Harry sits in the dark, not sure why he's here. He remembers being placed here against his will. He remembers cursing and screaming and begging and crying. He remembers nothing of the reasons for his captivity, but he does remember who placed him here.
Harry sits in the dark. He twiddles his thumbs and mumbles to himself. He hums off-key and nonsense. He counts out loud for hours. One, one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand, until his voice dies or he falls asleep.
Harry sits in the dark, thinking of his past, wondering about his life, crying about his future.
Harry sits in the dark, rocking back and forth, calling out names. Ron. Hermione. Mrs. Weasley. Remus. Sirius. Mum. Dad. Even Snape. Voldemort. Draco. But there's one name he never calls, one name he refuses to call, though sometimes he can't remember the reason.
Harry sits in the dark alone until his mind breaks and his body is falling apart. He sits alone until he only hears that one name echoing over and over and over in his mind, and he can think of nothing else to say. It is then that he completely breaks, mind, body, soul.
Harry sits in the dark and calls out one name, loud and long: Lucius. He yells that name over and over again until he hears footsteps breaking the long silence of the dark.
Harry sits in the dark until the door opens and light pours in, blinding him, forcing him to shut his eyes, but he doesn't need to see to know who's standing there. His captor. His tormentor. His savior.
Harry sits in the dark of his own blindness until he feels a hand at his brow.
"I told you I would come if you would call to me," the voice says quietly, gently. Harry sees the light go out from behind his closed eyes.
"And you did," Harry answers, feeling strangely relieved though he can't remember why and feels that he shouldn't.
Harry sits in the dark but not alone.