The sound of dripping water haunted Harry's dreams, and gave him a strange feeling of uneasiness when he awoke on the cold earth floor. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and tried to discern from the faint grey light filtering under his door what time it was. The incessant noise made it hard to think. He turned over and flopped down again, ramming his fingers into his ears. The dripping continued.

"Is it in my head?" He asked aloud, not sure what he was hoping to do by voicing his thoughts, possibly to drown out the noise, possibly to gain an answer. When neither happened, he crawled forward to see if he could look under the bamboo panelled door and find the source of light. Certainly there seemed to be more light out there, although it seemed dirty, as if all the evilness from this place was encapsulated in the light. Harry scrambled to his feet as a pair of scuffed shoes obscured a portion of the light.

The door swung inwards and a masked Death Eater entered the room. This one didn't even speak, but put down a plate of burnt food on the floor next to a small glass of water. Harry restrained himself from falling on the food, and instead turned to the androgynous person in front of him.

"What time is it?" Harry could not stop his voice from sounding commanding.

"You wont get away with that tone of voice here, no matter what you think you can do at school." Harry felt a jolt go through him as he recognised the tone. Snape had just served him his meal, and was now standing in front of him making no attempt to help Harry. He gaped as Snape promptly turned on his heel and left the room, barring the door behind him. Was he merely maintaining his pretence? Or had he indeed broken his promise to Dumbledore?

Harry sat and ate his food without tasting a mouthful while he pondered these questions. It barely surprised him that Snape was there, after all, he was a spy for Dumbledore. But to be so cold hearted as to give him no information whatsoever? Could Snape have changed his colours once more? Or was he merely biding his time, and allowing Harry to suffer meanwhile, just as he had with Umbridge. But that had…awful consequences, so should he allow himself to trust the potions master this time? Harry's head reeled with his thoughts, and he decided to remain calm and keep a clear head. If he had to make an escape without Snape's help, well, so be it.

Harry looked up, half hopefully as the door opened once more, but the figure who entered was clearly several feet shorter than Snape, and wore a hooded robe which shadowed his face, rather than a mask.

"My Master requires you in the bamboo room." Harry recognised the laugh that followed this statement. This was McNair, former Ministry executioner, now Voldemort's minion, no doubt his chief torturer. He allowed himself to be led out into the dimly lit corridor outside his room, and Harry now saw where the light was coming from. High up in the wall, some distance along from his own cell, was a small grubby window that shafts of dirty sunlight were filtering through. Although Harry could not see any feasible way of reaching this window, he memorised its position. If he managed to escape it could possibly come in useful.

Harry did not have a chance to look for long. McNair grabbed his collar and manhandled him down the corridor, despite the fact that Harry was happy to go willingly. The man obviously liked violence, and was willing to use it in any circumstance.


Dear Hermione,

Ron started his letter, but was unsure of what to say next. She was obviously aware of Harry's disappearance, having been notified almost immediately, she had been shocked that something had occurred so soon after they had left each other at Kings Cross, but he didn't want to reveal any information about the dispatched Aurors or Harry's assumed location, just in case the owl got intercepted. For the same reason he didn't want to disclose the aim of this letter, how to contact Harry. He heaved a sigh and continued.

You know for DA, and how we got everyone to assemble in the same place? That was great wasn't it? If only we had the same type of communication this year, for absent friends as it were. Did we have any other ways? I can't remember now, but let me know if you do.

Hope you're holding up, things are ok here, although Mum is still upset. Missing Harry, wish I could do something.

Love,

Here Ron stopped. He looked at the word for a few minutes before crossing it out copiously with his quill. He looked at the crossed out word a few moments more, before seeming to change his mind.

Love,

Ron

Before he could make any more changes he rolled up the parchment, hoping that Hermione would get the implications of all his hidden messages in the note, and attached it to Hedwig's leg. She was agitated about the loss of her master, and he had to tell her several times to go to Hermione's house and come straight back before she gave her usual hoot that showed she understood the instructions. He watched the white bird fly away and thought sadly how she always had an unerring habit of finding Harry. A thought was trying to gain his attention, but every time he tried to grasp it, it elusively slipped away. He sighed and turned away from the window and flopped down on his bed. How was the trio going to survive this one?


The first thing Harry noticed when he entered the chamber was the lack of bamboo in this room. Whereas the rest of this place had bamboo cladding on the doors and walls, this room was completely bare, save for a red silk tapestry on one of the walls and a table with a few chairs in the middle of the room. Harry was instantly on guard.

Voldemort stepped forward from the shadows of the room, and motioned to one of the chairs.

"Please sit down, Harry." Harry was shocked, the tone sounded almost congenial, but he shook his head and quickly decided he had been mistaken. He was pushed roughly to the chair that had been indicated, and he sat down as Voldemort turned to McNair and held up his hand.

"That's enough. We don't want to injure our guest. Yet." McNair sniggered and Harry's blood ran cold. What was going to be done to him now?

Voldemort flicked his wand towards Harry, and cords snaked out of the chair and bound him to it. Metal clasps shot from the table, pinning his hands to the surface, and despite his struggles, he knew that there was no way he could wriggle out of these. Voldemort stared coldly at the boy until he stopped. Then with another wave of his wand, slivers of bamboo appeared on the table, and shot under Harry's fingernails. He screamed in pain, worse than any he had known, even that from his scar, and writhed in a desperate attempt to break free. Before he could stop himself, he was begging for mercy, promising respect, silence, anything, anything, if only Voldemort removed the pain. Only then did the Dark wizard's features twist into a smile.

"You know what will stop the pain, Harry." he said in his cold, high voice. And strangely enough, Harry did know exactly what would stop the pain.

"Master!" he gasped, "Master, please…"


A/N: Please don't kill me.

I have finally decided the ending of this story, after much debate (I had two endings.) However, it is still subject to change, so we shall see. But the important thing is…the end is in sight! Maybe two or three more chapters to go. If you want anything wrapped up (other than the Harry/Voldemort plot) please let me know by emailing me, and I'll try and work it in, as I know there are some leads that I haven't followed. If I cant work it in I'll….think of something.

Thank you's

Hoshi Hikari: Yeah, it's pretty intrinsic to the story because of the torture and stuff, and also I think the wizarding world's relations with China are pretty much the same as the Muggle world, e.g. China is very precious about airspace etc. so in the wizarding world it would be harder to track someone there.

Taurus 07: Great to have you reviewing again! I know what you mean about Voldy, but if you need any help/betaing send me the drafts and ill see what I can do!

Honeynut Loop: thank you! I love new readersJ

Circe la Fay: its gotta be dark dahling, we cant all be brilliant comedic (hey that's like medic!) writers like you!

Dr Rubadinghy: here's another one for you to praise endlesslyJ

Fippets: Go to bed! Earlier! And thank you my dear.

JM xxx