He was actually feeling quite bored. It was rather surprising.

The day that he had arrived, Harry had woken up in a pitch-dark room. From what he could make out from touch, the room he was in contained no windows and was approximately the size of Dudley's bedroom. His wand had been taken away from him, which was no surprise. Besides his clothing, he had nothing else with him.

The room also appeared to be completely empty, no bed or table or anything within it. It was connected by a door to a bathroom with just a simple sink and toilet. The toilet and the sink were apparently magically run, with no actual pipes or drainage used to operate them. There were also the appropriate grooves for another door, but no handle, and he couldn't figure out how to open it.

Meals had appeared periodically – or at least Harry assumed that they came periodically. They would always appear in one corner of his room then disappear later. Harry had stepped into it the first time he noticed. Figuring that Voldemort probably wouldn't put any effort into drugging him when it would be much easier to torture him directly, he ate everything that arrived. The food so far had been plain but nourishing, as well as surprisingly good.

He had tried to keep track of the days at first, thinking morosely that Ron and Hermione were probably watching the first years getting sorted at the moment, then sleeping that first night, and then getting handed their schedules and hurrying off to class. Or maybe they wouldn't, he realized with a start, because they'd probably be worried about him.

That was a further thing. He assumed that Voldemort had been the one to kidnap him, or possibly one of Voldemort's followers had decided to do things on his own. On the whole, Harry found it unlikely that the majority of Voldemort's followers would be capable of doing so in such a way. Most of them were maniacal, arrogant murderers, after all. In fact, most of them would probably have already killed him or simply botched up the kidnapping altogether.

If it was Voldemort himself, then Harry was resigned to the fact that the Ministry would probably not be able to help him. Even with Rufus Scrimgeour in charge, he had never read or heard of the Ministry doing anything constructive about the Death Eaters. In fact, the newspapers were just deadly dull, with snippets of murders and disasters thrown in there occasionally. He doubted that the Ministry could do anything to trace him. His only real hope of rescue was Dumbledore.

After waiting for a long time for something to happen, Harry had given in to his anger and fear. He had started screaming and banging on the walls, hoping that someone would come and answer him. Except nothing had happened whatsoever. His meals still appeared and there were no other signs of human contact. Even the silence was frightening because there was nothing Harry could hear except for the sounds he himself made.

He had given up on making noise to attract someone's attention quite early.

He had also tried not eating the food that appeared, but still nothing changed. In the end, Harry felt too hungry to refrain from eating anymore, so he stopped trying the starvation tactic fairly quickly around two days in.

Being unused to staying still for long periods of time, Harry tried jogging in place to keep fit or doing push-ups and sit-ups. After a while, those had stopped as well. There really wasn't much point to keeping physically fit when there was no Quidditch cup to win or household chores to perform for the Dursleys.

It could have been days or weeks after Harry had been kidnapped. He had no sense of time anymore, no impression of whether it was day or night, even whether it had been hours or days that he had spent sleeping.

Sometimes he'd see things out of the corner of his eye, even though it was impossible to see anything in the endless dark of the room. People, even the Dursleys would almost be there until he looked at it directly. At this point, Harry would welcome practically any stimulation, even if it was Voldemort to taunt and torture him or dementors trying to give him the Kiss. Anything, except for nothing.

When someone finally came for him, Harry was awake. It felt like a dream.