Chapter 3: Heaven help me!

Harry awoke groggily and moaned. He ached all over and had a splitting headache. His scar exploded in pain. His memories of what had happened came back in a rush.

He gasped as he tried to open his eyes and a blinding light hit his him. He shut his eyes quickly. He rolled over and moaned again as another wave of pain went through his scar.

"Well, glad to see you are awake, Potter." Said a high cold voice. Harry recognized that voice in an instant. It belonged to Lord Voldemort. Others around the room were laughing at Voldemort's comment. "Stand up, Potter."

Harry slowly got to his knees. Someone from behind grabbed him roughly by his forearms and pulled him to his feet. Voldemort was standing a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back.

They were in a large, stone, circular chamber with torches on the walls. There was a large raised dias with a stone carved throne in the middle. It had intricate details with snakes carved along the bottom, the arms, which wound their way around the back of the chair. Dozens of Death Eaters were in the room watching the spectical. Harry glared darkly at Voldemort.

"So, Harry Potter. You are now finally able to see my humble abode." The Death Eaters howled with laughter, clapping each other on the back.

"Shove it, Voldemort, and tell me what you want." The laughter ended sharply at the mention of Voldemort's name. The Death Eater tighted his grip on Harry so hard the feeling was leaving his fingers. He struggled, trying to loosen the Death Eaters grip, but to no avail.

Voldemort took a few steps toward Harry, his gleaming red eyes narrowing to mere slits.

"Right down to business then. Tell me the prophecy right now and I'll spare you a long painful death."

They were glaring at each other, neither of them blinking. Harry looked Voldemort right in the eye and spat visciously.

"Well. Potter, it looks like we'll be teaching you some manners before you die," Voldemort backhanded Harry so fast and hard, he didn't even see it coming. Harry gasped as stars erupted in front of his eyes and the whole side of his face stung with pain. His glasses had flown off and shattered when they hit the floor.

The Death Eater who had been holding Harry up, suddenly let him go. He landed painfully on his hands and knees.

Voldemort took out his wand and pointed it at Harry, who was gasping on the floor, trying to get his bearings.

"Crucio!"

Pain erupted over Harry's entire body inside and out. A scream escaped his lips. It felt like sharp knives piercing him everywhere. The pain seemed to last for hours, in actuality, it was only a few minutes.

When Voldemort lifted the curse, Harry layed on his side, too exhausted to get up. Voldemort came over to him and knelt down. His cold red eyes burning into Harry. He leaned very close to Harry and hissed into his ear.

"Tell me the Prophecy, Potter."

Harry lay gasping and made a futile attempt to swing his hand at Voldemort. Like he would try and swat away an annoying fly buzzing in his ear.

Voldemort caught his wrist and started twisting it into a position it was not made to be. Harry let out a cry of pain, tears streaming down his face as the pain increased. A desperate panicky look came into his eyes and he moaned.

"Stop, please! Just stop!"

"I will if you tell me the prophecy." He twisted harder. Harry screamed as a sickening crack echoed into the room from his now broken wrist. Harry wringled, trying desperately to get out of Voldemort's grasp.

Voldemort rolled Harry onto his back and planted a knee onto his stomach, making Harry immobile. By now, Harry was very close to blacking out.

He gritted his teeth against the pain and summoned up the last of his energy and said with great effort:

"Never."

Harry welcomed the blackness.

Voldemort got off of the unconcious boy and glanced down at his wrist, which was lying at an odd angle. His eyes shifted to Harry's face; his jaw now turning an ugly blackish-purple. He spat in disgust at the sight of Harry's tear stained cheeks.

"Wormtail." He said sharply, "How long until the potion is ready?"

"Only six hours, my Lord," Pettigrew squeaked.

"Good. Leave the boy and wake him an hour before it is ready."

Voldemort's lip curled as the Death Eaters made a path for him as he strode from the room, letting out a high, cold, cruel laugh as he disappeared into the darkness.