This story is completely irrelevant to any other stories I had up. This is just an idea I came up with that I decided to write. This may or may not be a One-shot. There's a 60% chance that it will be. Read and review.
Harry Potter pulled hopelessly at the bonds holding him to the stone table. They didn't give. He hadn't expected them to. For the last two hours it was all he had done. For his efforts the only thing he had achieved was rubbing his wrists raw. But he didn't give up. There had to be a way to get free from…wherever he was.
When he had first awoken he had panicked, until he realized his energy would be better spent getting the hell out of there. He tried to remember how he had gotten here. He had been in the garden, doing back breaking chores for his aunt and uncle when… when what? Everything else was a blur.
He had come to in this room. It was small, with grey walls. The only furniture was the stone table to which he was tied. No windows, no door. No means of escape. The only light came from a small glowing ball the floated near the ceiling.
After another brief struggle, Harry fell back, exhausted. Was someone going to come? Nobody had so far. Harry had to admit he was getting bored. There was nothing to do. This feeling blocked out his fear for a minute. He didn't want to think about who could have possibly brought him here. That would only scare him more.
Harry lay there thinking for a while, till he eventually came up with an idea to try something else. He focused on his left hand, and attempted to wriggle his hand free of the ropes. It was slow going. Blood seeped out from his chaffed wrists and made it easier to slide the hand out. With one of his hands free, he began to work on the right one.
But he didn't get far. He had just reached over to untie the knot that prevented his freedom, when the glowing outline of a door appeared on the wall on his right. Harry froze as the wall seemed to open, and the person who had been haunting his nightmares all summer stepped into the room.
"Voldemort…" he whispered, fear taking hold of him again.
The Dark Lord smiled and shut the temporary door with a finality that said Harry wouldn't live to see it open again. His only means of escape again blended into the wall like it was never been there at all.
"Harry…we weren't trying to escape, were we?" The snake-like man hissed, his scarlet eyes taking in Harry's cut and bleeding wrist, no longer bound to the table where it belonged.
The-boy-who-lived glared at him. "You can't keep me here, Voldemort."
Voldemort walked closer, and Harry made another attempt to pull free of his remaining bonds. Voldemort laughed. "But that's the best part, Harry." His shadow fell over the struggling boy, and Harry's eyes darkened in fear. "I can." A cold, pale hand shot out and closed around his free wrist, eliciting a gasp of pain from Harry. Voldemort slammed the hand back on the stone table, and there was a loud crack. A small scream escaped Harry, and he mentally slapped himself for showing weakness into front of his enemy. Ropes twisted themselves around the wrist which had only moments before been free, again holding him in place. His wrist was broken.
"What do you want?" he asked, eyeing Voldemort cautiously. Red eyes stared back at him, like flames. Voldemort reached out a spidery finger and began tracing Harry's scar. Harry's head exploded in pain. He bit his lip, eyes watering. He wouldn't let Voldemort know how much pain he was in.
"I want to hear you scream." Voldemort whispered in his ear. Harry tried to turn his head away, but Voldemort forced it back. The pain in his head reached an almost unbearable pitch, and a single tear fell down Harry's face. His throat shook from holding back the screams that desperately wanted to be released. "Come now, Harry. If you scream the pain will end sooner." The offer was so tempting. He wanted the agony to end. He wouldn't break, though. He met Voldemort's eyes and shook his head defiantly. The Dark Lord sighed and finally relented. Harry sucked in sweet breaths of air.
Harry found his voice, which came out in a rasp because of the bottled up screams. "You'll have to do better than that, Tom." Anger light up in Voldemort's eyes at being called the name that he so hated. But instead of pulling out his wand and torturing Harry, he smiled.
"There's that stubborn Gryffindor sprit. I'll have fun breaking it." Voldemort's hand went into the pocket of his dark robes and Harry was sure he was going to take out his wand. There was a flash of sliver, and suddenly Harry's whole arm lit up in pain. Taken by surprise, Harry couldn't stop the scream that was ripped from his throat. He looked sideways and saw a wicked looking dagger deep in his arm, with Voldemort's pale fingers wrapped around the handle. The blade was removed, coated in blood.
Harry hadn't expected Voldemort to use muggle tactics. He would have thought the Dark Lord thought himself above that. Voldemort seemed to read his mind. "Muggle methods are just so much more personal, don't you agree?" A smirk crossed his face. Voldemort waved his hand and Harry's shirt vanished. Harry, unable to move, could only watch as Voldemort dragged the dagger lightly down his chest, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake. Harry shivered. "Now, Harry. Why don't you tell me that interesting little Prophecy, hmmm? Unless you want to force my hand…" The knife hovered over his thigh.
Harry took a deep breath and strengthened his resolve. He would not break. "Never," he spat.
Voldemort's smile grew. "I was hoping you'd say that." And the knife cut deep into his leg, stopping only when it reached bone. Holding in the agony was impossible, and the screams came forward. Voldemort soaked up the pain and the suffering with that same cold, merciless grin. The blade was removed again. Harry lay, breathing hard, as Voldemort repositioned the knife over his stomach. Each breath put his skin closer to the blade, and Harry gulped, scared out of his mind. Not that he would ever let Voldemort know that.
"You don't want me to do that again, do you, Harry?" Harry refused to answer. Voldemort tisked. "Harry, Harry, Harry…" The cold metal rested on the top of his skin, the tip drawing a small pool of blood. "If you continue to ignore me, it will only be worse for you." Again Harry said nothing. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the blade penetrate his skin. Maybe that would make the pain less.
Voldemort chuckled. "No, Harry, I want you to see me torture you." His eyes were forced open and his head was turned till he could see the dagger just above his venerable stomach. Two fingers held his eyelids open; while Voldemort's other hand raised the dagger high. Harry's eyes shook in fear as the knife cut through the air and burrowed deep into his stomach.
A loud, bloodcurdling scream emitted from Harry, and tears ran down his face. Voldemort forced the blade in deeper. The screams caught in Harry's throat, the pain too much. A small stream of blood ran from his mouth down to the table. Breathing was difficult. The Dark Lord was without mercy, and twisted the knife. Blood clogged his throat. Harry panicked as he realized no air was coming. His bound arms flailed uselessly. He wanted to arch his back to escape the pain, but that would only force the blade in deeper. Finally, as horrible sobs rocked Harry's body, Voldemort relented and pulled the knife out. It glinted a sickly red in the light from the orb.
The fingers were removed from his eyes, and Voldemort bent his head to whisper in Harry's ear. "Are you ready to tell me?" Harry turned his head slowly, and coughed, causing blood to splatter all over Voldemort's face. The Dark Lord froze for a second, too shocked to say anything. Harry saw the anger return to Voldemort's eyes and mentally braced himself for what would happen next. Whatever that was.
Before Harry could even blink, Voldemort's hands closed around his throat, long nails cutting into his neck. His head was pulled up as far as the bonds would allow, till he was face to face with Voldemort. He couldn't breathe. The pain in his scar was at an unbearable pitch. "Do you think this is a joke? I have you at my complete mercy, Harry Potter. This torture can go on for hours, days even, unless you give me what I want." The nails dug deeper, as if to further his point. Harry gasped in pain. "Now tell me the Prophecy." Red eyes bore into his, seeming to stare at his very soul.
"Why don't you just read my mind?" He rasped his voice barely audible.
Voldemort's grip tightened, as if this question made him any angrier. "I seems as though I can't. No doubt Dumbledore's doing." He smiled down at Harry. "No matter. I will make you tell me."
Harry mustered up what courage he had left. "You will never break me."
At these words, Voldemort pulled back and continued with his onslaught of stabbing. He stabbed Harry's arms, legs, stomach, shoulders and chest. There were long cuts, small cuts, deep cuts, and shallow cuts. But they all hurt. And they all bled. Eventually, Harry lost his voice. When this happened, Voldemort took out his wand a muttered something, till Harry was able to scream again.
Harry thought Voldemort was done when the whole front of his body was covered in cuts. But he was wrong. The bonds fell away, and for a brief second Harry considered lashing out and escaping. That was until Voldemort grabbed his broken wrist and twisted it painfully. Tears sprung to his eyes. "Don't even think about it."
He was forced onto his stomach, and the ropes again were tied. He had been free for no more than ten seconds. Harry's muscles tensed. He could no longer see what was going on, for his face was pressed against the table. Was Voldemort going to stab him again?
He felt Voldemort's cold hands on his bare back. "What are you doing?" Harry demanded. Voldemort said nothing. A chill ran down Harry's spine. What was about to happen?
Suddenly there was pain. A burning, agonizing pain. Voldemort was muttering under his breath as the pain got worse. Harry spazmed, biting his lip so hard it bled to prevent from screaming. Voldemort's hands moved to his shoulders, and the pain followed. The hands pressed down, and burned him so badly that not screaming was no longer an option. And when Harry screamed, it only inspired Voldemort to cause more pain. The fire continued to burn him, as the hands moved to his arms and the back of his legs.
The hands disappeared, and Harry was left shaking on the stone table. He refused to cry, however. Crying showed weakness, and Harry would not be weak. Voldemort's voice was back, speaking down to Harry from a terrible height.
"Have you changed your mind?"
"No," Harry said defiantly. He swore he heard Voldemort growl. "Then you haven't felt enough pain yet." The Dark Lord hissed. The ropes disappeared, as did the table. Harry fell painfully on the ground, gritting his teeth against the pain that came from hitting his injuries. He was kicked in the side, and forced to roll until he was facing the ceiling. Voldemort came into his line of sight. His eyes were gleaming with malice. "Let's try wizard methods this time, shall we?"
Harry knew what was coming. But there was no way he could have prepared himself. "Crucio!"
All Harry knew was pain. The stabbing seemed like nothing compared to what he know felt. Screaming was his only release. He convulsed, tears streaming down his face. His hands bled as he clawed at the floor. His back arched, but it did nothing to help with the agony. "Do you feel like speaking now, Potter?" Voldemort said louder than the screams. Harry still twitched, shrieking as Voldemort increased the curse. He wanted the pain to end desperately. The agony reached such a pitch, that Harry was reduced to begging. "Please…stop…." He croaked in between screams.
Voldemort smiled. "What was that, Harry?" He again increased the curse. Harry's screams were even louder. "Please! Please…stop…I'm begging…you…please…" Voldemort ripped a few more screams from Harry's throat, before he finally stopped the curse.
Harry curled up in a ball, shaking with the aftereffects of the torture. He couldn't find his voice. The only thought in his mind was to not allow that pain again. "And now?" Voldemort asked, his voice impatient and amused at the same time.
Harry felt the words come to his tongue, but he refused to release them. Remus, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Dumbledore…. He listed all the people he would let down if he revealed the Prophecy. This gave him a little bit of strength, and he managed to push himself into a standing position. He would not lie at Voldemort's feet. He was bleeding heavily, his vision beginning to blur. One hand clasped his stomach, while the other one hung uselessly at his side. He stared into Voldemort's red eyes. He hated that color.
"So very stubborn…" Voldemort whispered, taking a step closer to the injured boy. Harry flinched. He didn't move as Voldemort came ever nearer. His eyes locked on the floor. The floor wasn't scary. The floor couldn't cast the Cruciatius cruse.
He felt the Dark Lord standing over him. Harry's breaths became more ragged as his scar stung. A thumb and forefinger forced his chin up, till he was looking into the Voldemort's face. "That kind of thing will only cause you more grief." Voldemort was slowly forcing him backward as he talked. Harry's exposed back felt the cold, smooth wall against his skin. "One can only handle so much pain, Harry…before they crack." The wooden tip of Voldemort's wand touched against Harry's chest. "Crucio!"
Harry wanted to collapse onto the ground, but Voldemort kept him standing. Again Harry tried not to scream. Voldemort was waiting for him to. Harry could tell from the predatory grin on his face. His head slammed against the wall, bringing stars to his eyes. His whole body was shaking as the fire ripped through his veins. But he didn't scream. He wouldn't scream.
But this changed when the wand was shoved deeper into his chest, right above his heart. He lost all control. His eyes rolled back into his head, and the tears didn't stop. More screaming. A loud, unwavering, blood chilling scream forced its way past his chapped and bleeding lips.
In his bed room three floors above, Draco Malfoy covered his head with a pillow, trying to block out the unearthly screams. He wondered, briefly, how he could have ever let his father bring Potter to the Dark Lord…how he could have ever helped…
Voldemort was saying something, but Harry couldn't hear. The pain was all that mattered. Why wouldn't it go away? Voldemort must have thought he was being ignored, because the wand went deeper, leaving bruises on his chest. The agony was impossible to bear. He clawed at Voldemort's arm for a few seconds, before he passed out in Voldemort's arms.
He wasn't out for long. He was forced back to reality by a spell that Voldemort shot at him. He woke, gasping for breath, still in the iron grip of the Dark Lord. "Interesting…" Voldemort muttered, and lifted his free hand towards Harry's face. His fingers stroked Harry's scar. The pain was so intense; Harry thought his head would explode. Again he struggled in Voldemort's grip, his nails digging into the pale white arms. Voldemort growled in anger, forcing his whole hand onto Harry's forehead. "Don't forget your place, Harry."
Voldemort finally let go, and Harry whimpered, shaking like a leaf. Voldemort was staring deep into his eyes, as if searching for something. "But it can't be…" He pulled Harry's face closer, looking him up and down. He smiled. "But it is. You're my seventh horcrux, aren't you, Harry?"
Harry had absolutely no idea what Voldemort was talking about. Noticing Harry's confused expression; Voldemort's smile grew even wider. "Dumbledore didn't tell you, did he?" Voldemort laughed. "This changes things, Harry. I can't kill my own little horcrux. No, I'll make sure you stay nice and alive…" He twisted Harry's arms behind his back and forced him to walk to the middle of the room. It was slow going; each step an agonizing experience for Harry. Voldemort gripped his arm tightly, twisting it and forcing Harry to his knees. "My little horcrux…" he said in a soothing voice. "I will miss torturing you. But Dumbledore will never hurt you. Even if it would hurt me." Another laugh, cold and cruel. "Say hello to the old fool for me, won't you?" Harry froze. What did that mean? Was he going back to Hogwarts? Had it started already? His thoughts were cut off as the knife sliced into his shoulder. He screamed again, falling forward till his face hit the floor. There was a bright glowing, and Harry felt a jerk behind his navel, pulling him to his unknown destination…
At Hogwarts, Dumbledore stood up from his chair, preparing to give the start of term feast speech. He glanced at the Gryffindor table, noticing like everybody in the hall, the absence of a certain Harry Potter. The boy had gone missing just two days ago. Dumbledore had been unable to find any clues to where Harry had gone. It was as if he had simply vanished. Though the headmaster knew who was responsible. Voldemort probably had Harry in his clutches right now. Dumbledore could only hope that Harry was still alive.
He cleared his throat, bringing the hall to a silence. "I hope you are all enjoying yourselves. Welcome to yet another year at Hogwarts. I would just like to inform you of some new rules that have been put in place this year. First off…" But he was cut off when a blinding flash of light lit up all corners of the room. A body fell heavily onto the floor, a knife protruding from its back. It took a few seconds for the shock to wear off, but when it did, the tables closest to the body began screaming.
"No, it can't be…"
"Oh my God!"
"It's-it's Harry Potter!" At these words all the students craned their necks to get a better look. Gryffindor's ran over, surrounding their fallen comrade. Dumbledore rushed forward and got on his aching knees. He pulled the dagger out of the boy's back. He recognized the blade. It was the Dark Lord's. Dumbledore inspected the burn marks on Harry's back, and then hurriedly turned him over. There was no mistaking the boy-who-lived. His scar was a bright red against his forward. Watery, barely open green eyes stared up at the ceiling.
Ron and Hermione managed to finally force their way through the crowd, and they gasped at the sight of their friend. They both joined Dumbledore at the side of Harry. "Harry…Harry can you hear me?" Hermione asked, shaking Harry's limp form, tears springing to her eyes. Harry's eyes rolled briefly in her direction, before falling on Dumbledore.
Dumbledore took in Harry's cut and beaten body, shaking slightly. The boy had obviously been under the Cruciatius curse, and who knew what else. He nearly jumped as Harry spoke, the voice that came out raspy due to screaming. "Dumbledore… what's a horcrux?" He whispered. He had enough time to see the shocked look on Dumbledore's face, before the darkness that had been growing at the edge of his vision took him over, and he collapsed in the headmaster's arms, bleeding onto Dumbledore's robes…