Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Fame…
…Fortune…
…Glory…
…Power…
Then, a murmur that came whispered into his ear, as Voldemort suddenly reappeared behind him. “And I can even offer you what you would never otherwise have, Potter…”
“…Her.”
So, Potter…what do you say? Will you take my generous offer and have everything you ever wanted at your beck and call? Or will you continue to side with Dumbledore and be at fate’s mercy every hour of every day for the rest of your life until you finally die a lonely death at my hand? Choose Potter. Will you join my ranks?”

The moment of truth had finally arrived. If James Potter, heir of Gryffindor could be turned, then it would be the most monumental of triumphs for their side.

“Never.”

The simple word was quietly spoken, but with it held certainty, pride, and defiance. All his beliefs and his emotions were vocalized in the one word. ‘Lily…it would be best never to have you at all if I had to live the rest of my life wondering if you truly cared for me, or if it were a spell. I couldn’t live like that. And I would never expect you to. Sirius, Remus, Peter, Mum, Dad, Sarah…I hope that you would be proud.

Voldemort’s lips pulled back into a sneer of disgust and he pulled away like James stank of something foul. “Ah, bravery. The most hated of traits, and the emblem of Gryffindor. Truly despicable, Potter. I thought that your pure blood would run deeper than this.”

James trained his eyes straight ahead, his face blank, ignoring Voldemort’s breath tickling his ear. “I would never betray the trust of the Order.” Nor Lily’s.

“You realize, Potter, that since you refuse my offer that you will have to be suitably…punished. Your life is forfeit.”

“Yes.” ‘I would do anything for them. Anything for her. Anything.’

“You would give up your own life to spare her…?” Voldemort’s voice was filled with revulsion.. “Weak.”

James laughed hollowly. “I would hardly call myself weak, Tom.”

Voldemort’s eyes flashed with cold anger. “Silence! Potter, you insolent fool, you will regret the choice you made today. Perhaps after some treatment, you shall think otherwise.”

James snorted. “Not bloody likely.”

“So be it.” Voldemort turned, his robes sweeping out behind him. Here was James’ chance, with Voldemort’s back exposed, and he took it. He launched himself into the air, and a split moment later there was a sickening:

Crack!

Voldemort gabbed James’ arm and wrenched. James could feel his arm being ripped out of his socket, and he was unable to muffle the cry of pain. Darkness crept in at the edge of his vision, and he could see Voldemort’s dark form gliding towards the door, unhidered.

“Oh and Potter?” Voldemort turned to the huddled form on the floor of the cell, a small smile touching his lips. “Don’t attack from behind. It is very unfitting for a Gryffindor. Much more of a…Slytherin course of action.”

James clutched his dislocated arm and winced in agony as he tried to scoot over to the wall as the cell door slammed shut. The simple motion left him gasping, stars shooting in front of his eyes. He heaved for breath for half a minute, trying desperately to gain his self-control back. He choked back a keening cry of pain, determined.

His vision finally cleared and he glanced at Lily. I would do anything…

For her.

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“What happened to him?” Sirius questioned quietly as he glanced at Peter’s pale and exhausted form on the bed.

Remus looked up, expression grim. “It appears that he was hit with the Cruciatus curse.”

“Do you think…?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I think. He must have been there when Lily and James were captured…Perhaps he went to look for them and was ambushed.”

“That’s our Wormtail…an absolute git to be caught, but for a noble cause.” Sirius remarked, a grudging respect in his tone.

“We should leave him alone. He needs his rest.” Remus murmured, and Sirius nodded. Remus blew out the candle and they both left.

Peter’s eyes shot open in the darkness. ‘If only you knew, Sirius…if only you knew…’
Voldemort strode out of the cell with quick, fluid movements, his eyes nearly black with rage. He turned to the Deatheater who was standing guard outside of the cell, and hissed, “Why don’t you show Mr. Potter to the chambers downstairs…I’m sure that he will find that his mind will be more open after he is shown some of our more convincing methods.”
The Deatheater stood stock-still, scared stiff as realization dawned upon his handsome features.
“Take Malfoy with you as well for your interrogation.” Crimson eyes flashed as the man made no movement. “Go!”
“Yes, m’lord!”
Voldemort straightened his robes and continued on his way to his chambers while the new recruit scrambled to find Lucius Malfoy and gather their prisoner.

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James had just gotten into a slightly comfortable position, with his arm clutched to his chest when the cell door slammed open once more. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, willing them to go away. “Why, Merlin, why?” James muttered softly to himself. All he wanted was to curl up on the nice hard floor of the cell and pass out. Is that so much to ask?
Apparently, it was.
“Get up, Potter.” The voice held a familiar drawl and a hard kick was sent to his gut.
Hazel eyes opened wide, as James gave a small gasp. He quickly shut his mouth however, and glared into ice blue eyes. He was soon heaved to his feet by strong arms. His gaze traveled up the arms but he was met only with the typical Deatheater mask.
“All right, all right, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” James grumbled and he was led roughly out the door. He spared one last glance at Lily’s sleeping form before the cell door slammed shut once more.

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It was wonderful.
Lily sighed happily as she snuggled into the warmth of her blanket in front of the roaring fireplace. She was at the one place that she could truly call home—Hogwarts. She was curled up in the comfy, overstuffed chair, happily sipping butterbeer and reading her favorite book of muggle poetry.
The butterbeer slipped down her throat and warmed her tummy, making her feel slightly tingly. A darkened figure appeared behind her, and she smiled, her eyes crinkling.
The man wrapped his strong arms around her, and she sighed contentedly. His face was hidden in the flickering shadows, but Lily found that she didn’t care. After all, who was to argue with pure bliss?
A sanctuary from war.
Hate.
Suffering.
Destruction.
The sickening stench of death.
A refuge from memories.
An asylum from the entire world world.
Something seemed slightly off in this moment but Lily ignored the nagging at the back of her mind, pushing it back and locking it in away.
This was what she had longed for her entire life.
Peace.

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“Well, well, well, Potter, isn’t this quite a predicament that you’ve found yourself in?” Malfoy drawled as they led him through the darkened corridor.
Twists and turns were constant, and James quickly discontinued his effort to keep count. After nearly ten minutes of walking, he was at last face to face with a door.
And a very unimpressive door at that.
It was a sturdy door, made of hearty wood and several inches thick. Absently, James wondered why.
Malfoy caught him staring and smirked, taking a key out of his robes and pushed him into the darkened room.
“It’s made this way to muffle the screams, Potter. Let’s test it, shall we? Lumos!”
James’ eyes widened. The room was filled with all sorts of torture devices, many of which he recognized from his textbooks, and many which he did not.
The Deatheater pushed him in and locked the door. James stumbled, trying to catch his balance for a moment, and finally accomplished the feat.
“You see, Potter,” Malfoy smirked, “The Cruciatus Curse is too good for you. The Dark Lord would very much like to make this last.”
James’ eyes widened slightly then hardened as he glared at the man, if indeed he were fit to be called one, in front of him. He schooled his features into a blank mask, defiance showing proudly in his eyes.
Malfoy favored him with a sneer as he picked up a whip. “Well then. Shall we begin?”

Warm crimson trickled down James’ back, coating his hands that were secured behind him. He was on his knees, a position that he despised, and blood ran down a corner of his mouth as he bit down on it hard, determined not to scream.
Determined not to give that sick bastard the pleasure.
Another crack of the whip, and fire laced his every nerve.
He wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t give in…
But it hurt like hell.
“What is the Order of the Phoenix?”
“Wouldn’t you like,” James gasped between breaths as he greedily gulped for air in the short reprieve. “To know, you git.”
Lucius’ eyes narrowed and he grinned. “Naughty, naughty, Potter. I suppose that your thick skull has yet to process my question. Perhaps it needs,” He held the whip up high, slick with the blood that was glistening off of it. “A little INCENTIVE!”
Crack!
I will not scream, I will not scream, I will not scream... And he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He schooled his features so that they were blank, even when Malfoy twisted his dislocated arm cruelly.
Crack!
Another lash, another scar. What else was new?
I won’t scream, bloody hell, I won’t, I swear it by my mother’s grave, I won’t scream, I won’t,Iwon’tIwon’tIwon’t…
Damn it!
A muffled gasp made it past his lips, and Malfoy’s eyes gleamed. “That’s more like it, Potter.” He leaned in closer, so that he was next to his ear. “Scream for me, Potter…”
James bit his lip again, staring ahead with dead, cold eyes. “Never.”
It continued for what seemed like forever, but in reality was nothing but mere minutes. Malfoy seemed rather fond of the whip, but he was not against using some of the more creative machines.
He let James’ body drop to the ground, and James found that he could not get his legs to support him. His body was a mass of bruising and lacerations that even now continued to ooze blood. His ribs were fractured, he was sure of it, and his head pounded.
It was hell.
But James had held true to his promise. Not one sound of pain escaped his lips, nor did a tear escape its cage. He goaded Malfoy into a rage with his remarks, until his breath ran out and his throat grew raspy. His lips twisted into a wry smirk. He knew that one day his mouth was to get him killed. Perhaps today was the day.
“Tell me about the Order.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
“Where is it located? Who are the members?”
“Hmm…No.”
Malfoy backhanded him, and James’ head flew to one side. Quietly, Lucius questioned again, “What is the Order of the Phoenix? Tell me, Potter! I can make this all stop. No more pain, wouldn’t you like that?”
James spit the blood from his mouth, even as a small part of his mind begged for the enticing promise. The dark-haired wizard pushed it down, squashing it.
He grinned and beckoned Malfoy a little closer, and the blonde Death Eater leaned in. James spat in his face, gaining pleasure from the disgusted look on his tormentor’s face.
Firmly, quietly, so that there was no mistake, he whispered, “Never.”
He may have been bruised, bloody, and broken, but he was not beaten.
He
Would
Never
Be
Beaten

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Peace…Peace was nice.
But it was boring as hell.
Lily was sure that she could have grown to appreciate it deeply, and she was beginning to fall in love with it, but that persistent nagging at the back of her mind was growing louder and louder…
At the very edge of her consciousness, just out of her reach, she could feel a warmth that she could not feel in this…mirage.
Everything was a shallow feeling, and Lily couldn’t bear it. She was truly getting annoyed but every time that she attempted to grab the feeling it fluttered away from her teasingly, dancing at the very edges of her fingertips.
Her awareness of the feeling slowly started to slip away, and she sighed in frustration, unable to recall what she was reaching for.
Strong arms wrapped themselves around her in a huge bear hug once more, and Lily squealed with delight as she gazed up into deliciously warm hazel eyes.
“Hullo, James.”

******************************************************************************

They had removed his glasses to make him feel even more helpless then he already was, trying to overpower him by making him take leave of his senses. However, James could feel the soft sweet beckoning of unconsciousness begin to sneak its way across his vision. He begged for it to come and take him, but it appeared that the Death Eaters were not interested in letting their prey escape so easily.
“This spell is my favorite Potter,” Lucius drawled, James tuned him out, staring foggily at the moving mouth.
Malfoy muttered a spell, one that James had never heard of, and blearily did not pay attention to. Lucius gently touched the prisoner, and gave a satisfied smirk as James winced from the fire that laced his every nerve like wildfire.
Any thoughts of unconsciousness fled as the feather light tough produced more pain then that of the whip. Hazel eyes stared up at the cold, ice blue ones, and they glowed with a perverse mirth.
“As I was saying Potter, this spell is a favorite of mine with prisoners…you see, it makes their nerves be sensitized by tenfold. So every—little—touch will produce a pain so intense that even you, the great Gryffindor, shall be broken. I wonder what will happen,” Lucius purred mockingly, “When we use the whip? Lets find out, shall we?”
Even James could not hide his terror at the words.
Crack!
And James screamed.

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James breathed heavily as he was allowed to slump to the floor once more. He had allowed only one scream to pass his lips, a sizeable feat. His bottom lip was bloodied and he could hear the soft sound as it dripped off his chin and onto the dirty cell’s floor.
He had not responded to Malfoy’s questions and had gotten a harder beating because of it. Finally, however, the session seemed to draw to a close, as Lucius grew bored with the prisoner that wouldn’t make a sound, no matter how hard he was provoked.
The Death Eater snorted and dropped the whip to the ground. He grabbed James’ head and stared into the glazed hazel eyes, even now holding the pride and fire of his soul. He jerked James’ closer as the spell that enhanced the nerves receded and whispered, “I’ll be back to finish you later, Potter.”
Lucius stood, and turned to the other Death Eater who had just finished retching as the sight of the torture had turned his delicate stomach. Lucius gave a repulsed sigh and dropped the keys into the other’s hand. “As for now, I have better things to do. Finish up in anyway that you’d like, and then take him to the cell. Master will call for him later.”
There were swift receding footsteps and door swung creakily open and then closed. James felt no relief at the departure, however, because he was far from finished. James paid little heed to the new torturer, for a torturer was a torturer, regardless of who stood behind the whip.
“Well then,” Came the hesitant voice from behind him, “Why don’t we start off with a few questions?”
“How about we don’t?” James muttered, turning his head to the side, and staring at the ground. He turned only when no blows rained against his back and stared up at the Death Eater blandly.
“Well…?”
The Death Eater fumbled with the whip in his fingers, but made no move to raise it. James cocked an eyebrow at the blatant inexperience. His wide, young eyes pleaded for James to make his life easier, to just tell them the information. But James was a Gryffindor. And Gryffindors never took the easy way out.
“What is the Order of the Phoenix?”
“You’re a bit thick, aren’t you? Shove off. I already said no.”
“But if you just answer a few questions, then you won’t have to go through any of this anymore. You’re a pureblood, the Dark Lord will spare you…”
James’ eyes crinkled as he stared up at the veiled face of the owner of the earnest voice. “You really believe that, don’t you?” He questioned quietly, and gave a soft chuckle. “Voldemort spares no one.”
“But—”
“Never.”
“Why are you making this so difficult for yourself?” The Death Eater sighed
“Because I’m a moron.” James deadpanned. “Now, take off that bloody stupid mask of yours, you git. You’re being a coward. Face me like a real wizard instead of hiding behind a piece of cloth.”
Hands hesitantly reached towards the edge of the mask. Slowly, reluctantly, it came off, and James’ eyes widened marginally as he squinted up at the man
“You?” He asked disbelievingly, “You’re the one who’s going to torture me?” Mirthless laughter bubbled past his lips. “Oh, Merlin, this is rich.”
Mirthless laughter spilled from bloodied lips. “Oh, the irony,” James chuckled, wincing as the movement disturbed his fractured ribs. He squinted into light blue eyes that were a mirror of ones that he knew so well, framed by a face only slightly different from the one that he had committed to memory. The Death Eater’s hair was slightly shorter, leaning towards brown instead of pitch black, and his face—his features were no less handsome, but he failed to give the air of confidence and exuberance that graced the face of his older brother.
“Hullo, Regulus.” James smiled softly as the man, nay—boy started, looking guiltily to the floor.
James continued, undaunted by the lack of response, almost to himself. “The gods of irony must be rolling around on their arses at this…” He smirked bitterly, and turned his gaze back to the floor. In a cold, quiet voice, he commanded, “Get on with it.”
Regulus’ hand trembled, his pallor pale as he raised the whip into the air. James grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited. Regulus raised the whip…
But once more, there was no sound of it slicing through the air, there was no flash of fire and agony…there was only the dull, resounding clunk as it dropped to the floor.
Hazel eyes popped open as he stared at the whip that was discarded and abandoned from his would-be tormentor’s grasp. His gaze slowly turned once again to the boy’s face, which was hidden in shadow.
In a choked voice, strangled with emotion, Regulus whispered, “I…can’t…”

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Light blue eyes were bloodshot as they glared over at the figure that was sitting behind the desk. The fire cast shadows that danced across the room gracefully, washing everything in a soft, unearthly glow, but it was unappreciated by the three that resided in the room.
“It’s been twelve hours, Arabella.” Remus’ voice was a forced calm that he did not feel as he too stared into the impassive eyes of the squib and his tactical commander.

The Order of the Phoenix.net

24 Hours - Part 3