Time was no longer relative. Harry had no concept of how many hours or days that he'd sat waiting for a Death Eater to take him out of his room. So when the opportunity presented itself many days later, Harry wasn't calm and he wasn't ready.

Harry held his breath as his scar prickled and his vision blurred. Voldemort's own view of the Malfoy's drawing room swam dangerously in and out of focus. Harry took a few deep breaths and clutched the mirror tightly, concealing it up his sleeve. There must be another way, but Harry could no longer comprehend any other options. He had to escape now.

The Death Eater gestured for Harry to get up. Harry's palms were sweating and his legs nearly gave way as he stood. The mirror slipped, catching his own wrist which immediately stung with pain. But this was enough of a distraction to stay in his own head. Instinctively, Harry pressed the mirror in harder, grounding his mind from Voldemort's own murderous thoughts. He had one shot and the consequences would be catastrophic if he failed.

Harry swore his thumping heart would give him away as he stepped obediently over the threshold. The Death Eaters wand pressed hard into the back of his neck. Harry shut his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to three.

Harry struck suddenly, ducking as he turned. The curse singed the back of his neck as Harry dodged back up and jumped towards the Death Eater. Harry threw his arm downwards as hard as he could. The sharp edge of the mirror sliced so easily into the Death Eaters throat.

The Death Eater screamed, flailing backwards, his hands grasping uselessly at his neck as blood burst out, spraying Harry across his face and chest.

Harry pressed the shard deeper as the Death Eaters scream turned into a horrible gurgle. The man legs gave way, his heavy body almost crushing Harry as he fell forwards with a heavy and unpleasant thud.

Harry could only see deep red, thick and wet as his own knees slammed into the floor. His hands were slippery as he struggled to wrench the blood soaked wand out of the man's grasp. The mirror wouldn't budge, it was embedded too deep into the man's neck.

Footsteps echoed vaguely in Harry's head, but he couldn't make sense of which direction they were coming from. In a blind panic Harry pointed the blood soaked wand at the man's neck.

"Accio mirror."

There was a loud horrific crunch. The mirror splayed blood as it dislodged itself and almost sliced Harry's own fingers again as he stuffed it back into the small mokeskine bag around his neck.

The footsteps were growing louder.

Harry fumbled with his invisibility cloak as he threw it over himself. Slowly, he began to move down the corridor, the wall supporting his weight as he staggered along.

The manor was oddly silent, and each step would have felt like a feeble attempt at hope, had it not been for the building pain in his scar.

"No," Harry hissed as he pressed his bloody hand to his forehead and stumbled into the wall, dislodging a portrait from its bracket. "Not now."

Voldemort's own vision was coming abruptly into a sharp focus. Harry nearly fell to his knees as he crunched up his eyes. There was nothing he could do-

Someone crashed straight into him with a tremendous thud.

Harry fell backwards, the wind knocked out of him as his mind slammed back into his own. His wrist twisted hard against the ground as the cloak slipped off his head before he could reach out and grab it.

There was nowhere to hide.

Draco Malfoy sat across from him, mouth agape and eyes wide in terrified horror.

Blood was still streaming down Harry's face, it was mixed in with his hair and was such a deep red that it could have been his own.

Harry struggled upwards, groaning as his scar burnt fiercely. He gathered his cloak and retrieved the wand that had fallen out of his hands.

Malfoy hadn't moved or called out. He only stared, unblinking as Harry grappled with the invisibility cloak.

Harry didn't even bother to point his wand at Malfoy, he was too focused with the enormous task of covering himself, yet he somehow managed to throw it over himself as he disappeared from view.

Harry had barely taken two steps when Bellatrix Lestrange appeared. She was positively beaming. The hunt was in her blood.

She spied Draco on the floor and hissed in delight.

"Did you find him, Draco?"

Harry froze, his hand clamping to his mouth as he scar seared in unbearable pain. He didn't dare move for fear of Bellatrix hearing him.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and hissed.

"Get up, do you wish for the Dark Lord to see you like this?"

She pulled Draco to his feet and then pushed him roughly back in the direction from where Harry had come.

Harry could breathe again, maybe he could actually do this. He moved away, this time clutching his cloak tighter.

Not far along the next corridor, Harry arrived at the top of a grand staircase. It split in two and led down to a large entrance hall where a solid oak door remained shut.

It was empty.

Harry edged down the stairs, wincing at each creak of wood beneath his foot.

It happened instantly. Harry's scar burned with the most ferocious pain. He staggered and slipped down against the wall. There was only one person it could be.

Voldemort had entered the entrance hall and his blood red gaze swept the room as Harry curled invisible against the wall. The hissing and spitting that followed him, drew Harry's attention downwards to the giant serpent that had just slithered across the floor behind her lord.

But not even the cloak could save him, for as soon as Voldemort's eyes found Harry's he was overcome.

Harry's mind went numb and his body was lost. Harry tried to move his arm, to raise the wand, but he could control nothing. Even his fingers slackened as his vision shifted to Voldemort's.

Harry watched helplessly as his body moved of its own accord, his fingers appearing from no where as the cloak was pulled from his head. His own mouth was twisted in a horrific smile as his eyes shone a horrible red.

Voldemort released his body back to him.

Harry didn't move from where he was pressed against the wall.

"Come here."

Voldemort's voice was deadly soft.

Harry only clenched onto the cloak tightly as he raised the bloodied wand.

"No."

Voldemort raised his own wand.

Black flames erupted and surged across the room. Harry staggered upwards, striking his own wand upwards, but his curse failed to counter Voldemort's as the flames viciously licked up his arm.

Harry screamed, his fingers burning despite his skin remaining untouched. He dropped the wand with a loud clatter.

"I won't ask again, Potter," Voldemort hissed.

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled, but he remained defiantly still.

There was a high pitched laugh as the top of the stairs. Bellatrix Lestrange had appeared and she beamed down at the sight before her.

Voldemort didn't smile as his red eyes narrowed.

"Hold him."

Bellatrix wand flicked on command, and Harry's stomach churned as his feet left the ground. There was nothing he could do as his body contorted. He was slammed and pinned against the wall.

And then Harry's left sleeve was pulled up.

Harry panicked as he realised what was happening. He tried twisting away, kicking back but his invisible restraints cut tighter into his wrists and ankles. Voldemort stepped closer, Nagini trailing at his heels.

"Don't-" Harry hissed.

Harry wouldn't beg, he would never give in to Voldemort, but the pain and desperation in his eyes were as good as kneeing down and submitting.

Voldemort pointed his wand directly at Harry's arm.

"There are only a few I grant this honour, Potter."

Harry couldn't say anything. He was completely at Voldemort's mercy as the wand jabbed towards Harry's lower arm.

Nothing happened at first. Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, before he froze. A small black snake had emerged, writhing at the tip of Voldemort's wand.

"No-"

Harry only realised what was happening a second before the snake struck.

He screamed as his arm ruptured. The black snake burrowed deep into Harry's flesh, twisting and turning as it disappeared underneath his skin. Harry's eyes swam as sickness rushed to his throat. His skin was bubbling as the snake moved around, digging into his nerves as if his arm was going to burst.

Every slight movement was like hundreds of needles, piercing with no relief. Harry swore as he clenched his eyes closed pushing his head back against the wall. With one final burst of pain, the snake erupted from his skin and slithered back into the tip of Voldemort's wand.

Harry's invisible bonds disappeared and he fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Harry gritted his teeth as he remained knelt on the floor before Voldemort. Yet he could not bring himself to stand. Instead he cradled his butchered arm to his chest.

It was dark black. A snake twisted inside of a skull.

"Why?" Harry hissed. Anything but this twisted limbo.

Voldemort stepped away.

"My Death Eaters must prove they are capable of serving me."

Harry only just managed to bring himself to look up and meet Voldemort's gaze.

"You mean, because I-" Harry wished he would stop shaking. "B-because I killed."

Voldemort didn't answer, instead his red stare remained unnerving on Harry.

"Your mark means nothing," Harry said, but his voice sounded so disgustingly feeble. "I will never belong to you."

Voldemort however ignored him.

"I misjudged you," Voldemort said, his voice was calm and had a horribly deadly tone to it. But his next question was worse. "How did it feel?"

Harry shook his head, but he knew exactly what Voldemort meant. Harry could still see the dead man with the blood splattered indignantly across him. Had Harry really been so ruthless.

Harry tried to ignore the memory, the horrible moment of when he stabbed the mirror deep into the Death Eaters throat. He had felt nothing. No relief, no guilt. Harry had killed a man with his own hands. He had struck someone's life from them. Something was desperately wrong with him.

"I don't know."

This reply strangely satisfied Voldemort.

"What was the weapon?" Voldemort asked.

Now Harry realised his mistake. He should have left the mirror in the body, at least this way no one would suspect him of hiding it on him. Harry locked his jaw tight firmly, he wasn't about to give up that information.

"Search him."

Harry had no time to prepare, Bellatrix's spell struck him, but he was surprised when the small bag around his neck did not reveal itself.

Voldemort's face twisted into a horribly cruel smile.

"Return Potter to his room."

Bellatrix actually giggled with glee, as she bounced down the last few steps and dug her nails into Harry's arm as she hauled him up. Harry tried to pull away, but his body was so tired, his arms and legs aching with no strength. Bellatrix pushed him in the opposite direction from freedom.

Bellatrix's taunts washed in and out of Harry's head as he tried to blink back his exhaustion. It was only when they reached Harry's prison did he realise what Voldemort had been so pleased about.

The murdered man was lying untouched from where Harry had struck him down. The only difference was that the man's mask had been removed and his face was contorted in horror, but it wasn't this that Harry was staring at. The large gash in the man's neck was disfigured and the wound contorted. The sight was horrific.

Harry jerked back as he felt his blood run cold, but Bellatrix merely hauled him into the room with one finally shriek of glee.

The bathroom door had been locked. Harry tugged at the handle, but no matter how much he jerked, twisted or slammed the door with his shoulder it didn't move. Instead, Harry was trapped in his minimalist room with the dead man whose blood had pooled across the floor.

Harry resigned himself to move back to his bed. He slammed his eyes shut only to open them again immediately when Voldemort's own view swam dangerously into focus. Instead, Harry was left staring at the man lying dead on the floor. Their gormless face twisted with unnervingly vacant eyes.

Harry rolled over, desperately trying to forget. But even wondering what Ron and Hermione were doing now wasn't enough to keep his thoughts from straying.

"He deserved to die," Harry whispered to himself as he drew his own knees up to his chest. "He's a Death Eater. He hurt people."

But despite this, Harry could not satisfy his guilt. Had he really not felt anything when he brutally stabbed the mirror into the man's throat. Harry pressed his face into the pillow.

What was happening to him.

Had he truly been so detached as he had murdered someone. Killing was meant to be so horrific that it tore ones soul apart.

The continuous light of the room made the hours pass terribly slowly. Harry tried to sleep but it was hard when he didn't want to slip back into Voldemort's mind. Harry settled for sitting crossed legged, his knees drawn up, with his head resting on them.

He was still awake when he felt his scar burn. Harry pulled his head up to find Voldemort watching him from the door way. Harry uncurled himself and moved to stand facing Voldemort with the meagre courage he could muster.

"I-" Harry's throat was dry as the Dark Lord remained staring at him with those horrific red eyes. "Y-You said I could have oblivion, if you have my body. I won't fight anymore, just make it stop-"

Voldemort's lipless mouth twisted into a horrible smile.

"That opportunity has passed, Potter."

Harry shivered, his breath misting up in front of his face as Voldemort led him through deep passageways underneath the manor to a large circular chamber.

In the centre of the room stood an enclosure of rusty bars where only one person could stand. Harry took an abrupt step back, only to find the tip of Voldemort's wand pressing into his back.

Harry tried to fight it, but there was no way he had the metal resolve to hold Voldemort out of his mind. Harry could only watch as Voldemort controlled his body as it stepped into the small circle of iron bars.

With another flick of his wand, iron chains wound down from the ceiling and seized Harry's wrists, pulling his arms up sharply above his head. Harry grimaced as he fell back into his body, his arm sockets burned as they were jerked upwards into the uncomfortable position.

Voldemort stepped closer, so that his face was almost pressed up against the bars.

"You decided we would do this the hard way, Potter," he hissed.

A cold was creeping into the room, and it wasn't the same from the icy chill of the dungeons. This cold Harry knew only to well, and it stole his breath away.

Dementors.

The seemed to sink into the room, their rotten cloaks and skeletal bodies prowling forwards towards where Harry was trapped.

Harry wasn't thinking properly as he panicked, trashing against his bound hands. Screams were already flooding his head, unrelenting torment as their icy grasp consumed his happiest memories, the only thing he had left to hang onto.

Harry was unaware of Voldemort leaving, all he could hear was his own screams as he sank into hell.

Harry's mind scratched desperately as darkness consumed him. The unrelenting torment of his past flicked thick and fast as his mother's screams penetrated his every thought. Harry watched Sirius repeatedly fall through the veil while Dumbledore's broken body lay in a crumpled heap beneath the tower.

Harry flicked between consciousness and unconsciousness. The darkness seeped in as he screamed and begged for death. Yet nothing would elevate his torment. Nothing would stay the raspy breaths of the dementors as they hovered around the feeble bars and circled their prey.

Harry's eyes darted back and forth, blind to anything that was good. His voice was strained from crying out as he tried desperately to get his bearings. But there was no hope, the dementors hold would never diminish. There was no way he could go on.

With one final anguished breath, Harry gave up entirely.

Potter's blacked eyes glinted open and his mouth curled into a dark smile. The screams inside his head remained constant, although they had died down significantly now his existence was established.

Potter's arms were held above his head, and his wrists were torn from where Potter had thrashed against his restraints. Now that wouldn't do. With a burst of magic, the shackles shattered and he lowered Potter's hands in satisfaction.

Now to deal with the dementors.

Voldemort moved silently towards the manor. It had not been long since he'd left, but now the call of his mark pulled him back. And there was only one reason that his Death Eaters would dare summon him.

Bellatrix was waiting for him at the entrance and she bowed low as he approached.

"M-my Lord, the boy-"

"Where is he?" Voldemort hissed.

Bellatrix jerked her head in the direction of the Drawing Room. Voldemort stepped across the threshold his robes flowing out behind him as Nagini slithered across the grass behind him.

Lucius Malfoy was stood at the door, and he almost forgot to bow as his stepped back for his lord to see.

Potter was standing in the centre of the room with his back to the door. The boy did not turn, nor speak as Voldemort walked to the head of the room.

"How did you leave the room?" Voldemort demanded.

The boy looked demented, his dark eyes shadowed from the horror he had been subjected to. He was drenched in his own dry sweat and he did not answer at first. Instead, Potter's dark gaze fixed upon Nagini who had followed her lord into the room, her long thick body coiling against the floor.

Voldemort held his patience, he had to be strategically careful with Potter. The boys mind was being heavily influenced by the Horcrux, he did not need this to be disrupted, he needed Potter to be as sedate as possible.

There were various charms preventing the boy from leaving the mansion and its grounds, but it was remarkable that Potter had even made it this far.

The boy was still watching Nagini intently, he seemed barely able to hold himself steady.

"Potter?" Voldemort hissed.

Potter looked up, his head resting to one side. His eyes were haunted as a thin chilling smile slipped across face. He opened his mouth to deliver the news that Voldemort had been waiting for.

"Potter can't hear you."