a foul place is where i love you

Seven

Hey, sorry this took so long to update .... This is my least popular story, so when I give out polls for which update should be first, this one always gets last. Obviously that's not because I don't like this story - in fact, it's probably tied with "Operation Homeward" for my favorite - but I haven't been able to prioritize it with my limited time, plus it not being as popular. For some reason, that goes to "Wack-A-Harry", which has received about 50% less effort and 1000% more attention (I still can't get over the fact that every chapter has over 1K reads 😳), but hey, the public likes what it likes.

Anyway, you can thank LittleLeaf_ for this update, as she was the one who pointed out that this is the story that keeps getting bullied by my bigger stories, otherwise I never would've realized. So thank you for that!

Anyway, here's your (long overdue) update:

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Harry was pissed.

No, that wasn't nearly a strong enough word for it. He didn't think there was a word for how much rage filled his body. Bound as he was, the lack of movement didn't allow much filtration for the fire in his blood, either.

First off, what should've been the start to Harry's finally free life was interrupted by a magical vortex that dropped him off in what he could only assume was Hell.

Then he's hostilely attacked by a group of Not-Aurors, one of which being an almost exact clone of his dead godfather.

Next thing he knew, he's waking up in a damn prison cell, tied to a chair, and then harshly accused by another Not-Auror for being a fucking Death Eater.

And for the grand finale, the dead parents he'd yearned for all his life come prancing in, having the audacity to act as though they were actually real.

Honestly, Harry couldn't think of a time when he'd been more insulted.

His piercing headache was steadily worsening, as if someone had wrapped the tightest, most constricting band possible around his skull. His tongue felt like a dry, limp piece of meat in his mouth. He kept waiting to wake up in the Gryffindor dormitory, to realize that all of this was just some wacky dream, but with every second that passed, that seemed to become less and less likely.

The ache in Harry's chest began to grow. Most of all, he wanted Ginny. Just to see her, to reassure himself that someone so reliable and strong and beautiful did exist in his life. She always seemed to know what to do to make him see light and sense in a situation, even if that meant forcing him to listen with that fiery temper of hers. After all, she was the one who understood him best.

Harry's stomach clenched with nausea. He hadn't seen Ginny since she'd nearly been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange in the Great Hall, which somehow seemed like a lifetime ago. And before his sudden return to Hogwarts ... Merlin, a year ago, at Bill and Fleur's wedding. And now how long would it be before he saw her again? Had she noticed he was missing - if he was even really missing at all?

The question stirred up all the confusion and anger again, his jaw beginning to ache from all the teeth-grinding. To say that he was sick of all this bullshit was a severe understatement.

The familiar screech of the shadowed cell door in front of him immediately grabbed Harry's attention. This time, he knew that whoever walked through that damned door was going to give him the answers he wanted, no matter what. He would make them talk, even launch himself forward, chair and all, to crush it out of them.