WIP Wednesday
For WIP Wednesday, here's an excerpt of a current additional severitus i've been additionally working on for a while. This one is rather dark, which will essentially be a DH rewrite.
...The Locket.
They had only just destroyed the locket when they ran.
Now some of his memory was coming back to him. Harry’s jaw tensed. They did not get very far at all.
The dust in the air had built enough to irritate his lungs. Harry coughed from the lingering dust. Every time he shuffled, he kicked up more of it and it felt like razors down his throat.
“Hey, I think the little shit is awake.”
Harry froze immediately. He held his breath. A deep, gravely voice penetrated the silence from outside of the door. A hasty shuffle could be heard by several pairs of boots.
With a rattle of the lock, the heavy door swung open, casting a harsh glow into the cell. The first time he was able to look upon it, his attention was more focused on the silhouette of three figures in black, hooded cloaks. The painful light was harsh, instinctively narrowing his eyes into splits.
There was an immediate scuffle when the first one lunged at him, and all he could smell was the scent of rot from his teeth, and remnants of old whiskey. The man grabbed Harry by the front of his torn shirt and slammed him against the rough stone wall.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” Harry spat. His eyesight was blinded by the dull light, which felt like the sun burning his vision.
The obscured man chuckled, “You’re stuck here, boy. And there’s not a bloody thing you can do about it.”
“Where am I?!” Harry demanded. He needed to know something. Anything.
“The Dark Lord only wants you alive. That means we have permission from him to do what we wish until you are delivered.”
Harry remained silent. It almost felt as if his heart had lodged itself in his throat, yet he remained paralysed by fear.
He barely had time to think, when the figure’s clenched fist suddenly clocked him in the jaw, and he felt his lower lip split instantly. He heard the other two chuckle darkly with every blow, until the other finally released him from his hold. Harry sunk to the floor, feeling his head throb and ache.
“The Chosen One? Pathetic.”
The other two moved forward, and the next thing he felt was a sharp kick to his ribs. He cried out in pain and tried to shield the rest of his head from the additional assault. When they were finally done with him, they departed the freezing cell and slammed the heavy door behind them.
Harry was drenched in darkness once again as he lay back on the cold floor, bleeding now in new places.
There was nothing he could do.
He remained still; helpless. A single tear ignited by pain rolled down his dirt-stained cheek as he brought his knees up to his chest.
…He had no chance.
