Even If You Are An Inch From Death

WARNING: This story is extremely gory. There WILL be many character deaths. A couple of years ago I was reading "The Boook of Execution" by Geffory Abbott (and really enjoying it!) when I thought 'I wonder what would happen if people were pumped with Unicorn blood before being executed...?' This was my answer...!

So, this story is not for everyone. If you dont like it, then please go and find something you do. I would also like to reasure readers that once this story is over, so are the said character deaths. You can move onto another fanfic and they will be back to their normal (alive) selves!

Note: References of execution come from the previously mentioned book, and some of my own knowledge.


CONTINUE IF YOU DARE.....

An Inch From Death

Harry groaned and opened his eyes. Where was he? How did he get here? It took a few minutes for him to assess his body, without looking at it, making sure that all his limbs were still presented and relatively undamaged, even if the pulsating pain didn’t want to subside. Then, upon using what little strength he had left, Harry hoisted himself up and found the seriousness of his predicament. In the dark and gloomy room Harry could see that thick, heavy silver shackles bound his arms before him, weighting him down and hurting his seemingly injured shoulder, and matching shackles adorning his ankles, connected so that he would only be allowed to walk a few inches forward before the tug on the chain was inevitable.

Grimacing at the thought, Harry wrenched his gaze away from himself to see where he was. At first glance it looked like he was situated in the very centre of a circular room, walls lined with curtains that didn’t quite reach to the floor of his windowless prison. But on closer inspection Harry found that the room wasn’t round but rather shaped like an octagon, eight walls, seven covered in the heavy moth eaten curtains and one holding a door.

Harry didn’t understand the meaning of why Voldemort would throw him into such a strangely shaped room, for that was who Harry had to blame for this new predicament – the Dark Lord.

The last thing Harry could remember was being separated from his friends during the battle Voldemort had decided to wreak on Hogwarts grounds on Halloween night. It was a surprise attack that had the older students standing beside Professors and Aurors alike to defend the sanctuary of the school and the younger children hiding in its bowels. Harry had been front, centre.

From what Harry could gather the fight had only been raging for a few hours when he was wrenched away from Ron, Hermione and Draco by a number of curses and sudden horde of Death Eaters. Harry had found himself alone and facing Voldemort himself. The two enemies had duelled for a while, depleting their own energy stores from the concentration it took to ensure Prior Incantatum did not take place again. It was with one final blast of midnight blue magic that Harry was hit and fell down unconscious before the Dark Lord could be vanquished.

And that was how Harry had found himself here. He couldn’t understand why Voldemort had chosen to spare him, locking him up alone, yet alive!

Then the door creaked open.

Harry twisted his body around from the position he was in on the floor to watch as the evil, red-eyed, scaly man walk in and tower before Harry’s own sitting form. He couldn’t help but shudder that the eerie smile that had formed on that lipless mouth.

“Welcome, Harry Potter, to your own demise,” the Dark Lord hissed down at the boy.

Harry, refusing to take this sitting down struggled with his bounds and managed to stand up and face the reptilian man.

“Oh? And what makes you think that this time will be any different to the other times you have tried to kill me?” Harry couldn’t help but mock this creature, it was the only way he could cover the fear that was surging through his veins. He hated to admit it, but Voldemort was in the advantage position.

That eerie smile grew wider, “My dear, Harry. I said nothing about killing you, I have a much worse fate planned for you yet, my boy, and you will crumble to your knees without me even laying a finger, or wand, on you.”

Harry’s brow crinkled in confusion. From Voldemort’s cryptic message he knew that he wouldn’t be killed, but what was worse that suffering the pain of death? And Harry knew that Voldemort would use a lot of pain.

“I see that you do not understand what I am referring to, Harry. No matter, allow me to show you…”

With that Harry felt spidery fingers seize him around his upper right arm and spin him around to face the first curtained wall, right next to the door.