Firethroat: We no own Harry Potter, you no sue.
Me: Though I wouldn't say no to Sirius.
Vurso: Oh, no. Tie her down before she goes crazy.
Firethroat: Yeah. We don't want a repeat of the Sesshoumaru incident… don't ask, don't ask.
Both: *Tie me down. *
Me: How is the story going to get written if I can't move?
Vurso: You have it written down in your composition book. I'll just type it out.
Me: Curses. Foiled again!
Firethroat: Mental note… keep her away from the Xanth books for a while, too. (Which we also do not own)
Vurso: *Grabs the book, sits down, and starts typing. * On with the fic.
"Master, we have finally captured the boy. He is being held in the fourth floor dungeon." A thin, greedy voice rose out of the darkness. The only light came from a small, sputtering candle that was close to extinguishing itself with its own wax. The flickering reflected eerily on a hand made of molten silver.
"Excellent. You have finally proven your little worth, Wormtail. For pleasing me, I shall spare your life. Now get out of my sight." Red eyes glowed slightly to emphasize the threat.
"Yes Master." A small pop, and a scruffy rat scurried away hurriedly, not wanting to give his master a reason to use him for McGonagell bait.
"Ahh… finally, I have you in my grasp, Potter. And you shall find that I can squeeze rather hard…" Maniacle laughter filled the complex, making all of the occupants, save one, quiver in fear.
In the dungeons, a sixteen year old boy was slumped where he was chained to the wall. He was lanky, with the toned muscles he had filled with a wiry strength. Emerald eyes peered out from under a shock of unruly black hair, and a lightning bolt shaped scar burned against his forehead.
The boy's robes were tattered, and hung loosely against his frame. They did almost nothing to ward off the searing cold that swept in from the high, barred window. A snarl formed his mouth, and a low, terrifying growl burned from his throat. At that point, if you looked closely, you could almost sense another creature peering out from behind his eyes.
The soft growl grew louder as Lord Voldemort, killer of muggles, muggle-borns, and wizards and witches alike, and mad-man extraordinaire, stepped through the heavy metal door, his heavy robes swirling about his ankles. The scar on Harry's forehead was glowing at this point, and small tremors of pain traveled up and down his spine. He strained at his bonds, his hands just itching to close around the throat of his mortal enemy. So what if he died? If he could take Voldemort with him, he would die happy.
The evil genius in question smirked. "So you wish for my death, eh, Harry? Bah!" He scoffed. "You won't be the first, or the last, to want me dead." Harry strained harder to free himself.
Voldemort's tone took on an ominous quality as he changed the subject. "Did you ever wonder why I wanted you dead in the first place, Harry?" The boy in question stopped struggling, surprised at this turn of events.
"Cause you're a heartless bastard that enjoys seeing people, especially little kids, cry in pain?" Harry quipped with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, yes, but that's not why specifically." Voldemort replied calmly. "You see, Harry, it was prophecized that not a human, but a magical creature would be my downfall. When Dumbledor discovered that it was you, he transformed you into a human baby, and placed you in the Potters' care. It took me months to track you down, and it turns out that the prophecy was partially correct."
Voldemort allowed an evil smirk to travel across his face. "In fact, I have ordered my faithful servant, Severus, to concoct a potion to change you back to your true form, as I am particuarly curious as to what I am facing." He turned, and with a swirl of his cloak, walked out of the room.
A few minutes later, a man that Harry recognised as his Professor walked in, carrying a vial of dark, sludgy liquid in it. As he tipped it to the boy's lips, he muttered under his breath, "I altered the potion so that you will keep your mind and memories. Just remember to act as vicious as you can, kid." With that, he poured the foul tasting potion down Harry's throat.
As the changes coursed through his body, followed by a wave of pain that rivalled the Cruciatious Curse, only one thought managed to make its way through the fog clouding his brain: What am I?
And then there was darkness.
Vurso: *Smiles. * I love it when she leaves cliffies. Though I know we'll get death threats for this.
Firethroat: Better go get the fire burning to get rid of all of 'em. At least we'll be warm for a while.
Vurso: You're a Charizard… you have a built in flame on your tail… YOU'RE ALWAYS WARM!!
Firethroat: Oh yeah.
Me: You guys gonne untie me now? I'm better.
Firethroat: Fine. *Unties me. *
Vurso: *Too late. * No! Don't!
Me: Hahaha!!! I'm free!!!! Here I come, Sirius!!! *Goes to find him. *
Vurso: *Glares at Firethroat. * Now look at what you did.
Firethroat: Uh… I'll just go start the fire… *Dashes out of the room. *
Vurso: *Sighs. * Looks like I'm stuck with damage control… again. *Leaves to go stop me from doing too much emotional damage to Sirius. *
Firethroat: *Pokes his head in for a second. * Please review!