Chapter 94

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Chapter 69- Torture.

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Harry stood there in silence, not moving an inch as Professor Lockhart moved around the hallway, examining each and every inch of the hallway they found themselves trapped in. Harry had watched the man for a good ten minutes as he tried every spell he could possibly think of on the entrance, but nothing worked, and the man resolved himself to continue onwards as there was no way back. Harry hadn't spoken at all, and Lockhart hadn't either, completely ignoring Hary and only occasionally muttering to himself.

Lockhart had examined every inch of the room except for the end of it, very obviously keeping away from the pile of bones and the word scratched into the floor just before the door. Harry understood, thinking things just had a very dark and foreboding aura that was making him shiver. Still, very clearly, the way to get out of the room had something to do with the word on the floor, and a clue was probably in the bones on the floor. Lockhart obviously knew that as well, but he was searching for any other avenue to avoid them.

Finally, Lockhart gave out a sigh, which told Harry that he had finally resolved himself to deal with the human remains and get them out of this room. Lockhart cautiously approached the bones, and Harry tentatively followed behind him, keeping a healthy distance in case anything went wrong but also close enough if they had to move quick. Harry watched as Lockhart crouched over the bones and then moved his hand over towards it before shaking his head, thinking better of it and standing back up. Using his wand, he carefully separated the bones as he looked through them for anything that could be of help, but he found nothing.

Sighing, he turned his gaze towards the word scratched into the floor before sighing once more and then turning to look at Harry. "Tell me, Harry, what do you know about the Unforgivables?" There is only silence as Harry racks his mind for anything that he knows, but ultimately, he shakes his head, not having heard of them before. "I have never heard of the Unforgivables before, sir." He replies, to which Lockhart nods his head as if he shouldn't yet know. Then why did he ask?

"Well, the Unforgivables are a set of three curses which are so abhorred and horrific that if you were to cast them, you would get an instant vacation at Azkaban Prison." Harry let out a gasp at hearing that. He might not have heard of the unforgivables before, but he had definitely heard of Azkaban before. In fact, Ron had told him all sorts about it, that Azkaban holds a lot of people that worked for Voldemort and how Malfoy's dad managed to weasel his way out of it. Harry knew how bad Azkaban was, which made him wonder just how terrible these unforgivables were.

"W-What are the three curses?" Harry finds his voice and asks, wanting to know about these horrific things that anyone with a wand could potentially cast. "Well, let's not get bogged down in all that, but I will tell you about one curse." Harry wondered why Lockhart would only tell him about one of the curses and not the others. Still, he wasn't willing to voice his thoughts and instead listened to his Professor.

"One of the Unforgivable curses is the torture curse. The Cruciatus." Harry thought the name felt familiar for a second. "The Cruciatus is a spell that, when inflicted on another, induces terrible pain upon them. When cast successfully on a fellow human being or living creature, the curse inflicts intense, excruciating physical pain on the victim. It would result in insanity if the victim was subjected to it for a prolonged time. The penalty for the use of this curse on another human being was a life sentence in Azkaban." Lockhart finishes, and Harry finds himself shivering. Last year, Quirell and Voldemort could have done that to him.

"Now tell me, Harry, do you remember what happened when we entered this room. Tell me exactly what you remember." Pondering what his Profesor was up to now with such a sudden shift in the topic but knowing better than to aggravate the man as he had already messed up, Harry responded. "Well, when we came in, the torches on the sides of the hallways lit up, and there was a screeching sound behind us as the gate slammed shut." Lockhart nodded his head at this.

"That's correct, however, that wasn't a screeching sound. It was more of a scream, really. A tortured scream. and if you look closely at the door, you can see the stone faces on it stuck in tortured anguish." Harry gasped then, understanding dawning on him, connecting the things in his mind and finally understanding why the Professor had been talking about everything he had been talking about. His gaze flickered to the word scratched into the floor. "That's right. Crucio is the incantation for the torture curse, The Cruciatus." Harry gulped at that.

"Then, we have to perform the Cruciatus on the door? To show Salazar Slytherin that we are Dark Wizards so that we can move forward." Here, Lockhart just smiles bitterly at the boy, and Harry can feel panic shoot through him at the look. "While that would be nice, I am afraid The Cruciatus can only be performed on a living being. It is why the remains of the poor soul in front of us starved to death here. They were unable to perform the spell because they had no one to perform it on, and they died here." Harry looked at the bones, wondering just how long they had stayed here. How long had the person stayed here before finally dying?

"Thankfully, Harry. There are two of us here, and I know how to perform the spell. Though don't ask me how." At that, Harry looked at his Professor with fear, knowing that he was about to be tortured by his Professor as it was the only way out of there. "Y-You are going to use the Cruciatus on me?" Harry stuttered out, backing away from his Professor, but feeling dread creep into his heart, knowing there was no escape as the hallway was closed off, and the only way out was to be subjected to the torture curse.

"Use it on you? Come now, Harry, I might not be the most reliable of Professors, but I am still your Professor. I couldn't very well torture my own student, could I? Especially not a twelve-year-old." Harry breathed a sigh of relief at that. However, he was still unable to believe it. "T-Then you know another way to get out of this room?" Harry questioned, hope blossoming in his heart. Unfortunately, though, Lockheart shook his head in the negative.

"I'm afraid not, Harry. There is only one way out of here." Harry's brain was full of confusion, not knowing what the hell was going on. They were stuck in here, and the only way out was to use the torture curse on someone. Lockhart knew the torture curse but wasn't going to use it on Harry, but he also didn't have another way out of there. So were they just going to stay here and starve to death or hope for someone to come along and save them? "What are we going to do then, sir?" Harry asked, hoping the Professor actually had a plan. Lockhart grew a grim smile on his face.

"You are going to use the torture curse on me, Harry." Harry stopped thinking, his brain shortcircuiting. He even forgot to breathe. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? Because he thought he heard his Professor telling him that he was going to use the torture curse on him. "W-What? Wha- What did you say?" Harry asks, unable to believe that he actually just heard that. "You are going to use The Cruciatus on me, Harry, so we can open that door." But Lockhart said it again, and Harry couldn't refute it this time.

"B-But I can't. I don't even know how!" Harry burst, trying to deny it. A Curse that would get you a permanent stay in Azkaban until the day you died. A curse so horrid its use was explicitly banned. A curse that exemplified what dark magi meant. A curse that his blonde Professor wanted him to use, and not just that, but use on the Professor himself. It is ridiculous. "I know how Harry. I'll teach you how to cast it." Lockhart said with a smile, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and holding him still while going to one knee and getting on Harry's eye level.

"But I can't!" Harry shook his head left and right. "It's unforgivable!" Silence reigned in the empty hallway as Lockhart looked at Harry, conflict mirrored in their faces, both understanding the implications and worries. Lockhart sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. This is actually the longest Harry had seen the man without a smile on his face. "I know it's hard, Harry. But we have to face reality. We are trapped here. And the only way out is for someone to suffer through the torture curse so the door ahead of us can open. And like it or not, Harry, I am not going to torture a little boy." Harry stifled a cry there, for once feeling trust and respect for Gilderoy Lockhart. An admirable man.

"Now, don't worry. I'll have you know I have been subjected to the curse before, so I can take it. I can certainly handle it better than you ever could, Harry, so don't worry about it. You just have to keep it up for a couple of seconds until the door starts to open, and then you can stop, and we can move on. Okay?" Harry nodded his head, readying himself to do what needed to be done. He had to show the same resolve his Professor did. And so, Harry listened as Professor Lockhart began to talk him through it all, through all the intricacies of the spell. Of the incantation, how to pronounce it, how much strength to put in his voice. The wand movements and where to aim it. And Harry listened, taking it all in.

"Alright, Harry, now we come to the most crucial thing. To cast this spell, what is crucial is that you have to mean it. You have to want the other person to hurt, to suffer, and to feel pain. The spell won't work unless you do that. Spells like this feed on negative emotions. The best emotion you can use is hate, Harry." At that, Harry finds himself coming up short. Harry had to hate his teacher to inflict such torment on him, but Harry couldn't. "But I don't hate you, Professor. I can't do the Cruciatus on you then, can I?" Harry says, and Lockhart has a momentary look of amusement on his face before it disappears.

"Well, that's nice to hear, Harry. But your hate for me doesn't necessarily matter. What matters is that you feel that torture-inducing hate as you cast the spell; it doesn't matter who that hate is because of, just who it is directed at. "Now come on, let's do this in front of the door." They positioned themselves in front of the door, and Harry felt very off-put by the anguished faces in the door that screaming, screamless screams of agony. It was hard to believe Harry would be making his Professor make the same expression in just a moment.

"Now, Harry. Aim your wand at me and close your eyes." Harry does as he is asked to and takes his position, his eyes flittering closed. "Now, I need you to think of the person or people you hate the most. Think of their every ugly feature. The things they have done to you. Their ugly visage as they did those things. The look of glee on their face as they inflicted it on you. Remember it all, Harry. And remember just how much you hate them." Listening to his Professor, he thought of them. He listened to the words, and the images of the people who had done the most to him in his life showed up in his mind.

His Uncle Vernon, constantly shouting at him and grabbing him by the arm and throwing him into the cupboard under the stairs. The fat whale showed up in his mind, his ugly bluey purple face with his moustache, which made him look like a walrus with that angry look on his face. His Aunt Petunia, her shrilly screams when he did something wrong or did better than Dudley. When he overcooked the floor when he was just learning, she hit him with a pan on the head that one time. She looked like a giraffe; she was all bones with a long neck and a gaunt face that looked like it had never had a moment of happiness.

He thought of his cousin Dudley, constantly blaming Harry for the things he had done and getting him in trouble, chasing him around with his two friends and never allowing him to have friends or have a moment of peace. Dudley's round beach ball figure looked like a miniature Vernon, that vindictive look of glee on his face when Harry got in trouble. Harry remembered them all, and he resented them. He was angry, yes... but he didn't want them to suffer. Maybe it didn't make sense, but they were the only family he had, and he had lived with them all of these years.

Vernon only treated him as he did because he was scared. The man was very simple, and what he didn't understand frightened him. And he didn't understand magic, and therefore he didn't understand Harry. And so he got angry, he kept his distance, and he put Harry in the cupboard so he didn't have to think about him. His aunt remembered his mother every time she looked at him, and she was jealous. He saw it in her eyes when they picked him up from Kings Cross station last year. She was jealous, she wanted magic, she wanted to be like her sister, but she never could be. She treated Harry badly because he reminded her of both when she looked at him.

Dudley... he was just the product of his parents. He treated Harry bad because his parents did. And when he realised he could blame Harry for anything and get away with anything, he ran with it. Overall, Harry didn't like the Dursleys, but he didn't hate them. If anything, he felt sorry for them. He knew that they acted mostly out of fear and ignorance. No doubt Aunt Petunia knew of Voldemort and the war, and so did Vernon. No wonder they were terrified and tried to keep Harry away from it, and Harry couldn't fault them for it. He didn't like them, but he didn't hate them. He didn't want to torture them.

Another face rose into his mind, a hideous thing that he had only seen briefly last year but something that stayed with him in his dreams regularly. The pale, crusty face with slitted nostrils was revealed underneath the purple wraps of a turban. Grafted onto the back of his previous Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher's bald head was The Dark Lord Voldemort. He had only met the thing briefly, but in that time, the things he did and said, Harry abhorred the man, if he could still be called that, more than anything.

The man that kills innocent and pure beings like Unicorns. The man who tried to kill Harry himself attacked the boy and tried to murder him. The cruelness in his voice. The sinister echoes of his tone. The gleaming evil in his red eyes. Harry could see it in his eyes. The only thing inside was evilness and cruelty, wanting power more than anything and wanting to inflict that power on everybody around him. The man that took away his parents and forced him to live with the Dursleys. The monster that took away his life still roamed around, inflicting harm on everything he touched.

"CRUCIO!" Harry roared, wanting the evil monster to suffer just like he had made countless suffer under his tyranny. Harry had never thought himself capable of such emotion and vitriol, but it was there, inside him, and all of it was for the warmonger known as Lord Voldemort. It was only when the screams reached his ears that Harry's eyes snapped back open. He witnessed the red electric lines of magic firing out of the end of his wand and driving into Professor Lockhart, who was on his hands and knees, screaming his lungs out. There was a pool of blood on the floor, having leaked out of his mouth where he was biting his lips trying to endure.

Harry immediately stopped the spell, not willing to see the man in any more pain. And then, there was silence. Harry looked forlornly at his Professor on the ground while the man himself just panted for air, wiping the blood from his mouth on his sleeve. "Well, that hurt like a bitch. But at least it worked; let's move, kid." Lockhart finally spoke, and it was only then that Harry realised that the door had opened.

They were free.

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Alright, I apologise for last week. I was very ill to the point I wasn't getting out of bed, and my stomach was cramping up, and I was curled up in bed. It hurt like hell. If that is just a fraction of what women experience monthly, then I have a whole new respect for them because I was completely useless. All I did was lie down and play video games and watch shows, which doesn't sound too bad, but I was stopping every few minutes and curling up in pain.

This week, I played and completed Saints Row (2022), and it did not live up to the other games. It was okay, but it was a big letdown. I tried Midnight Suns, but it didn't really hook me, so I didn't keep playing it. I am actually playing Gotham Knights right now, and while the traversal could be better, it's an alright game. I will complete it. I have also started watching Dexter again; it's such a good show.

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