DISCLAIMER

I do not own Harry Potter or anything

affiliated with it. I am merely writing

for the enjoyment of my fans and my

own piece of mind. Alrighty, then?

AUTHORS NOTES

I’m back! I’m back! I’m back!

Did you miss me?

In the last chapter...

BAM!

A loud noise came from the street below him. Harry paused the film and slowly walked over to the window. As he pulled open the window pane, a sharp tingling began to form on his forehead. This was followed by another loud banging sound from the street below.

"Ahh!" Harry wailed in blinding pain. He bent over, gasping for breath as the pain grew more intense. It seemed, however, that the more he struggled, the worse the pain from his scar became.

Harry felt himself slipping from consciousness. As darkness slowly overtook him, he began to stumble. The last thing he thought before he slipped into the unknown was how far away the ground seemed when he unwillingly and unconsciously fell through the window of his twelfth floor apartment.

Clunk. Clunk.

Harry could hear the footsteps and the chattering of the wood plank as he lolled into consciousness. He had gotten used to it over the time he had been, well, wherever he was. From what he could gather, it was some sort of cave.

Damp, soggy, droplets of water making small noises as they splashed somewhere in the darkness. The clunk of a wooden plank used to secure his feet when he was being abused. The cruel, high pitched laugh that resulted from his moans of pain. These were the sounds the Harry had learned to familiarize himself with in the time he had been here. He wasn’t exactly sure how many days had passed since he arrived here, or where here was, for that matter. He knew only two thing for certain; he had been captured by Voldemort, and the Order was probably going crazy trying to find him. Everything else was up in the air.

A door suddenly opened and light flooded into the room. Harry, not used to the exposure to the sun, quickly closed his eyes. He kept them that way even when the door shut behind his visitors, for he had learned that it was better that way.

Two strong hands pulled him to his feet and forced him, none to gently, against the wall. His head collided into the stone facade with a clunk and Harry could almost feel the stars dancing around his eyes. He didn’t have time to dwell on the pain, however, as the two strong hands lifted him firmly into the air, before quickly dropping him back down again. Harry could feel that the wood plank had been slid under them. Then, Harry knew, came the chains. One around each ankle, securing him to the board below him. Two more would be added later, one binding his hands together, the other binding his chest to the wall.

After that would come the beatings.

His shirt would discarded to remove what little shielding Harry had, though the curses cast made even the strongest shield seem insufficient. The torture would first start with, compared to the others, minor curses. Curses that would make you feel ill or nauseated, and force you to be sick. After a few minutes of this amateur fun, the second stage of abuse would hit. It was characterized by curses that caused Harry to feel as though he couldn’t get enough oxygen to supply his lungs, or that his flesh was burning. Occasionally, the Crucio curse would be used to add a bit more pleasure. This, Harry discovered, was when Voldemort was present to enjoy the torture of his nemesis. After the physical torture the hardest stage of all; the psychological torture. This was the stage that would last the longest. The Death Eaters would plant visions into his head of his friends being tortured, violated, or killed. Harry was made to endure pictures of the executions of Sirius, Remus, Ron, Hermione, and many others whom he had come to care for. He would cry out and scream, begging them to stop.

All arguments were futile.

The stage of psychological damage would only end when Harry could take no more. Only when Harry would slip into unconsciousness would the torture end.

He would awake sometime later, once again on the ground, in different clothing than he had been in before, and with some meager amount of food before him. He knew it was likely that the food had been tampered with, but the hunger pains were a less pleasant alternative.

And so the cycle went. Morning to night, day after day. Eat, torture, sleep. Eat, torture, sleep. Harry knew that this couldn’t last forever, that Voldemort was only keeping him around for his own amusement. But no matter how bad the torture got, and the closer he knew he was to death, Harry felt more and more comforted that someone was going to find him.

He gave a small smile as he thought of Dumbledore planning away to break him away from the place, whatever it was.

Harry knew his cell wasn’t far from civilization. For he could hear people talking and laughing, going about their daily errands. He wondered if Voldemort’s lair was invisible, or if it was just very well hidden.

When Harry awoke from his most recent beating, he gingerly rubbed his chest. The throbbing pain he felt in his chest told him that he was in a bad state. Though that wasn’t the only warning sign. He no longer had the energy to pull himself up off the floor, and back against the wall, as he usually did after beatings, nor did he have the desire to eat the food given. His eyes did not wish to open, it seemed. For no matter how much strength Harry could muster, they remained firmly closed.

I wish I was dead.

It was a thought that had crossed Harry’s mind a few times, but he quickly pushed it out. He knew that his ill fated wish would soon be granted. However, he did not dare tell Voldemort to just put him out of his misery. Sirius and Remus, after all, would be coming soon. He knew it was true.

He gave one last feeble attempt to shove the dreary thought from his mind. It was a strenuous, but successful effort that immediately put him into a deep sleep.

As he drifted into the unknown, Harry vaguely recognized the fact that the door to his chamber was being opened and light, as well as familiar, hushed voice drifted into his psyche.

“Professor Dumbledore?”

Sorry, things are kind of rushed. I want to finish before the 6th book comes out. There are only a couple more chapters, though, so it shouldn’t be hard.

Thank you for staying with me! I know that I have been absolutely insufferable.

Will you forgive me if I promise that an update will be done in the next week?

I hope so! I love you all! -epholge(Trisha)