NOTE: Please, PLEASE review. I want to know what you guys think and take any suggestions into mind as I move on with this story line. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 2

POP

Harry was pushed forward into the darkness, stumbling onto his hands and knees. A searing pain erupted in his palms as splinters embedded deep in his skin. His hands and trousers were stained with what seemed to be several years of dirt and grime that had built up on the old wooden floors he was now kneeling on. A cool breeze whistled through the cracks in the delapitated walls, chilling his sweat drenched forehead. Glancing up, he saw an old ornate door directly in front of him and he scrambled for it. He grabbed the handle and frantically began to pull and twist it ,willing it to open to no avail. He quickly changed his attention to the windows that had been borded shut, tugging at the dry rotted wood only to find them as solid as if they had been nailed in yesterday. He could feel his heart hammering in chest and his breath came in desperate gasps as the truth sank in. He was trapped.

A soft chuckle behind him reminded him that he was not alone and dread feeled his heart as he turned to face his captor. It was the first time he was able to see the room he was imprisoned in in its entirety. He was standing in what looked to be the foyer of an old manor that had been vacant for sometime. Graffiti and tattered painting adorned the filth covered walls and a chandelier hung above twisting creakily in the draft. In both directions hallways led off into separate wings of the house and directly in the middle stood a grand staircase. He could see the elegant banister and the hand crafted spindles even in the moonlit room. It was then that he realized exactly where they were.

"Finally starting to put the pieces together,eh Harry?" The cold voice finally broke the silence and Harry was forced to turn his gaze to the slender figure leaning casually against the banister. A smirk played across those thin white lips as Voldemort shook his head. "You really think I would bring you to a place that you could escape from? You must think me a fool my dear boy."

Pushing himself away from the rickety staircase, Voldemort made his way to the corridor on his right. " Come let's talk somewhere with less of a draft" he said without so much as a glance remained rooted in his spot, unwilling to follow directions from his enemy. He could see the light of a fire now burning from one of the many rooms down the hall. "There's no use in being defiant this early in the game, Harry. You can't stand there all night after all." The Dark Lord's voice rang through the empty house and deep down Harry knew he was right.

Regaining his nerve, the boy cautiously followed the sound of the crackling fire. Turning into the third door on the left, he found Voldemort sitting at a mahogany desk starring over his steepled boney fingers. Glancing around, he could see hundreds, perhaps thousands, of dust covered book lining the room in ceiling high shelves. "Please sit." Voldemort was motioning to a high-back chair directly across the desk from him. Without arguing, Harry walked the length of the room and sunk into the moldy fabric, dust billowing out as he sat down. "Now that's a good lad," Voldemort said with a wide sneer.

"So," he began, leaning forward a bit further in his chair. "I assume you're wondering why I've brought you here to my muggle father's house instead of returning to the rest of the Death Eaters." He paused here as if to see if Harry would answer him. When he saw no response would come, he pressed on with a slight sigh. "You see I knew if I were to bring you back in the midst of all those Death Eaters you wouldn't survive till morning. I..."

"So you're saying you can't control your own slaves?" Harry interjected, speaking for the first time that night. His voice was cracked but held no fear of interrupting the dark wizard. He watched as Voldemort narrowed his red eyes but his smirk remained.

"You do realize you were on the brink of torturing Bellatrix into insanity?" The glee in his voice was almost palpable and Harry had to look away as shame washed over him. He didn't need reminding of the pain he had just caused someone. "Besides that, you have many enemies that would jump at the chance to kill you if I were to bring you back there without warning."

It was Harry's turn to let out a soft chuckle. "Something you find funny in that," Voldmeort asked, his smile dropping a fraction.

Harry lifted his gaze to meet those red eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Its just, I've had an enemy for fifteen years and yet I'm still here." He let a smile play across his face as he watched Voldemort's fall completely away. He could see the anger flash in those eyes and prepared himself for the repercussion.

But his enemy remained earily calm as a smile returned to his pale face. "Harry, may I ask how many times you've stopped my plans?" Before the boy could answer Voldemort continued on. "And how many of those times have you had help? You see, I get the notion that you think yourself invincible." Harry held his gaze unwilling to back down. He knew he had had help, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of doing things himself. From the corner of his eye he could see Voldemort pulling his wand from inside his cloak. "Do you think I could kill you right now? No wand, no friends, and no mother to die in your place."

Harry dropped his stare back to the floor. Fear was gripping his stomach, knowing that any second could be his last. He had no wand, no possible chance of a fair fight. If Voldemort were to attack him now, there would be no chance of survival. "Just do it then," he whispered unable to let the Dark Lord see the panic in his eyes. If he was going to die here, he wasn't about to let the man see just how scared he was.

"I'm sorry what was that my boy? Why don't you look at me when you speak? Isn't that the respectful thing to do?" Harry could here the joy in the voice ahead of him but couldn't bring himself to look. Voldemort had him exactly where he wanted, and Harry wasn't going to play along with his sick game. An invisible force gripped his chin, forcing his head painfully upwards until he couldn't help but stare into those glowing eyes. "There, that's better now isn't it? Now answer my question. Do you think I could kill you right now?"

Harry could feel Voldemort's excitement pulsing through his body, mixing with his own overwhelming fear. The combination made his head swim, and he had to fight off a wave of nausea that threatened to make him sick. The grip on his chin tightened to an excruciating hold and Harry was forced to grit his teeth in pain. "Yes," was all he was able to say through his clamped teeth.

With a renewed smile Voldemort waved his wand and Harry felt the pressure on his chin dissipate immediately. Voldemort unexpectedly stood from his chair and rounded the desk, coming to a stop directly in front of Harry. Leaning back against the desk, he started down at the boy with a pondering expression on his face. "I'm not going to kill you tonight, Harry. I've got too many questions that need answering." Harry made to respond by saying that he wasn't about to cooperate, but Voldemort cut him off. "Before you refuse me, know that its not your life that I'll be threatening. After all you have plenty of friends to choose from. There's no way for the Order to protect them all."

Harry's mouth shut quickly. He was more than willing to die rather than to participate in whatever Voldemort had planned, but how could he possibly risk the lives of his friends. Weighing his options, he could see no way out at that moment. Hesitantly, he looked back up at the man and asked, "What exactly do you want?"

With an uneven sneer, Voldemort leaned over until he was almost nose to nose with Harry. Studying his emerald eyes for an uncomfortable minute, Voldemort finally spoke. "Funny how ones mind works, isn't it Harry?" The boy could feel excitement working its way back into his system, and no matter how hard he fought it, the feeling only seemed to grow. An image broke into his mind, taking the place of Voldemort's snake like face.

He was back in the Ministry and standing feet from him was Sirius. An immense amount of joy swept over him and he began to run to the shaggy haired man. A blinding red light crossed his path, hitting his Godfather directly in the chest. It was then Harry realized he was being forced to watch Sirius's death again. Wanting to shout, Harry found his voice heavy on his tongue. All he could do is watch as Sirius stumbled into the vail again. Grief began to creep into heart but behind that was an unexplainable feeling, one that almost felt like delight. It was as if he was getting enjoyment from watching the last real family he had disappear forever.

Stumbling to his knees, Harry fought the feeling that was spreading like wildfire in his brain. He would not allow it to overcome him. However, no matter how hard he tried a smile began to creep on his face and a soft laughter broke from his lips; or was it sobbing. The two mixed together until he was gagging on his own emotions.

Reality hit him hard as the scene in his head dematerialized and he found himself doubled over in the same filthy chair, blood leaking from his lower lip that he had bit in attempt to control his laughter. Tears were streaking down his cheeks, yet a smile was on his bloody lips. Above him he could hear a slight laughter that mimicked his own. "Oh the range of human emotions." Voldemort's voice was full glee as he grabbed a fist full of Harry's hair and pulled his shaking body upright.

"I've been wanting to test that connection we have for several months now," the Dark Lord said, leaning in close again. "I knew I could send images to your mind, but I had no idea I could manipulate your emotions in such a way." He was now inches from Harry's face, staring into those bright green eyes as if reading an instruction manual.

Harry, who had reserved his anger all night, could finally feel it boiling to the top. This whole night; the loss of his Godfather, being kidnapped, being experimented on, it was all Voldemort's fault. He would not sit here and be examined like some insect trapped in a jar. Sucking in as much blood from his busted lip as possible, Harry spit the mixture into Voldemort's snake like face.

For the first time that night, Voldemort's jubilant expression was lost as rage overcame him. Harry barely had time to see those bone like fingers tighten on the handle of his wand before it was shoved violently between two of his ribs. "Crucio" was the last thing he heard before the ringing in his ears began. White hot fire spread through his bones as he choked back the scream rising in his dry throat. Raking his finger nails into the wooden arms of the chair, Harry thrashed backwards into the chair as if trying to get away from the pain. Cold fingers attached to his chin like a vice grip, sending lightning hot flashes into his scar. The agony was so immense he waited for his head to split open, eyes shut tight. An anguishing scream broke through his cracked lips and he silently begged for death to over take him.

The curse was lifted from his body leaving him doubled over, his chest heaving frantically in the desperate search to find air. He felt his glasses slip from his sweat drenched face to the floor with a light clatter. In place of the pain a numb feeling spread through his body making his stomach turn in upheaval. Silence overtook them leaving only the crackle of the fire and Harry's shallow breath to feel the room.

A sigh broke the silence around them, as Voldemort regained his calm composure. Through the blur and tears,Harry could see the tall wizard bending to reclaim the cracked glasses from the grime covered floor. "I had rather hoped we could have skipped this part, Harry" The Dark Lord whispered. Grabbing ahold of Harry's shoulder he pushed him roughly erect against the back of the rigid chair, sending jolts of pain down his body. Voldmeort then placed the boys glasses gently back upon the bridge of his nose, taking a minute to stare into those teary green eyes before raising the corner of his mouth in a half smile. "Although, I can't say I don't enjoy watching you squirm in agony," he goaded with a retreating step.

Harry, who was still regaining his nerve, held his captore's gaze unwilling to seem as broken as he felt."I have to return to my Death Eaters tonight and see what damage you and your foolish friends have done. You will stay here until…"

"You can't keep me here," the boy interrupted, each word causing him apparent discomfort as he clutched at his injured ribs.

Voldemort gritted his teeth in clear frustration of being cut off. The playful demeanor he had taken on early in the night had all but evaporated. "My dear boy," he began, each word punctuated with an emence hatred. "Do I need to remind you of who is in control here? As I stated earlier this house is protected in every nook and cranny. I my self have made sure of it. No way out, no one to hear you. You're stuck here." He paused, taking a long look at the boy in front of him, letting those words sink in.

"Now, like I was saying, you will stay here. Every room is free to your exploration and you will find, though delapitated and unclean, many beds for you to sleep in." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was he actually expected to sleep in a bed that hadn't been cleaned in years? What about food? Was he expected to starve? Opening his mouth to protest, he was cut off by a piercing look. "Once I have spoken with my Death Eaters and consequences have been put into place, I will send someone to check in on you."

Voldemort stood, straightened his cloak, and gave the astonished boy one last glance. "I do hope our next meeting goes smoother, Harry. You'll learn it is much easier to cooperate." With this, he flicked his wand and dissapperated with a whirl of dust, leaving Harry alone in the vast manor.