Worst plan ever
It was a bright day. Every now and then the sun peeked through the clouds, shining brightly on the wasteland of a graveyard, as if it were mocking it.
A stream of light entered the window of the mansion lying next to the graveyard. There, the eyelids of a young teenager stirred and ever so slowly, his eyes begun to open.
His whole body was still tired and fought against the thought of awakening, but the young teenager's eyes remained open. For a moment there, he didn't had a clue to where he was. But then his memories returned and it came down twice as hard.
He sat up instantly, clutching the bed sheets with his slightly trembling fist.
"Damn it," he gritted through his teeth. He was incredibly frustrated. Not only because he was here, but because of what happened before he passed out.
He ran his fingers through his hair. He was using him. Using him like he was some kind of doll, doing whatever he wanted with him.
That's it, he thought. I don't care what happens to me, he's not getting his way any longer.
Now that he concluded that Voldemort wouldn't let him go anyway, blackmailing him with extra days wouldn't work anymore. He was going to resist whatever Voldemort had planned for him, anything at all. Even if it would mean getting worse punishments.
He threw the blankets away and immediately stood up. While he looked at his room, he spotted the man in the portrait, already half disappearing out of his painting. This made him even angrier.
"Yeah, go ahead and tell him that I'm awake!" he shouted after the disappearing man. Being locked into his room, he had no place to go. He sat on the edge of his bed and rested his hand on his forehead in frustration.
As his fingers accidentally touched his scar, he suddenly realized that it hadn't hurt… at all, ever since the incident with Snape. Voldemort probably kept his walls up against him, Harry thought. Not that he minded. It was one less problem to deal with and he definitely didn't miss the pain.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a trolley with food appeared, just like it had yesterday. He glared at it, thinking back at the scenario of yesterday. He then abruptly stood up and walked towards it. When he reached it, his hands grabbed the edges of it and he threw the heavy trolley with all the strength he had to the ground. Everything felt on the ground, making a mess of the carpet. Some glass had shattered thanks to the weight of the trolley on top.
Then, though to be expected, the two Death Eaters guarding his room barged in, having heard the noise.
They looked from Harry to the floor and back at Harry, as if they couldn't believe their eyes.
"…He'll be so mad," one of them eventually whispered.
"Great," Harry then said.
The two Death Eaters exchanged painful grimaces before they decided to close the door again.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed as he stared at the stains in the carpet and the food lying on top of them. It could probably be fixed with a simple cleaning spell, but it was the thought that counted.
He waited a few minutes which slowly turned into an hour, but nothing happened… No one else had come. Figuring no one would come for the mess he made anymore, he started staring at the window. He remembered that Voldemort had placed spells on it… but he wondered what would happen if he tried to open it? Would yet another alarm go off…?
He figured that it wouldn't hurt to try. He could always shrug it off as 'wanting to have fresh air'. He knew it wasn't going to help him escape anyway. Not with those wards outside.
He tried to open the window, but no matter what he tried, it didn't budge. Eventually, he picked up a heavy book and threw it straight at the glass. It broke… and repaired itself almost instantly. The book he'd thrown, flew back twice as hard. He barely managed to dodge it before it slammed into the door.
He cringed at this. Now the guards would come again. But then, as the door opened once again, a thought popped up in his head.
"What are you doing?!" one of the Death Eaters said, barging in.
Harry stood up from his bed. "I need to use the bathroom. A shower would be nice too."
The two Death Eaters wordlessly exchanged nervous looks. They started whispering, but it was so loud that Harry could easily figure out what they were saying.
"What now?" one of them hissed. "We hadn't had any orders about showering! What should we do?"
The other one looked just as stressed. "W-we could always guard the door, but… we don't even know where he should take one! We…we could always contact our Lord, but…"
"Do you think that's wise? I mean, if we disturb him for something like this…"
"But even if we would get punished, it would always be better then if we make a mistake!"
Of course, Harry wasn't interested in using the bathroom at all, though he kind of needed to use one, but he could use this opportunity to explore the mansion a little bit. After all, he wasn't going to lose hope. He knew there was a way out of here somehow, somewhere. Yesterday he hadn't really paid much attention to his surroundings. When he thought back at that, he knew that it hadn't been very clever, but he was already stressed out enough as it was.
Lost in his thoughts, he was vaguely aware that the two Death Eaters were talking to the man in the portrait, who had come back just now.
…What if he would try to get away? Well, even though he couldn't be punished by staying here longer, it wasn't exactly a brilliant plan. The mansion was full of Death Eaters with wands, so most likely he wouldn't get very far. Even though he wasn't worried about getting hurt at this point, he would probably be Stunned and dragged back to his room.
He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He had already passed out twice in front of Voldemort yesterday and on top of that, he fainted right into him.
He clenched his fist in frustration. No, he still had some dignity left. He needed to think of a better plan, instead of just doing things rationally.
Focused on his own thoughts alone for a moment, he nearly missed everything the Death Eaters said. He didn't even realize it until they grabbed his arm and started pulling him along.
"We're going now," one of them said.
He just wished that he knew where they were taking him. This time, as he went out, he paid close attention to his surroundings. The walls looked the same throughout the halls, so he tried to memorize statues and paintings, as they went past them.
As he just passed a statue of a snake, resting on a pile of bones, he had the nagging feeling that he had already passed this statue once. But he didn't know when, so he still had no clue to where they were going.
He figured that it was worth the shot to ask. But as he just started to open his mouth, he noticed that the hall was near it's end. At the end of the hall was a huge door, decorated with amazing details. When he saw the snakes carved in the wood of the door, he swallowed a big lump in his throat. He already knew where he was. After all, yesterday he had spent a while on the doorway, refusing to step inside the Dark Lord's chambers.
"That's… okay…" he heard himself say. Somehow this plan had really backfired on him. The last thing he wanted right now was to be in that room. "I don't need to use the bathroom that necessary… so we can just go back…"
"He already expects you now," one Death Eater said. "Everything is already prepared. You have to now… with force, if necessary."
This had absolutely been the worst plan ever…