Author's Note: So sorry about the long breaks in between updates - I'm getting ready to graduate, so I'm considerably busier than usual. When I do have free time, my brain is so fried I can't even think of what to write. So, as my apology, have a longer chapter than usual.
WARNINGS: This story is rated M for a reason. There is a torture scene in the second half of this chapter. If you are uncomfortable with torture methods or mentions of leeches, I apologize. If it truly bothers you, you may skip the section after the dividing line, but you will miss vital information.
That being said, enjoy! I hope to get back to writing soon!
~ + ~
Malfoy bounced back quickly once in the care of the resistance's medical team. Clearly, torture was not a new concept to him, as he recovered in record time. In fact, a day had hardly passed before Harry had been forced to go to the medical tent in an attempt to convince Malfoy to stay put. Stubborn as they both were, it was several visits before he finally gave the order for the mediwitch to knock the blonde out with a powerful sleeping draught. Even if Malfoy insisted he would be fine, Harry didn't need to risk what could potentially be a valuable asset to their team. Malfoy was intelligent, well-trained, and powerful; Harry would have to be a fool not to admit that. Even Ron had to agree, though with a good amount of grumbling to go with his agreement.
It was a week before Harry finally put the option out there.
Malfoy blinked at him for a moment, as if slowly registering what Harry had to say. "Training?" he asked. "You want to train me."
"Not that you really need help with the magical side of things," Harry responded. "But if you're going to stay here with us, you're going to have to make yourself useful, and the rest of my team agrees that you would be most helpful to us in the field. That means you will have to go through the same training as any of our recruits would. You might get through the program faster, but I can't be making exceptions for anyone, especially someone who used to oppose us."
"Thanks for the explanation," Malfoy sneered. His brow furrowed. "And what if I don't want to fight in the field? Remember, Alistair, I know people on the other side. Some of them were even my friends. I might have had a change of heart, but that doesn't mean I want to go leaping to my death, hoping to take a couple of them out with me."
"Which is why we would train you." Harry's eyes bore into him though, to his credit, Malfoy never flinched. "You have two options: you go through training, after which we determine which team is best for you to join, or we execute you."
"Harsh, don't you think?"
"We can't afford to do otherwise." Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but it seemed he understood. Harry explained anyways. "Anyone who is not on active duty is a liability. Given your past - and despite your valuable help - we would have no choice but to imprison you or execute you. We do not have the resources to keep you imprisoned indefinitely. So the only logical conclusion would be to execute you, however against the idea we might be. No loose ends, you understand."
"Oh, I understand." A small smirk appeared on Malfoy's face. "I think I might grow to like it here after all. I like your guys' way of thinking. It's smart, almost Slytherin of you."
"It's what's kept us alive. Old houses have nothing to do with it."
"I can appreciate that. So, when do I start?"
"You'll be joining us then?"
"Don't have any other choice now, do I?" Harry snorted.
"Smart decision." He threw a bundle of clothing at Malfoy, who caught it easily. "Now get changed. The rags you were wearing when we brought you here have already been burned. We didn't want to take the risk of a tracking charm being woven into the fabric." Malfoy made a face at the news, but didn't protest. Instead, he unfolded the bundle, turning over the dark material in his hands.
"Not my usual style," he sniffed. "But it will do."
"Get used to it." Harry shrugged. "This is war. We don't have time for luxuries. You have five minutes to meet me outside this tent."
"You aren't just bringing me down here to kill me, are you?" Harry leveled an unimpressed look at Malfoy, who raised his hands defensively. "Just checking. This is an unusual situation; anything could happen."
Harry had led Malfoy past the rows of tents towards the pit at the edge of the camp. As they passed a specific cluster of rocks, Harry had had him slice his palm open and rest it against the largest boulder. The jagged face of the stone had wavered before Harry waved him through and the two stepped past the wards.
It was a cleverly designed illusion, and though the rock cluster was fairly obvious, it was nigh impenetrable with the amount of wards surrounding it. Additionally, it had an even handier charm attached that caused the memory of the area to quickly fade unless one was keyed into the wards. Anyone who happened to stumble upon the hideout would only forget it existed the second they left.
Entering the rock revealed a tunnel carved out by magic. Werelights dimly lit the tunnel's walls as Harry led Malfoy deeper into the ground. Finally, the slope seemed to level out, and dirt turned to stone. "This is incredible," Malfoy breathed as they passed sealed door after sealed door. "I had no idea the Shadow of the Phoenix had all of this...hell, I didn't even know this was possible!"
"It's amazing what a team can accomplish when their lives depend on it," Harry answered. He brushed a hand against a passing pillar. "It took us about three years to fully complete this. Impressive though it may seem, creating a bunker out of solid ground is not easy. We had all of our strongest wizards and witches working feverishly to get this finished. Now we use it to train our recruits. The pit up top is just for show and sometimes to give the trainees another arena to fight in." He motioned towards a door. "You won't be privy to the specific location just yet, but one of these rooms has a special trapdoor that leads to a lower level, which is where we hide our dungeons. We have a holding tent above ground for temporary usage, but our more permanent guests stay here in the cozy accommodations we have for them." Malfoy shivered as he became aware of the chilled air around them.
"Sounds like a real walk in the park," he muttered. "Why are you telling me all of this when I haven't given you a reason to trust me yet?"
"Because this is where your training will begin." The two stopped in front of the final door. "Think of it this way. If you fail, we won't have to worry about telling you anything, because you won't be able to remember. We have a unique team called the Modifiers. They specialize in the mental branches of magic - Legilimency, Occlumency, obliviation charms, and the like. They are so good at what they do, we can send a person walking out of here with every single memory intact, except the ones that have anything to do with the resistance. There are no gaps - not even the slightest doubt that anything is off. It's an undetectable difference too." Harry glanced at Malfoy. "So if you fail, don't worry - you won't even know there was anything to fail in the first place."
Malfoy stared back at him for a moment, before Harry reached forward and unlocked the door with a murmured password and tracing of a rune. It swung open and Harry gestured for Malfoy to step through.
As the door shut with a resounding thud, Malfoy glanced around the room. It was empty, save for the two chairs in the middle. One was a simple wooden chair, conjured from Merlin knew where. The other, Malfoy noted with a slight paling of his face, was heavily fortified with straps and bolts holding it to the stone below. Heavy wards tingled across the room. Two other people were there, though their faces were obscured by cloth draped across their face. Only their eyes could be seen, blinking expressionlessly at Harry and him.
"Sit." Malfoy looked over at Harry, who regarded him with an equally expressionless face.
"How is this training?" Malfoy asked. To his relief, his voice showed no sign of the slight fear beginning to take ahold of him.
"This is just where it starts." One of the two figures held out a vial, which Harry accepted. "Veritaserum. Stronger than your usual stuff, though it's not completely foolproof. Even still, we will know when you are fighting it, so don't bother. We will take you at your word, but if you give any indication that you have somehow overcome the serum, that's it. These two are Modifiers. They are here to act as witnesses but if necessary, they will make sure your memories are modified. They are also here to validate the state of your mind and make sure none of your memories have been tampered with prior to this moment. Shall we?"
Malfoy glanced at the impassive Modifiers, then at the chair, then back to Harry. "Let's get this over with," he sighed, reaching a conclusion. Harry had to admit he was impressed. No matter how many times a recruit decided to take the next step, it was always encouraging to see the bravery displayed. This was a dangerous looking scenario, no matter how one looked at it. It was not easy willingly stepping up to that chair, yet some did without hesitation. Malfoy did so now, turning around sitting as comfortably as he could before the straps began winding themselves around his wrists. Before the blonde could even blink, he was bound tightly to the chair. Harry approached, Veritaserum at the ready. Malfoy didn't even have to wait for the instructions as he put out his tongue. One, two, three drops, and then five minutes as they waited for the serum to kick in.
"Now try to lie to me. What is your name?"
"Corne-augh!" Malfoy's face twisted in pain. "Draco Malfoy," he hissed.
"What is your mother's name?"
Again, Malfoy writhed in pain before gasping out, "Narcissa Malfoy."
"As you can see, even attempted lies will only bring pain." Harry dragged over the second chair, and sat. "It seems the serum is working. We shall begin."
Hours had to have passed. There was no way to be sure, for the cold werelight that cast shadows across the room gave no indication of the passing of time. Yet his arms and legs had begun to grow numb with disuse and his voice was hoarse after constantly answering the questions Alistair posed to him. Sometime during the interrogation, Draco had allowed the words to simply flow from him and he had ceased even thinking about the answers. It wasn't as though he could avoid answering or lie about anything in any case. The answers therefore required very little brainpower, allowing him to simply brood about the situation he found himself in.
There was something familiar about this Alistair. Try though he might, Draco could not figure out why that sense of familiarity was there. It just...was.
The man was certainly unfamiliar in appearance. Draco did not recognize the tousled, russet colored hair, nor the cold, steely gaze fixed upon him. He guessed that the old Order of the Phoenix member would never have allowed a random stranger to lead them, so this man had to have been someone they knew from before. Draco would have recognized the man had he been a Hogwarts student, so that left only two options. The man was from the Ministry - an option he highly doubted - or there were some very, very complex glamours obscuring his identity from his observers. Draco would bet his life on the second option.
As to who the man truly was - again, going off the assumption that Alistair Hunter was a false name - he had no clues just yet. With the drugs in his system throwing off his senses, Draco had no chance of probing at the glamours just yet. But in time, he would. He was determined to figure out who he was really placing his trust in.
The man's personality could be the source of Draco's uncertainty. The way Alistair had clenched his jaw when Draco had goaded him upon his arrival to the camp seemed predictable, as if Draco had known his words would get a response. Yet at the same time, no student - or Ministry official - that Draco had known of carried the same quiet power this man did. It reminded him of the memories Lucius had shown him of how the Dark lord used to be back when he still carried the name Tom Marvolo Riddle. Calculating, possessing a sinister grace, and yet with an allure that people would find hard to resist. It was evident that Alistair was considerably less cruel; though equally evident was the fact that he would not shy away from violence or manipulation should it prove necessary. Those eyes though. Draco suppressed a shudder. It was difficult not to react when that gaze locked upon one's soul. It was piercing, knowing, yet mysterious. Even the color of his eyes kept shifting, keeping one guessing as to their true color. All the while, the man's magic swirled around, barely kept in check. Draco was certain that though Alistair hid it well, all it would take was a few carefully spoken words and the carefully constructed mask would crumble into an onslaught of unchecked emotion and passion.
Certainly, this was a powerful leader, one Draco could easily rally behind. He had always been drawn to power; his folly simply lay in having chosen a madman whose insanity had been too terrifying to resist. This time, however, Draco knew he was making the wiser choice. Now all that remained was to gain their trust and slither his way to the top. He wanted to be valued again, without the fear and loathing that the Dark lord wrought. He would help tear down the tyrant in lieu of raising this new leader who promised a truly better future. This rebellion would become his future and eventually, his entire world. Blood status be damned.
"We're done."
He blinked, coming back to himself. "That's it?" he blurted. Alistair's lips quirked and he cocked his head.
"You mean to tell me that seven hours of interrogation aren't enough?"
Again, Draco blinked. Had it been that long? Granted, they certainly could not afford to miss anything lest that be the end of this rebellion, but seven hours? Alistair stood, waving his hand at the two Modifiers, who hurried forward and began to unstrap Draco from the chair. He began to push himself up and was surprised as his limbs protested the movement, tingling as the blood rushed back into them. "So do I pass?" Draco managed to keep from wavering on his feet as his legs adjusted to supporting him once more.
"For now. We'll see how you do in basic training." Alistair jerked his head at Draco. "Come. We're done for now."
"You aren't afraid I'll start spilling secrets?"
"If I was, you wouldn't have secrets to spill," came the answer. Draco fought the urge to shiver as he finally regained full control of his limbs and followed the man out of the room. The door creaked shut behind him and obscured the Modifiers from sight.
It was dark outside, the light from Alistair's wand the only thing keeping them from stumbling in the shadows. As they drew closer to the main camp, that light was extinguished in favor of the warmer light that emanated from the numerous torches flickering throughout the camp. Draco was led down the rows towards a series of tents that resembled barracks of a sort. "For now, given the career you just left behind, you will be assigned your own tent. You may rest securely; it is very well warded."
"Afraid that someone would try to cut my throat in the night?" Draco glanced over at the other man, who simply glanced back.
"Among other methods, yes. There are a considerable number of refugees that pass through here, and even a good portion of our army who remember the name Malfoy. You will not be a popular addition. Merlin knows it'll be difficult assigning you to a partner."
Draco wrinkled his nose. "I prefer to work alone."
"Protocol states we cannot allow you to do so until you are proven trustworthy and capable." Alistair stopped in front of a tent. "You will be assessed during your first training session, after which we will begin to decide on an assigned partner. Who knows? You might be skilled enough to join a team. Solo missions are out of the question though, and they will be for quite a while." Draco scowled, but entered the tent after him without another word.
"Food is on the table over there. Eat. And you might want to get some rest. You start early tomorrow morning. One of our trainers will be by to bring you to the testing chamber."
Draco paused in his perusal of his quarters - small, but comfortable enough - and looked back at Alistair. His mouth opened to ask a question but the broad shoulders were already dipping through the entrance. "Talkative fellow," he muttered. With a rolling of his shoulders, Draco sat at the aforementioned table and began to eat. The exhaustion swept over him then, and he decided he would follow the advice of the enigmatic leader. It was only moments after he collapsed onto the provided cot before his eyes shut and he drifted off.
~ + ~
"Your determination to keep silent is admirable, but futile." Harry stalked around the man struggling against his restraints, his back pressed firmly against the table beneath him. The other four people in the room alternated between watching the man in fascination and glancing at Harry, who continued to pace around the table.
The air was chilled and the cold metal had to be uncomfortable against the naked flesh of the man. Blood coated Rookwood's body, obscuring numerous cuts and bruises - a testimony to the rough interrogation techniques already employed. Harry studied the man's face. Rookwood wore a pained but incredibly stubborn look in his eyes, and if his jaw hadn't been broken, Harry was certain it would either be clenched or working to spit at him once again.
He sighed. "Heal it," he ordered, gesturing at Rookwood's face. The healer hurried forward and with a muttered spell, Rookwood's jaw repaired itself with a painful sounding crunch. The man groaned. "Since you clearly know how to withstand the usual methods, I've decided to try something new." Harry reached out a beckoning hand, and another Phoenix member quickly placed a silvery box in his hand. "I must admit, I'm curious to see what happens next. It's a fairly new trick of ours, but I'm sure you'll agree it's quite effective." There was a soft click as he opened the box - or rather, cage. Rookwood squirmed slightly as he spotted what was inside the box.
Careful not to touch the creature, Harry levitated the wriggling leech until it was hanging just above the captive's face. Rookwood's attempts to free himself became more frantic as Harry lowered it onto the man's forehead. The leech began to crawl towards his ear. One of the guards shifted, clearly unnerved, as Harry leaned down beside Rookwood. Into his ear, he whispered, "I do not envy your position. Ecficio memoriae horribilis."
The leech suddenly disappeared into Rookwood's ear as the man suddenly let out a scream of terror. Harry's face remained stoic as he straightened. "It hasn't even begun," he said with disgust. The screams suddenly increased in strength. "Now, you understand."
So said, Harry turned away from Rookwood. The smell of urine filled the room as the man soiled himself and Harry glanced at the healer. The woman, wincing, cast a strong cleansing spell to erase the mess as Harry mentally began to count down.
Two minutes later, and Rookwood's voice had taken on a hoarse note of desperation. There was a slight gurgle as his vocal chords ruptured and the healer once again cast a healing spell, this one to clear the windpipe.
The guard who had been uneasy before now spoke up. "S-sir?" Harry turned to glance at the man. It was a younger man, fresh out of training if Harry recalled correctly. It was he who had volunteered for interrogation duty although Harry suspected the boy did not have the stomach for it. On second thought, he was certain - the boy had a distinctly green tinge to his complexion. Harry inclined his head in a questioning look. The boy stammered, "W-what's being done to him?"
Harry turned back to look at Rookwood. His own jaw clenched at the gut-wrenching cries though he had long since steeled himself against emotions. He couldn't afford to let them cloud his judgement. The information needed was highly important to their survival; it was for the greater good, he thought bitterly. Dumbledore would be proud. "Tantibus leeches. The Tacticians created them," he began to explain. "They burrow into the mind, create visions that involve all of your senses. Visions the likes of which a spell cannot create single handedly. They create living nightmares within the victim's mind, images that the victim will never be able to forget." Harry's mouth settled into a grim line. "All it takes is one leech and the incantation. It's not a method I use lightly. Merlin, it sickens me to even reach this point." He turned to look back at the guard, whose mouth trembled. "But the information the captive has is more deadly than any other information we've ever tried to get before. We need this information. Our future, and any hope we have of winning this war, depends upon what Rookwood has to offer. We have no other choice."
Rookwood's cries were beginning to weaken when he finally began to gasp aloud. "Please," came the broken sobs. "Please. I'll...I'll tell you everything. Shite, you can break into my mind for all I care. Just please...make it stop. Make them stop."
"Finite malum." Heavy panting and sobs wracked Rookwood's naked body as the leech finally crawled out from his mind. Harry once again levitated it back into its box and sealed it, handing it back to a reluctant Phoenix. "Perfectly safe as long as your skin doesn't touch it," he soothed as the older woman relaxed. "Now then." He turned back to Rookwood. "Talk to me."
Rookwood's eyes darted back and forth, focusing on unseen things, no doubt hallucinations from the torment he had endured. "They glow...why do they glow?" he whimpered. "And the taste...I could taste it..." Harry was quick to banish the bile that erupted from the man as his patience began to thin.
"Enough. Tell me what you know," he snarled. Rookwood flinched heavily.
"I'm...I'm not the only one," came the soft whisper. Harry leaned forward slightly. "There's five of us...we are the special ones. We were chosen..."
"Chosen for what?"
At last, Rookwood's eyes focused - on him. "We are the brethren," he hissed. The skin on Harry's neck crawled at the sibilant tone. It was far too reminiscent of a particular serpentine language. "Life givers...without us, our Lord would be left unprotected. Our power gives him immortality." A snarling cackle tore from his throat and blood again bubbled up from his damaged vocal chords. The healer stepped forward but Harry waved her off.
"Enough stalling. Who are you? Who are your...brethren?"
Rookwood's laughter bordered on hysterical, and Harry was forced to wait until it died down. "Wouldn't you like to know?" came the simpering response.
"Shall I bring the leech back?"
"NO!" Rookwood thrashed.
"Then tell me!"
More thrashing, then... "I...I cannot."
"Why not?"
Rookwood's eyes rolled back in his head slightly. "He will not allow it. He's always watching, you know." Harry tensed, as did the other four occupants. The cackle started again. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty little rebel minds. I don't mean to say he can see your every movement. But he's here...with me. In my mind. I can feel him clinging to my soul." Again, mad laughter. A prickle of unease settled in Harry's spine. It was as they thought. Voldemort's soul shards corrupted the host. Rookwood was too far gone to be brought back.
"A name," he snapped. "Give me a name." Rookwood paused in his laughter, then continued.
"A name, says the fearless leader," came the mocking cry. "A name...he wants a name, he does. I'll give him a name...they can all have names. Little ickle Alistair and his itty bitty Nixes can have all the names they like. I'll call you Giggles and your healer friend can be Trixie and-"
"ENOUGH!" Harry slammed his hand down on the table beside Rookwood's head. The man flinched even more heavily than before, laughter fading into a whimper. "A name," he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Or we start this all over again. I don't think your mind will be able to handle it again."
"I don't think it handled it well to begin with," came a muttered response from the young guard. Harry ignored him as he studied Rookwood. Rookwood's head rocked back and forth as a low keening sound came from him.
"A name...a name...why can't we give him a name...just a little name and then we won't have to see the voices anymore..." His eyes squeezed shut as Rookwood seemed to battle himself. "A rook met ill fate in the jaws of the beast; said Death to itself, 'This is all very strange,' and indeed it was worthy of praise," he whispered.
"He's mental," whispered the healer. "Alistair, that leech. It broke hi-"
"Hush." Harry held up a hand to quiet her as he peered intently at Rookwood. The man was chanting the phrase under his breath, a repeating mantra that Harry wasn't sure he understood.
"A rook met ill fate in the jaws of the beast. Said Death to itself, 'This is all very strange,' and indeed it was worthy of praise," Harry repeated. Rookwood seemed to grow more excited as he twitched on the table.
"A name...a name...I cannot..."
"It's a riddle," Harry breathed. "A riddle. Expecto patronum." The silvery stag leapt forth from his wand and Harry leaned close to it. "Athena. I have a riddle for you. A rook met ill fate in the jaws of the beast. Said Death to itself, 'This is all very strange,' and indeed it was worthy of praise. It has to do with what we discussed earlier. I'll explain later." With a flick of his wand, the Patronus darted away, off to deliver its message. "We're done here."
"You promised," came a halting whisper. Harry looked down impassively at Rookwood. Tears gleamed on the man's face. "You promised to make it stop. Make them stop."
"I removed the Tantibus leech. That's all I can do." Rookwood let out a wail as the two guards and the other Phoenix member stepped forward. Together, the three began to undo the straps on the table, magically restraining the man as they did so.
"Careful with him. He's unpredictable," Harry admonished.
"With his defenses removed, what threat is he to us?" asked the young guard. Harry shook his head.
"Defenses or not, he's not fully human anymore. I cannot say more on the matter." He began to leave, pausing for a brief moment. "Take him to the execution chamber and give him his final meal. At sunrise, it ends." Rookwood's wails grew shrill, but were quickly silenced by the four silencing spells thrown up. The healer stepped forward, following after Harry.
"He was being unnecessarily loud," she said quietly. "I would leave those on until you get him back to the room. No sense in stirring you lot up; your mental health is more important than his. I will of course see all three of you in the medical tent as soon as you finish here for your usual check up, correct?" There were murmurs of agreements as she and Harry left the room.
"Make sure there are no lasting effects," Harry instructed. "Especially on that boy. I don't think he was prepared for the methods employed today."
"No one was, not really." The healer bowed her head. "But you are right, Alistair. This is necessary. The enemy would do worse in a heartbeat if the situation was reversed."
"Still, I do loathe playing the villain." The woman agreed as they fell into silence.