A/N: I legit have nothing to say other than: sorry it took me a month to update!

I started a new fic so that could be it, but i'm gonna go ahead and blame it on school. Regardless, hope you enjoy this strange chapter. I'm at the point where the fic is almost over so I have to be careful with each new chapter as to not f%ck up the story hehe

-lauralydney

Chapter 24

In the end, Mike left. None of the wizards moved until they knew the muggle would get back safely. Harry texted the D.A members still at camp so they would know to follow him until he was on school grounds. Darren hopped on the broom with Harry. The wizards took him back to school, whilst following Mike closely in the air.

Like one of many thorns wedged in Harry's back, Mike and Darren's safety was plucked from the bunch. Now it only left rescuing Linda, rescuing Mr. Short, surviving the process, keeping Ron and Hermione out of harm's way, and preparing for the soon to come attack on the school. No biggie.

Harry followed the map to the best of his ability. He was a wizard, not a pirate. By some chance of fate he managed to reach a clearing similar to that of the strange shapes on the paper.

They descended. The ominous tension trailed close behind them.

Once on the ground, Harry unzipped his backpack. Given the little amount of time to think of a plan—and empty guesses as to what lurked behind the cabin doors—his strategies could be considered flawed depending on the near future circumstances.

So far all he had to rely on were his stink bombs, Calder's glasses (the whole 'someone around you is not what they seem' was still rung loudly in his head), and his wand.

Obviously, the Witch Hunters would demand he give up his wand. Harry would need a backup.

Fred and George's fake trick wands would do. 'Let the muggles give 'em a try,' they had said.

Of course, Harry never intended to pull such stupid prank, but in the end they did come in handy.

After they landed he stuffed the original wand in his usual sock, stink bombs in his pockets, and replaced his glasses with the ones Calder had given him. He had more than one good reason to believe the Witch Hunters were keeping other wizards captive.

With the spell Hermione had taught him, Harry made the glasses adjust to his vision.

And finally, he handed Hermione his broom and invisibility cloak.

She gave him an odd look to which he responded. "They know I'm coming. Hide under it with Ron. They mustn't know you're here. Pleaseee," he stretched the word. "Leave if anything goes wrong."

Ron and Hermione looked as if they we're about to protest before they had the chance Harry pulled them both into a bone-crushing hug.

This was a rare display of affection. The sort he'd stopped showing as often ever since the night of Cedric's death.

"Just leave, okay?" Harry pleaded.

"Leave to get help," Hermione finally agreed.

Harry released them, realizing he wouldn't get much further in this argument. "Hide. I'll be back," he told them and whispered, "probably."

They did, and Harry moved forward, scanning his surroundings.

It was a log cabin. An old one at that. Harry would have thought it to be abandoned any other time. The wood was chipped and the rusty, mucus colored roof didn't help magnify its beauty.

The only suspicious things about the ancient mess were the windows. Some of the glass was shattered, revealing nothing of the inside. What appeared to be metal walls hid the interior view.

A wooden fence coated with barbed wire and yellow scotch tape surrounded the cabin. 'Danger, keep out' was written multiple times on the tape and a few poorly nailed sings on the fence.

Danger, huh? Hadn't noticed.

The bleak perspective of things had one thing missing until now—his fear.

His mind had only focused on salvaging the lives of others before. Not his own.

Looking around at the area brought a nauseating toxin to lie at the pit of Harry's stomach—panic.

The young teen tried as he could to push it down, but the ashy trees rose it to the surface again as their spiky, hand-shaped branches clawed at his insides with each step closer to the Cabin.

Steps that crunched under the gravel parkway. The sound matched that of gnashing teeth.

Gnashing teeth. Red eyes appeared in the darkness with the deafening noise of savage barks.

Even the Witch Hunter's dogs had their own threatening persona.

The light of the moon shone briefly as one of the many clouds rolled away, only to disappear moments later.

He wondered if that was the last light he would see once he entered the place where no one could hear him scream.

Harry stood at the door for what felt like ages. Yes, he was afraid, but that wasn't the reason.

Comically enough, it was mostly because he never 'turned himself over to the enemy'. What was one to do in that situation?

Knocking seemed stupid, but barging in was terrifying.

Luckily, the dogs had served as an alarm. Cole opened the door. He wore a gray turtleneck shirt, thicker on the chest than on the sleeves. It gave Cole a bulked up appearance. The jet-black baggy jeans and combat boots matched the teen's hair.

The muggle was emotionless and cold as stone, his eyes scanning Harry up and down, stopping momentarily on his wand before going back to his face.

Cole smirked, but it looked more like a grimace. "Just your wand, Potter?"

Harry bit his lip. Whatever they had in store for him must be beyond the protection of fifth year magic.

"I'm only here for the exchange," he said quickly. "Where's Linda?"

Cole coked his head to the side in a wordless follow me motion.

When Cole turned his back, Harry noticed the gun in his right hand. A pistol which shook violently in his grip. Harry doubted it had anything to do with its weight.

Inside it smelled acidic and pungent, leaving a metallic taste on the roof oh Harry's mouth. The odor was not one he recognized, but the lemon detergent used as a failed attempt to cover it up was.

Unlike the simple hiker's cabin it appeared to be on the outside, the interior was vast, glistening with white tiled floors, and plain, windowless walls. Four large metal doors—much like the one he'd seen at Cole's house—surrounded the four walls of the apartment sized area.

Harry became suspicious of how the inside was so spacious, reminding him of the tent used in the Quidditch cup.

The doors must lead some place below rather than upward, Harry thought. If only I knew which one led to Linda...

"Just you here?" Harry asked.

"Don't be an idiot. The others are downstairs. This place is rigged with traps, so don't try anything stupid, okay?"

Another piece of the puzzle landed on his lap. If he asked Cole enough discreet questions, Harry might just learn what he was up against, and-or what they had planned for him.

As he thought about what to ask, the young wizard couldn't help but be strangely concerned for Cole.

This muggle was so baffling to him. Harry knew he was a witch hunter, but there were moments when that façade would break. Like a spy peering out a window trying not to be caught, you'd catch glimpses of Cole's weakness just before he covered them up again.

The way he said 'don't try anything stupid' hadn't been the least bit threatening. A worrisome tinge lingered at the end. It was a warning, not a threat.

What he said about traps, Harry thought, had to be true. Or else there was no way they'd send Cole alone.

"They're forcing you, aren't they?"

"What?"

"To be a Witch Hunter."

Again, the debility left Cole's face, almost instantly.

"Of course not. We're not like your kind. They'd never force me to do anything," Cole spat, and then paused, rubbing his temples. "Just keep your mouth shut. You'll make things worse for yourself."

Harry ignored his command. "Why are the others downstairs?"

"I don't answer to you. You are the prisoner."

Harry sighed, resigned. Maybe there was no use in talking to him.

After a few seconds of silence, Harry thought up another question. However before he could ask it, the train of thought was interrupted by a strange glow coming from one of the doors.

"You're keeping other wizard's captive now too?" Harry asked Cole in attempt to surprise him with his knowledge.

Cole raised an eyebrow. "You're the only freak here, Potter."

"No need to lie to me now. I'm defenseless."

"I'm not lying."

The light got closer as the steps got louder. "Then who is—?"

All four doors burst open. About twenty people surrounded Harry and Cole like cage walls under seconds.

Cole retreated to the group and was handed a yellow mask. One's they were all wearing, covering everything but the eyes. Oxygen masks. That was never good.

The glowing was so close it was almost blinding. Too close. Swishing his head to the side, he saw it. Too bright and covered by a mask were a pair of dark brown eyes.

A hissing noise from the air shafts above was heard. The room was filled with pink smoke.

Harry tried to fight, kicking and punching to leave the barricade they'd formed around him, but just like the room, his head became foggy. "You're the wizard." He pointed at the glowing figure hazily before the light turned dark.

Either the gas contained dreamless sleep potion or he was dead. Harry spent a few minutes figuring out which. Death was dark. Harry always imagined it being at the hands of Voldemort.

Nothing made sense, only the darkness. Harry called out for his parents. Maybe in this life they'd find him.

Someone shushed him nearby. A warm hand touched his forehead, caressing his hair before another—Harry assumed was from the same person (or ghost)—shook him gently.

"Harry," a familiar voice called quietly. "Wake up."

His throat burned. Harry didn't know how long he'd been out, but water was obviously something this other world had neglected. He groaned hoarsely "You can't be dead too," Harry told the voice tiredly. "I have to get you back to Mike."

A snorted laugh and the sound of a hand clasped over a mouth confused him even more.

"We're not dead," it whispered firmly.

Slowly, Harry's eyes began to flutter open. Huh. So it wasn't that dark.

But the lighting in the room didn't matter, nor the smell of toxic death. The only thing that did was the person standing in front of him.

"Linda!"

"shhhhh!" Linda warned, accepting his embrace.

"You're an idiot," she sighed.

Harry pulled away and smirked in amused disbelief. "This is how you're greeting your rescuer?"

"Harry," she glared impatiently. "Now you're stuck here too. Rescue? What were you thinking!" Linda began.

The wizard bit back his tounge and let her ramble. "What kind of reckless, irresponsible joke is this? Tell me you at least called the police! Do you have any idea how dangerous...."

Linda's lecture was cut short in Harry's mind when he remembered the fake wand trick.

Fred and George's wand was gone. Harry reached for his sock, exhaling when he felt his real wand still there.

"...miss school as well! If you thought this saving my life mission was a good idea just wait until—"

"Linda," Harry interrupted her. "How long was I out?"

The muggle blinked quickly, snapped out of her complaint trance. It wasn't hard then for Harry to notice that she was actually scared. It showed in her quivering lips and pierced eyes, visibly holding back tears.

"A couple hours. It's around two in the morning."

This room was mostly empty. To mattresses and a few comics and books on the floor were just about all it had to show. More white walls. No windows.

Mr. Short was asleep, his beard longer than Harry remembered. Neither he nor Linda looked starved. Still, that didn't lessen his anger at the kidnappers.

Harry grabbed her hand. "I'm getting you out of here."

The determination in his voice sparked some hope in her stare.

"How? Do you know why they took me?"

"Ummm..." Harry was struck with the obvious thought. "Do you know why they took you?"

Linda shook her head. "At first I assumed—well, you know—human trafficking, but then I saw Mr. Short here. There was also that weird kid from school. I hear his voice in the hall. Cole was it? I think he's with them."

"You mean you don't know anything?"

"No."

"Oh good!" Harry blurted out.

"What? Wait—you do?"

Shit. "No," he lied.

Linda's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know."

Harry was quite.

"I knew we couldn't trust you. If only I'd listened to my instinct. Now I got myself kidnapped."

Well, that backfired.

"It's not like that! I'm not working with them. I'm working against them."

Linda raised an eyebrow, but before she could comment, Harry spoke. "They don't want you. It's me they're after. The Wi—these people—knew I would come get you if they kidnapped you. I'm really sorry I got you into this, but you have to trust me—just for now. I can get you out."

Linda was quite, possibly pondering what he said. She lowered her malice, but not her guard. "Who are they and why would they be after you?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but before the lie could escape his lips, voices were heard outside the door.

"No. We mustn't kill him yet."

"I believe we've waited long enough!"

"The only reason he's alive is for questioning. The wait is pointless without it."

The voice. Harry recognized it. Cole's father was postponing his murder. The second man was one Harry had no recollection of. It appeared to be just another Witch hunter in the bunch.

The man mumbled something inaudible.

"What was that?"

"I said if your son had just kept his mouth shut that vile creature's blood would've been mine by now."

Harry was in awe that anyone would even speak to the chief Witch Hunter in that tone. Let alone say such things in his presence.

"Doctor, you must listen," Mr. Quinn continued. "After the questions you can harvest his organs for all I care. You'll get your payment soon enough."

Doctor? Harvest his what now?!

"And the other two?"

"Pick whichever you like. Or both if you'll pipe down and get back in your lab."

The doctor made an impatient clicking noise with his tongue. "Have it your way, Quinn." The words of the man grew distant along with his footsteps.

"Father?" came a soft, uncertain voice nearby.

"Cole? I told you to stay with the others."

"Yo—you said you wouldn't hurt them," Cole stammered. "The girl. My teacher. You promised!"

"Enough of this Cole! Being a part of this project takes sacrifice. I will not have my son of all people not understand this."

"But they'll be killed! They're like us! They are human!"

"Yes. But they know too much," Mr. Quinn's voice softened. For once, he actually sounded like a concerned father. Though, Harry was unsure if the tone was fake or not. "We can't risk any setbacks in our experiment if we are to ever cleanse the world of this plague. You understand that, don't you, Cole?"

"Yes, but..."

"Do as I say or I'm afraid you will not be present for Harry Potter's questioning. Retreat to the group now and relax. I assure you the creature's outburst was nothing more than an early side effect from the gas."

Harry waited. Cole said nothing more.

"When we make sacrifices it's for the good of humanity. Your mother understood this. You should too."

Still, Cole didn't reply.

Eventually, Harry heard Cole leave. The noise was followed by a deep sigh at the door. Mr. Quinn was still standing there. "For Abby, Agnes, and the good of all of us, Cole. I will make things right."

And just like Cole, his father's footsteps also faded into silence.

Unknowingly, the wizard had temporarily saved his own life. By raising suspicion amongst the Witch Hunters themselves of purposeful infiltration from the wizarding community, Harry had stalled the inevitable.You are the wizard. Who had Harry pointed to?

The Witch Hunters didn't know either. When the gas filled the room, whoever stood where his hand had pointed must've scattered. Not to mention the whole masks dilemma.

A wizard amongst Witch Hunters...

Harry wondered what the individual's intentions were. Was he (or she) secretly helping captives? Or was this some nut-job with personal, unresolved conflict with their nature? The first one, with his luck, somehow appeared unlikely.

The few moments of silence with Linda were cut short. Harry was too stunned to say much of anything, and Linda's eyes flashed with what appeared to be a million questions. All she manages was a 'what the hell is going on here.' A question to which Harry intelligently replied to with 'stuff'

As soon as he heard the door being opened, Harry transferred his wand from his sock to his sleeve.

Mr. Quinn along with some two other men dragged him out of the room. He didn't fight it. Even though he had his wand, Harry didn't want to risk using magic just yet. Not until he knew what exactly was going on here. It was very likely he may never get another chance to collect such information on his enemies.

When the moment was right, Harry would grab Linda and Mr. Short and bust out of there. That was what he planned anyway.

The young teen was surprised to see them take the two muggles with them as well. Linda's brave face failed her as soon as the strong pair of arms encased her in a chain-like grip.

Mr. Short who'd been asleep was now alert and making loud protests. His eyes met Harry's with recognition and concern.

They were lead back upstairs to the white room were several other gray uniformed Witch Hunters, including Cole awaited them, all unmasked. The glowing one, however, was not among them.

A wooden chair with metal chains sat in the center of the room. Gee. I wonder who it's for. Harry though sarcastically.

"Do have a seat, Mr. Potter," Mr. Quinn taunted.

Harry made his way to the chair, allowing the men to tie him down.

He made eye contact with Cole who quickly looked away.

In that moment all Harry could think of was making some smart-ass comment at the spectating crowd, but with all the eyes on him, none came to mind. Harry settled for simple glaring.

"What do you want from me?"

No one answered him. Instead, the two men that held Linda and Mr. Short pushed them forward, to the center of the crowd, only a meter's distance from Harry.

"Ouch!" Linda protested as the two muggles were forced on the ground at a kneeling position. Immediately, the two men pulled out a pistol each and aimed at Linda and the professor's heads.

The blood drained from Harry's face "No!" He screamed, pulling at the chains.

Linda and Mr. Short felt the object bump against their skull. Mr. Short froze. A small gasp escaped Linda's lips before she forced her eyes closed and her body began to shake.

The trigger was never pulled.

"Don't! Please, I'll do anything!"

Mr. Quinn grinned. His eyes twinkled with delight.