“Crucio!”
Harry writhed and screamed on the floor of the Atrium in the Ministry of Magic. As the pain from Voldemort’s curse ripped through his body, Harry found himself wishing that his enemy would simply finish him off. At least it would end the pain from the curse, the guilt from the death of Sirius, and the knowledge that he had gotten his friends hurt and almost killed.
As time stretched, Harry felt as if he was becoming detached. He wasn’t in his own body anymore, but watching from afar. The pain was gone and he couldn’t bring himself to be too concerned about his body, lying a few feet away. Then, as suddenly as the detached feeling came, it was gone, and the pain was fresh and renewed. He was sure that it would not be much longer before he died or went mad from the pain.
The curse had been on Harry for longer than he could count and he was beginning to feel numb as his hoarse yells died. The last thing he saw before a black mist covered his mind was an old wizard running out of one of the lifts.
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“Dumbledore!” Remus Lupin shouted, hurrying over to the old wizard. “Harry’s gone after Bellatrix. They were heading for the Atrium.”
“Stay here and keep everything under control,” Albus Dumbledore ordered, already halfway up the ampitheatre-styled steps.
“No,” Lupin argued. “I’m coming with you.”
“We don’t have time to argue this Remus,” Dumbledore replied sternly. “You are the only one who is uninjured; I need you to stay. I will find Harry.”
Lupin looked doubtful. He knew for a fact that if Dumbledore had kept Harry well informed that year, they would not even be there. The old man’s mistake had caused the injuries of almost all of the Order members involved, the students, and the death of his last best friend. But, he knew that arguing with the headmaster would only lead to more wasted time. So, however ruefully, he slowly nodded. “Find him. Quickly.”
Dumbledore nodded his understanding. “I will. Do not worry.” And, with amazing agility and speed for a man his age, he bolted the rest of the way up the stairs, along the passage, and through the circular entrance to the Department of Mysteries. He came to the lifts and entered, jabbing the button for the Atrium. He waited.
The lift would not move.
The usually calm professor swore, pulling out his wand. He had wasted five minutes already; he couldn’t afford to lose any more time! He pointed the wand at the ceiling of the lift and muttered a spell that most wizards older than himself wouldn’t even know. The lift suddenly jolted into motion, pulling Dumbledore upward toward the Atrium and Harry. He waited impatiently, the lift seeming to move a lot slower than usual. Why, he wondered, does everything seem to move slower when one is in a hurry?
When the lift suddenly stopped and the golden grilles opened, the first thing Dumbledore saw was Harry, eyes closed, lying on the floor. As he rushed out he vaguely noticed Bellatrix Lestrange standing across the room, a sickly satisfied expression on her face, while he hastened toward Voldemort. The Dark Lord was standing over Harry, his wand pointing at the young man’s heart.
“Tom.” Dumbledore’s voice was commanding, but even Voldemort could hear the note of panic and alarm in the old man’s voice. He slowly turned, grinning broadly at Dumbledore.
“Ah, if it isn’t the Mudblood-lover,” he hissed menacingly.
“What have you done?” the headmaster asked as Bellatrix cackled.
“I’ve merely shown the boy what happens to those who defy me.”
“What do you mean?” His panic was starting to peak.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Voldemort replied, his eyes gleaming maliciously. “I’m afraid I have more pressing appointments than a reunion with my dear former Transfiguration professor, however. So I shall return to you your… hero.”
Voldemort reached into the pocket of his robes, beckoning Bellatrix with a nod of his head. He produced a smooth, black stone and activated the Portkey. Both of them vanished instantly, leaving an unconscious Harry and a worried Dumbledore behind.
The headmaster hastened to Harry’s side, kneeling beside him. The boy’s chest was rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths; he was alive. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dumbledore reached into his own pocket, his thoughts swirling in his head. This boy, lying so broken on the ground, was the fate of the Wizarding World. He was destined for greatness and had no idea. Now, the last tie to his family that he had had been stolen from him once again. If the curse hadn’t damaged Harry enough, the emotional pain the boy would soon suffer would.
Then again, Dumbledore thought, Harry had gone through much worse and come out on top. The year before, he had been devastated after the events in the graveyard. But his friends and his surrogate family had brought him through the pain. They had healed him. They could and would do the same for him now. That was when Dumbledore realized that, other than the injuries that were obviously caused by the Cruciatus curse, Harry would be alright. It might have to take a while, but the young man could be healed; and he would be in time.
Dumbledore finally found what he was looking for: a strip of blank parchment. He pointed his wand at the strip and muttered portus! The parchment glowed blue for a moment before returning to it’s original state. Placing part of the parchment in Harry’s hand, the Portkey activated and whisked both of them off to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. The only thought in the old wizard’s head was what the side effects of the curse would be and if Harry would be the same after he awoke.
Cruciatus Cursed by Moony 62442
Chapter Notes: Hello, everyone. This is my first submitted fic, so I hope you enjoy it. Let me just say that all of the recognizable Harry Potter subjects and characters belong to Mrs. J.K. Rowling, not myself. Please review if you have a moment. Thank you so much!