Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters or Universe, they are owned by J.K. Rowling. And while she may not own the other realms this fic may lead, please know that I do not own them either. If you feel you need a more specific disclaimer for those various other realms, please let me know and I will give a more specific disclaimer when such realms are used. Until then, please enjoy the fic!
Pain. If there was one thing Harry believed he was intimately familiar with, it would be pain. The mental pain, anguish, of living in such a harsh environment the Dursleys had subjected him to, not to mention the physical pain that came about whenever Vernon was less than pleased with him, which was far more often than not.
Escaping that life only to be subjected to even more mental and physical pain that the Wizarding world would have him endure, from the emotional wounds inflicted by his ‘adoring public’ as they acted as the sheep they were, lauding him as a hero one second to treating him as a pariah the next. Worse yet, expecting him to forgive and forget when the sheep decided he should be lauded a hero once again. As annoying as that could be, it was the fact that those close to him could only be labeled as sheep as well, was what really struck him deep.
However, the mental rollercoaster of pleasure and pain that those around him seemed intent on forcing him to endure, had nothing to do with the pain he was experiencing. From the physical injuries he seemed accustomed to receiving, perhaps from a rough game of Quidditch, or perhaps inflicted upon his person in an attempt to play the part of a hero, pain was something he was familiar with.
And it is a sad truth; that pain was something he was familiar with, however, not even the Cruciatus curse, which had been cast upon his body by Voldemort himself, would have prepared him for the absolutely horrific, mind rending pain, which was currently pounding through every molecule of his being.
This pain was hitting him with such force that thoughts pertaining to anything but pain were almost impossible to grasp. Almost, being the key word, for the feverent wish of the sweet release of death or unconsciousness, and at this point, he could really care less which option would heed his call, was on his mind.
Beyond the physical wounds that Voldemort and his minions had been inflicting on him, for days upon days, using both ‘muggle methods,’ such as bladed weapons, weapons for bludgeoning, etc, or the various curses, of the darkest nature, cast upon his person, it was nothing compared to what he was now enduring.
However, amazingly enough, beyond this all consuming pain was another sensation, if he had to describe it; the closest description was that of his body turning gelatinous. It looked as though blood was seeping out of every poor of his body, however, Harry had seen blood, his blood, on numerous occasions, and it never appeared as the sludge that seemed to be writhing, oozing, and coming out through every poor of his body, coating every inch of skin, flowing through his hair, then returning within, the process covering his entire body. His body was a nightmare of pain, and what he could only call blood, that would not end. And as his sight began to darken, as his eyes underwent whatever was happening to his body, as his feverent wishing for death was seemingly ignored, the pain actually began to increase.
He would have screamed himself hoarse had he not done so days ago. However, even if he still had a voice to scream it would have done no good as he began to choke on the coppery sludge that seemed to be all he was composed of made its way into his lungs and the pain spiked once again, it was all he could do to accomplish the impossible, and get him mind off from all of this.
Grabbing onto a lifeline, he forced his mind to reflect, as it had been doing since the day of his capture, to just how everything had gone wrong and descended into this Hell he was currently living, or in this case, simply surviving.
Not even a couple of hours had passed since Harry had received the shock of his life, to be placed on top of everything that had transpired this night. He had not been given a moment to breathe, let alone grieve the loss of his Godfather, Sirius Black, before the old bastard had the unmitigated gall to push him over the edge.
His mind screamed in absolute rage as the walls trembled and suits of armor fell from their position crashing onto the floor before getting back up and returning to their previous positions. The pictures, however, had no such luck and could be heard grumbling their displeasure from the floor.
How that man could be Headmaster, for god knows how long, and not know how to deal with children, or even better, seeing where a breaking point would be, and not only pushing past it, but blasting him miles beyond it was beyond Harry’s ability to understand.
The implications of the Prophecy, not just the future, but of the past as well, tore through the young man’s soul. Not only would everyone be depending on him in the future, but the harm it had caused his family in the past was unimaginable.
Harry’s eyes went vacant as memories he tried to suppress, that the dementors loved to bring to the surface arose. ‘Stand aside you foolish girl.’ Voldemort had told his mother to stand aside, ‘Your mother need not have died.’ That bastard had not been there for them, no, Harry would not have just been a message all those years ago on Halloween, the ending of a family line of those who stood against the Dark Lord. No, it could never be that simple. That son of a bitch came directly for him. It was not the fact that his parents had been a part of the Order of The Phoenix, which had placed a target on their family; it was the existence of a prophecy that brought that monster to Godric Hollows all those years ago. Had he not been born…?
Harry mentally shook himself away from that line of thought. No good could come of it, and nothing would be able to change the past. Not even the events in the very recent past. He would never get to know the man that had been his godfather. It was an ideal of the man that he had clung to. The future possibilities that had given him hope. There were so few people that seemingly cared more for him than that for either themselves, or that of the greater good of the wizarding world. Without a doubt, Sirius had been one of those very few, perhaps the only one. So Harry would mourn the loss of the man he would never get the chance to know, and possibilities of what could have been, of hopes that would never be fulfilled. At least, in time he would mourn these things, at the present time, it was hard enough to hold onto any solid thought as he aimlessly wandered the seemingly dead castle, finally stepping out onto an unfamiliar landing that seemed open to night sky. How long he stood there looking into the vastness of the night sky, with seemingly empty thoughts and a vacant expression, he would never know. Had it not been for an unwelcome voice from just a few feet behind him, perhaps he never would have left that spot.
“It can be quite amazing,” the elderly voice of the Headmaster could be heard from behind, but Harry made no move too look at or acknowledge the old man’s presence. “That for all the chaotic turmoil we feel within our very existence, that the world around and beyond can seem so tranquil in contrast.” Coming to stand next to the young man Albus Dumbeldore continued in his subdued, yet almost hypnotic tone. “No matter the death, life, love joy, sorrow, and so many other emotions we will experience, no matter the horrors or the wonders we see, the stars will still shine brightly in the night sky. They are a constant to us, if we only take the time to gaze upon them.”
The silence between them seemed to last an eternity.
“I must apologize to you, young Harry.” The only answer received was the slight moistening of the young mans eyes and a tensing of his jaw as the young man warred with the emotions raging within. “As I have told you before, I have made many errors in my time, more so with you than any other, and I believe one of the largest ones was perpetrated just mere hours ago within this sanctuary.”
Harry seemed to sigh in defeat as his shoulders slumped only slightly. With his head downcast he whispered, “You should have told me.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Years ago perhaps, though I did have my reasons, wrong as they might have been.” The old man shrugged as Harry’s eyes sought out the old man. “Nor should I have burdened you with this knowledge so soon after the tragic happenings at the Ministry.”
Returning his gaze upon the stars, ignoring the old man’s gaze upon his, Harry spoke just as softly as before. “I should have been trained long ago.” He shook his head. “I’ll never be ready for what I have to do.”
“Another mistake I made, and though I had my reasons, they are a moot point now. But Harry, you will be trained, and you will be ready when it is time to fulfill your destiny.” A curios look was his only response. The old man sighed. “My young man, the power you unconsciously displayed within my office was on a level that should not be seen in one so young. You have accomplished many such feats in your time here. However, it was the look in your eyes as your power began to calm that convinced me of what needed to be done.”
Harry furrowed his brows at that. “And what exactly, needs to be done?”
A slight smile adorned the old man’s visage as the twinkle Harry had come to associate with the man began to return. “Tonight’s escapades brought you to the attention of an old acquaintance of mine.” Harry looked at him with a confused expression, to which Dumbledore simply gave a wider smile. “Just where did most of tonight's fighting take place, young Harry?”
Harry’s eyes shone with understanding as he replied, “The Department of Mysteries.”
The old man nodded. “The head of the department is an old friend of mine.” The man’s eyes were twinkling in full force. “I would even say a mentor of sorts.” The old man’s eyebrows shot up with a pleased yet surprised expression on his face.
“I thought Nicholas Flamel died when his stone was destroyed back at the end of first year.”
The old man nodded. “That was said upon Nicholas’s request. Every once in a while he will spread the word of his, and his wife’s, death so he may have, yet a small period of time, for some peace and quiet.”
Harry snorted at that, what he wouldn’t give for some peace and quiet. He could only imagine gaining such peace and quiet from the wizarding world, and also from the Dursley’s.
The rest of the night seemed to fly by as he and the Headmaster talked into the dawning of the new day. The old man had spent over an hour after Harry had left the old man’s office using the floo and speaking to Nicholas Flamel, the head of the Department of mysteries, and most importantly, the head of the Unspeakables.
Apparently, as head of the department, he was constantly updated and bore the knowledge of all of the prophecies located within the spheres inside the hall of prophecies. Ironies of all ironies, apparently the damage done to the hall had been foretold in one of those small orbs.
However, one of the greatest contentions that existed between the old man, and the really, really old man was how Harry had been raised, and his lack of training. Now that Albus had finally conceded to his mentor, the old Alchemist couldn’t wait to get his hands on the boy and see what he could do. Apparently the man had been paying attention to the exploits of the Boy-Who-Lived, and it was all he could do to keep himself from breaking his oath to Albus, once it was learned how a possessed Quirrel had been turned to ash, and when he had learned of Harry’s patronus, corporeal even, had him cursing up a storm at his young apprentice, when he learned that this singular patronus was responsible for fending off over 100 dementors, he had personally fire-called Albus to curse him out. So, to say the ancient man was excited about the prospect of seeing how the young man would take to the training he had in mind would be a blatant understatement.
So, as the sun finally began to rise and night was swallowed by the morning light, plans had been made and agreed upon. It was only a few days until the end of term. As much as Albus wanted Harry to renew the protections of the blood wards he had set up when Harry had been just a baby, he had to concede to the point that with Voldemort using Harry’s blood when taking on a new body, such protections would have been severely diminished, and while it may have protected him to a greater degree from the Death Eaters, the young man should be adequately protected surrounded by the Unspeakables and the wards that protected their department, though if he had not been permitted to go as well, Albus would have probably refused as those very wards seemed to have no affect, as could be seen as evident from the battle between the death eaters and mere students that took place within those very warded areas. Areas, that Albus had been assured, were being newly updated with Wards that would make it more secure than the Minister’s office.
Harry shuffled nervously in his seat in front of the Head of the Unspeakables. School had ended just hours ago, and having been sworn to secrecy, had not been able to tell his friends why he was not going to be joining them for the train ride back to King’s Cross Station.
Introductions had been swift, and Harry could see the excitement in the old Alchemist’s eyes. However, had he not known the background of the man sitting behind the desk, he would have never known his age, as the man looked to be no more than Thirty-Five?
It wasn’t the presence of the famous Alchemist that had him nervous. Nor was it having Dumbledore sitting in the chair next to him, looking as serene as ever. What had his nerves frayed was the talk of his training to come. To be perfectly honest, he couldn’t wait to get started on most of it. However, the main problem was how they wished to begin such training.
It seemed with the vast amount of training and knowledge they wished to impart on his young person, certain steps had to be undergone first. One part he was looking forward to, other than the personal training with private tutors/instructors, was the training rooms, or the features of the training rooms.
During his escapade through, what he thought had been the entirety of the Department of Mysteries, he and his friends have traveled through a room he had dubbed ‘The Time Room.’ Such a room was full of time turners and other devices which seemed to have some degree of control over time.
Apparently the department had been studying such devices and instruments for more centuries than even Nicholas had been alive, and the knowledge, still held secret within the department, was nothing short of fantasy to the young man.
They had warded rooms that could remain unaffected to the touch of time. They had rooms used as cells that held prisoners, be they human, demon, or anything in between, where the occupant of those rooms were simply frozen in time. Others were placed in similar rooms, though not prisoners, many were in need of some treatment or another, where death seemed to be imminent, they remained, frozen in time, within the confines of those rooms, until such time as the outside world would be able to treat whatever ailment lay waste to their body.
Other rooms, such as the training rooms, worked much the opposite. While being within the room, time would move at a faster pace. The intensity of this effect could have years pass in the blink of an eye, or simply have the affect of moving slightly faster so that 20 minutes inside such a room was only 10 minutes outside. For Harry, they would adjust as needed. It didn’t help, as large as the rooms could be that he would seemingly be trapped within until such time as the room was brought in line with the ‘main time stream.’
That was not what had him nervous. What was causing such a state was the first step in his training. In order to help him not only obtain, but understand, the vast knowledge he would be receiving for one so young, he needed to learn occlumency. Not just normal occlumency, which he failed abysmally at, but he needed to master it at its truest form. A form in which he could recede into his own mind and review all memories in startling clarity, such as was done in a pensieve. To a true occlumens the term ‘photographic memory’ was a very large understatement. A true occlumens could not only protect their mind from all assaults, they could recall any memory, any sight, sound, smell, no matter how small and insignificant it may have seemed at the time. And those that truly mastered the art, were able to make rationalizations about seemingly random events that occurred, no matter how disjointed it may have seemed. To the Unspeakables who mastered such a form, it was important to be able to recall the scene of a crime, and not just remember it in startling clarity, but to be able to theorize what happened in this crime, that would have left the scene as it had been found.
When Nicholas had began to discuss this first step, the mention of ‘professor’ Snape and his teachings had been brought up by Dumbledore. That wasn’t even what made Harry nervous. It wasn’t even the scenes of said occlumency lessons that he had undergone by ‘the greasy git.’ The nervousness began at the stormy eyes of the old alchemist, making Harry realize that legilimency had been used on him, making him acutely aware of his non- existent occlumency shields. His nervousness had begun with those stormy eyes, but had not grown as the old man had begun to shout and curse up a storm at his one-time apprentice. Seeing the Headmaster’s eyes go from twinkling to stormy, a reflection of his mentor’s, had made Harry feel slightly vindicated. No, what made Harry’s nervousness go through the roof was when the situation had been told to the person who had just been brought into the room, his new instructor in the art of Occlumency.
Elizabeth was a born prodigy in this field. To all those Unspeakables who had been proficient in the field had been brought to a level held only those considered masters under her tutelage. She apparently had a way of connecting with those she taught, and was able to bring them up to levels they never would have reached themselves. To those who had little to no training, such as Harry, the process was far more intimate. The process of organizing a mind usually took years, if not decades, it was a process she could complete in days. The catch, however, was that she would be living through these memories as well. It was incredibly intrusive, and undeniably intimate. If that wasn’t enough to make him nervous, the fact that she was barely 26, dark skinned, incredibly toned woman, who had the body and face of a goddess had shot that nervousness to an all time high. Harry couldn’t help by sigh to himself. He didn’t know if he should be happy or mortified by the prospect of what was to come. In the end, he did what he inevitably always did, bit the bullet and went onward, full steam ahead.
Harry smiled to himself with a sigh as he lay on the bed he was given to recuperate. His head both hurt and felt fuzzy. This was a normal reaction. His mind was not used to working in such a manner; it would take a day or so to recuperate on its own. The amount of energy, or mind energy, used in the process had left him feeling more drained than he ever remembered. And now that he could call upon any memory, including those from when he was an infant, which was saying a lot. Although, until his mind began to settle; he was going to do his best not to think about anything dealing with memories. Though, he again began to smile to himself as he began to think of the tirade Elizabeth was right now raining down upon the old codger, Dumbeldore, not Flamel.
It had taken just over two days inside the training room to go through the vast memories that he had accumulated in his 15 plus years of life. The only times they stopped, after she had gotten over and had been able to resume through his adolescent years under the abuse of the Dursley’s, was for small breaks and the frequent momentary stops due to her own extreme emotions when dealing with the events that had transpired over his time as a student of Hogwarts. Her own control of her emotions was second to none under normal circumstances. Such was the effect of an occlumens, that many would be mistaken as emotionless due to their ability to control such emotions. However, when within Harry’s mind, it was his memories, and emotions, that she was experiencing, and while she could control herself, even in such an environment, the amount of effort it would have taken, and the time it would have added, made doing so counter productive. As a result, she was forced to experience those emotions contained within those memories as though they were her own.
When it was done, he had felt emotionally and physically drained. He wasn’t sure what the look she was giving him meant, as she gently laid him down onto a bed that appeared within the room, much like within the room of requirements back at school. She certainly looked at him with affection as she brushed some hair that had been matted down over his eyes along his forehead. She had murmured that they had much to do, and had to discuss something she had unexpectedly discovered within his mind. But first, as her eyes began to alight with fire, she had an old man to beat the crap out of. In the end, Harry had a hard time finding any sympathy for Dumbledore.
“If I weren’t so bloody drained, I’d do a hell of a lot more than this.”
Elizabeth’s voice was almost primal in its resonance, causing both of the old men, who had only experienced 5 minutes outside of the influence of the time controlled room, to direct their attention to the now open door. They had been quietly discussing the different avenues to teach young Harry, and they were also discussing the most important areas to start on when Elizabeth barged in, her entire body was slightly damp, her hair more than slightly trussed, but the fire burning in her eyes gave both men pause.
Before the two men had given her their full attention, Elizabeth already had her wand placed at the tip of her temple. Unlike the silvery substance that would be withdrawn and used in a pensieve, a gold and silver light appeared at the tip of her wand. By the time Albus has fully turned his head towards the door, she had already flung the energy at the surprised old man.
As the old man’s body seemed to go through long minutes of seizures, Nicholas glanced at the young woman who just entered his office, not to mention attack his onetime pupil. He glanced between his enraged employee and his still shaken friend and decided that Albus probably deserved it.
However, he still glanced at her with an upraised eyebrow, to which she simply shrugged and sat down in the unoccupied chair.
“Bastard forced Harry to live with those ‘people’” she basically spat, “Figured he could do with feeling some of the emotions he subjected the poor bloke to.”
Glancing at his friend, Nicholas had to ask, “Just the emotions?”
Elizabeth nodded with her eyes closed. “Yeah, nothing more without Harry’s express permission.” She looked at her employer with fierce eyes. “Anything else would be a betrayal. And after all the shit he has been put through,” She shook her head. “It’s something I refuse to do.”
Nicholas nodded as Albus finally seemed to come back to himself. Both Unspeakables gave him a moment to compose himself before Elizabeth spoke up once more.
“It took some doing, but I have all of his memories properly organized, and the impulses within his mind, how he now classifies, and accesses his memories, and organizes his mind is complete. However, we ran into a bit of a complication.” Seeing that she had both men’s attention, she went on. “Within Harry’s mind was a foreign energy pattern that simply didn’t belong. It took some doing, but between the two of us, we were able to expel the energy, and sever the link that was feeding it.” To this she stared straight at Dumbledore. “What it left behind were the memories of The Dark Lord.”
“A Horcrux” This was whispered, almost reverently with a tinge of disgust, by both men. To this, she merely nodded her head in agreement.
“However, something unexpected happened.” She smiled. “Whether it was due to the constant sorting we had already been doing for days, or the fact that the memories were already sorted me a master occlumens, Harry was able to accomplish, with Voldemort’s memories, what we have been trying to do since we started the implantation project.”
Flamel sat straight up in his chair in surprise while Albus simply looked confused.
“What was his rate of retention?” The head Unspeakable asked in barely restrained glee.
“As the memories were from an unknown source.” To this she looked at Dumbledore. “And by unknown, I mean that the memories were not supplied by us,” She looked back to her boss. “It is impossible to say until I go over the events on my own. I will say that everything he did was completely natural. The emotions that went with the memories were stripped away, the knowledge was sorted in the same manner he sorted his own, even the knowledge for physical memory were sorted properly, and that was without my own instruction.”
Albus looked between the two smiling people in the room, and hoping not to wind up at the end of the young woman’s wand, ventured into the conversation.
“I am not sure that I understand the significance of what you say.”
It was Nicholas who answered.
“When the prophecy foretold Harry as being Voldemort’s equal, it was not kidding. From what young Elizabeth has just told us, Harry has relived, and learned all that Voldemort did from the time he left young Harry with that Horcrux.” To this Albus looked alarmed. “Relax my friend; this form of learning is similar to having learned from a book, or perhaps a pensieve. Without the emotions, you need not fear of us training the Dark Lord’s replacement.”
Albus’s mind was whirring a mile a minute, but was brought out by the delighted voices occupying the room.
“You know what this means?” The old alchemist asked. The young woman nodded with a tired smile.
“Operation Mirror can go into full affect.” She closed her eyes. “Once Harry has fully recuperated that is. We’ll take another look through his memories, and make sure that Voldemort’s memories have had not ill affect on him, finish shoring up his defenses, and I will bring him up to a competent level in legillimency, which will make the transfer of knowledge and skill that much easier.” Her white teeth could be seen clearly through her smile. “After so long, I can’t believe we found someone who can retain such a vast amount of information, hopefully at one hundred percent.”
“I do not understand.” Both looked to Albus, who looked slightly confused, but that damn twinkle was definitely back in his eyes. This caused a snort and a chuckle to come from his old mentor and friend.
“We have had some success in transferring knowledge among our own members; however that is only to a certain extent. It seems that the mind is only able to handle so much information being forced within from an external source. Most subjects wind up with severe migraines and loose the knowledge that had been recently gained. Others, when the information provided was of more than simply informational, such as ‘how’ to use the runes when warding, or memories of the proper way to fight, both through dueling and physical fighting, have wound up in vegetative states.” He gestured towards Elizabeth. “She is able to retain more information than most, her mind, however, is able to block and self-obliviate when too much information is added. When trying to add a skill set, well, that is beyond even her.” Elizabeth continued.
“For whatever reason, though most likely it is through the constant struggle of keeping the Horcrux at bay, and then retaining the information held within the energy, Harry’s mind is able to channel that information, and skill set, even though it comes from an external stimulus.” She looked at both men. “I do believe we should go forward, with Harry’s permission, but we must do so with great caution. I was within his mind when he assimilated Voldemort’s memories, and I believe that he may have even unconsciously blocked some of that information off from himself.” She shrugged. “It may have been a one-time occurrence, but I will not allow him to come to harm because we have overstepped our bounds.”
Both men looked at each other, neither wanting to get on the young, attractive, and apparently viscous, woman, nodded their head in unison. “Agreed”
No matter how much he wanted to, Harry could not stop panting. He was trying to catch his breath, but that damn elusive creature was staying just out of reach. Still, he couldn’t help but smile, even from down on the mat covered floor.
It had been three weeks since his dark skinned goddess had deemed him fit to start his ‘training.’ Operation Mirror, indeed.
Whether he was a natural, or perhaps he was simply able to use the skills that old Tommy boy had acquired, he found things coming much easier to him. He had been told, quite a few times, that now his mind wasn’t constantly struggling with that foreign energy that was the Old Dark Lord, his mind was able to function more efficiently, and thanks to the dark nutter, it even came with an advantage.
For the past three weeks he had been working exclusively with the lovely Elizabeth. What she was able to do was amazing, and by that he meant beyond the ability to make him blush to his bones.
She had somehow found a way to take an entire subject, such as runes, taken from one of the experts in the field, who worked for the Unspeakables, and somehow crammed it into his skull.
The damn information always knocked him for a loop, sometimes knocking him unconscious for hours at a time. However, when he was up and awake once again, he’d be dammed if he couldn’t read and translate all the runes that were brought before him.
With a celebratory hug and kiss, to which he would never be able shore up his mental shields to, nor was he sure he wanted to, they would monitor him for a time, before starting with another subject.
So on it went. It felt like he received beyond any education that Hogwarts could have given him within a week’s time. It was incredible, and migraine inducing, but incredible all the same. The ‘cool factor’ went up about ten notches as she began introducing his mind to various defense techniques, both magical and mundane. And, holy crap, did that knock him out for over a day.
Now, over a week later, he had been putting all of that new knowledge to the test. He solved riddles based in arithmancy and ancient runes. That, he was doing great in, it was the physical activities that were a little slower on.
As he looked up from the mat, he took the offered hand and was pulled back onto his feet. He bowed to the man across from him. As both men squared off against the other, before he could even blink, a plethora of information, different ways to fight, various forms of martial arts, and how to complete the various moves, flashed within his mind, over before he could even blink.
As the nameless individual came at him, Harry found himself moving on instinct, raising his arm to block a strike, keeping his legs flexed for proper balance, keeping his weight evenly distributed. His body was able to move itself into place based on the moves the man across from him was making. However, in the end, it once again proved not to be enough.
While the muscle memory seemed to be ingrained within him, it was a fraction too slow. It also didn’t help that the potions he had been given, to bring him to a peak physical condition, were only starting its work on his body.
With time, those muscle memory would become further ingrained, and his body would progress to better conditioning, which would further his own ability to use his magic to increase his physical fitness and endurance. It probably also did not help that the man across from him was the one give the memories, and skills, to Elizabeth to be used in Operation Mirror. Of course, Harry was never told this.
It was as he was laying back down on the ground beaten once again, ironically feeling better than he ever had in his life, that all hell began to break out in the ministry, making its way towards the department of mysteries.
Harry bolted up from the ground, his wand coming out of the wand holster gifted to him by Nicholas Flamel; he turned his attention towards the open doorway. It was because of his attention ahead of him, that he never noticed the man who had been his opponent, approach him from behind.
With a strong grip on his shoulder, Harry never even had time to turn around, before that feeling of a hook in his navel made him fully aware that the man behind him had used a portkey, and he really did not want to know where this destination was going to be.
And though he would never truly know how long it lasted, this was just the beginning of his time in Hell.