This time when landing, Harry did vomit. The impact of it forced him to jar his knee, which added to the already terribly gut-wrenching sensation caused him to lose all his dinner. Voldemort had released Harry's arm from his bruising grip, letting the teen fall onto all fours. He heaved violently all over a nice rug. Harry hoped it would stain and smell forever.

"One would hope not, Harry. As this will be your room for the foreseeable future." Merlin's beard, there was no way.

"You can't- you can't keep me. " He responded incredulously, looking up at his captor. He was supposed to kill him. Or the other way around, if the prophecy was to be held true. Voldemort was toying with him. He had to be.

"Oh, I very well can. " The switch into parseltongue was so smooth, Harry almost missed it. "Understand this, Harry. I. Have. Won. " The glee in those words and the joy fed through the link almost made Harry get sick again. Almost. "There are things Dumbledore never told you, secrets he kept from you."

"What else is new." He muttered, Voldemort ignored him. Instead, the Dark Lord leaned down, reaching out to touch Harry's hair again. His demeanor changed again.

"Have I ever lied to you, Harry?" As soon as contact was made Harry flinched away violently, swiping at the intruding limb. He used his hands to drag himself away, fisting the rug. He didn't want to have a conversation with Voldemort. He didn't want to have anything to do with the man- the monster.

"Don't- don't talk to me like that. Like you know me -" Voldemort let him flee, he probably enjoyed this. Watching Harry struggle.

"Don't I? I know you better than you know yourself. I have seen into your head Harry, your heart, your soul." Thoroughly creeped out, he made to turn around, struggling to sit in a position that gave him relief from his knee. He faced Voldemort who had made it a show to clench his fist closed, and stand to his full height. Harry was able to move a couple of feet away during his small panic.

"Well stop it. Leave my soul alone. It doesn't like you. " Was his a childish response, Harry didn't feel like acting grown-up right now. Delight flooded the link, his retort made Voldemort happy.

"Your soul calls to mine. Your soul is mine." Harry could not believe this creep-fest. This was taking insane to a new level.

"Pretty sure it's not." He countered, crossing his arms. I'll fight you, he thought hard, I'll fight you on everything. Keep talking, I dare you. I can do this all night.

"What do you know about soul magic, Harry?" He was caught off guard by the sudden change back to English and the change of subject.

"I-what?" He didn't know a thing about soul magic. There were probably dozens of types of magics that he didn't know about. He'd only recently found out that zombies existed, under a different name of course, but still. Was Voldemort mocking him? Or was this some weird way to find out if Harry knew about this obscure branch of magic?

"I was curious to know if Dumbledore told you anything at all. Your reaction speaks for itself." What did Dumbledore know? "He knows a great many things," Venom laced every word. His eyes darkened. "But I know more." The Dark Lord paused and looked down at Harry as if he were an intriguing puzzle. "Do you want to know what I think, Harry?"

"No, not really. But you seem to be in a talkative mood so you're probably going to tell me anyway." Hot anger flashed in the link, and Harry would have missed it if they hadn't been connected. Voldemort's face revealed nothing. It was as if Harry never said anything. But Harry wasn't easily tricked. There was a storm behind that seemingly calm.

"I think you're angry with Dumbledore ."

"I'm no-"

"Angry that he's never told you anything. That you've been kept in the dark your whole life, always last to know. "

"That's not true- " but it was. He was angry about it, it didn't feel good to never know what was going on. He knew it, and so did Voldemort.

"Did you ever get a straight answer as to why there is such a bond between us, Harry?" Harry merely frowned, he didn't need to respond, Voldemort already knew the answer. "You Harry Potter are the keeper of my soul. This link between us, our bond," the impossibly tall figure took a step towards him, Harry stayed put, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of slinking away. His eyes became bright as if this was the best moment of his life. "is soul magic that was inadvertently cast and has now since concreted itself in our beings." This was insane. This wasn't real. It was wrong.

"You are my Horcrux, living container of my soul. Mine." The word Horcrux meant nothing to him, but he could feel that it meant everything to Voldemort. It scared him.

"Dumbledore would have told me." It felt false coming out of his mouth.

"Would he?" They both knew the answer to that as well. Harry felt ill. "No, he would have kept this piece of information from you until he had no other choice but to tell you. That is how he works, the inner mind of that man cares not for others. He speaks about kindness and fights in his righteous wars. Yet the only thing he cares for truly is his warped sense of the greater good." Harry wanted to disagree, wanted to defend his Headmaster. But the words coming from Voldemort rang true. The teen felt numb, a sense of apathy washed over him.

"What does it mean, being a Horcrux? " He asked, only because he knew Voldemort wanted him to ask. The blur between the link was making it hard for him to differentiate between their wants.

"It means Harry, that you are a direct tie to my immortality. I cannot die while you live."

"But the prophecy-"

"Has become null." Irritation.

"You killed my parents because of it, you tried to kill me-" Voldemort held his hand up, a motion to be silent. Harry surprisingly obeyed.

"I will admit, I had not heard the entirety of the prophecy before my attack. I was certain you were my downfall, that was all. Had I known that my actions would seal the prophecy, I wouldn't have taken them. At least not the way I had." Harry didn't even know what to say. What could he say? 'Oh hey, it's great that you would have killed my parents differently. Thanks for that. Appreciate it. Let's hug it all out.'

"It doesn't change anything." A sting of frustration. The hissed reply,

"It changes everything. Don't you understand yet? The war has been won. You, the only person able to defeat me, are now missing. There will be no rescue, there will be no escape. No one will know where you are until I deem it so, no one will know you live unless I WILL it to be so." It was Harry's turn to be frustrated. He grabbed his hair, tugging it.

"So what- you're just going to keep me here? Lock me away forever?" He glared up at the man. "I'll getaway, you know I will-"

"I have no doubt you'll try, but there will be no foolish loopholes. Your ridiculous dumb luck has ended. Fate favors Lord Voldemort." The Dark Lord raised his wand, Harry stared defiantly at it, and then Voldemort hissed out "Alligatus anima mea, tenetur a sanguine." Harry's heart hammered in his chest, but he forced himself to stay still. He wouldn't give Voldemort the gratification of flinching away anymore. No spell came out of his wand, however, and Harry felt no differences in the air.

"What did you do?" Voldemort ignored him, Harry could feel that whatever happened was not good for him. Voldemort's side of the link buzzed with something akin to pride.

"You are not permitted to leave this room. The doors and windows have been warded shut under my means, they will not move for you. Should you attempt to leave you will find immediate consequences, and you will not enjoy them."

"Wait- what do you-"

"I've answered enough of your questions, Harry." the Dark Lord declared. Before Harry could counterargue that he hadn't answered that many questions, the Dark Lord blinked out of existence with a resounding crack. The bastard had just apparated away.

"You absolute twat! " The teen yelled at empty air. It felt nice, shouting forbidden words aloud, so he kept going. "You bag of dicks! Wanker, megalomaniac, tosser," He began running through every insulting word he could think of. Pushing with all his might through the link. He didn't know if direct words went through or if Voldemort only felt the impressions like he did. Either way, he was going to throw so much shit at him.

"Nutter, pillock- NINNYBERK!" Harry screamed so loud he startled himself. He sat in silence for a while. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Either way, the world outside was dark and he was alone. His shoulders began trembling, and Harry began laughing. Whether it was from nervousness, anger, or simply because 'ninnyberk' was rolling around in his head now, he didn't know. He laughed until his stomach started cramping up, then he swiftly started to sob. If Voldemort was telling the truth, then no one else would be around. The thought gave him comfort, and he allowed himself a cry loudly, unhinged. It was a wet, ugly mess. The kind of crying that had your nose running as much as your eyes. The kind of cry that made it hard to breathe, and usually ended up gasping for air. His bawling sounded horrible, but he found he couldn't stop.

He hadn't cried like this since Vernon accidentally broke his arm when pulling him out of the cupboard. He was forced to make breakfast still, pushed around, and told to 'suck it up'. Only when his arm swelled to the size of Dudley's did they listen to Harry's cries. He was taken to the hospital, where he had to lie and say he fell out of a tree. He had been seven and terrified. He was hurting, and afraid, and the nurses berated him for being so careless. He was still made to do his chores when they got home. Harry was sure without his magic, the break would never have healed properly.

He hated Vernon. He hated Dudley. He hated his aunt and nurses. He hated his teachers in elementary who pretended not to notice his bruises. He hated Voldemort for killing his parents, and he hated Dumbledore for putting him with the Dursleys in the first place. He was whimpering now, feeling exhausted from his strange little tantrum. The link was quiet, and he was beginning to think Voldemort could control it. If not, the man was very good at not responding to Harry acting hysterical on the other end. He hoped Voldemort felt it all.

Taking a deep breath in, Harry allowed himself a moment of peace. He supposed his escape wasn't going to happen with him sitting in the middle of the room. He started looking around and realized he was in complete darkness again. He didn't have his wand to light it up this time, so he'd need to find the switch. Maneuvering his way onto his hands and knees, Harry painstakingly crawled slowly across the carpet, and to where the door was. Most houses had a light switch along the same wall. He approached the wall and held his left hand out, feeling for the wall. His finger met a cold surface, and he started feeling around. Within a minute he found what he was looking for and flicked the switch on. Feeling entirely drained, he allowed himself to rest against the wall, gazing at his cage.

The room was a decent size, big enough for a queen-sized bed along with a matching set of desk and dresser and room to boot. Both the surfaces were bare, not even a lamp. There was a big space in the center of the room, where the thick black carpet sat. Looking to his left he could see another door, it must be the bathroom.

Surely Voldemort wasn't evil enough to lock him in a room and expect him to shit on the floor. He imagined what expression the man would make if he apparated back in to see that Harry had indeed shit on the floor. Somewhere in between disgust, and disbelief. What would it look like if Voldemort tried to wrinkle his nonexistent nose? The thought made him snicker, and he felt a minuscule spark of curiosity. Voldemort was curious as to what he was finding so funny. He was locked in a room by himself, with nothing to do. Surely nothing could be amusing. He tried to push his best feeling of 'wouldn't you like to know' through the link, and it immediately snapped shut.

"I knew it!" Of course, a master legilimens would also practice occlumency. Voldemort was doing what Snape was supposed to teach him to do. That bastard. If he didn't have such a hate-on for Harry he might have gotten somewhere with that. Then he would never have received that fake vision. He could be warm in bed at Hogwarts, but instead, he was here. The only good thing to happen was he got to kick Bellatrix Lestrange in the face.

Merlin, it felt good. Harry wondered if he had her blood on the bottom of his sneaker. That thought grossed him out. Now that he was looking at himself, he was covered in dust. From being rammed into, thrown, dragged, and stepped on he was filthy. A hot shower sounded nice. A sharp throb from his knee made him think a bath might be better. With his new task in hand, Harry gathered the strength he needed to crawl over to the bathroom(?). Merlin, he hoped it was a bathroom.

One limb at a time, he crawled.

Notes: I have up to chapter 17 written, so let me know if you'd like more :)