Mortal Peril - 4

Gritting his teeth, he managed to hang onto his wand, but one of the Death Eaters cast a Petrificus Spell, immobilizing him. He lay on the floor, battered and bruised, staring at the menacing faces surrounding him. Some of them were unmasked, their hard faces showing a mixture of anticipation and excitement at having captured him. Others simply glared, leering as if they were finally given the opportunity to settle an old grudge.

Harry swallowed heavily. He didn't see a way out of this one. He had to control his fear and keep his head. Lying on the floor, useless and discarded, was what was left of Pansy's wand. It had transformed into one of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' rubber chickens.

Damn! Pansy had thoroughly deceived him.

"How nice of you to join us, Potter," a sly, oily voice murmured from the corner of the room.

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end. He could only move his eyes, but he could clearly see Snape standing above a cauldron, slowly stirring its contents with extreme care.

"We've been expecting you," he said silkily.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Expecting him? But he'd only come across Pansy by chance…hadn't he? Harry's mind worked furiously, trying to piece together the events of the evening.

Squinting his eyes against the dimness of the room, he looked around the chamber again. Beneath a perch near the open doorway lay Errol, the Weasley family owl. Harry didn't know if he was dead since Errol usually fell unconscious after a long journey.

"It's the most unreliable creature I've ever had the displeasure to meet," Snape said, noticing Harry's observance of the owl. "It passes out after each simple delivery. What more can be expected from those lowly Weasleys of whom you appear so fond?"

Harry wanted to spit at Snape, but Petrified as he was, he could only glare at his former professor. His eyes flashed with suppressed fury as he desperately tried to release the spell. So, Errol's frequent absences weren't merely the result of old age. Pansy must have been using him to communicate since the time they were all back at Grimmauld Place.

Snape glided across the room, leaned over, and plucked Harry's wand from his slackened hand. He tucked it into the pocket of his robes, patting it condescendingly.

"You won't have need of that," he said. He aimed his own wand, causing Harry to flinch inwardly. "Finite Incantatem."

Harry felt the spell being removed, and he sat up quickly, crab-walking away from Snape toward the wall. He only stopped when his back hit the stone.

"There's nowhere for you to go, Potter," Snape said, returning to his cauldron, unconcerned. "Alecto, inform our lord that his guest has arrived."

The blonde sneered menacingly at Harry before leaving the room. Another Death Eater grabbed Harry by the collar, roughly dragging him to his feet. When Harry tried to pull away, the man slammed his meaty fist into the side of his face, knocking Harry's head against the wall and causing him to see stars.

"You'll find your fame and unearned glory mean nothing here. I'd suggest you keep your mouth shut and do as you're told. There is nothing these fine witches and wizards would like more than to give you a lesson in manners," Snape said, caressing his measuring stick as he stirred his potion.

Harry tried to blink the black spots from his eyes, refusing to be goaded by Snape. He could feel blood trickling down his chin from a cut on his lip, and he tried to concentrate on that to block out the pounding in his skull. His left hand was still tingling, and he was having trouble making a fist. His legs felt bruised, but they were holding his weight. He wasn't in the best shape to face Voldemort, but it could be worse. At least, that's what he tried to tell himself.