The Darker Side of Me

Chapter Four

Three days. It had been three days since he'd eaten a single bite. Three days since he'd heard a voice other than his own. Three days since he'd been left in that musty, run-down, hell hole to rot. Worst of all, it had been three days alone with only his nightmares to keep him company.

On day one he'd scoured the whole house looking for any sign of a weak point to make his escape. He'd pulled every loose board, banged on every cracked window, and even looked up the chimney in hopes of finding a way out of his prison. All attempts proved futile though and he ended up collapsing on a filth-ridden bed in an upstairs room.

Day two was, if possible, worse than the previous. He began by looking for any source of water or food to sustain the ache in the pit of his stomach and the numbness of his mouth. The closest thing he could come by was a drip that was seeping from a small crack in the attic ceiling. Unfortunately, the taste of tar and rotted wood that mingled in his mouth made it almost unbearable to drink. Gagging, he had been able to force it down for a while before retching it up later on.

By day three he had lost nearly all of his energy. He was sure now that Voldemort had left him there to die a slow death of starvation. In a last attempt, Harry had slid off the bed he'd been sleeping in and began to bang on the nearest window, yelling at the top of his lungs. He prayed for someone in the village to hear him as he screamed until his lungs burned. As failure set in, he'd collapsed back on the bed with a puff of dust surrounding him, his hopes fading with the setting sun.

On day four he awoke with some effort. He willed his eyes to open, staring blankly at the rafters above. "So this is how the Boy Who Lived dies," he croaked out to the empty room. Forcing himself to sit up on the edge of the bed, he fought back nausea that accompanied the headrush he'd become all too familiar with. The peeling walls before him tilted drastically back and forth as if he had suddenly boarded a ship being tossed back and forth by a rough sea.

Anger engulfed him as he took deep breaths to steady the spinning room. How could no one have found him by now? They had spies after all. Surely someone had been tipped off as to where he was being held. Maybe Dumbledore was biding his time; using him as some sort of pawn piece. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time.

The rage boiled up in him until he could no longer stand it. Seizing a nearby rickety chair, he swung it wildly against the window before him. Over and over he beat the termite ridden wood against the impenetrable glass, shards of rotten debris flying off in all directions. All the rage and sorrow he'd felt pored out with each swing and ragged cry until weaknesses overtook him and he collapsed to the dusty floor.

"Are you done with your little tantrum now, Potter?" A voice like ice drifted over to him, causing him to jump at the sound. He'd been alone for so long that the unexpected noise was enough to nearly have given him a heart attack.

Rolling to his side with obvious difficulty, he looked to the door to find the source of the voice. He was met with a surprising sight leaning nonchalantly against the rotted door frame. Instead of the snake-like face he'd become accustomed to in his nightmares, he found an older version of the prefect he'd met in the Chamber of Secrets three years ago. Thick black hair now topped the once bald head, and a nose had seemingly grown since their last meeting. The only trait that remained were the piercing red eyes that were mocking him silently across the room.

Harry couldn't contain the puff of laughter, as he collapsed onto his back again. Either he was so exhausted from hunger or he was losing his mind, but something seemed funny about seeing Voldemort almost normal in appearance. "Couldn't stand looking in the mirror anymore then? " he asked in a cracked voice, still staring at the ceiling.

"I found it much easier to blend in if the Order has no idea what they are supposed to be looking for," came the off-handed reply directly above him. Somehow the Wizard had made his way across the room without a single noise and was now looking down at Harry with a smug grin. "Now if you don't mind accompanying me to the study, we have some business to tend to."