CHAPTER IV
INTERROGATION
Voldemort, Ron, Hermione and Fleur were sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast. Loud chatter and laughter filled the whole room from students readying themselves for the lessons of the day. The cheery atmosphere did not reach the quartet though. They were eating in silence until Ron suddenly exclaimed, “Harry, I moved you from Divination to Muggle Studies anyway.”
“Come again?” Voldemort asked, bewildered.
Ron sighed. “Remember I told you a few days ago that I was going to drop Divination and have Muggle Studies instead?”
“Erm… yeah,” Voldemort replied with fake comprehension.
“Well, you said you didn’t need Muggle Studies but then I remembered Hermione,” Ron began nodding in Hermione’s direction. “She’s muggleborn but still she liked the subject.”
“Hermione’s muggleborn?” Voldemort burst out. Then seeing Ron and Hermione’s peculiar faces, he realized he had said something terribly wrong. “Whoops! Of course you are!” he grinned awkwardly and added, “Sorry, it just slipped my mind.”
“Okay…” Ron responded with one eyebrow raised. Then putting it aside by waving his hand dismissively, he added, “Anyway, that’s why I removed you, too.”
“All right,” Voldemort said and took a bite of his muffin.
“And since you live with Muggles, you’ll be able to help me with my homework!” Ron announced excitedly.
“Oh… yeah… great,” Voldemort replied with fake enthusiasm.
Harry was definitely not having the time of his life. To think that this even was his life was hard to believe. He could be trapped in this cage for years and years until Voldemort finally could see no use of him and would simply kill him. No, Harry could indeed not see any good outcomes of this incarceration.
He had also grown extremely tired of ‘I’m not a girl, not yet a woman.’ Since humming that song once, it had stayed on his mind non-stop. He had of course tried to hum other songs but they weren’t as effective as that one. At this moment, he was trying his best to remember the lyrics to ‘Summer of 69’ and wished that this Bryan Adams guy had left behind a diary of this summer, and Harry had found that instead of Voldemort’s stupid diary from his extremely boring and lovelife-less teenage days. That would have been so much more fun to be brought into.
Harry had just now demonstrated the meaning of a trifling and completely unnecessary thought.
Voldemort was walking with Ron and Hermione to his first lesson. It was Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs “ yuck, he thought “ and the heavy books made the straps on his bag hurt his shoulder. Finally, they arrived at the classroom where the Huffflepuffs “ yuck “ were already filing in. Voldemort took a seat with Ron; Hermione with some other girl behind them.
“D’you think Fleur will be all right by herself while we have classes?” Voldemort asked Ron.
“Fleur alone in Hogsmeade where the shops are open till the sun goes down?” Ron asked with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, definitely.”
Voldemort nodded. He looked around at the Hufflepuffs “ yuck “ who were all chatting amicably until Professor McGonagall entered and the class began.
Harry continued his trivial thoughts and was now on the verge of a breakdown. Surely this incarceration could bring nothing but self-destruction and sorrow. Yes, sorrow. Oh, how sorrowful people would be if he died. The world would surely come to an end if that was the case. What could the world do in his absence? No future, no happy prospect would keep their hopes up. Was it even possible for them to go on with their lives knowing that he, Harry, had died such a tragic and merciless death? Knowing how brave he was? How would they survive without him? The death of Harry Potter would surely bring the death of the world.
Harry became quite doleful and somewhat proud of his worry for the world. His altruism touched him deeply and he felt like a better person because of it.
Really, Harry thought, the world could seriously use more unselfish people like me.
Next lesson was Potions. Voldemort, Ron, and Hermione positioned themselves in the back of the class where Voldemort could see the blond locks of his second in command’s son. Malfoy Jr. turned to look at Voldemort and sneered, saying something to those two morons Crabbe and Goyle called their sons.
Snape entered. Ha! My spy. Oh, wait! Snape wasn’t at the I’ve-got-a-vicious-plan-meeting, so he doesn’t know about the plan! He doesn’t know it’s me.
After the Potion lesson, Voldemort said something to Ron and Hermione about forgetting his ink bottle in the dungeon and left them to go get it. Thickheads, Voldemort mentally laughed at their stupidity.
He re-entered the classroom and saw Snape sitting behind his desk, his greased head bowed over a piece of parchment.
“Yo, Snape!”
Snape looked up at Voldemort with both eyebrows raised.
“I just realized you didn’t know about my plan,” Voldemort continued.
“Your plan?” Snape asked. “To do what? Clone your scar and sell it as Potter merchandise?”
“No, it’s me! Voldemort!”
“Oh, of course you’re the Dark Lord,” Snape drawled. “And I’m Oprah Winfrey. No, better yet! I’ll be Elvis “ that way I can show that he really still does exist!”
“Are you going somewhere with this?” Voldemort drawled, extremely irritated. “Look, Snape, I really am Voldemort.”
“Yes, you are the Dark Lord,” Snape agreed. “The Dark Lord whose impending detention is coming ever so close.”
“All right, be like that,” Voldemort huffed. “But if I wasn’t Voldemort, then how could I know about that birthmark on your left bum?”
“Try again, Potter,” Snape smirked. “That was revealed in the Daily Prophet last week. So that doesn’t prove anything.”
Voldemort was quite caught off guard. “It was in the newspaper?”
“Yes.” Snape looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Little mix-up of a massage clinic and the Anti-Gay Union…”
Voldemort couldn’t help but laugh.
“Detention!” Snape barked.
“Lonely. I’m so lonely, I have nobody to call my own. I’m so lonely, I’m Mr. Lonely, I have nobody to call my oowwnn.”
Harry was bobbing his head to his own humming. He had been singing so many different songs that he couldn’t remember which was which. His choice of songs followed his mood completely “ well, with the exception of ‘I’m not a girl, not yet a woman.’
Voldemort was waiting with Ron outside their Muggle Studies classroom. The class was quite small with only two Ravenclaws, four Hufflepuffs, and Voldemort and Ron. They were beckoned into the classroom where they met their new teacher. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs of course knew him but he was new to the newly transferred Voldemort and Ron.
“Hello, welcome to my class,” the Professor greeted them. “I’m Professor Kelsey.”
The Professor was a fairly short man but young, probably still in his thirties. He looked sort of fragile with the little smile and neatly ironed shirt of his. His robe was of black velvet, and his trousers only reached two inches above his ankle.
“Nice to meet you Professor,” Ron smiled, clearly happy to be rid off Divination.
Professor Kelsey and Ron looked a little expectantly at Voldemort, so he hurriedly said, “Yeah, sure, nice to see you.”
“Well, then…” Professor Kelsey looked at little offended by Voldemort’s careless greeting but started the class nonetheless with a smile. “Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, I’ll just inform you of our whereabouts in the curriculum. We have up until now worked on the Muggles’ communication methods, and we have just begun on their most popular entertainment options where technology meets the art of acting.”
“Also known as films,” he added. Now that he had brought Voldemort and Ron up to date, he turned to look at the whole class. “Hogwarts, well more precisely Dumbledore, has provided us a magical substitute for what the Muggles call a television. I have, of course, enlarged it since it was humiliatingly small. Well, here it is.”
He drew away a black silk curtain “ obviously not real silk, Voldemort thought “ which revealed a television taking up the whole back wall. “This is almost what the Muggles call a cinema,” Professor Kelsey continued, “which is a television only larger. Dumbledore and I have decided to call this enchanted and enlarged television a Magivision.”
“A cinema disseminates moving pictures,” Professor Kelsey continued, “and I have decided to show you such a film from the Muggle world. We will, throughout the year, watch several films in order to understand the Muggles’ way of thinking and this unbelievably beautiful art of filming.”
Voldemort looked sceptically at the Magivision. To think that he was supposed to waste his valuable time on Muggle stuff!
Life just isn’t fair sometimes, he thought glumly.
“We will start with one of my own favourites, an absolute classic,” Professor Kelsey announced with a smile. “Clueless.”
Boredom seemed to consume Harry. No songs entered his mind for it seemed there was nothing left. Being imprisoned and having nothing to do was really the worst kind of torture. Seriously, going back to singing ‘I’m not a girl, not yet a woman’ was as low as it could get.
Harry was just about to recite the ‘Hokey Pokey’ just for the heck of it, when the western door opened and three men entered. Lucius Malfoy, Bucklenott, and Rookwood.
“So…” Bucklenott began, a pleased smile on his face, “How are you, son?”
“Just brilliant, father,” Harry replied.
“Are you sure about that?” Bucklenott continued, clearly not convinced and determined to make Harry confess his utter misery.
“Yes,” Harry smiled. “Actually, in my state of complete happiness, I thought of throwing a party for my fellow prisoners, but those rats had obviously more important places to go…”
“Indeed,” Bucklenott sneered.
“Jeez, Potter,” Rookwood began, “Hakuna matata!”
“Come again?” Harry asked, one eyebrow raised.
“It means no worries for the rest of your days,” Rookwood continued. “HA! God, I’m so funny! You have nothing but worries left, boy!”
“Oh, that’s just hilarious!” Harry remarked sarcastically. “Really, you should tour.”
Rookwood, in a state of giggles, managed to say, “God, I’m so funny I’ll kill myself!”
“I wish you would,” Harry mumbled.
“That was brilliant!” Voldemort exclaimed happily when he and Ron were on their way from the Muggle Studies class to the Great Hall for lunch. “That Alicia Silverstone was hot!”
“Yeah, that film was great,” Ron agreed. “I didn’t know Muggles could do such things!”
“Neither did I,” Voldemort replied. “I can’t wait to see the next film Professor Kelsey brings.”
Voldemort, in a state of shock, stopped immediately in the middle of the corridor. What am I doing? I’m complimenting Muggle entertainment! Stop it! Think black. Think death. Think misery. Think merciless deaths of people with unworthy bloodlines.
“I didn’t like that film at all,” Voldemort concluded.
“What? You just said you loved it,” Ron responded.
“That wasn’t me talking, that was the accumulation of blood when I had to sit and watch that nonsense for over an hour!”
“Stop this nonsense!” Bucklenott barked. He knocked Rookwood in the side to make him stop laughing. “We did not come here to watch you, Rookwood, demonstrate the meaning of ‘no humour.’ Would you just shut the hell up?!”
Rookwood, in a strange attempt of putting and end to his fit of laughter, sucked in his lips. Alas, it didn’t work. Choking sounds of muffled laughter appeared from inside his mouth and soon he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“OUT!”
“Wow, Bucklenott, your imitation of Voldemort is flawless,” Harry announced.
“Thank you,” Bucklenott smiled, then corrected himself, “I mean, shut up, silly boy!”
Rookwood was disappearing behind the western door again, and Bucklenott turned to Lucius. “Well…” he began. “Here’s your chance.”
“Are you sure?” Lucius asked.
“Yes, you are second in command,” Bucklenott replied, “Plus, it couldn’t hurt. Well, it could hurt me,” he corrected himself, looking at Harry.
“What are you going to do to me?” Harry asked a bit nervously.
“Lucius was so keen on doing this,” Bucklenott responded dryly, “and I saw no reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to.”
“You insinuated that I am going to get hurt,” Harry continued, his heartbeat quickening.
“Yes,” Lucius answered, “I am very good at this.”
Harry looked absolutely horrified.
“I can’t assure you of your safety,” Lucius finished.
“Are you ready?” Bucklenott asked Lucius.
“More than ready,” he smiled and pulled out something white from his pocket.
Harry watched with wide horror-stricken eyes as Lucius unfolded the white cloth-like thing. It wasn’t a cloth though, for its material was somewhat stiff, like plastic. Lucius had now completed the unfolding and held the cloth out in front of him. As he turned it around and laid it on the floor, Harry instantly recognized it.
Red, blue, green, and yellow dots lay spread across the otherwise white cloth. As Lucius straightened up, Harry saw at his feet, clearly written in red letters, ‘Twister.’
Voldemort was aching with all the thoughts running inside his brain. He needed to get on with his master plan and not get distracted by silly Muggle films with hot teenage girls with long blond hair and a great sense of fashion and… Huh? Got distracted there again. The plan. Yes, what to do, what to do…? I need to get some information. But how?
“Harry, can I borrow your Invisibility Cloak tonight?” Hermione asked sweetly.
“Just a minute, Hermione, I’m just thinking about something…” Voldemort replied, utterly into finding a solution to his problem. How can I get information without being seen doing so?
“Harry,” Hermione waved a hand in front of Voldemort and continued, “Your Invisibility Cloak. Can I borrow it?”
“Just a second!” Voldemort repeated. God, can’t the girl tell I’m pondering over something?! Okay, what can I use to get information secretly without being noticed? Hey… did she just say Invisibility Cloak?
“So sorry, Hermione, what did you say?” Voldemort asked sweetly.
“I asked if I could borrow your Invisibility Cloak tonight.”
I have an Invisibility Cloak! Perfect!
“Yeah, sure, I’ll just go find it.” With a huge smile on his face, Voldemort went to the Gryffindor tower on the seventh floor.
“Right hand, yellow.”
Lucius put his right hand eagerly on the yellow dot. Bucklenott spun the arrow again and announced, “Potter, left foot, red.”
Harry moved his left foot from its position on a green spot to the best red spot available. He was now standing quite uncomfortably because of that last move; his legs were crossed, his left hand between them, and his right hand position dangerously close to Lucius’ bum.
Bucklenott spun the arrow again and announced, “Lucius, right foot, green.”
Lucius grinned as his position now lightened; he was now squatted comfortably in one end of the cloth. “Ha, Potter, I knew you couldn’t beat me!” He looked overall satisfied with the progress of the game and continued, “No one has ever beaten me. Once Severus and I stayed up a whole night because he was determined to win. Well, of course that didn’t happen.”
“Enough talk,” Bucklenott interrupted. “Potter, left hand, green.”
Harry groaned as his position worsened. Though he was grateful that Lucius’ last move had removed his bum from the vicinity of Harry’s right hand, Harry was now balancing on his fingertips, determined not to fall.
“Ooh, not comfortable are we?” Lucius sneered.
“Perfectly so,” Harry managed to say though all his muscles were on edge in trying to hold him up.
“Lucius, left foot, blue,” Bucklenott announced.
Lucius didn’t look too happy about that but moved nonetheless. He had to take a blue spot that wasn’t so close to him because Harry was occupying the two that were closest to him.
“May I compliment you on your litheness, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry smiled.
“Why, thank you, son,” Lucius smiled back then grimaced at his own words. “Your turn,” he spat.
Voldemort looked everywhere in his dormitory for the Invisibility Cloak but luck, it seemed, just didn’t suit him. He returned glumly to Ron and Hermione where he had left them in the library.
“Did you get it?” Hermione asked eagerly.
“No,” Voldemort sulked. “Do either of you have any idea where it might be?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve lost it,” Hermione replied.
“Then I’m not sure what to say…”
“Well,” Ron began, crumbling up a piece of parchment he had been writing on, “I haven’t seen it since we went to Hogsmeade yesterday.”
“Shit,” Voldemort mumbled, realizing that Harry must still have it on him.
“Please refrain from any more disgraceful vocabulary, Harry,” Hermione huffed.
Ron raised an eyebrow at her request. “Anyway… Harry, I’m sure you’ve got the Cloak in your room, just check again.”
“You’re probably right,” Voldemort responded, very well aware of him not being right at all.
That stupid boy’s got the Cloak! I must contact my loyal servants. Tonight.
“Bonjour tous le monde!” a French voice reached their ears. Voldemort, Hermione and Ron turned to look to the doors of the library and found Fleur walking towards them, shopping bags in each hand. “I just had ze most wonderful day!”
“That’s great,” Voldemort replied, smiling. Wait! Am I being happy for someone else? That can’t be good…
Fleur dropped all her bags in front of Voldemort and exclaimed, “Oh, ‘Arry, darling!” she embraced him in a tight hug. Releasing him, she gave him a swift kiss. “Let us ‘ave a nice and quiet night tonight.”
“Sure, I just have to go do something first,” Voldemort replied.
“Okay,” Fleur smiled. “I can show ‘Ermione all ze wonderful zings I bought in ze meantime!”
Hermione looked absolutely horrified, “Do you have to?” she pleaded.
“Oh, ‘Ermione, you are so funny!” Fleur giggled.
Voldemort said that he would just go look again for his Cloak, but did not have any intention of searching since he knew Harry must still have it. He would just have to contact his nonentities.
“Right foot, red.”
Harry moved his foot to the best possible red spot. He was now more firmly positioned but his head was nauseatingly close to Lucius’ armpit.
“Lucius, left hand, yellow,” Bucklenott continued.
Lucius, who was becoming more and more competitive by the minute, was now sweating and had a determined look in his blue-grey eyes. He moved his left hand shakily to a good yellow spot and managed to smirk to Harry once he had managed to control his crooked position.
Suddenly the fireplace made a loud ‘pop’ and the flames enlarged for a moment then settled down. Lucius was so startled he lost his footing and sat down hard on the cloth.
“HA! I won!” Harry exclaimed.
Lucius was fuming but had no opportunity to respond because he was interrupted.
“WHAT IN MY NAME IS GOING ON HERE?!”
Harry’s head whipped around so fast he swore he heard his neck crack. He saw his own head floating in the fireplace, a furious look in his eyes.
“My lord,” Bucklenott whispered, bowing obsequiously.
Lucius got to his feet in no time and imitated Bucklenott but with an even lower bow. “My lord.”
“You better have a good explanation for this!” Harry had cunningly figured out that his head in the fireplace was Voldemort in the effects of the Polyjuice Potion.
“We were…” Bucklenott mumbled, “we were… torturing Potter… with this game… because he is colour-blind and the different coloured dots make him dizzy.”
“I said a good explanation, Bucklenott!” Voldemort roared.
Bucklenott whimpered and bowed twice.
“I do not have time for an explanation anyway,” Voldemort announced. “We have more important matters at hand.”
“Indeed, sir?” Lucius asked.
“Indeed,” Voldemort repeated. “The Potter boy has an Invisibility Cloak and I wish to find it! You must interrogate him. If he does not speak freely, use our torturing methods!”
“We will begin right away, master,” Lucius bowed.
“Good,” Voldemort huffed. “And if I ever catch you doing something like this again, you’d wish you were never born.”
He scowled one last time and then vanished with a ‘pop’.
“And I ‘ave also got zis,” Fleur continued excitedly, holding up a light pink skirt in front of her hips.
“That’s very nice, Fleur, but don’t you think you should be getting along now?” Hermione asked, with plea evident in her voice.
“No, not yet,” Fleur smiled, clearly not catching the hint Hermione was throwing at her. “I will just show you one last thing.”
Ron groaned along with Hermione. The library had not many students left and Ron was getting extremely tired of the fashion show that had been laid upon him.
Fleur took out a small black thing from her last bag. It was an extremely see-through top which she now held out in front of her. Ron’s interest suddenly grew from non-existent to bursting point, and he eagerly stated, “Looks good, Fleur, but I could better judge it if you put it on.”
Hermione threw him a furious look.
Fleur just smiled and said, “No. Sorry, Ron, I am only wearing zis for ‘Arry.”
“Bugger it.”
“All right, Potter,” Lucius sneered. “Where is your Invisibility Cloak?”
Harry had been put back into the cage after the departure of Voldemort’s head and was now sitting with his arms crossed. “If you think I’m going to tell you where it is just like that, you’ve got a lot to learn,” he replied stubbornly.
“What if I promised you another lollipop?” Lucius proposed.
“Nope.”
“An apple?”
“Nope.”
“A year’s subscription to Horse and Hound magazine?”
“Mmhh… tempting, but no.”
“Argh!” Lucius burst out. “He is unbreakable!”
“You’re pathetic, Lucius, you know that?” Bucklenott sighed. “Promises like that won’t get you anywhere. Torture is the right way to go.”
“What do you suggest?” Lucius asked, interested.
“Oh, I have a lot of torturing methods up my sleeve,” Bucklenott smirked.
“They can’t be that frightening since they can fit in there,” Harry pointed out.
“This is no time for your stupid one-liners, Potter!” Bucklenott fumed. "But I guess you’ll just have to see,” Bucklenott snorted. “You’ll see.”
“Bring it on,” Harry smirked, feeling utterly ready for whatever sad excuse for a torturing method Bucklenott possessed.
“All right,” Bucklenott began, “Let’s see what smart things the famous Harry Potter will have to say when he knows what horrors lie ahead.”
Harry nodded confidently for him continue.
“Reruns of ‘The Bachelor’.”
“NO!” Harry cried out in agony. “Anything but that! Please! NO!”
Voldemort sat in one of the armchairs when Ron, Hermione and Fleur entered. Hermione, who was extremely red-eyed, said, “I have seen enough fashion to last a lifetime.”
“You really should reconsider that statement,” Voldemort replied, looking with a disgusted eye at her pink cardigan and her rainbow-coloured belt.
“I choose to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Hermione huffed.
After several hours of reruns, Harry was beginning to see no hope. He was sweating and at this point knew the episodes so well he cited the characters’ sentences seconds before they themselves did. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. The pain was inexplicable and soon he croaked, “Shire… Baggins…”
“HA!” Lucius yelled out in glee. “Your torture method worked, Bucklenott!”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Bucklenott replied icily. “Go find the Cloak!”
Lucius hurried out of the eastern door and Bucklenott turned off the reruns, making Harry exhale in relief.
____
A/N: Reference:
“Shire… Baggins…”
- Gollum, The Lord of the Rings