Chapter 3

Cold water drenched Harry, immediately awakening him - if the state he had been in could be counted as sleep, that was. He didn't know how long he had been in this room - this cell - but it had been at least two days, and Hydra had apparently decided that allowing him to sleep would be far too lenient. Perhaps that was because the lack of sleep greatly hindered his concentration, though. As a Hydra agent had discovered, if Harry was given a few seconds to focus, the consequences could be severe.

All Harry had needed to do was shatter a glass to rob the agent of a few fingers on his right hand. After that, they had stopped bringing him water, except in the form of buckets full of ice, of course. It had been worth it, but Harry still wished that he had managed to kill the man.

He attempted to reach down into himself and force his power to manifest, but it was just out of his reach. Sleep deprivation, thirst and starvation tended to stop one focusing. That effect was only multiplied when they were tied to a chair, soaked to the bone, and occasionally electrocuted. Perhaps if he had still been able to use his power with surges of emotion, like he had done with Vernon Dursley, he might've been able to do something, but no. He had honed his power and brought it more under his control, and that had rended him near incapable of using it instinctively.

So as Agent Smith lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the metal table, Harry could do nothing but glare at him. Smith only smiled sadly.

"I'm disappointed in you, Harry," he said. "We rescued you. We trained you. We made you better than you would ever have been otherwise. Why would you run away? We trusted you, and I still trust you to make the correct choice."

Harry glanced at the room around him. It was a concrete cube with a security camera in each corner and a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. A few slits high up in the wall acted as vents, and the room slightly tilted towards one corner where a few tiny holes in the floor marked a drain.

He looked to the gun upon Smith's hip, the man's hand casually resting upon it.

He switched his gaze to Smith's face. His expression was gentle and slightly sad, but when Harry looked into his eyes, he could see - sense - the emotions - or lack of them - within. As with most things Hydra had told him, it was a lie, and an obvious one at that. They did not trust him to do anything, and in the end, he would make the "correct" choice whether he wanted to or not, for otherwise they would torture him.

He could've been defiant, but what would that gain him other than a few extra scars and an extended period with nothing but these four grey walls to stare upon? As much as he might loathe it, Harry knew that his best option would be to simply give up.

"I'm sorry," he said, his tone filled with false sadness. "I was just afraid. I didn't plan it or anything, killing the man just…. I'm not sure how to describe it, but please take me back! I don't want to go back to the Dursleys!" It was a poor performance, but it would hopefully work.

For a moment, Smith looked satisfied, but then his expression once again turned to one of mourning. "I'm sure you are telling the truth, but nonetheless, you must be punished for your disobedience."

Harry's eyes widened, and terror descended upon him as Smith unholstered his gun. He feebly attempted to call up his power, but it was no use.

The pistol roared once, a noise like thunder echoing through the room, but Harry paid no attention to it. Rather he looked down at the crimson spreading across his once white shirt.

For a few seconds, a cold numbness spread across him as he struggled to come to the realisation of what had just happened.

And then came the pain. Rolling waves of fiery agony crashed against his mind, and a scream ripped its way from his throat. The sound of a door slamming shut registered on the edge of his awareness as he writhed in pain, and he found his chair toppling over sideways.

Pain once again racked his body as he landed on his bad side, and unconsciousness rushed up to envelop him in response to his head rebounding off the floor. An electric shock drove it away, and the agony remained.

Perhaps the pain had startled him into clarity, or perhaps it was some kind of survival instinct, but this time, as Harry called up his power, it answered. His willpower combined with his pain to forge a wall of force, and it slammed forward, towards the door.

The steel buckled under the weight, and with the next attack it was sent off of its hinges.

Fueled by determination, Harry shattered the chains binding him to the chair and climbed to his feet, ignoring the horrid throbbing emanating from his bullet wound.

Two men carrying assault rifles came through the door, but Harry had already been preparing his next attack for a few seconds, and another wave of force slammed into them before they could act. Each was sent crashing back into the corridor with sickening crunches, and Harry staggered after them. If they were dead, they deserved it. He would see to it that a few more of the guards got their comeuppance before he escaped.

A shock of electricity shot through Harry, emanating from the handcuffs upon his wrist, but it was not designed to knock him unconscious, only cause pain. If anything, it fueled him more, and he embraced the pain, using it to send a blade of power through the link of the cuffs, destroying them.

Harry stumbled into the featureless corridor, picking a direction and moving down it. He had now began to pay attention to his other senses, and took a morbid satisfaction in the knowledge that he was the reason the alarms were blaring. He was the reason two Hydra agents lay crippled a few meters behind him. They hadn't been able to stop him, and either would anybody else.

As these realisations struck him, so did the one that he might have a bullet in him. He guessed that it hadn't hit the bone or any major arteries, so it might've passed straight through. Either way, dealing with the wound would be intelligent.

Pain was reverberating through the whole of his shoulder, making it impossible for him to sense a specific source. He ducked into the first doorway he saw, apparently a bathroom. He reached up behind his back, hissing in pain as he touched the bullet's exit wound.

A medical kit was mounted upon the wall, and he considered grabbing it, but then decided not to. He didn't have the time to stitch himself and wouldn't be able to reach his back anyway. An idea suddenly struck him.

Harry reached for his power, but found his control over it fading. With a grimace, he slammed his back against the wall. Pain coursed through his body and he latched onto it, using it to fuel his concentration. His power rose within his gut, and instead of forcing it outwards, he let it move through him and towards his injured shoulder.

A brand new agony, cold and vicious, weighed down upon him, and a scream burst from his mouth. He did not lose focus, however, and as he concentrated, flesh began to knit itself together, though the pain didn't relent for one moment. It was perhaps a minute or two before the wound was completely healed, but Harry was not really too sure; the pain had been distracting, to say the least.

He ran from the bathroom and resumed his sprint towards where he hoped the exit was. Turning a corner, he found himself facing six black-clad men with assault rifles aimed at him. They were at least ten meters away, but Harry called up his power and sent it barrelling towards them. It hit them with all the force of a gentle breeze, reminding Harry his previous attacks had been from less than a meter away.

Swearing, he ignored his sore body and sprinted back around the corner.

Once again, he found himself staring down six assault rifle barrels. He began to gather his power. Perhaps a blast would dispel over this range, but a smaller attack might not. He was about to unleash the attack when the sound of footsteps registered upon his ears. He span, but not fast enough, and the butt of an assault rifle slammed into his temple, bringing oblivion.


As Harry slowly came to consciousness, he became aware of one thing above all others: he had a headache. He had experienced headaches before, but nothing like this. This was a terrible throbbing sensation, reverberating through his skull with every moment.

It took him a few moments to remember what might've given him the headache, and then he shot up into a sitting position. The swift movement brought a whole new wave of head pain, but he ignored it, looking around the room frantically. It appeared that he was in his old room, the only new feature a chair in one corner in which Agent Smith now sat.

Harry attempted to call up his power, but this pain was different, somehow. It no doubt originated from him using too much of his power at once, and he was unsure of how to negate it.

"That effect will fade with time," said Smith, and a jolt of surprise ran through Harry. How had he known? "Even if you could use your powers, this place" - he motioned around the room - "is primed to explode if you try to attack me."

Harry frowned, and said, "You'll die as well."

"For the safety of the people, I am willing to die. Are you not?"

That didn't sound much like Hydra, and Harry most certainly was not. He remained silent.

Smith got to his feet and looked at his watch. "It's time for your morning training. Don't try anything stupid, or you'll be killed." His lips quirked up into a smile that for once appeared to be genuine. "Besides, perhaps if you become good enough with that power of yours, you will be able to escape one day. Good job with that new healing power of yours, by the way."

With that, he left the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts. Even if he hated Smith, he was right. One day, even if it was an eternity away, Harry could be powerful enough so that he wouldn't have to slip away in the middle of the night to escape. Instead, he would leave through the front doors with a trail of broken bodies behind him, or perhaps he would burn the place to the ground, destroying his captors along with it.

Only two things were certain: Hydra would pay for their sins in blood, fire and pain, and they would regret the day they ever attempted to control Harry Potter.

A/N: Sorry about taking an eternity to update. Anyway, tell me what you thought.