They were still laughing as they trooped round the rest of the shop collecting their books for school. Molly Weasley had managed to get the book lists in advance for their advanced subjects, which was why Harry was now consulting his closely, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"Standard Book of Spells Grade 6, Advanced Transfiguration and Its Uses by Stalius Turning, Potions For NEWTs by…Hermione, I can't even read that one."

"Pirelilolli Pollus. He's an Italian potions master of the highest degree. Snape studied with him a while."

Both Ron and Harry looked at her aghast. It always surprised them whenever Hermione imparted such information, even though she had done similar for the last six years, but this was the first time that she had revealed something about a teacher's private life. And this was Snape's private life. Rolling her eyes for possibly the fourth or fifth time at their expressions she merely pointed to an updated copy of Hogwarts: A History that was being displayed on a table near the trio. Obviously feeling that she had made her point she wondered off to look at Charms for the Charmed: Spells for Competent Modern Witches.

"You know, I think she learns those books off by heart." said Harry, staring open-mouthed after their friend.

"You think?" joked Ron, although he still looked slightly bemused. "That girl's a walking encyclopaedia!"

Harry shook his head and went back to his list, checking the books that he was already carrying.

"Well, I've got Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence covered, though this lot weighs a tonne! I just need Herbology now." he muttered, peering at the parchment in his hands then up at the signs pointing to different parts of the shop.

"I still don't get why you're even taking Herbology, I thought it was only four that you needed to be an Auror?" Ron was wrestling a large leather bound book down from the top shelf. He had been more inclined to leave his options open, not knowing what he wanted to do, and was taking the same subjects as Harry, but taking Astronomy instead of Herbology.

"Well, McGonagall reckoned that it wouldn't hurt to show I had a bit of diversity. Or something like that. I've got to have five to even be considered for training, and it's definitely better than taking divination." Harry walked absentmindedly to the other wall and began looking through some Quidditch books. If he could only find out where to try out for teams…Harry was snapped out of his fantasy about being England's captain and seeker by Ron falling off the stepladder he was using to reach the top shelf. He groaned, nursing his shoulder, on which he'd fallen heavily, before sending an appealing look up at Harry.

"Hermione," Harry shouted over to her, "I think Ron's trying to tell us that it's time for a break.


The trio left the shop with their purchases and meandered up the empty street, talking quietly about the last few years. Harry had thought during the few weeks spent at his aunt and uncle's house, that talking about any of the events from last year would have been painful beyond belief, but now that they were actually discussing…things…the pain seemed to be less acute. To his surprise he found he started telling them about the thoughts he had been having about Sirius.

"At the end of last term Luna told me that the dead are just out of sight." Harry recalled.

"Told you she was nuts" Ron started to say before he was cut off but a glare and a "Shh Ron!" from Hermione. She looked at Harry again.

"Go on. Do you think she's right?"

Harry sighed.

"I don't know. But it's easy to imagine that he may be really near. It's led to weird dreams though. I keep seeing him pulling back that veil, and not being able to get out of the room, or, sometimes, him with my mum and dad. They're all together now, at least." They had stopped in front of a window displaying many different kinds of magical mirrors. Harry stared without seeing at his reflection in the foe glass as his two friends watched him anxiously.

"But I don't…" he started to say, turning back to them, when a movement in the mirror caught his attention. Someone was standing behind them with their wand raised, the whites of their eyes visible…

"DUCK!" screamed Harry.

Both Ron and Hermione dropped to the ground, as a violet spell blazed a trail where their heads had been seconds before. They wriggled into the shop and looked around for Harry. He was still outside, throwing up an admirable blocking spell whilst trying to gain access to the door.

Hermione hid her eyes, but Ron watched in horror as Harry fumbled with the doorknob, dropping the spell momentarily. A blinding flash of white obscured his vision for a minute or more, but when the purple dots cleared from in front of his eyes he saw a figure in Death Eater robes picking up his fallen friend.

Hermione opened her eyes to Ron's gasp and let out a startled cry. Harry's skin seemed to be splitting open, the flesh cracking up like dry earth. Blood welled up and flowed out of the horrendous cuts that criss-crossed his body. Harry looked like broken clay, as if all that was holding him together was his own blood, and even that was leaving his body rapidly. His head lolled in the stranger's arms, and Hermione and Ron could only be minutely thankful that he was not conscious to witness what the spell was doing to him.

The pair could not move, could not help their friend as he was lifted up by the figure, and watched in shock as the Death Eater disapparated with a sound like a whip crack.

Harry was a prisoner.


Harry awoke to pain searing through every inch of his body. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his scar appeared to be splitting his head open. A tiny part of his brain which was not in shock about the amount of pain briefly registered that Voldemort must be incredibly happy. Harry didn't even have time to open his eyes before he sank back into unconsciousness.
The next time Harry awoke, he realised there was someone else in the room, or at least in the vicinity. He couldn't remember where he was. Suddenly his head was forced back and a hand held his nose, making him gasp for air as a foul tasting liquid was forced down his throat. The other person backed off, and Harry vaguely heard a door close, signalling the someone's exit. The pain began to recede from his flesh, and this time Harry opened his eyes.

The room, although it was hardly big enough to merit the name, consisted of a hard, dark earth floor, hard, dark stone walls, a black ceiling, and a bed, which Harry was lying on and seemed to be made out of concrete.

Harry tried to make sense of what had happened, and thought back to when he was last conscious. Weird images kept repeating themselves in his head: mirrors chasing him, coloured streaks followed by hooded figures, and red channels, out of which thick liquid dripped.

Harry shut his eyes. It was too much, and his body, now free of pain, was screaming at him to sleep. He gave in to its wishes and sank back onto a pillow, which he could have sworn before he drifted off to sleep, was made of broken bricks.


He sat up quite suddenly as light flooded into his room. He had been having a dream…that was all. He kept this thought in his head as he slowly opened his eyes, and the hope which had momentarily been with him, fled away. Sunlight streamed in through a small barred window near the ceiling, but otherwise the room was just as dark as when he had last awoken. He dragged himself off the bed, which he saw now had indeed been made of stone, with a thin mattress on top. How had he got here? Harry thought anxiously back to when they were in Diagon Alley, and suddenly it fell into place. There had been a death eater, who had attacked them-'Where's Hermione and Ron?'- in front of a shop. He had been hit with…something. When trying to get into the shop? Yes that sounded right. And the pain…now it was coming back to him, he remembered the intense pain, both in his body and his scar. So Voldemort had at least planned this, if not carried it out. And he was now a captive of…

"Shit."

Harry was a captive of Voldemort. That's why he had been so happy, he'd captured Harry.

"How could I have been so stupid?" Harry almost shouted as he punched the wall. His wand was gone, and there was no escape. And what had happened to his friends? Harry felt the familiar anger tinged with panic surge up within him. Had he led them into danger again? Were they dead?

Harry started pounding on the door, screaming for someone to come and let him out. He was fifteen, in the clutches of the evilest wizard in the world and terrified. There was no one to help him this time. No Sirius to come to his rescue. No Sirius. No Sirius… Harry slid into a crumpled heap and finally sobbed for his dead godfather, who had died to save him, just like his parents, and now it was all in vain. Once the dam had broken, there was no stopping the tears and Harry sat and cried for what felt like an unbearable length of time.

Suddenly the door swung open and Harry jumped to his feet. A stocky, middle-aged man who looked familiar nonetheless was framed in the doorway. Harry realised why he looked familiar. It was Goyle's father, it had to be. They both looked like less intelligent trolls.

"His Lordship requests you presence to celebrate your birthday." Goyle senior sneered, or at least tried to. He still sounded as if he was reading the words very slowly off a piece of paper. But none of this imposed itself on Harry. All he could think was that he was sixteen, and Voldemort was going to kill him today. It was his birthday and he was going to die.

With no wand all Harry could do was follow the hulking man through the winding corridors, which sloped ever upwards. No stairs for someone whose familiar was the largest snake ever born. Finally, walking through such a small door that even Harry had to bend double, they emerged into a huge hall, larger than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Harry knew who would be in this room, even without the pain on his forehead that seemed to bore deep into his skull, and as they emerged Harry saw him. His enemy, his captor, his Lord.

'Where did that come from?' Harry thought quickly to himself. 'My Lord? Is he in here? Would I even be able to tell? I will never call him that!' And finishing his internal argument, Harry strode up the length of the hall and looked Voldemort straight in his slitted red eyes.

"Harry Potter. How kind of you to grace me with your company on your birthday." the dark Lord's tone held amusement and disgust, and something which Harry didn't quite recognise. Not that he was able to concentrate on the meaning of those words, with his scar threatening to burst, or so it seemed.

"I didn't exactly have a choice." Was all he could manage.

"Everyone has a choice. Right now you could choose to be civil to your captor, or you could choose to die." Goyle Senior straightened up. "I'm sure it is not difficult to choose the right one."

Harry resisted the urge to spit at Voldemort's feet. He had to keep him talking. The longer Voldemort spoke, the more chance Harry had of finding a way to escape.

"Why am I here?" Harry snarled.

"Firstly, you will show me, as your better, respect, and call me sir." Harry looked at him shocked. He sounded exactly like Snape. "And as to why you are here, I wanted to celebrate your birthday. Or should I say our birthday? It is quite surprising just how much we have in common is it not?"

This was news. Harry was growing uncomfortable under the red gaze of the dark Lord. And it was…odd that they had just so much in common, the wands, the parseltongue, the way they were brought up, the fact they were orphans, and now this. Harry forced himself to maintain the locked gaze.

Voldemort gave a nasty half smile as he watched the boy struggle with himself. He would not need to involve anyone else once he had the Boy-Who-Lived with him. It would be like two halves joined, and the joining would be formidable. He signalled to the man standing just behind Harry to take him away.

"You will join me at seven for you're…ah…party." he sneered. "Of course, you can choose not to come." Voldemort's laugh was worse than his stare. Far worse.

Harry refused to look back as he was led back through the small door in the wall, but could feel the piercing red eyes on the back of his neck the whole of the way.


A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers (allfive of you grin)

Fippets and Solo23: yes, Pig's disappearence does play a very small part later on.I just thought Ron may have noticed if his bird had suddenlyvanished. and Pig is one of my favorite characters...he had to come in somewhere:)

kiki, Circe and chozen 1, glad you like it. theres hopefully lots more to come, though suggestions are always welcome...:)