Author's Note:Thank you to all those who have read so far, and thank you to those who have reviewed. It's lovely to know what you think, and I hope you continue to enjoy it. :D

1. Wait till you read book 7.

The Doctor felt the earth tremble as his cage was raised into the air. He whipped his head around and stared at the followers names Lucius and Bellatrix. "What is that, how are you doing that? This is 20th century Earth – you don't have the technology for anti-gravity remotes yet!"

Bellatrix sneered at him. "Stupid Muggle doesn't even recognise magic."

Lucius looked as though he might snort if he were a less restrained man. "Pitiful."

The Doctor gaped, memories flashing through his mind at lightning speed. "Muggles?" He repeated, his voice completely incredulous. "Did you really just say Muggles?"

Wait till you read book 7. Oh, I cried.

"Oh," he muttered, as his tenth incarnation's voice faded from his mind, "this is very not good. I'm getting thick in my old age, thick!" He smacked his forehead to illustrate his point. "But what do you want me for? I'm no one special."

His two captors continued to levitate him through the forest, letting his cage bang into the occasional tree, ignoring him.

The Doctor tried again. "Your leader," he said, "Voldemort-"

"Do not speak the Dark Lord's name!" Bellatrix suddenly screeched, going from relatively calm and smug to completely unhinged in the matter of a few milliseconds.

The Doctor blinked, taken aback. "It's just a name," he said, trying to ignore the irony that it was him saying this.

"Nevertheless," Lucius interjected, once it became clear that Bellatrix was too close to exploding to contribute further, "it must not be spoken."

"Why?"

"Respect," Lucius said, simply. "You do not call your professor by their first name, do you?"

"Reasonable point," the Doctor conceded reluctantly. "Would you look at that? A Malfoy being reasonable," he said to himself. "But," he continued, loud enough for the others to hear him, "this… Dark Lord, he knows me."

Bellatrix snickered, going back to smug now that the Doctor had conceded the name point. And he was ok with that, for the moment. Ordinarily he wouldn't have many qualms about angering his captors in the quest for information, but here… he looked at their wands, warily. They had magic, and he had nothing but a screwdriver. A screwdriver that didn't do wood.

"How does he know me?" The Doctor continued, grasping the bars of his cage tightly as it was sent careering into another tree. "And, more importantly, why?"

"He has been informed of your attributes," was all that Lucius had to say.

The Doctor almost sighed. "Very enigmatic. Then again, that's to be expected, isn't it? Very Slytherin."

Bellatrix and Lucius stopped immediately, turning to stare at him. "What did you say?" Bellatrix asked dangerously.

The Doctor stared back at them innocently, inwardly berating himself for his slip up. Definitely getting old and stupid. "Er," he said, trying not to sound as if he was desperately scrabbling for an explanation, "I said that it was very… sly…" they continued to stare disbelievingly at him, "there… in?"

"That is not a sentence," Lucius sneered.

This time the Doctor did sigh. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"You've heard of Slytherin," Bellatrix said, walking closer to the cage so that she and the Doctor were now face to face.

The Doctor lifted up a finger and felt his brain slide into Pedantic Mode, as he liked to call it. "Well, technically I also knew the name of your leader, and you weren't even shocked by that."

Lucius looked at him, considering the possibilities. "Very true. Come, Bellatrix." He jerked his head forwards to indicate that they should keep going. "We must not keep the Dark Lord waiting."

"Yes," the Doctor babbled, "exactly, don't want to keep him waiting. Not when he can torture you."

They both ignored him. Ok, he thought, so they're just as devoted as they are in the books. I wonder what's actually different. He briefly considered the possibility that Voldemort might have a pet monkey instead, or possibly a Chihuahua.

No no no! Don't be stupid! He's the Dark Wizard, he can't have something fluffy as a mascot!

Is it a mascot, though? Surely it was more of a pet.

Shut up. I'm not having this conversation with you. Not while we're stuck in a cage and this evil wizard you seem to be laughing at could eat you at any moment.

Eat me?

Shut up.

The Doctor snorted internally. Looked like somebody was too used to being chased and almost eaten by giant star whales. He wondered what else he'd almost been eaten by. Though probably not the time to wonder that, in all fairness, since this was after all practically the Situation of Doom, though he wasn't quite sure yet.

Not sure? How can you not be sure? You're a Time Lord, aren't you?

Well, yes, there was that. The Doctor's eyes went wide. Oh. Yes, that reminded him. That was why it was the Situation of Doom. Voldemort plus Time Lord equals disaster. He should probably count his lucky stars that Voldemort hadn't found the Master.

But why hadn't he found the Master? Or had he? He didn't like where this was going.

"So where are you taking me?" He asked, if only so they wouldn't be suspicious of his silence. And because he was curious. "Do you have a tree house base?"

"A what?" Bellatrix snapped. Apparently being confused didn't agree with her.

"Oh, it's a house made out of trees," the Doctor happily explained. "Sort of a… you know, tree house. Must be a Muggle thing…"

He fell silent when it became apparent that they were not about to his answer his questions, and seemed quite happy to crash him into trees when he did ask them. Not the friendliest captors he'd ever had, he had to admit, but they also weren't the worst. Maybe that was disturbing, that he'd been caught by worse than Voldemort, but this was early days and the Nose-less Man wasn't out of the running yet.

After what felt like hours they finally arrived at an area of the forest that shimmered when they walked through. A building suddenly appeared in the clearing.

Perception filter. No… wait, revise that. A spell of some sort. He suddenly wished he'd read those books more recently, rather than leaving them on a shelf gathering dust after Martha Jones had left. Somehow the word 'Expelliarmus' just wasn't the same anymore.

The building seemed inconspicuous enough – quite small, plainly decorated, at least from the outside. If this was Headquarters, it certainly didn't look like it.

Yes but the tent at the Quidditch World Cup was bigger on the inside.

Ah. One less piece of information they'd want from him, then. He had to be grateful for something. That and the TARDIS didn't appear to be anywhere near them. He hated to think what Voldemort could do with the TARDIS' capabilities. Especially if he got into her databases. He hated to think of the most evil wizard in history deciding to find this world's version of the Cybermen or Daleks. If there even were any.

He was none-too-gently floated through the front door and his suspicions were proved correct: bigger on the inside. There was a long corridor stretching before him, with doors branching off to left and right, with a door at the very end. Simple enough to navigate, if he had to escape. If he even could escape, he thought dismally, as he heard Bellatrix placing wards of some sort on the door after they were through.

"So what's this, then?" The Doctor asked. "Headquarters?"

"No," Lucius replied tersely.

"This is the prison," Bellatrix said gleefully. Someone had a favourite place, then. She walked over to the nearest door, tapped on it with her wand, and lifted her head to the ceiling, closing her eyes, seeming to relish in the sound that followed.

Screaming instantly filled the corridor, and the Doctor had to fight very hard to keep his face neutral.

"Where are they?" Someone yelled above the screaming. "Where are the Order of the Phoenix?"

So it was that one.

The screaming didn't stop, not for a single second, almost as if the person being tortured had no reason to breathe. The Doctor's fists clenched by his sides. Stop it. Just stop.

Lucius tapped on the door and silence fell once more. "That is enough, Bellatrix. You know that we are not privy to that… interrogation."

"Old Snake Face likes to keep his secrets then?" The Doctor asked, not caring that Bellatrix's expression grew thunderous at this new nickname. "Does he kill the torturers afterwards? If so, you two are in big, big trouble."

"There is no need," Lucius supplied, grinning smugly. "A simple memory spell suffices."

"Or so he tells you," he snorted, rapidly losing patience with the both of them. "Wouldn't want your minions fleeing in terror. That's just bad planning."

Bellatrix snarled and, with a vicious flick of her wand, sent the Doctor and his cage hurtling into the far door. Looked like he wasn't the only one losing his patience.

The Doctor groaned and rolled over, expecting to find himself covered in the wreckage of his cage, but finding, to his surprise, that it was still standing. And fairing much better than him, he had to say. Not a dent. He, on the other hand, felt distinctly dizzy when he stood.

"Bellatrix," Lucius admonished, "you'll distract the others."

The Doctor stared at him. Was it just his memory playing up, or was this version of Lucius slightly more… evil? He heard a click behind him and felt Lucius carefully levitating him into his cell at the end of the corridor, where he was plunged instantly into darkness.

Lucius stood framed in the doorway, wand lazily keeping him floating in the air. "You will know soon enough when you will be of use," he stated in a drawling voice, before flourishing his wand once. "Finite Incantatem."

The Doctor suddenly found himself floating in a cage without the cage, or the floating, and crashed, for the third time that day, into a very cold, hard surface. The door to his cell slammed shut. The Doctor picked himself up off the floor and hurled himself at the door before it locked, not at all surprised when he was thrown off his feet by an invisible force field before he could even get near it.

Well, Donna's voice suddenly filled his head, as he lay groaning on the floor, isn't this wizard?

oOo

It had been hours. Possibly days – revise that, definitely days, he concluded. He had been left in a dark cell, the only light being a pathetically small barred window set almost in the ceiling; the only sign he had of the time that was passing. He didn't quite trust his time sense in this time stream.

He had prowled around the cell approximately fifty times before concluding that there was nothing but a bucket inside. He had tried to climb the walls five times but had never even managed to get off the ground – his efforts had consisted of feeling along the wall and, finding no crevices that he could use as hand or foot holds, jumping higher up to see if there were any there. There were none; the walls were as smooth as a baby's bottom.

He hung his head. And now he was getting his metaphors mixed up.

His stomach growled. Ok, make that two days. And, quite apart from anything else, he was rapidly getting bored. He had already been through every escape plan that he had in his head – conclusion: escape was not likely to happen in the near future. He had considered the possibilities as to why he was here – easy: they wanted something from him. They always did. Probably knowledge of some sort; he did know quite a lot, after all. And he had also concluded that the TARDIS was probably still in his own universe (he hoped) because, if not, they would have the answers they needed and would have no need for him, since he had had no time to put up any safety measures before he had been sucked out of it. Or when he had entered it, for that matter, since he had been running for his life.

He was in the Potterverse, as he liked to call it for the past two days. That was most definitely unexpected. He had probably been pulled into it by a magical spell – an insanely powerful one, apparently, since it managed to punch a hole between universes which were closed to each other and yank him out of the TARDIS while it was still in the vortex – and he had no idea how to get out. Well, that wasn't quite true, he did have a few, but most of them depended on him being free. Though he did still have his sonic screwdriver. So maybe they weren't as thorough as he had previously surmised and he would have an opportunity for escape at some point, but it could just as easily be because they knew it was useless.

But if they did know that it was useless, how did they know that? He couldn't remember having been to this universe before, so how could they all know so much about him? It didn't quite add up. He must be missing something. And it was, as always, a very big something.

Why did he always have to miss the big things? Why not something small? That was just unfair.

Before he could fall into more ponderings, his cell door swung open and the force field shimmered. The Doctor stood up warily, stretching his legs as he went. There was a reason he hated being cooped up.

Blinking against the suddenly harsh light that flooded his cell, the Doctor was unable to make out who had walked in until the door swung shut again.

"Lumos."

A small point of light appeared between him and whoever had walked in, much easier on the eyes than the full on light of the corridor had been. Behind it was Bellatrix, grinning eerily, her eyes thrown into shadow by her wand. She definitely looked the part.

"He knows about us, my Lord," she said, and the Doctor looked to his left to see, to his dismay, Voldemort himself.

"Yes," Voldemort agreed in a cold voice, coming to stand closer to the Doctor, "Lucius mentioned that after the Summoning." He cocked his head slightly to the side and stared a hole through the Doctor. "How do you know about us, Doctor?"

"I might ask you the same question."

"I did some research," Voldemort stated simply.

"On what?" The Doctor asked, incredulous. "I've never been to this world before!"

"You do not remember the monk with the angel infestation?" Voldemort asked.

The Doctor blinked. "What? No, that was once, on a parallel Earth - there weren't wizards!"

Bellatrix laughed, causing Voldemort to flicker his eyes towards her briefly before redirecting his attention to the Doctor. "The wizarding world has always kept great pains to hide itself from the likes of Muggles, Doctor. Though you appear to be doing the same – there are only a few mentions of the real you, and always in very early history." He paused for a moment. "But how can you know now that wizards exist when before you seemed to know only of the Muggle world?"

"Perhaps," Bellatrix contributed, "the word of your mission is spreading among the Muggles, my Lord?"

Voldemort nodded. "Possible, but not likely. Doctor?"

The Doctor cleared his throat. "It's complicated."

Voldemort smiled slightly, though it was in no way friendly. The Doctor couldn't help but notice that his wand twitched in his hand. "Then try to explain."

"It's really complicated." It wouldn't do to tell the lunatic that there were other universes beyond his, though he had a nasty feeling that Voldemort already knew. That, or he had mistaken the Doctor as being from this universe and had yet to realise his mistake.

Voldemort's face hardened. "Very well. Crucio!"

Before the Doctor could utter a single syllable he found himself collapsing heavily to the floor, every single nerve ending on fire, his guts melting, his brain frying, his hearts pumping around his body so madly it felt as though they may just leap out. And throughout all he could hear was Bellatrix laughing, just laughing, and silence from Voldemort. The Doctor contorted on the floor and finally let loose a scream, trying to tear himself away from a pain that felt almost as bad, if not worse, as regeneration itself. He felt like he was dying a thousand times over, like his very life force was being ripped from his body, and he suddenly found himself thinking of Hermione Granger, the Longbottoms, Harry Potter – all those who had been through this in the books. How had they stood it? How would they stand it?

And then as suddenly as it had come, it was gone, and the Doctor was left quivering and gasping on the floor, a fine sheen of sweat starting to break out on his forehead.

"Blimey," he muttered, not realising that he had spoken aloud until it was too late.

"How do you know of us?"

"How do you know of me?" He countered, pulling himself slowly back to his feet, trying not to sway.

Voldemort considered him for a moment. "Tell me about regeneration."

The Doctor blinked, completely thrown off track. "Sorry, what?"

"Regeneration," Voldemort said slowly, as if talking to an idiot, "the process of completely changing your body to avoid death."

"How do you know about that?"

"Oh, he is a stubborn one," Voldemort drawled to Bellatrix, who looked impatient for answers. He snapped his attention back to the Doctor. "It does not matter how I know," Voldemort said, before slowly smiling, pointing his wand at the Doctor once more. "In fact, I would say that it is the least of your concerns."

oOo

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