Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bella's Harem	By : Mamacita Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 28885 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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.

Chapter List
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2: Welcome to the Dungeons

It was amply clear that, unlike their family members who had been left behind, the men’s wands would not be returned to them. When Fred had the temerity to protest this offense, he was cuffed impatiently by Ledbetter, the nearest Death Eater, who told Fred to mind his manners or he would soon find out what was what. Fred seemed all too likely to give in to the strong if inadvisable impulse to test this threat, but Arthur caught his eye and shook his head in silent warning.

Harry looked about, interested in spite of himself. The only times he’d been in the dungeons were during second year, when he and Ron had used Polyjuice Potion to masquerade as Crabbe and Goyle and had spent a short time in theSlytherin common room with Draco; and when he attended Potions class or, on the odd occasion, served detention in Snape’s office.

Now they were led to a stout wooden door at the end of a corridor Harry had never seen before, some distance past the Slytherin common room. It was rather cold, and a faint suggestion of damp hung in the air.

Nott unlocked the door with a complicated wand movement, and either there was no accompanying incantation or he performed it silently, for the door swung open instantly. A long corridor lay beyond, all but the first few yards shrouded in shadows; doors opened off either side at regular intervals.

Nott stood aside and motioned for Harry to precede him through the doorway and into the first cell. Ron pushed through to the front, hoping to stay with Harry, and Nott yanked on his arm, nearly toppling Ron as he shoved him into the cell on Harry’s heels.

“Oh, why not—let’s ‘ave the whole bleedin’ lot of blood traitors in togevver, shall we?” Nott sneered, and Arthur and Fred were ungently encouraged to join Harry and Ron. The door was abruptly slammed behind them; for a moment there was the shimmer of a ward being put in place, then the glow faded, leaving them in utter blackness—and silence. Despite the considerable crowd that was still in the corridor outside, presumably being pushed and shoved into cells of their own, not a sound could be heard except the rapid, agitated breathing of the four occupants. The sound of Harry’s heart thudded in his ears.

After a brief interval Arthur made a determined effort to introduced a spot of normalcy into their situation—at least as much as could be expected under these circumstances.

“Er—boys? Where—where is everyone?” he asked. A chorus of “here”s showed that they were all within an arm’s length of each other. “Why don’t we—erm—see what we have here?” Arthur suggested. “Fred, you have a try at estimating the size of the room, that’s my boy.”

Fred obligingly shuffled the length of the cell, one hand held out in front of him, expecting at any moment to run into a wall. Arthur did the same width-wise, and after a bit of guessing and the application of some long-forgotten geometry they determined that the cell was approximately eight feet wide by twelve feet deep. They had no idea how high the ceiling was; Ron, standing on Arthur’s shoulders with his arms fully extended above his head, could not reach it. There were wide stone ledges, rough but mostly flat, that ran down both long sides of the cell; Arthur supposed they were intended as beds.

“Comfy,” Fred remarked. “So now what?” he asked glumly from one of the ledges. “We just sit here and—what—get picked off one by one?”

“Well, I for one would like to know what old Bellatrix meant by ‘in her service’,” Ron grumbled.

Fred looked in the direction of Ron’s voice. “You are joking, right?”

Typically, Ron flared up immediately. “Fine, then you explain it to me if you know so bloody much!”

“Now, boys,” Arthur said tiredly. “This is hardly the time or the place for bickering.” He paused, and after a moment of frustrated silence there were muttered apologies from Fred and Ron. “I suppose there’s not much point in speculation, anyway—bound to find out sooner or later, eh?”

They sat there in the dark, suddenly feeling all of their aches and pains from the battle. Harry found himself wishing Fred had, after all, told them what he thought Bellatrix intended for them. He kept thinking of the seductive tone in her voice, but his mind shied away from putting “seductive” and “Bellatrix Lestrange” in the same thought. “Gross,” he muttered, and he heard a muffled snort from Fred’s direction.

Suddenly Ron said plaintively, “I’m hungry. S’pose they ever feed prisoners in this place, or do they just starve them to death?”

Even as he spoke there was a rattling at the door and it swung wide to reveal not a Death Eater, as they had expected, but the wizened outline of a house-elf.

One house-elf in particular, to be precise.

There was a startled gasp from the figure, which set a tentative foot inside the cell and cried, “Is it—is it truly Harry Potter?”

“Dobby? Is that you?” Harry wasn’t sure why he felt so relieved to see the elf’s familiar face. It wasn’t as if Dobby could do anything to help them...or could he?

The others crowded round, and Dobby looked up at them in delight. “Why, it is Harry Potter’s Weezey!” he cried. “And...the Weezey’s family, Dobby is thinking?”

Introductions were made all round. Then Harry asked eagerly, “So can you tell us what’s going on, Dobby? What’s she going to do with us?”

Dobby’s ears drooped and he seemed to shrink in upon himself. “Oh, bad...bad things,” he whimpered. “We elves are not allowed to speak of it.” He brightened a bit. “But Harry Potter is not having to stay in the dungeons for long, oh no. He will be going to stay with—with the others soon.” He essayed a smile, but it wasn’t very convincing.

“The others?” Harry asked. “The other prisoners, you mean?” He looked round excitedly at the Weasleys. “Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? I mean, at least we’ll all be together. Maybe that way we can get a better idea of what she’s going to do with us.”

Dobby merely stood looking from one to the other of them, wringing his ears and looking miserable at not being able to tell them more. Suddenly a loud noise out in the corridor made him jump, and he stopped abusing his ears.

“Oh! Dobby is forgetting what he came for!” he cried. He snapped his fingers and a large serving platter, which Harry recognized as the kind that food had magically appeared on during meals in the Great Hall, appeared before them and hovered in mid-air. Its large size made the items sitting on it appear particularly puny in comparison. There was most of a smallish loaf of bread, two chicken legs, a rather droopy cabbage leaf, three small apples, and a large goblet of water.

“Dobby wishes there was more,” the elf mourned. “Winky and Dobby is saving their dinners when they hears of Harry Potter and his Weezey coming to Hogwarts—”

“You mean Castle Lestrange?” Ron broke in, his mouth twisted in an ugly sneer.

Harry was struck by a sudden thought. “Dobby,” he said, “what do the portraits think of Bellatrix taking over the castle and declaring herself Queen? Or do they even know about it yet? And the ghosts—what about them?” He thought of all the faces that had grown familiar during their Hogwarts years—the Fat Lady, Sir Cadogan, Sir Nicholas, the Bloody Baron, Peeves, even Moaning Myrtle—and wondered what this turn of events meant for them. Would they stay—and if it came to that, could they leave?

Dobby shook his head. “Dobby does not know, Master Harry. The—the Queen person has told the teachers they must leave, but Dobby does not know about the portraits or the ghosts.” He lowered his voice. “The masked ones have ordered the house-elves to stay in the kitchens unless they call for us. But Dobby gives that—” he snapped his fingers derisively, and did not appear even slightly sorry for his recalcitrant attitude— “for their orders. Dobby is a free elf, he is.”

“Well, thanks for the food, Dobby. We really appreciate it,” said Harry. (“Such as it is,” Ron muttered, eyeing the meager offering in disgust, but Harry ignored him.) “Now, don’t go getting yourself in trouble. We need you to be our eyes and ears in the castle.”

Dobby looked positively thrilled at the idea of being able to be of use to Harry. “Dobby is honored—” he began, when there was a sudden clamor further down the corridor. “Dobby will find Master Harry later,” the elf promised. “Must go now!” He stepped back out into the corridor and snapped his fingers. The door flew shut, leaving the cellmates in darkness once again. They strained to hear what was happening, but the door was so thick that no sounds from outside penetrated it, and they gave up.

The abrupt sound of an apple crunching broke the stillness.

“I say,” Fred protested. “Who’s started eating?”

“But I’m starving,” Ron said defensively.

“Here now, save some for us.” Fred patted his way along the ledge toward the crunching sounds.

Arthur intervened at this juncture, saying mildly, “That’ll do, boys. Harry, come over here—” he flailed in the dark until he found Harry’s arm— “and have something to eat.”

“D’you think we ought to—to save it, or anything?” Harry asked tentatively. He could smell the sweetness of the apple Ron was noisily masticating, and even just the the scent of it was intoxicating. He suddenly realized how hungry he was and wished he hadn’t said anything about saving the food for later.

Fortunately, Arthur seemed to understand that he’d have a mutiny on his hands if he tried to ration what little food there was, so instead he settled for dividing it as evenly as possible. We’ll have to let tomorrow take care of itself, he thought morosely, and then, Wonder what Molly’s doing....

The meal was on the skimpy side; still, it did lift their spirits a bit. That is, until the door clanked open a second time, just as Ron was picking a particularly tenacious bit of chicken out of his back teeth.

A Lumos spell blinded them so they couldn’t see who stood there, and a voice barked, “Weasley, Arfur!”
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Bella's Harem