Warnings: Torture, eventual TomHarry.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Too bad.

N/A: Afterwards, as usual.

.SLAVED.

Chapter One--

The Beginning of Darkness

-

Wherever Harry was, it was dark. He could tell by the silence of the dark room that he was alone, and that there was no one left to save him. The last event that the Chosen One could recall was his confrontation with the Dark Lord himself, and Harry was positive he'd had his wand securely in his hand. But there had been something, some distraction, and Voldemort had caught him off guard, and Voldemort caused him a great deal of pain…

But that was it. Harry couldn't remember anything beyond that point. He could've sworn he'd been killed that same night—that same moment Voldemort had lifted the Cruciatus Curse…

'I'm supposed to be dead.' Harry couldn't help to be puzzled. Ever since he'd woken up in his black prison, he'd been left in solitude. No one had entered. There was absolutely no sound.

'Then why am I…?'

Harry wanted an answer. So he waited.

It wasn't until a few days had passed, when Harry's stomach was about to cave in and when his magical water pouch itself was becoming parched, that there was sound in Harry's life. A door opened in the center of a wall behind Harry. The boy leaped to his feet quickly, ready to approach whoever was there, ready to demand answers, but he was quickly stopped with a simple flick of a wand. The newcomer wasted no time checking Harry's conditions: his too slim body, his dimmed eyes…

Before Harry could say a word, he was knocked out again. But when he woke up again, there was great light. And there was another.

"Good rest?"

Voldemort was standing above him. Harry tried to stop his breath from choking, but the Dark Lord's intense stare along with Harry's own will cracking under the pressure was shortening his inhales, making him sound like a frightened child. Harry remembered trying to sit up from his lowered position, but cuffs connecting him to the floor hindered his movement. Voldemort could see the fear in the boy's murky forests. He couldn't help but chuckle darkly.

"I'd thought so."

Even though he was scared shitless, Harry knew he had to ask. His seclusion from before ordered him to ask…to question the Dark Lord above him. So Harry complied.

"Why am I still alive?"

The boy received a sharp kick to his side. Harry would've grasped the sore spot, but the shackles refused to let him. Voldemort's crimson gaze from above silently laughed at Harry and his simple-minded struggling.

"You will not speak unless spoken to."

There was a demanding force in the Dark Lord's tone. Harry, considering his current predicament, decided to comply. Voldemort smirked. He turned his back on Harry for a second, allowing his long, billowing cloak to skid across Harry's soiled cheeks.

"Lucius, bring them in."

Harry watched.

A line of people were filed into the room, and Harry recognized them all. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Charlie, Neville, Luna…

"You get to choose one to live. The rest will be executed."

Harry missed a breath.

The people in queue held no fear. Harry was sure they were all past the point of caring. Their impassive looks, their unresisting moves. Harry was sure they were all ready to die. But he refused to condemn them. But he couldn't choose.

"But your own life is at stake, Harry. You may choose yourself to save, and rid the rest of their miserable lives."

Voldemort's smile only grew as he watched the floored boy stare at the line of his friends in horror. But he knew Harry wouldn't speak. Harry was past the point of talking. Every emotion on his face betrayed him.

"Well? Do you want everyone to die? To end your whole saga?"

Harry had attempted to say no, but all he could do was stare. Voldemort took that as a yes. And Harry watched in shock as Voldemort placed the first in line, the tall and lanky Ronald Weasley who still had freckles speckling his face, under the horrible torturing curse. And Harry watched in disgust as his best friend began to scream, and his best friend fell to the floor of the room and began to spasm, body twitching and quaking in sharp, rigid movements.

Voldemort didn't remove the curse. Ron continued to kick and twist on the ground, face slamming into the tile until his nose was bloody, his whole body was reeking with sweat.

Harry couldn't block out the screaming with his hindered hands. And he couldn't take his eyes off of Ron as the red head cracked.

Still under the curse, Ron continued to have spasms, but there was no sanity left in him. He'd begun to laugh. Harry could feel his own ears bleed.

"Stop it!"

So Voldemort did. Without lifting the curse, the Dark Lord placed one of his shoed feet on top of the red head's jaw, pressing down to the point of breaking the Weasley's neck. Ron stopped moving.

Harry screamed.

"HOW COULD YOU—!"

"Who's next?"

Voldemort removed the curse from Ron's corpse and trailed his wand's tip towards Hermione, but Harry wasn't paying attention. Harry had already begun to slip out of sanity. He fought against the restraints on his hands. His eyes were abnormally wide, each of his green orbs filled with a strange light. Harry screamed before Voldemort could start his next curse. The Dark Lord liked the desperateness in the boy's already cracked voice.

While Harry screamed and Voldemort beamed down at him, Hermione spoke to the Dark Lord, keeping her eyes lowered.

"Kill us. Spare him."

Voldemort allowed himself to listen to the girl while he kept his gaze on Harry. Voldemort nodded.

"Hear that, Harry? Your friends decided for you."

But Harry wasn't listening.

And he refused to hear a thing as each of his friends in turn received death. All he could do was watch.

And scream.

--end part ONE of THREE.

N/A: Strange writing style. I don't know why I decided to post it. I guess I decided it was about time I posted one of my TomHarry fanfics.

I'll post the next chapter when I feel inspired to. Reviews give me inspiration. :hinthint:

Thanks for reading. ♥