Disclaimer: This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!


The Kingdom

Taken


Harry slowly emerged from his dreams. He was vaguely aware of how the previously stiff bed was, well, no longer that stiff. He wondered if perhaps from all his lying down on it he had finally made it cave in and soften up. He laughed inwardly at that thought.

Shifting slightly, he raised his arms above his head and stretched.

"Ah good, you are awake," a voice spoke abruptly, sounding almost as if the person was right next to him.

Utterly surprised, Harry's eyes fluttered open with alarm and he reached for his wand... only for his hand to grasp air. His wand was missing. Panicking slightly, he sat up on the bed and realized that he was no longer at the inn. He was in a room much smaller than even the room of the inn he had been staying at.

It was then that he finally noticed what kind of a room this was. Well, it was more of a cell than a room. A prison cell.

Confusion struck him like a lightning bolt from above. For a while he could not get over the fact that he was indeed in a prison cell and not in his room at the inn. He slapped himself several times, but he was not waking up and the stinging in his cheeks felt real enough. Which either meant he was really deeply asleep or this was reality. And he really really hoped it was the former.

His mind was spinning, thoughts jumbled as he tried to figure out how exactly he had gotten there. One minute he had fallen asleep at the inn and the next he was here. Could it have been the innkeeper? He immediately regretted staying in Knockturn Alley. Chastising himself for not putting any protective spells in place in his room, he tried to calm down and think.

"I was afraid you would sleep through the whole day," the voice continued on as if he had never stopped talking in the first place.

Harry's head whipped around, searching for the source of the words. He could hear the voice clearly, which meant the person speaking had to be close by. Warily, he reached out with his hands in case the person talking was indeed in the room but was maybe invisible. Nothing. His hands grasped at the air all around him, finding nothing there.

Questions swirled around in Harry's head, almost like hornets buzzing around their hive. Why was he here? Who had brought him here? Where was here? Who was the one speaking to him? How long had he been here? What day was it? Who was speaking to him?

He made sure his mental barriers were up and strong, and yet even then the voice still spoke as clearly as if he had his mind opened wide.

"You will have your questions answered soon enough," the tone was grim, a hint of sadness as well seemed to drip from the unknown voice.

It made Harry very uneasy.

He spun and put his legs over the edge, feet flat on the floor. His gaze scanned once, twice, over the room. A streaming pillar of daylight flowed in from a small slit near the top of the wall to his right. If one were to stand at the cell door as a reference point, his bed was in the far right corner. In the far left corner was a small toilet, next to it mounted on the wall was a sink. Other than that there was nothing else in the cell.

Again his mind turned to how helpless he felt without his wand. He felt under his thin pillow again, willing it to be there where he had placed it before, but to no avail. No wand there.

Silently cursing the fact that he did not learn how to wandlessly cast magic, he went over to the cell door. It was made of reinforced steel, large rivets bolting everything together. There was a small hatch centered on the door at its very bottom, big enough to put a tray through - how he would be fed it seemed. Another hatch was at about head level, only slightly bigger than the food one. He pushed against each of the hatches, not that he could do much if he did manage to open them up, but he found them to be locked closed from the outside.

He walked back over to his bed and sat down heavily, letting out a big sigh of frustration. He closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. But failing miserably at it. Harry felt his frustration at life grow. Every time things finally seemed to be going for the better, when things were not so bad, something or another made it worse. It was almost as if the fates had it out for him. Whatever deities existed seemed to take great pleasure in causing him hardship and pain.

Of course, he could try and extend out his consciousness and figure out who else was in the prison, or at least how many people there were - both prisoners and guards. But that was risky. Too risky. It would make his mind vulnerable, and he was not about to have his mind attacked again and possibly violated. A brief flashback memory of one of the nights with Snape's teachings made him shudder a bit.

Although, he thought, I could at least try and see if I have any neighbors...

The farther out he expanded his consciousness, the more vulnerable he got. In only checking his immediate surroundings, he would still be able to adequately defend himself should the need arise. So ever so slowly and carefully he expanded out tendrils of consciousness in all directions. Inching outward delicately. As soon as his consciousness hit the wall though, he actually hit a wall. Of magic. And it prevented him from extending out any further.

Harry retreated back into his own mind, eyes opening in surprise. A twinge of fear enveloped him for a moment, but he squashed it just as soon as he had felt it. So this was not only a physical imprisonment, but a magical one as well. And that meant wizards and witches. Not surprising, considering the fact that they had captured him in the middle of Knockturn Alley. In hindsight perhaps not the best place to hide out to think in isolation, but it seemed to be a safe enough venture.

Did the old wizard at the inn have anything to do with it? Maybe. He was not sure, of course, but the way he had stared at him... Well, it did not matter. Whatever happened, however it happened, he was here. His only priority right now was to try and get out. But how?

"It is impossible," said the voice seemingly echoing all around him, "Nobody leaves this place without permission. And prisoners do not get permission. Ever."

"And what exactly is this place?" he growled aloud.

"You will have your answers soon," came the reply and then it was silent once more.

-xxxxxx-

Harry was not sure how long he had stayed sitting on his bed, back resting against the far well, head tilted and resting on the wall to his left. His eyes stared out at nothing in particular, though if one were to look at him he seemed to be looking at the steel door of the cell.

However long it was, it was long enough to have made his back stiff and his neck even stiffer. He felt as if the neck muscles on his right side were now permanently stretched longer and the ones on the left side of his neck were permanently shorter. Then he heard noises outside.

His head snapped up, eyes widening at first and then narrowing as he concentrated on the sound. Footsteps. Slowly walking down the hallway. A squeaking sound accompanied it, stopping every now and then. During those moments the squeaking stopped, there was the sound of metal sliding over metal somewhat roughly. Feeding time, Harry figured.

Sure enough, whoever was out there sounded as if he was directly in front of Harry's cell. The young wizard stood up, looking down at the hatch at the bottom of the door. It opened and a tray was slid into his room. Then it closed up again and the person who had brought the food continued on his task.

"HEY!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and rushing the few feet to the door.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The side of his fist slammed into the metal door. "HEY! WHERE AM I?" he yelled as loud as he could, unsure if he could be heard. Maybe the magical barriers surrounding the cell made it soundproof. He was not sure, but he had to try, though he was also not sure if whoever was out there would answer his cries anyways.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

"HELLO?" he cried out, "I think there's been some kind of mistake! I'm not supposed to be here!"

Giving up, he sagged against the door. Forehead resting on the cool metal as he banged on the door several more times, each time weaker than the last until his arm fell down to his side. Harry wondered how many other prisoners there were as he looked over to the tray and inspected it.

The tray was made of flimsy metal. On it were two bowls, one filled with noodle soup and the other some gooey substance that looked utterly revolting. A cup of water accompanied the duo of bowls. There was no silverware. Prevented the prisoners from having any real weapons, he supposed. Stomach growling, Harry hungrily lapped up the soup and drank half the water before turning a critical eye over to the goopy substance. It had a grayish and yet greenish hue and the consistency of... mashed potatoes.

"I assure you this is safe to eat, and actually extremely nutritious," the voice piped up encouragingly, "It is in your best interest to stay strong for the challenges ahead. Your life depends on it."

Harry frowned, still eyeing the goop. "Challenges?" he asked and waited for an answer. None came. With another sigh of frustration he scooped up some of the goop with his right index finger. Bringing it up to his face, he inspected it. At least it did not smell bad. In fact, it had no smell at all. Hesitantly, he put the little bit of the goop in his mouth. Relief flooded him. It tasted... bland. Taking the strange voice's advice, he ate it all up, licking his fingers clean afterwards and then downing the rest of the water in a few big gulps.

That actually wasn't too bad, he thought as he sat back down onto his bed.

A good amount of time had passed before the familiar squeaking sounded through the hall. This time, it was accompanied by a jolly tune being whistled by whoever it was that served the food. When he got to Harry's door, he opened the bottom slot for the tray. Harry was actually not sure if he was supposed to put the tray close to the hatch or if he was supposed to slide it over or not. After all he had not been briefed about the procedures here. He worried that he might get in trouble for not following procedure.

Those worries were eased, however, when he watched the tray slide on its own accord towards the hatch as if it were being sucked up. Then it slid shut and the man outside continued on his duties, his whistling echoing across.

So he was sure at least that sound could come into the cell, still not sure about sound going out. He was also not sure to what extent the magical barriers around the cell had been erected. What their purpose was. And how strong the caster had been. Though he surmised that in a prison the barriers would be quite powerful. It was then that he realized there was no light in the cell, only the moonlight that trickled in from the small, barred window providing a faint glow to the room.

He figured he must have spent another hour or two merely staring at the wall and wallowing in his pitiful inability to do anything about his current situation. He had felt helpless before, and at times hopeless, but the extent to which he was feeling both right now was far greater than any other previous time. Mostly because he knew nothing of his current situation. Absolutely nothing. And that terrified him. At least with Voldemort and his Death Eaters you knew what you were dealing with, who you were fighting, and why you fought.

Sleep eluded him for some time, but eventually his busy thoughts fatigued him enough for him to be pulled down under sleep's dark embrace.

-xxxxxx-

Hedwig hooted in alarm as well as frustration.

Before she left Grimmauld Place, she had sensed where her master was. It was part of the bond that connected them, though his master knew little about it. The snowy owl herself did not really think much on it. She merely accepted that there was some type of bond, some magical connection that allowed her to know where Harry Potter was at all times. Almost like a sixth sense.

She knew he was somewhere near Diagon Alley. But because she was so far away she could not pinpoint the location. The farther the destination of her searching, the vaguer the direction. Owls flew towards the vague directions given to them by the magic that was woven into their race, and as they got closer the directions became clearer and clearer until they reached their destination.

The problem, however, was that when Hermione had sent her off to give her letter to Harry, the owl had lost her master. She knew it was possible, and there were a number of reasons, but she did not know why Harry had disappeared from her 'sight'. It worried her greatly.

Still, she had flown towards Diagon Alley in the hopes that perhaps near where she had last sensed the young master she might find him again. So she circled Diagon Alley for thirty minutes, not giving up hope that maybe another pass around and the magic would show her to him. Still there was nothing.

Flying back to Grimmauld, she returned faster than she had left. Instead of heading for the open window, however, she went straight to the window where she knew Hermione was. She hooted loudly as she landed on the outside of the window, claws finding purchase on the strong bricks. Tapping her beak furiously on the glass, she waited.


Author's notes: Dun dun dun... stay tuned for more!