* * *
He awoke with a pounding headache. Opening his eyes painfully, he quickly realized that he was hanging spread-eagle upside down. Each limb was bound by cords to a stout pole. A torch burning somewhere above him cast a small circle of light in what seemed to be a very large room.
“Ginny. Ginny!” he called, worried that she might be hurt nearby.
“He’s awake!” a rough voice called. Harry turned his head to look toward the voice: a large man, concealed by dark robes and the dim light of the room, was rising from a chair. As he approached, others came from beyond the circle of light. As they neared, he saw that they were people he knew. Crabbe Sr. The Goyles. Draco Malfoy. They were laughing at him, and Harry was surprised that laughing could produce such an unpleasant sound.
“Well, well, well,” said Draco finally, his voice oozing satisfaction. “The great Harry Potter, the wizard who defeated the Dark Lord in single combat, taken down by a simple Stupefy spell.”
“You . . . the chauffeur?” asked Harry, thinking that if he could keep them talking, maybe he would find a way out of this, at least for Ginny.
They laughed again. “Not me, our classmate Goyle. You remember him, don’t you?” Goyle smiled and waved sardonically.
“Let’s do it now,” demanded Crabbe senior, the hatred in his voice an almost physical thing.
“Now, now,” replied Draco, “no need to rush. You want Potter to suffer first, don’t you? For killing your son? For imprisoning my father for life? For hunting us like dogs!” The last came out as a snarl. “You forced us to do this, Potter. We were willing to lead anonymous lives, apart from everyone we ever knew, our families, our fortunes, but NO! That’s not good enough for the Great Harry Potter! He’s a big Auror now! He’s got to find us, to catch us, to imprison us, to chase us from our homes every time we think we have a spare moment to breathe!”
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