Harry Potter and the Blind Seer of Durmstrang

Chapter 25

Wrapping his arms around his legs, Harry rested his chin on his knees. The floor felt hard and cold underneath him; probably bare cement or stone. In a way, the common, non-magical feel of the floor comforted him, bleak though it was.

At last, after a long time, he stood. For a moment, he felt shaky and weak. His nerves still remembered the fire that shot along them as the Cruciatus curse hit them. The cold air did nothing to relieve the pain, but made him even stiffer. He stood for a moment, stretching.

"Feeling better?" The voice made Harry jump, and he caught a gasp of surprise in his throat. He was so sure he was alone. There had been no sound, no breathing, not even that sense of another person in the room. His skin prickled at the feeling of being watched without knowing.

"Why didn't you say anything before?" he said angrily.

"I thought you saw me," said the Voice carelessly. It sounded neither old nor young, neither male nor female. It was just a voice. Harry tried to tell if it belonged to an elf or goblin, possibly, but couldn't hear anything telltale.

Harry let out the indrawn breath with a frustrated sigh. "No," he said shortly. "I didn't."

"You must have really pissed him off," said the Voice with a sardonic hint of amusement.

"If I'd really pissed him off, I'd be dead," replied Harry.

"Not if he thinks he can use you," said the Voice practically.

Harry considered this. He'd assumed that the next time he saw Voldemort, he'd be dead before he could blink. As long as he could remember, he was on the top of Voldemort's hit list. The fact that he was still alive at the moment puzzled him.

"Use me?" he asked wearily.

"Use you," repeated the Voice. "To get at your friends, or Dumbledore, or something. He's practical, you know."

Yeah, Harry knew.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

The only reply was a snort of derision.

For a long minute, Harry stood silently. He'd planned to explore the space in which he'd been held prisoner, but suddenly he felt self-conscious about doing it in front of this unknown watcher.

He'd gotten a lot more used to doing what needed to be done regardless of who was watching, but this seemed so intimate, so frightening. This person could be anyone, could be dangerous. He (She?) could be there is spy on Harry or guard him. Or he (she?) could be simply a fellow prisoner.

Harry slid back to the floor again.

"Want to get out of here?" the Voice said after a long silence.

Harry almost snorted with laughter himself. If that wasn't painfully obvious by now, his companion was an idiot.

"Do you still have your wand?" asked the Voice hopefully.

"No," said Harry ruefully. He wished he'd fought harder when the Death Eaters had carried him down, Cruciatus curse or not. Having his wand right now would be really useful. He felt odd without it, as if he had lost a few of his fingers. He also didn't have his stick. Another useful tool. He sighed, then he frowned. "How did I not know you were there earlier?" he asked.

The Voice did not answer, and the silence roared in Harry's ears. He listened as hard as he could, but again, no sound of breathing, and no rustle of fabric. He wondered if the Voice had apparated out of the room.

"Are you still here?" he asked cautiously.

"Of course I am," said the Voice irritably, and Harry jumped. He decided to quit worrying about how the Voice managed to be so quiet. It occurred to him that the Voice definitely sounded male. Human too, and not the squeaky voices of House Elves or the gravelly voices of goblins.