"You see? They will never find their Golden Boy and you will be my personal plaything whenever I so please." Malfoy Senior was smirking at him, enjoying his crumpled form on the cold, stone floor, panting from his recent bout of Cruciatus Curse.

Harry groaned and rolled onto his back. Lucius was waving a newspaper in his face with the headline 'Harry Potter: Dead.'. It had been like this for the past week. He was so distraught about Sirius' death that he had taken to leaving the Dursley's for extended periods of time, walking. He assumed that on one particular day he had just walked too far away and was nabbed by Death Eaters in the middle of the street. Now he was their pet; their toy. They tortured him day and night, taking turns and usually with a gathering audience.

Harry honestly didn't know how he had lasted as long as he did. Perhaps the Dark Lord kept them from getting even nastier so that he would last longer. Or maybe as soon as they had finished interrogating the Prophecy out of him, Voldemort would finally put his pain to an abrupt end. Either way, Harry hoped against hope for some change in scenery pretty soon.

Lucius threw the newspaper in his face and laughed as Harry feebly batted it away. "At last, you've brought me something to wipe my ass with! Thank you, O Blonde One!" Harry groveled at Lucius' feet, kissing the hem of his robes.

Lucius kicked him in the face, effectively breaking his nose with a wet cracking noise. "Hilarious, Potter," Lucius sneered, "Your comedy never fails to amuse."

"Neither does your face," came Harry's muffled reply as he tried to stem the bleeding from his nose.

Crack! Lucius had kicked Harry in the ribs. Harry cried out through clenched teeth and tried to roll back onto his back to avoid upsetting his broken ribs further. No doubt his each of his ribs had been broken at least once in the past week. He had received basic First Aid to keep him alive and talking, just as Voldemort wanted it; such terrible pain without end.

"Lucius," interrupted a new voice, "The Master says it is my turn."

"Fine," Lucius growled reluctantly, "But you had better make it good. He's getting too healthy looking for the likes of me." He swept out of the room without a backward glance.

"Well, well, lookie here… What's this miserable piece of filth on the floor, eh?"

Harry couldn't help himself. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of pissing him off or scaring him so he used their taunts against them, "Your face!"

By the end of that particular torture session, Harry had lost consciousness three times and was currently incapable of speaking, let alone stand. Both his legs were broken in several places, as well as his arms, almost all ribs, collar bones and jaw. He was positive that most of his internal organs were ruptured and he was severely concussed. One of the curses used had made him almost chew his own tongue off. He had ended up swallowing so much blood that he had heaved it all up and was thoroughly drenched in his own blood.

Harry stared at the ceiling, barely coherent in his own mind. His wavering gaze settled on the torchlight and he thought he was at Hogwarts again, sitting by the fireplace in Gryffindor Tower with his two best friends. He felt so weak; he was loosing his grip on consciousness and falling into a light slumber by the nice, warm fire.

"Wake up, wretch!" Harry woke up to a harsh slap to the face and had barely opened his eyes before he was forced under the Cruciatus Curse. Caught off guard, he screamed and writhed, clawing at his own skin as the pain overwhelmed him. It seemed like hours before the curse was lifted and he knew he was in the same place; the same torture chamber. He stared around wildly, his view sweeping over the familiar scene on cold stone covered in his own dried blood, as well as many former residents. Voldemort himself was there this time, staring at him with cold, mirthful eyes.

"Harry Potter," the evil snake hissed, "are you now prepared to leave this suffering behind and reveal to me the contents of the Prophecy?"

"-Ell-" Harry tried to speak but his tongue was still swollen and bloody from his latest torture session. "Can' 'eak, foo'!" was Harry's scathing reply, otherwise interpreted as 'Can't speak, fool!'.

"Rookwood," Voldemort breathed, "I believe I informed you that a coherent Potter was a useful Potter, did I not?"

The man that had tortured him cowered before the Dark Lord, "Please forgive me, Master. I was teaching the boy a lesson in respect-"

"Then learn to respect my wished first and foremost. Crucio!"

Harry sat up slowly, his entire body engulfed in pain. Rookwood's screams bounced off the wall of the underground chamber, filling the room with his pain. Harry used this opportunity to inch his way agonizingly to his feet. He muttered an incantation under his breath even as the screams continued to reverberate throughout the room. He was concentrating hard. Willing himself to release his power and feeling the magic pulsate within. This was his opportunity to escape; now that he was finally conscious and not being tortured.

Silence. He was vaguely aware that there was now only the sound of his own muttering as the Cruciatus was finally discontinued. He had to hurry. The wards were bending around him and any moment now he would be ripping through them at a tremendous speed.

"Potter!" Voldemort roared and next thing he knew, Harry was being ripped apart and into inky blackness.

"I think he's waking up!"

"Jeeze, he looks terrible!"

"So does your face," Harry grumbled, not moving or opening his eyes.

"Hey!" Ron sounded indignant.

"Oh, Harry! We thought you would never wake up!" He was then assaulted by Hermione's hug.

Harry gasped in pain and gritted his teeth. Every inch of his body ached. It felt as though he had been run over by a herd of cows, repeatedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry! I didn't mean to hurt you!" Hermione sounded like she was in tears.

Harry cracked an eye open and then the other one. He was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts and he felt like crap. This was good. Well, not the feeling like crap part, anyways. He slowly sat up, subconsciously holding his breath so as not to cry out in pain. He vaguely recalled the last curse that Voldemort had thrown at him in an attempt to stop him from escaping. It was a multiple severing curse that left deep, jagged cuts all over his body. That and apparating through bending anti-apparition wards would have been enough to kill any ordinary person. But Harry Potter was no ordinary wizard; he was the boy-who-lived and living was what he did best.

Harry slipped on his glasses and attempted to stand. Immediately, the world spun and his legs gave out on him. He hated feeling weak. He wanted to walk around and breathe the free air.

"Harry, you can't get up. You've lost too much blood and you're still healing," Hermione fretted.

Ron was supporting Harry and trying to get him back into bed. Meanwhile, Harry was trying to right himself and fend Ron off. "Argh! Release the Harry!" He licked Ron on the cheek and his friend immediately let go with an, "Ew! Gross, Harry!"

"So's your face!" Harry crowed as he stumbled to the door of the hospital wing. He wandlessly transfigured his pajamas into some jeans and a regular, black shirt and proceeded to run a hand through untidy hair and breathe deep. Ron and Hermione didn't find it particularly difficult to catch up with him, as he was still very weak.

"Oh, good! It's a beautiful, sunny day out!" Harry chirped happily, "I vote we play quidditch!"

"But, Harry-" Hermione protested.

"Aw! C'mon, 'Mione! I'll be fine. Besides, you can keep score coz I know how much you love to sit and watch us boys playing dirty-" Harry stopped abruptly, as they had just entered the great hall. "Oh…"

There were multitudes of students sitting down for lunch. "Holy crap, guys! How long was I out?" He demanded.

"We were trying to tell you, Harry. School started last week. You've been in the infirmary for two weeks," Hermione stressed.

"Only two weeks? But I was with Voldemort for, like, one week, wasn't I?" Harry looked confused.

"No, Harry. You were held captive for over a month. It was terrible."

Harry stood there silently, a mixture of emotions crossing his face as he stood there in front of the entire school. Everyone waited for his reaction, wondering if he was going to break down crying or something. In the end, Harry smiled and said, "Not as terrible as your face!" and pranced over to Gryffindor table.