The Renegade | By : DarkWizardKiller Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 1644 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
WARNING!! This fan-fiction story is NOT for the faint at heart. It is an extremely dark, bloody story with graphic scenes of violence and torture. It also contains graphic scenes of a sexual nature so it is not recommended for children. The Author is not responsible for keyboards ruined due to excessive retching or any psychological or emotional damage that may result…really!
Death would have been kinder…but…that was the whole point of torture…wasn’t it…to prolong life in the face of unimaginable pain…to illustrate total control over ones victim…to be the master of the human condition…complete domination of the mind, body and soul…
…but Death refused to fetch her that day…
She died…oh yes…but not in the physical sense…it was the parts of her that cared…that loved…that had compassion and trust. Emotion was torn from her like the eye that Lucius Malfoy so deftly plucked from her head just for sport during her relentless torture and rape. It had gone on for hours. To her, it was eternity. When the Dark Lord fell, she felt sharp cold steel slide silently across her throat, then the soothing warmth of the blood that gushed from her wound. It was a stark contrast to the cold, dirty stone floor she collapsed on. Hours of the Cruciatus curse had left her numb. Pain no longer had meaning to her senses.
However, they made one grave error that night…they did not finish the job…
It was Harry Potter who unknowingly saved her life…even though there wasn’t much left to save. When Voldemort fell, the Death Eaters panicked. Like cowardly reptiles, they began slithering away to save themselves, just as they had done before. None of them realized that when the Dark Lord perished, so did the Chosen One. He willingly paid the ultimate price to save them all. For that, she would be forever grateful but Harry carried all the love and compassion she possessed to the grave with him as did all the others that lost their lives that horrible day. The entire Weasley family had perished along the way as well as all the members of the Order of the Phoenix, her parents and many of the staff at Hogwarts when a dozen werewolves, led by Fenrir Grayback, attacked the school. Forgiveness soaked into the earth with the blood that gushed from the gaping wound in her neck.
She wanted to die. They were all gone. She had nothing left to live for. But, she made a promise to herself…just before blissful unconsciousness overtook her. If you do survive this, you’ll never be a victim again…ever!
...but she lived…
It was Neville Longbottom who found her. As Ministry Officials and Aurors swarmed the carnage and devastation at the Riddle house, Neville snuck inside, searching for his friends when he found her. He took hold of her and side-along apparated to the only place that he was sure she would be safe. He took her to Hogwarts.
He appeared with her outside the entrance, carried her in his arms all the way to the castle, up to the hospital wing and gently laid her on the first bed he came to. Madam Pomfrey rushed to her aid when she saw Neville come in.
She was more dead than alive, drenched in blood.
He collapsed in a chair next to her bed, tears streaming from his eyes.
“Please help her…” were the only words he could manage.
Madam Pomfrey patted him gently on his shoulder.
“Now don’t you worry lad, I’ve not lost one yet.” She said with a smile.
Neville refused to leave her side. He refused to eat or sleep until she woke up…or until death took her.
But her body fought. Its will to live was as strong as her heart. On a clear spring morning, four days after Neville brought her to Hogwarts, her eye fluttered open.
It took her a long time to recover. The damage to her eye was permanent. Madam Pomfrey covered it with a gauze bandage. She was able to heal her neck wound but told her that a scar would remain for the rest of her life. Her body was a road map of cuts, scratches and bruises. The bruising to her vaginal area was the worst. It was obvious to Madam Pomfrey that she had been brutally ravaged beyond anything the healer could imagine. The only thing she could do was make the girl as comfortable as possible and sedate her when the pain became too much.
Neville stayed until he was certain that she was out of danger. After, he would only leave long enough to eat, shower and relieve himself. He was sitting next to her bed watching her sleep when an owl flew through an open window and landed on the arm of the chair. It held out its leg and Neville removed the small roll of parchment that was attached. It was a letter from St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, informing him that his Grandmother had been admitted and was in very poor health. He jumped to his feet and rushed to Madam Pomfrey’s office and tapped on her door.
“Yes, child,” she said with a start, “has she taken a turn?”
“No ma’am,” he said sadly, looking at the letter, “It’s me Gran. She’s at St. Mungo’s and I’ve got to go there right away.”
“Well I hope it’s nothing serious,” she replied in a warm, motherly tone. She looked at him knowingly as he glanced toward her bed, “Don’t worry lad,” she added patting the back of Neville’s hand, “I’ll send an owl if there are any changes but I suspect she’ll pull through just fine. She’s tough, that one.”
“She’s the only one left.” He said sadly.
“Don’t you worry…now…off you go.” Madam Pomfrey assured him.
Neville didn’t return for many weeks. His Grandmother was very old and fragile. She died not long after he left Hogwarts. Not only was it devastating for him but he had to take over the responsibilities of his mother and father. He would visit her from time to time but she was always the same. She never smiled or spoke, never looked at him and had a dark, hollow gaze. It was almost as if she were dead inside. It was difficult for Neville to see his friend that way.
As she lay there day after day, she forced herself to remember every detail of what had happened to her. She wanted to remember everything, feel every punch, every kick. She was determined to remember every man that forced himself into her body. Luckily there was a potion and a spell to destroy the seed they had sown, but there was a price…The side effect was that she would never be able to have children. A small price to pay for the destruction of the demons they injected inside her, as far as she was concerned. She would not allow herself the luxury of self pity or depression. She steeled her resolve against emotional weakness. She would not break…She made decisions and set plans. She knew where she would go and what she would do when the time came but…until then…patience.
To Madam Pomfrey, the young woman was a pillar of strength and resolve. She never shed one single tear or once cried out in pain. She allowed the healer to do what was necessary to help her and never complained. On the other hand, Madam Pomfrey worried about the girl’s mental state. She never spoke, the hollow look and blank expression illustrated the damage her attackers inflicted on her mind but the healer did not pry…didn’t ask questions She simply concentrated on healing her body.
On a warm summer morning, she decided to get out of bed and walk about for the first time in many weeks. She forced herself to ignore the pain. Not long after that she quickly regained her strength and as a few more weeks past her wounds were fully healed.
She stood waiting outside Madam Pomfrey’s office the day she was ready to leave. The healer came out with a few things for her. First she handed her a small vile of sleeping draft and another filled with a pain potion.
“This should be enough to do you for about a week. Just a sip is all you need.”
“Thank you,” the girl croaked in a raspy voice. It was the first words she had spoken since she arrived. Madam Pomfrey’s eyebrows threatened to disappear as a smile lit up the healer’s face. She gently patted the girl’s shoulder.
“That’s my girl! Now,” Madam Pomfrey continued, “I realize this is hideous but unfortunately, it’s the only thing I could find…”
She handed the girl an eye patch. It was not just any eye patch, it was made of black satin and the perimeter was studded with tiny rhinestones. In the center of the patch was a tiny studded figure of a skull and cross bones. A mischievous, crooked, dimpled little smirk crossed the girl’s face as she took the eye patch.
“I believe it was left over from some masquerade ball in the past. I suspect you’ll want to find something a bit more…dignified once you get home.”
“It’s brilliant,” she squeaked, “thanks.”
“Now, let’s give you one final once-over just to make certain I did my job properly…shell we?”
The girl nodded and Madam Pomfrey removed the gauze patch from her eye. It had healed over quite well. The mutilated eye had glazed over in a dead white haze. The healer said it was perfectly normal. She checked her neck and various other places that needed her attention. As she gently pressed on the girl’s abdomen, the healer asked her if there was any pain. With a shake of her head, Madam Pomfrey was satisfied.
The girl slipped the pirate patch over her dead eye and gave Madam Pomfrey a long, tight hug.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” the girl said softly.
The young woman that was brought in to the hospital wing a half step from Death’s door walked out of Hogwarts with her head held high and with purpose in her step. She was not quite 17…
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