Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish I did

Chapter Fourteen, Torment

Harry wormed this way and that, trying to free himself. When he couldn't, panic set in. He tried to call out, but found he was gagged, or so it seemed. He couldn't open or close his mouth. The most he could muter was a muffled kind of half-shout from his throat.

"Don't bother, Potter. No one is coming to save you," said a voice somewhere to his direct right. Harry felt the breeze of the persons breath on his face, and tried to squirm away. He felt like he was bound with rope, but he didn't feel any.

Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. There was nothing he could do to stop them as they spilled down his cheeks. In the darkness he couldn't make out his surroundings, but knew he must still be in bed. He strained again and his muffled screams turned to sobs.

"Somewhere a little more private, I think," said the voice. Harry felt a blow to the side of the head, then nothing.

When he woke up, he found he was free of what was binding him, but the darkness made him wary to move. His head throbbed and something, warm and thick, dripped down from behind his ear. He finally sat up, and his vision swam, or would have, if he could see.

He was on a cold stone floor, but where, he didn't know. "H-help," he choked out. His voice was horse from trying to scream, and he couldn't manage more than a light whisper.

"There is no help for you, Potter," spat the voice, and suddenly lights flared. Momentarily blinded, Harry shielded his eyes. His stomach lurched in time with the throbbing in his head. He ached from laying on the floor.

Once his eyes got used to the light, Harry realized he still couldn't see. He didn't have his glasses. From what he could tell, he was in a small room, probably still in the dungeons considering the cold. In front of him, wand aloft, was a figure, but Harry couldn't see who.

"W-what do you want?" asked Harry, more afraid than he'd ever been.

Laughed filled the small room, and Harry's headache went up a few notches. "You think you can come in here and just take over, do you?" asked the figure.

Harry tried shaking his head, but the world didn't want to stay in one place as it was, "W-what do you mean?" Harry asked.

Before he could even register the movement, a foot made contact with his stomach. The wind was knocked out of him, and he collapsed.

"Shut up!" screamed the voice. Harry couldn't have spoken if he tried. He gasped for air.

"Parslemouth Potter, king of the Slytherins," sneered the figure. "Fancy yourself becoming the next Dark Lord?" There was a manic lilt to the voice now. Whoever it was, they were seriously unhinged.

Harry still hadn't found his breath, and couldn't reply. He was choking on air, and he couldn't stop crying again. He felt a tightness on the collar of his pajamas as he was dragged upward. He found his breath just one second before being slammed into the wall. His vision swam again as the back of his head met the cold, unyielding stone.

"P-p-please, just l-let me go," said Harry, who got his first look at the person holding him to the wall. It was a seventh year, but Harry couldn't place a name, even if he wanted to.

The boy laughed and spat in his face. "P-p-please, just l-let me go," he teased, maliciously."You aren't leaving here, Potter."

Harry was shivering for fear and cold. Blood was still dripping from his head wound, and the kick had fractured ribs. His breath was coming in short gasps.

Suddenly, he was airborne for a few seconds before colliding with the far wall. He crumbled, shaking.

"Think you can waltz in here, talk to a few snakes and just take over?" screamed the boy as he kicked Harry over and over.

In one last ditch effort, Harry clung to the boy's leg, and bit down as hard as he could muster. The boy screamed as Harry bit harder, breaking skin. He would have taken a chunk out of him if the boy hadn't tripped over. He didn't get up.

Harry, breathing hard, got up shakily. There was a small pool of blood growing, like a halo, around the boy's head.

Harry edged away from him along the wall until he found the door out. He was thankful beyond all belief to find it unlocked.

He wrenched the door open and flung himself from the room. If he could have taken one of the torches, he could have, but he couldn't reach them. It was pitch dark, but Harry didn't care. He ran.

"Help!" he shouted, ignoring the pain on all sides. "Somebody! Help me!" He was near to tears again. With shocking abruptness, he collided with a wall, and passed out again.

He awoke briefly when he was jostled slightly. He was being lifted. "'Zer?" he said. He had been trying for 'Who's there' but had failed. He was now in the air, supported by someone and held against their chest.

"Don't worry, Harry," they said, consolingly. Their voice was familiar.

"Sev'rus," Harry muttered, before falling back into the blackness of sleep.

AN: Here's another chapter for you all. Kind of an abrupt about face, yeah, but it all has a part to play, so don't worry. It's not completely mindless abuse. At least not on my part. Also, I don't know however many of you missed it, but I gave Hermione her own happy ending of sorts. Chapter Twelve, she isn't mentioned by name, though. She won't be a serious part in this fanfic. Just saying. Ta-ta for now.