A/N: Hey guys, I have returned, I hope you miss me! J Actually, you probably only come for the story, but oh well. I'm getting really mad with chapter 12. I came up with this really good idea, but it was almost too early in the story for it so I had to rewrite it and it will be inserted in a later chapie…and then I got this other idea for another character I really did not want to write and I don't think I have the personality right at all, and it's really frustrating. I'm going to continue to play with it and hopefully it will turn out ok…anywho, onto the real reason you are all here, the next chapter!

OH, and btw: Thanks to all for the reviews I really appreciate it (I do not remember who I need to address so I'll start doing that again in the next chapter.)

Chapter 7:

"My lord, why are we keeping the Potter boy alive?" A death eater asked.

"Because, I want to turn Harry Potter into one of us before he remembers. Make him an outlaw to his own kind and he will have no choice but to serve." Voldemort explained, laughing at his own devilish plan.

"I think it is a risk, sir. An unnecessary one. What happens when James Potter or Dumbl"

"Do not speak that name!" Voldemort yelled, making all the deatheaters in the room cringe.

"I apologize my lord. But, point being, what happens when they find out we have the Potter kid?"

"This is why we keep him a secret until the correct time comes."

"We cannot keep the boy locked up. He's bound to ask questions that way."

"We can do as we please." Voldemort said, and saw another deatheater walk into the room. Voldemort recognized him as Severus Snape.

"Ah, Severus, what do you have for me?"

"Nothing more than the obvious." The professor said.

"Tell me the details." He ordered and saw Snape sigh.

"The wizarding world is in hysterics after Potter's death."

"Have they met yet?"

"There is a meeting tonight to discuss current events." Snape answered, knowing they was the Order of the Phoenix.

"Good. Be there." Voldemort said and Snape nodded. (A/N: I was so tempted to have his 'wig' flying off Snape's head, but I figured that didn't really fit the seriousness of the story, so I left it out.)

"Anyone else have anything to report?" Voldemort asked.

"My lord." The same deatheater that spoke earlier.

"What Dominik?"

"What are we to say to the boy?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes and Snape looked confused for a moment. Voldemort flung out his wand and said "crucio" faster than ever before.

All the death eaters watched, with grimaces on their faces as Domink writhed in pain. Voldemort watched, his eyes twinkling in amusement with a small smile on his face. After a moment, which seemed like an eternity to everyone else, the spell was lifted.

"Any questions?"

There was a murmur amongst the group and the meeting was called to an end.

Harry sat in his room, reading the books on magic. He found he was actually really good at the spells and performed them all with ease. Harry stopped practicing when a creature entered the room. It was small with floppy ears that reminded Harry of a rabbit for some reason with the nose of a raccoon. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knew it was a house-elf. He was carrying a tray of food, set it down on the dresser and left silently, never once making any kind of noise.

Harry set the book down on his bed, marking his page by folding the corner down and went to examine the tray. Since he had no clue what he actually liked, he stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what looked and smelled the best.

Harry decided to try a little of everything – a piece of chicken, some potatoes, corn, beans, peas, bread, slice of ham, and other things he was not sure what they were but tasted good anyway.

As he ate, he had a flash:

Walking into a large hall and sitting down at a long table. Everyone at the table was happy and talking amongst themselves loudly. The robes on the fellow kids had a patch on them, similar to the one he had found before. They were red and gold with lions on them. The writing underneath proclaimed Gryffindor. He looked to his right and saw her. She was smiling at him, her teeth flashing, brown (?) eyes bright, and bushy hair curled wildly around her head. To him, she was truly beautiful.

Who is she? Harry wondered. What do these Slytherin and Gryffindor things mean? Was I in a gang? Where was this…great hall? School? Someone in this place, wherever it was?

Harry groaned in frustration and lost his appetite. He tried focusing on the girl with the bushy hair, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not recall any other thought of her.

"Who are you?" He muttered.

The door to his room opened, jarring him from his thoughts. A woman stepped in. She was in her mid twenties with wavy brown hair that fell to her waist and sapphire blue eyes. She was shorter than him by a couple of inches. She was of average size and Harry did not think he had ever seen her before.

"He's ready for you." She said, watching him.

"Who?"

"The dark lord?" She said, simply.

"Who is the dark lord?" Harry asked and she did not answer.

Harry sighed and grabbed his wand from his bed, sticking it in his robe pocket.

She stepped outside and Harry followed her.

"Who are you?"

"No one important." She said.

"You don't have a name?"

"It is Samira." She answered, and walked hurriedly down the halls. Harry had to almost jog to keep up with her and wondered how someone so short could walk so quickly.

She led him down several corridors and seemed to do so as if she were on autopilot, but to Harry, it seemed completely at random.

She stopped at a doorway that was shaped like an arch.

"Go on. He's waiting for you." She said and Harry walked into the room and looked around.

It was like any other room. It was made of the same stone walls, but had elaborate cloths hanging from the ceiling. There were candles that floated high above his head, which did not drip wax and seemed to never flicker. There was a blood red rug on the floor that ended with the start of a dark red chair that faced the fireplace. The fire crackled and popped and cast various shadows on the walls. There was a figure in the chair, who Harry assumed must be his so called 'Mentor.'

But why the dark lord? Harry wondered. If he's supposively good, then why is he called the dark lord? It makes no sense. His head started to ache again, and Harry winced, wondering why his head seemed to hurt a lot in this place.

"Harry, come here." The man said and Harry walked cautiously towards the arm chair.

"Do you have any questions for me Harry?" He asked, and Harry felt his hair sear in pain. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes to try and ease the pain. It began to slowly subside.

"Actually, I do not wish to offend you, but…why does everyone call you 'The Dark Lord' if you're supposed to be the…" Harry could not think of a good way to say it. Something told him that this 'good' man wasn't really all that good. But what choice did he have not to try and trust him. His instincts were screaming at him to run and he could not think of any indication why. He felt like he had entered the middle of a movie and was never gave the script while everyone else had one.

"I see. Harry, you may not want to keep asking questions. One would think you do not believe in the cause."

"You asked if I had any questions. That was my question." Harry pointed out.

The man rose from the chair and turned to face him. Harry wondered how the man managed to keep his face hidden. Though they were face to face without the hood, the shadows casted right over his face so he could not see it clearly.

"Don't test me Po-Harry."

Harry glared at him.

"It seems sir; you are trying to keep something from me."

"Kids shouldn't be so nosey. That gets them into trouble." Voldemort said, his voice conveying a warning.

I really don't belong here. Harry thought.

"Why do you keep me locked in that room? Why am I here, and why—"

Harry couldn't finish his challenging remarks for Voldemort put the crutasius curse on him. Harry fell to his hands and knees, biting his lip hard so he tasted blood in his mouth. He decided he would not give the 'dark lord' the satisfaction of hearing him scream when he really wanted to.

After what seemed like an eternity of pain, the curse was lifted.

"Do not defy me." He warned again and turned around. "You may go." He waved a hand in dismissal and sat back down in his arm chair. Harry got up shakily and left the room, slowly.

I have to get out of here. I have to be right, there is something wrong here.

Harry tried to figure out how to leave this place, how Samira had brought him from his room, but he could not remember. He started walking, hoping he'd run into an exit to this place that seemed to have no direction.