a hundred.



His senses were slowly returning. He felt hard ground beneath his face and bare arms; he could smell the earth. The air smelled stale and dead and there was not even the smallest trace of a breeze to be felt.



Where was he?



His panic returned, threatening to overwhelm him, but he forced it down. He had no patience for it and had no intention of giving it power over him. He was not hurt; he was still whole. Deep breaths, one after the other, calmed him down and cleared his foggy mind.



He opened his eyes slowly, not knowing what to expect. Squinting in hazy light, he realized it was night still. He was staring at a darkened sky that domed over the landscape. A infinite, laden canopy. Yet something was wrong. The sky was cloudless, but devoid of moon and stars. Nor was the sun in evidence. The world was cast in the sullen tones of a storm’s approach, shrouded in layers of silence, in hushed tones of anticipation.



It must be twilight, he decided. That would explain the empty sky. The sun was down, the moon not yet up and the stars not yet out - yes, that explained it.



The voices were gone and he hoped that they had just been a figment of his imagination. He listened for them and heard nothing, either in his mind or the real world. And then he noticed something else strange. There were no other sounds either. No birdsong, no buzzing of insects, or rustle of wind in the trees, or ripple of water in a stream, or any sound at all save for the pounding of his heart.



It took him a long while, but he eventually forced himself to move. Rolling onto his side and then up into a sitting position, his hands behind him on the earth to brace himself upright. He waited for the dizziness to pass. Slowly, his vision cleared as well, from a watery haze to clarity.



He looked around and felt the panic return for a third time.



He stood in a ragged, blasted landscape, surrounded by trees that were twisted and grey; dense with withered limbs and thick, cracked and peeling bark. They had no leaves. They had the look of blight about them, sickened to the point where they could no longer thrive. Because he was sitting on a plateau overlooking several valleys and, farther out, a river, he could see that the forest extended for miles in all directions, bleak and unchanging. Farther out still, at the edges of his vision, great mountains loomed stark and barren against the skyline. The atmosphere about him was grey, almost colorless. The earth, the sky, the trees, even the air, were lifeless and bleak.



And it was hot. Very hot. He found it strange because there was no sun in the sky.



There was nothing else. Nothing man-made - no buildings, no bridges, no traffic on the river…not even a road through the forest. No people. No life. Seemingly, he was alone in this empty, alien world.



He remembered being captured, tortured and then…he was given a potion. He winced at the memory of the pain and rubbed his throat as if to dispel the thought.



He checked himself carefully to make certain that he was all in one piece. He took inventory of himself as well. Obviously his wand was gone. He would most likely never see that again. All he really had was his black tee shirt and his jeans and boots. Basically, what it came down to was: he had nothing.



He was, once again, eternally grateful for Hermione’s extensive range of knowledge. For his Christmas present last year, she had made a potion for him. She had informed him proudly that it had taken a long time and some of its ingredients were rare and expensive, so he shouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t get a birthday present this year.



But he could not have asked for anything better. The gift of sight was greater than anything he could hope for.



She had said she had decided to make the potion for him because of all the trouble he got himself into. The brunet had said it jokingly, but there had been an underlying tension in her voice when she explained that, now when he got knocked around by Death Eaters, he didn’t have to worry about his glasses falling off. The two of them had laughed with Ron and Ginny and Fred and George and everybody who had gone to Sirius’ house for Christmas break.



That seemed an eternity ago.



Would he ever see them again? Did they even know he was gone yet? He was fairly certain that if they did, they would never find him. He was sure he wasn’t still in England. He fuzzily remembered Voldemort talking about alternate worlds. Harry was not even close to knowledgeable when it came to things so complex. Alternate Universes were not something they learned about at Hogwarts and though he had been studying harder than he had any other year, he doubted he would have found any information, at least in his school books, that would prove useful in this situation. He couldn’t even be sure this place would be documented anywhere. World hopping was not widely practiced, he was confident. Not to mention this didn’t seem like a place anyone should want to visit willingly. Voldemort had told Harry that this was as close to Hell as one could get.



He suddenly felt the heat more keenly.



His stomach growled and he let the feeling of hunger have his attention rather than the heat. He began to look for food. But it was unlikely that anything such as berries or fruit grew anywhere in this world. His hunger would have to wait.



He started to walk through the trees, looking for water instead. As he went, he listened hard for sounds of other life. What sort of world was he in where there were no birds? Where there any people, any creatures at all? Was it possible that he was the only living thing here? The forest was empty and dead, smelling of its own decay. The grey light was unchanging and oppressive and the sky remained empty of sun, moon or stars. Even of clouds. The dark, ruined world felt incomplete, as if it were only a faintly cast shadow of the real world.



Eventually, he found a stream, but the water looked so foul he decided against drinking it. A black, slimy film coated the edges of the brook and its flow was sluggish as if it were made of something thicker than water.



He set off again, back towards the edge of the bluff where he had awoken to get a better look around. Something else must exist in this place. Another creature. Another form of life. If he could find it, whatever it was, he might be able to determine where he was. Then, if he could do that, he might have a better idea of how to get back to where he belonged.



But then he remembered something else Voldemort had said. That the creatures here were vicious. They were monsters that would tear him limb from limb or devour him whole.



Suddenly he didn’t want to find any other life forms.



The walk took him only a short time, though it left him winded and fatigued. He wasn’t himself yet. He had not overcome the hours of torture of the cruciatus and wondered how long it took for the tremors to go away. He was grateful that they had not physically tortured him. If he had woken up in this world bleeding and with broken bones, he surely would not have survived.



With a sigh, he stood upon the edge of the bluff, in the shadow of a lifeless tree. And despite having decided he didn’t want to run into any of the creatures that may dwell within this world, he found himself carefully scanning the countryside below him. Somewhere deep in his mind he felt the need to find something, anything else that lived and breathed, even if it was an evil monster, just so that he was not alone.



So absorbed in his efforts was he, his concentration so complete, that at first he didn’t even know it was there. But, in its eagerness to reach him, it stepped upon some twigs and gave itself away.



Even so, it was on him so quickly he barely had time to react. At the last moment, he threw himself to the ground as it lunged for him. It’s eyes were huge, round, and smooth, with no pupil. Like that of a fly’s. The thing vaguely resembled a cat but it was larger. Much larger. It’s fur was dark and coarse like a bear’s.



It lunged at him again, its jaws snapping. He noticed long, razor sharp teeth coated in saliva. This time he was not fast enough and caught a glancing blow. The breath was forced from his lungs when he was sent spinning and slammed into a tree trunk.



Harry struggled to fill his lungs with air once more and pushed himself up on his hands and knees. The creature was circling him now. Ready to jump in for the kill. As he regained his breath, he felt his hand brush against a heavy piece of wood. He grabbed it, the only form of a weapon he was going to find, and stood as the beast lunged at him a final time.



In hindsight, he didn’t think either him nor the animal had foreseen what was to come.



The end of the log he held was pointed, jagged from being broken off the tree. As the monster leapt into the air, Harry drove the bottom of the branch into the ground and held it steady at the last second. The beast came down upon him with slashing claws and jagged teeth. But he did not feel much pain as they sliced open the flesh of his upper arm. All he could distinguish in that moment were two things. The first was the cracking and snapping of bones as the cat like creature impaled itself on the log, driving the piece of wood through the center of its ribcage where it burst out through the animal’s spine in a shower of flesh, blood and bone.



The second thing he noticed was the ear slitting cry of the beast as it was skewered alive.



Immediately, Harry let go of the log and leapt out of the way as it and the cat creature fell to the ground. He watched, terrified, but morbidly satisfied, as the creature writhed and twitched in a growing pool of its own blood. In a matter of seconds, it had stopped moving at all and lay still.



After he had took some time to compose himself, and shake off the adrenaline rush that had left him jittery and lightheaded, he made his way over to the body to get a better look at it.



It’s face was it’s most distinguished feature and Harry found himself studying it more closely. It’s head looked like nothing more than a skull covered in fur. You could see indentations and ridges in its primitive bone structure. It had no nose, only a cavity where it should have been. It had hundreds of long, needle like teeth that were all crammed into its mouth, sticking out every which way. A thick tongue hung out onto the ground, coated in dirt and blood. It was forked, like that of a snake’s, but much thicker. His eyes traveled to the animal’s paws, where he saw long claws covered in his blood. He inspected the wound on his arm. Not too horrible. It wasn’t deep but he had no doubt it would get infected if he didn’t look after it soon.



But where in this place would he ever find medical supplies? There might be plants here that had healing capabilities, but Herbology had never been his best subject and there certainly were no medi-wizards around.



With a sigh that was more meant to steady himself than anything, Harry picked a direction and began to walk, attempting to dispel the bloody images of the cat from his mind. It didn’t really matter which way he went. He couldn’t tell north from south or east from west without the sun. And he couldn’t do a point me spell, not only because he didn’t have a wand, but he didn’t have a destination either. And he didn’t much fancy the idea of staying where he was, no doubt the smell of the blood would attract more unwanted visitors.



With a glance up at the sky, he could see the grey expanse through the canopy of gnarled limbs and he wondered if it would ever change or if it would stay the same; empty and lifeless like the rest of this world.









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