Chapter Seventeen: Hoplelessness, Hope, Misery

Over the next few weeks, Harry's days were filled with the monotony of un-listened-to classes, barely touched plates of food, and nights he tried in vain not to allow Voldemort to pull him into the world of Lava's never-ending torture. It seemed that the Dark Lord was now keeping the love of Harry's life alive only so that he could torment Harry every possible moment that he could. In fact, the morning after Harry's first dream, Ron and Hermione had dragged Harry to a breakfast that he had no desire to go to. Halfway through pretending to eat the meal, long after all the other student's owls had come and gone, a strange entirely black owl had soared through the window and crashed down onto Harry's plate momentarily before winging back out into the open sky as quickly as it had come.

It had left him an odd black piece of parchment, folded and sealed into an envelope. It did not have any words on it, but Harry assumed that it was for him, as it was sitting on top of his uneaten eggs. He reached out curiously and touched the parchment, and it fell open immediately, revealing, to everyone's horror, the long, beautiful lock of Lava's fiery hair, which Harry had seen cruelly ripped from her scalp the day before. He was sure that this was the same lock of hair because their were dried flecks of blood on the massacred roots. Hermione had barely had enough time to conjure a small metal bucket in front of Harry before he retched the entire contents of his semi-empty stomach into it.

Two days later, Harry received another of Voldemort's 'presents' in the middle of his potions lesson. This time it had been wrapped in brown paper and tied with black string, and whole thing had been oddly stained, and again, as soon as Harry had put a finger to the package, it fell open. This time revealing Lava's tie, so heavily stained with still-wet blood that the gold stripes were hardly discernable from the red ones. This time, it had been Professor Snape to conjure the bucket instead of Hermione, though it hadn't really been need as Harry's stomach far too empty for anything more than painful dry heaves.

And the dreams. The dreams were always there. It was as if Voldemort never slept, just waiting for Harry's mind to slip into unconsciousness, so that he could take over and show Harry just what exactly he and Bellatrix were to doing to Lava. They made her bleed many times, knowing that he was watching and crying out with his love. Bellatrix even ripped out more of her blood-soaked hair, which was always sent to Harry one or two days after the viewing of the atrocity. They broke her bones, only to reset them hours later, letting the pain fester until it grew numb due to new and harsher pains. And always, always, there was the Crucio curse. Applied viciously, but kept on the writhing, screaming form for no more than counts of seven or eight at a time.

Harry was so conflicted about these dreams, the visions that Voldemort made him witness. He hated seeing Lava in so much pain, hated that he could do nothing to help her. But there was also a small portion of him that wanted to see her every night that kept him from going to Madame Pomphrey for something to either keep him awake, or to block his mind from dreams and visions entirely, or to Dumbledore, to ask for more lessons in Occlumency, so that he could block the intrusions himself. At first, he had hated that he felt that way, but as he had explored the feeling, he found that it was simply the desire to know that she was still alive, that she still had not given in to the Dark Lord's wishes, and even, in the smallest of ways, to be there with her and for her as much as he could.

He found that he felt that this was his torture, his little slice of the hell that she was going through, his way to stay connected to her, and to take what little of her pain that he might. And he found that he grew to love her more with each passing day than he ever felt was possible. For even though he watched her crumble from the proud queen he had so admired and idolized, to a figure he would never have pictured her, covered in dried blood and dirt and scars, hair an oily mass of tangled blood, he found that she was more beautiful to him than she had ever been before. For there was always that spark in her, whether she was throwing out sarcasm or even if it was just the defiant glint in her bloodshot eyes, she was always the same, she never wavered from her true self. She was always the woman he loved and respected.

The end of October came and went, and with it, so did the Halloween Feast, which Harry did not attend, the first trip to Hogsmeade, where he vowed not to go until Lava went with him, and the beginning of the Quidditch trials. Harry had given up his Captaincy in favor of Ron immediately after remembering his responsibility. He had even wanted to go so far as to quit the team entirely, but Ron had been avid that Harry would only be taking a respite until Lava was safe again, and then he expected the Seeker to reclaim his position from Ginny. Harry had merely agreed with a heavy heart, and dismissed the subject entirely.

Although there could be no doubt about how Harry Potter had sunken into a very deep depression without the lovely redhead at his side every day, speculations zoomed about the rumor-mill as to the reason why he was depressed, and as to the question of how Lava Kathmerneniven had wound up in the hands of the Dark Lord to begin with. Some of the rumors were so far off the charts that they could have been laughable, if anyone at all could find humor in the subject, but some of them were very close to the truth, which had not been disclosed. These had started when Draco Malfoy had 'let it slip' that Lava had had something to do with the death of her father, but that there had been no question of anything but self-defense. Harry assumed that the boy had then furthered the fulmination of the most disgusting, and largely accepted version of Lava's abduction.

It had grown from that Harry must have found out and been so disgusted that he left Lava on the lakeshore alone and without any protection, to that he had hit her when he found it out because he was so avidly against murder of any kind, to that he had gone into a fit of pure rage and given her to Voldemort freely. They had even begun to add that he had raped her as well, because everyone could clearly remember how he couldn't keep his hands off her. Now, of course, not everyone bought into the extremes of this version, but it was still enough to be angry with him for leaving her alone at night when it was clear that she had been in danger from Voldemort just as much as he usually was. They didn't shun him completely, but if he ever did decide to notice his surroundings, they made it very clear that they were just as unhappy with him as he was with himself.

And then, suddenly, December was upon him. Lava had been in Voldemort's clutches for two whole months now, tortured almost every day for nearly sixty days. Almost sixty days of screams and blood and pain, for both she and Harry, although Harry would never say that her tortures hurt him almost as much as they did her, for he could hear her screams when the tortures were happening, could see her tears and hear her almost-stifled whimpers when they were not. For many times, Voldemort was content to just let Harry watch her when she was cold and alone, and in tremendous, continuous pain.

Now it was December seventeenth, and the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had just finished their last classes of the day. Tomorrow would be Saturday, a day where most of the students would be returning to their homes for the Christmas holidays. Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys' had not yet decided whether they were going to Order Headquarters this year, or if they were going to stay at Hogwarts. Harry couldn't muster up too much interest in either location for Christmas, but if he tried very hard, he could almost find himself leaning more towards staying at the castle, just in case. But, then again, in case of what? No one knew where Voldemort was keeping Lava, not even Snape, for Voldemort had put the location under the Fidelius Charm.

And Harry knew that they only way Voldemort would release Lava, were if she was dead. But a part of Harry still held out hope. A part of him had to. And that little part was only kept alive by the fire still in Lava's eyes, but Harry knew that if that fire were to die, so would that part of him. If Lava began to have no desire to go on, then neither would most of Harry. He would go on, if only to try to see Lava avenged should she die, but afterwards, who knew what he would do?

And so, here he was, sitting on the couch in front of the fir in the Gryffindor common room, trying to warm the limbs that had been bone-numbingly cold ever since she had been taken, as he did many days and nights now. There he sat, praying to whoever felt like listening, when suddenly there was a fire in his head, emanating from his scar. A fire that burned so hotly, and with such a terrible rage, that Harry wouldn't have been surprised if his scar had split open. Immediately, through the haze of animosity, he tried to clear his head, but almost as soon as the rage was there, it was gone again, leaving him panting and clutching his head. As soon as he had his breath back, he immediately shot from his seat, to the shocked stares of Ron and Hermione, and ran from the common room, heading for Dumbledore's office.

Once he was at the Gargoyle, he shouted the password, which he had memorized long ago, and sprinted up the revolving stairs, unable to wait for them to take him up. He burst into Dumbledore's office to find the old Professor sitting behind his desk, Professor McGonagall standing at his side. The two teachers stopped their conversation in mid-sentence and stared at Harry. "What's happened?" He asked, his voice loud and desperate.

Dumbledore looked at him from over the tops of his half-moon glasses. "What do you mean Harry?" He asked. "What's happened where?"

Harry tried to catch his breath. "Voldemort." He panted. "He's- angry - about - something. Don't know- what."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "We haven't heard anything yet, Harry." He said, his voice gentle but with an edge of worry. "Sit down." He added, and Harry did, his hand clutching a stitch in his side. It wasn't long before his breath returned to normal, and he was about to say something when Dumbldore's office door opened again.

"She's escaped!" Snape almost bellowed as he crashed into Dumbledore's office. "Apparated out as if there was nothing to it, just waiting for an opportunity."

"How did she do that?" Dumbledore asked, standing, his eyes beginning to shine with pride.

"Here." Snape said, pointing his wand towards his temple. "I'll show you."

"You were sent to torture her as well?" Dumbledore asked, his tone of voice mild, while Harry rose as well, fighting his instinct to curse the man.

But Snape shook his head. "Merely to give her a healing potion." He said, and when the others merely gaped at him, added, "For her throat only. Lord Voldemort did not want her sore and worn-out vocal chords to hinder Potter's own tortures." Apparently satisfied, Dumbledore motioned for Snape to proceed.

The pensive was already visible, so the professor drew a long, wispy, blue-white thread from under his greasy hair and let it fall into the bowl. Harry, Dumbledore, and Professor Mcgonagall crowded around the bowl as well, and each touched a finger to it, all eager to watch.

They all fell into the same room that Harry had visited each night in his dreams. Except that Voldemort was not there, only Bellatrix and now Snape. Apparently, Snape had pulled the memory starting in the midst of his view of it, and not at the beginning.

Bellatrix had apparently just released Lava from another bout of the Cruciatus curse, for the girl was facedown on the floor, breathing heavily, her hair covering her face and tumbling onto the stones around her, nowhere near as vibrant as it used to be. "By this time," Snape said, watching Lava intensely. "Bellatrix had already been at the tortures for a few hours. So Miss Kathmerneniven, wherever she is now, has a leg broken in four places, as well as the opposite ankle, for it was crushed. Both of her arms are broken, as are most of her fingers and many of her ribs. Bellatrix hadn't decided to fix them yet, probably waiting to do it just before she left for the evening."

Now Bellatrix was speaking. "I grow tired of your abundant hair being everywhere all the time. Of course, it's great fun sending bits of it as presents to the people who want you rescued the most, but really, it's getting quite ridiculous. I can't even see your face etched with pain, and that just won't do at all." She smiled then, her crazed eyes glowing with evil intent. "Why don't we just go ahead and send the rest of it?" And with that, she sauntered over to the helpless girl, wrapped her fist in the once-shining red waves, and pulled Lava's head off the floor and back until she could barely swallow. She then pulled all of the hair together, and did the thing that Harry had been dreading for weeks now.

With one swift flick of her wand, Lava's makeshift ponytail came off in Bellatrix's fist, and Lava's face fell back to the ground with a sharp cracking sound. "Whoops." Bellatrix laughed. "I think you broke something." She fisted her hand in Lava's hair again and pulled. "And you had such pretty cheekbones, too... Oh well, we can't have beauty and brains, can we?" She then stood, pulling Lava up with her, ignoring the girl's pained whimpers, and Harry could see that Lava had turned her head at the last second, saving her nose, but completely obliterating that high, elegant cheekbone that Harry had so admired. He could feel the dry heaves coming upon him again, but he fought it down, knowing he needed to watch what happened next.

Bellatrix held up Lava's gorgeous hair and waved it at Snape. "Look Severus!" She cried, her face the epitome of crazed joy. "Something else to cause some panic with." But what Bellatrix hadn't noticed, that Harry had (for he had been watching Lava's pained face), was that, slowly but surely, Lava had been reaching up, with her broken arms, to the hand that clutched her hair. The hand that also clutched the wand. Then, in a sudden flash of motion, Lava both elbowed Bellatrix sharply in her side, eliciting sharp cries from both parties, and latched onto the wand at her head, wrenching it from the woman's grasp. Then, gripping it tightly, she twisted herself to the right and vanished, apparating cleanly away.

And here the vision ended, and the group was thrust back into Dumbledore's office. "So that's what that was." Dumbledore said, looking both pleased and alarmed at the same time.

"What was, Professor?" Harry asked him, feeling pleased himself.

"There was something that tried to penetrate the anti-disapparation jinx about a half hour ago. It did not get through, but it must have fallen quite close to it's boundaries." He turned to Professor Mcgonagall. "Get all of the professors together, as well as the prefects that are not Slytherins, and search the jinx boundaries. Search until you've found her, and then take her straight to Madame Pomphrey. And tell them that if they do find her, to send up gold sparks so as to let the others know. It is of great importance that we find her soon, as nightfall is coming upon us." He then turned to Harry as McGonogall and Snape hurried from the room. "Harry, you may join them, but if you are the one to find her, remember what happened the night she was taken, and be careful with her. She won't know that it wasn't really you as of yet." Harry swallowed thickly as images of what he had seen in Dumbledore's pensieve two months ago flashed through his mind, but then he nodded and left the office, beginning to run as soon as his feet left the staircase.

When Harry got to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he made it just in time to hear McGonagall telling everyone to stay within shouting distance of each other, and to see Terry Boot of Ravenclaw disappear under the trees. Harry, too, entered the forest about fifteen feet away from Terry's entrance point, but couldn't see the boy at all, not even a hint of light from his wand. Shrugging, Harry muttered 'Lumos' and fixed his eyes on the ground in front and around him, searching earnestly for any sign of Lava. But he had no luck. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. After twenty minutes, Harry was becoming desperate. Surely the jinx wouldn't have thrown Lava too far in the forest... Harry could just imagine what a helpless, and more than likely unconscious witch would become prey to out here at night. Pictures from his own past experiences here flashed through his mind. Aragog and his children, werewolves, the extremely territorial centaurs, Graup. He shuddered, trying vainly to push the images from his mind and focus on looking for Lava.

But then, after another five minutes had passed, there was a commotion to Harry's right. He heard shouts and then a sizzle. He looked up and could just make out golden sparks through the tops of the trees. He turned and sprinted for the open grounds again, thanking every supreme being and every lucky star that he could think of. She had been found. When Harry cleared the last of the trees, he found that almost the entire search party had beat him there, though he wasn't entirely sure how that was possible. He counted heads quickly and found that the only ones missing were Snape and Terry Boot. Harry didn't know where Snape had decided to search, so instead of looking for the potions master, he fixed his eyes on the place he had seen Terry disappear.

Then, faintly, he saw a light moving towards the party, and his breath quickened. The light grew brighter and brighter, and slowly, a figure emerged, holding a limp form in his arms. The lights of the other's wands illuminated Lava's face, her uninjured cheek tucked securely in Terry's shoulder, her eyes closed in a pained sleep. Terry, though, did not stop in front of the group, but simply continued on past them, moving up to the castle. But Harry could see that the boy's face was flushed with anger when Terry sent him a fleeting glance as he passed.

The search party trudged slowly after the boy, all cowed at the sight of Lava's bloody and unconscious figure. The other prefects walked well away from Harry, and only McGonagall, Ron and Hermione stayed by his side, her iron-willed presence only a slight comfort. Seeing Lava in person now, even after all he had seen of her tortures in Voldemort's mind, was worse than horrible. The procession was very slow and somber, for even in the group's excitement in finding Lava alive, and their haste to get her to the Hospital Wing, every last one of them were cowed into silence at the sight of her mangled and blood-soaked form. For everyone could see the severed hair, the obliterated cheekbone, the clothes still wet with new blood, the lank fingers at odd angles, and the foot which, had it not been held there by layers of skin, obviously would not be there at all, seeing how it swung so nauseatingly free of bone and ligament.

When they all finally reached the Hospital Wing, they were met by Dumbledore and an extremely anxious Madame Pomphrey. The latter of the two gave a badly-stifled cry at the sight of the tortured escapee, and the former had obvious tears in his own bright blue eyes. Madame Pomphrey quickly directed Terry to the nearest empty bed, and the tall boy set Lava down so carefully, she might have been made of spun-sugar. Terry then turned to Dumbledore.

"I found this next to her." He said, holding out a broken wand. Harry recognized it as Bellatrix's, snapped jaggedly in half.

Dumbledore took it almost reverently from Terry's hand, looking from it to Lava with what looked like awe in his face. "Clever girl." He said quietly. "She knew to break the wand so that the owner could not sense where it was. She did so even though her hands were a far cry from easily capable of doing it." He then seemed to shake himself, and turned to the search party. "Thank you all for your help, but Miss Kathmerneniven is perfectly safe now, as you can see. You may all return to your beds." And, as the party started to trail out, he motioned that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Terry, and McGonagall were to stay. "Now, Poppy," He said, touching the crown of Lava's head carefully. "What does she need?"

For the first time in all of Harry's escapades into the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomphrey's hands shook and she had heavy tears on her cheeks as she pulled out her wand. She then positioned it horizontally over Lava's head and slowly moved it down the length of her body. After three passes, she set her wand down on the nightstand next to the bed, and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her eyes before saying, "I can fix most of it, thank Merlin." She said. "But some of the scars she must live with for the rest of her life." She folded the handkerchief and stowed it away before picking up her wand again and using it as a pointer.

"As you can see, her right cheekbone is shattered, I shall have to remove the bone fragments before giving her a dose of Skellegrow, the same with the left side of her collarbone. Her right shoulder has been dislocated, and that will have to put back into its socket by hand. Her right arm is broken cleanly here, and fractured here and here. Her left arm is also broken, here, but it is a more jagged break. The joints have been ripped away in her left wrist, so she'll be needing to grow some more of those as well. In her left hand, her ring, middle and pinkie fingers are broken, and the thumb has been pulled from it's socket. In her right hand, all four fingers have been dislocated, and the thumb and forefinger are broken. Three ribs broken and two cracked on the left, and five ribs broken and one cracked on the right. This will also be tricky, for one of the ribs here has been broken cleanly in two and the loose fragment has punctured the lung. Her right femur has been broken cleanly in half, the ligaments in the knee are torn apart, the shin has been fractured here and here, and is also broken here and here. And the toes of the right foot have all been dislocated. The left kneecap had been shattered, along with the left ankle, and most of the toes. She will also, no doubt, need multiple blood replenishing potions if her clothes are anything to go by. As well as dietary supplement potions and one for dehydration."

"How long do you think it will take before she's back on her feet again?" Dumbeldore asked, for he seemed to be the only one of the group who could speak. McGonagall had her own handkerchief pressed to her mouth and nose, looking very green, Hermione was crying into Ron's chest, and the redhead looked to fighting to keep himself from slipping to the floor. Terry was breathing quite hard with his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white. And Harry was torn between having his knees give out, trying to find a bucket to retch into, or punching something very hard.

"She'll hopefully be out of it for a couple of days." Madame Pomphrey said, tucking her wand away again and wiping away another tear. "For if she isn't, she'll be in constant pain from having to regrow so many of her bones and tendons. And once they have grown back, she'll need crutches for a few weeks before her legs are back to their normal strength. Which means that, once I release her, she'll need help getting around to all of her classes."

"I'll do it." Terry said, his voice taught with anger. And Harry almost decided that the thing to punch was the boy's face. "I'm in all of her lessons, and it would be absolutely no trouble at all."

Dumbldore cleared his throat as he watched Harry's murderous expression. "We shall leave you to it, them, Poppy." He said. "If you need anything else for her, please do not hesitate to ask." And with that, he motioned for all of them to leave the room.

"If you don't mind, Professor, Madame Pomphrey, I'd like to stay and help." Terry said, his voice calmer though his hands were still tightly fisted. Madame Pomphrey, completely at odds with her usual temperament, muttered an acquiescence as she hurried off to gather the necessary potions.

Dumbledore made to say something when Harry interrupted. "If anyone's staying with Lava, it's going to be me." He said, facing Terry angrily.

Terry scowled down at him. The boy was not as tall as Ron, but was still much taller than Harry. He had deep blue eyes and blonde hair parted to one side in a nerdy fashion, falling across his broad forehead. "You're not getting anywhere near that girl, Potter." He almost spat. "Haven't you done enough to her already? Or are you blind?"

Harry stepped back, feeling like he had just been sucker-punched in the gut. He looked from Terry's furious face to Lava's, which was still pinched in a terrible pain that not even unconsciousness could save her from. "I didn't-" He started, but couldn't say any more.

But Terry took his words and ran with them. "That's right Potter." He said. "You didn't do anything. You left her there, alone, at night, knowing that she was in danger on just this very thing happening, but did you care? No. You just left, and look what happened." He gestured towards Lava. "This is all your fault, Potter." He said, his words as good as knives. "And I'm going to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again, and that includes keeping you as far away from her as I possibly can."

Harry swallowed the bile that seemed to be stuck in his throat, and fought to find something - anything - to say, but couldn't. Professor McGonagall took his arm and turned his around, leading him to the door. "Come, Potter." She said, her voice shaking. "We could all do with a good night's rest. Everything will be much better tomorrow." And with that, she led him from the room, Ron and Hermione trailing behind. As they passed through the door, Harry took one look back over his shoulder to see Terry kneeling next to Lava's bed, stroking her right wrist with a gentleness that was a far cry from the ferociousness of his words to Harry mere seconds before.