Death Never Stopped Me Before

|Chapter 3|

This time there was no controlling the grief that coursed through him. It was staggering. "You killed Harry Potter!" It repeated in his head over and over again. "You killed Harry Potter!" It felt like his lungs had collapsed inside his chest, and for a second Voldemort forgot where he was. He struggled to breathe through the agony that washed through his veins, his hands clenched so tightly that they gouged crescent holes into his palm.

"You killed Harry Potter!"

"SHUT UP!" Voldemort screamed, his magic lashing out and slamming the pair against the wall. His magic held them there, trapped against the stone brick as he stalked forward. Their eyes were wide with fear as Voldemort's fury overtook him. "You shut your mouth or I'll sew it shut, you filthy mudblood!"

Her eyes narrowed, the fear leaving her as anger once again replaced it. "It's true," she snapped. "Everyone loved Harry and you killed him! You made him into a martyr!"

"Yeah!" Weasley joined in. "The Wizarding World won't stand for his death!"

Voldemort screamed in frustration, his composure long gone as he stared at the pair in front of him. Where had their self-preservation gone? Were they truly so stupid they saw no fault in goading Lord Voldemort? Voldemort slammed their heads into the wall, a loud crack echoing through the cell. "I'll kill you." he snarled, his voice tight with fury. "I swear I will torture you to death!"

"Like you killed Harry?" the mudblood snapped. "Do it! Kill us! You're only proving my point! You killed Harry, so why not his best friends?"

'I don't know what I'd do without them.'

Voldemort threw the pair across the room, an enraged yell escaping his lips. They crumpled to the ground like a puppet whose strings were cut, and Voldemort felt nothing but rage. "TELL ME WHERE THE ORDER IS!"

"Fuck you!"

"TELL ME WHERE THE ORDER IS YOU MUDBLOOD!" Voldemort screamed, throwing her against the wall once more. "TELL ME! TELL ME!" To his humiliation, his voice broke halfway through the last demand.

It was silent in the cell then, the only noise coming from the steady drip of water where the ceiling leaked, and Voldemort's harsh breaths. Granger's head was bleeding, blood sluggishly trailing down the left side of her face while Weasley glared at Voldemort, his gaze full of so much hate.

Voldemort startles when he feels something ghost across his cheek. "Patience Tom, the world won't bend to your will, you know." a voice whispers in his ear. Voldemort snapped his head to the left so quickly, he knew he'd have whiplash. That was Harry's voice whispering in his ear just now, so close Voldemort could practically feel it.

But Harry wasn't there, and the cell was empty save for the two prisoners and himself. Harry wasn't standing behind him, whispering advice like he always did because Harry was gone.

Sucking in a startled breath, Voldemort turned to face the two fallen figures in front of him. Despite the voice being nothing more than a figment of Voldemort's imagination, he decided to take the advice. After all, Harry always gave the best advice.

Voldemort transfigured a chair out of a pebble on the ground and sat down in front of the couple. "Tell me about the rebellion," he said in a calm voice. He could see the confusion written all over the pair's faces, but Voldemort remained collected. "Answer my questions and nobody will get hurt. Sound fair?"

"Go fuck yourself." Weasley snarled. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, breathing in deeply to fight off the urge to throttle the boy until he bled from his eyes and ears.

"That's very vulgar of you, Mr. Weasley," Voldemort said, leaning back in his chair to cross his arms over his chest. "What would your mother say?"