Harry woke up clutching his head and feeling nauseatingly dizzy. He was warm.

 Somehow he knew it shouldn’t be warm but he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember why not.  It was only after a few minutes that the memories of last night came back to him, now a lot faster than he’d have preferred.

 Christmas Eve – The Graveyard – Bathilda Bagshot – Nagini  … then nothing.

 His mouth felt like sandpaper and he needed water. Lots and lots of water.  He opened his sticky eyes to check his surroundings. None of them were familiar and he was on a bed in someone’s living room.  Slowly and carefully, he turned his head to the other side so it wouldn’t hurt too much.  He screamed.

 There was Snape!  Sitting in a dingy armchair, wand pointed straight at Harry’s chest.

 Horrible, horrible darkness emanated from the man. So intense that it gave Harry the chills.

 Snape had changed somehow; he looked older, paler, thinner and more dangerous. 

 “Do not move, Potter,” he growled and lifted up his wand a little more to underline his words.

 Questions raced through Harry’s mind. Where was Hermione? Where was the locket? When did Snape catch them and why?

 “Where is my wand?” Harry asked.

 Snape held up the shattered remains of Harry’s most important possession.

 “I broke it.”

 Harry remained silent for a while making a  huge effort to slow down his breathing. It failed, and he started wheezing  and  choking. His eyes rolled back as his body convulsed violently.