Conversations With an Unknown Captor
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The dark was oppressing, overwhelming, and he couldn't see anything, as the walls pressed in, closer and closer... He screamed, crying out in fear for someone, anyone to help him, and the door opened, releasing the sobbing boy into the strong and warm arms of his father, safe from the creeping dark.
Alex remembered being trapped in that evil closet, so long ago, when his father had saved him with a simple hug, rescuing him from the dark. It had been so simple, so easy, that Alex half-expected his father to come now, bursting through the metal door that held him in his cell, wrapping his arms around him and saving him once again. However, Alex was no longer four years old and this was not a simple closet, a false prison. Alex doubted his father would even know where he was or what had happened to him.
He sighed, resigned to his momentary fate, and leaned back against the cool stone wall.
He'd been awake for a long time it seemed, staring at the cramped, circular walls that entombed him. Alex recalled stepping out of Zonko's, just ahead of his friends, and then colliding with a tall man dressed in an ebony- shaded overcoat. A brilliant flash of light overtook him as the stranger drew his wand and Hogsmeade had faded away. And then he'd woken up here, unhurt but confused, locked in an unfamiliar hall.
Closing his eyes, he tried to examine what exactly had occurred so far. Had he been kidnapped specifically for a reason? If so, why? He didn't have much money, he wasn't an exemplary student by any means, and he was no shining star at Quidditch either. His father was a lower-middle- class Muggle and they certainly had nothing worth taking. So why had they captured him? And were they Muggles or wizards?
A sound tore him out of his thoughts and, in the distance, he caught the echo of footsteps approaching from outside his cell. Opening his eyes, he straightened himself up, but didn't stand; he really didn't think that his captor deserved much respect. Staring forwards at the door, he waited.
Someone stepped in front of the cell's exit and, with a strange hiss, the door opened letting in a statuesque man with a shock of blond hair. Alex craned his neck to meet the man's eyes and, involuntarily, he shivered, recognizing something both familiar and frightening there.
The man stared down at him with an air of detached curiosity, then withdrew his wand from inside his jacket, conjuring a chair and confirming to Alex that it was, indeed, denizens of the magical world that had captured him. The boy simply said nothing, waiting for the man to speak.
He didn't have to wait long. "Do you know where you are, Alex?"
"In a cell," said Alex dryly, then regretting it, realizing it best not to antagonize someone holding a wand.
The man ignored Alex's tone and continued. "That's correct, Alex, but what you don't realize is that you are in a cell buried underground, in a place that isn't supposed to exist. So if you think that a group of Aurors are going to come rushing through that door, you are very mistaken." He grinned then, a smile gleaming of malice and contempt. "I'm afraid there is no escape for you."
Alex's heart skipped a beat, in defiance of his resolve not to be unnerved by this man and his words. However, he had to admit that he had, somewhere deep inside, wished for someone to break through the doors and save him from his prison.
The blond-haired man leaned back in his seat, letting his long legs cross as he relaxed, but keeping his startlingly perceptive eyes focussed on the young boy before him. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. "I don't need anything from you, boy."
"Then what do you want with me? Why did you take me?"asked Alex, trying his best not to sound desperate, attempting to be strong and confident.
"Don't you know, Alex? It's your father that I want." At this, the man's eyes darkened, and any air of rest or comfort was gone. There was true hatred burning in the older man's eyes, a inner despisal that ran deep. Involuntarily, the young student shivered.
"My father? What do you want with a Muggle?" he asked, confused. There had to be many more people - Muggles - that fit his captor's plans better than his father.
At this, the dark man laughed. "Muggle? Your father is no Muggle, Alex Ryerson." There was a biting tone as he spoke the boy's name, connotations of sarcasm and anger.
Alex could feel the fear and confusion rising inside. He felt speechless, helpless. "Wh-what?" he managed to say, though the words felt foreign and awkward in his mouth.
"Your father, James Ryerson, is no mere Muggle, boy. He is Harry Potter, the beloved hero of the Wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, and all the rest of those bloody lies."
It felt like he had been punched in the stomach, and suddenly, it was a struggle just to breathe. His father? Harry Potter? There was no way... Harry Potter was a hero among the students at his school - a legend, a champion. He had vanquished the world of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; he had saved the entire world from descending into darkness. No, it wasn't possible. His father, the Muggle, the quiet, defeated man, could not be the triumphing saviour of the Wizarding world...
But, somehow, he felt it to be right, even though all he wanted to believe was that the man was lying, was trying to fool him into a false assumption. There were too many coincidences, too many mysteries now solved to disprove what his captor had told him. Always moving, hiding when he was a child, escaping from something that Alex never dared to question. The things, patterns, that his father had always done, shying away from crowds and always staying in the background.
His father.
Harry Potter.
Alex's heart was beating so fast that it began a simple roll of thunder coursing through him. He wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and try to make sense of this, of everything. But the man on the chair was not done speaking yet.
Blond hair reflecting even in the dim light, he leaned forwards. "I need to find your father, Alex. By taking you, I've already assured that."
The young boy found the strength to speak. "What do you want with him?" he asked, once more, though knowing now so much more.
The man's eyes twinkled dangerously. "Something that should have been taken long ago," he said cryptically. He stood then, making the chair disappear in an instant, before smoothing out his jacket and opening the door.
Alex's heart burned with a sudden courage. "Who are you?" he asked, determined to finally attach a name to his captor.
The man answered as he walked away, never looking back. "Draco Malfoy."
And then he was gone, swallowed up by the outside, as Alex's prison locked itself behind him.