The world re-formed in what appeared to be a large, torch-lit cave. Apparently seeing no more need for restraint on Harry, Voldemort dropped him to the floor as soon as they landed. On his hands and knees, Harry shook his head as the wet fog lifted from his mind. The stone was smooth and clean beneath him; from the looks of it, the Death Eaters had kept this place for some time. He was in a tunnel, large enough for four people to walk through side-by-side, and there were other passages branching off from it. A fitting home for a nest of snakes, he thought idly.

More important than the creepy setting was the fact that there were no less than ten Death Eaters surrounding Harry, with their Dark Lord standing directly in front of him. This was not good. Brilliant observation, Harry! he thought to himself, and swallowed hard.

Voldemort seemed to only be waiting until Harry came fully back to his senses, for once Harry sat back on his heels and looked around, the dark wizard walked away, ordering, "Bring him."

Hands grabbed Harry's arms, and he felt someone's wand poke him in the back of the neck. He stumbled to his feet, and the Death Eaters hauled him off down the passageway. He got a sharp jab with the wand anytime he tried to look around too much, and before long the tunnel ended in a very large underground chamber. Braziers burned all along the walls, and an enormous cauldron sent ominous green steam into the air over a blazing fire on one side.

Harry gulped. There were more Death Eaters in this room than he had ever imagined existed. Looking around this place, he felt distinctly silly for having called his little Defense group Dumbledore's Army. They were nothing more than a school club. This was an army.

In the center of it all was a large stone chair, its arms carved into the heads of hissing snakes whose stone tails twined over the back. In that chair, with a huge live snake curled over his shoulders and down at his feet, was Voldemort.

The Death Eaters hauled Harry down an aisle through the center of the room to a smaller ring of torches directly in front of their Dark Lord's throne. Harry instinctively resisted, pulling back in sheer revulsion, but the black-robed wizards dragged him into the ring and forced him to his knees. Voldemort's thin lips curved into a cruel smile. "Welcome, Harry Potter. I'm very pleased to show you the hospitality of my humble abode at last."

Some of the Death Eaters laughed. Harry spat at the throne. "Get on with it, Voldemort." There was a little rustle of robes, and the laughter stopped at hearing Harry say the Dark Lord's name. "What do you want?"

Voldemort hissed a laugh. "Right to business, I see. Very well, though I fear you will soon wish that I had dallied." The dark wizard rose and advanced on Harry. "I have no doubt Dumbledore was fool enough to tell you the prophecy. Tell me, and I will grant you a relatively painless death."

Harry retorted, "Even if I did know it, you don't really think I'd tell you, do you?"

"Now that you are in my power, little boy, I assure you, you will tell me. It is only a question of how much pain is required to persuade you. And I am unlikely to believe that that old fool did not give in to your pathetic grief after the Department of Mysteries and tell you."

"Dumbledore never tells me anything!" Harry spat, and found it easy to say so with feeling. There was a little part of him that still felt angry at Dumbledore, that wondered what delay had prevented the Hogwarts Headmaster from reaching Privet Drive in time to save Harry and his uncle. Apparently, he was convincing, for many of the Death Eaters shuffled and exchanged glances.

Voldemort eyed Harry, and he dropped his eyes and frantically began reciting the properties of dragon's blood in his head. He doubted it would work, but it was the closest thing to Occlumency he could think of, although thinking of the dragon's blood essay he'd been working on made him think of Hogwarts, and thoughts of Hogwarts made him think of Sirius. After a moment, Voldemort said softly, "I see Dumbledore has taught you to guard your thoughts, Potter. Not that it will take me much effort to reach them. But perhaps you are indeed telling the truth, and Dumbledore did keep the prophecy from you…to protect you." Harry doubted it would be wise to consider this a reprieve.

He was right. Voldemort went on, "In that case, I shall simply have to make certain it is so, and then run the risk of killing you." Harry braced himself as Voldemort's wand came out. "Crucio!"

A scream burst from Harry's mouth as agony ripped through him, and he collapsed on the stone floor. He could hear the shouts and jeers of the Death Eaters as he writhed helplessly in front of them. When Voldemort lifted the curse, he lay gasping and shaking, but in his mind, cursing the Dark Lord with all his heart. "What is the prophecy, Potter?"

Harry stuffed the cuff of his sleeve into his mouth; it wouldn't do to bite his tongue. Then Voldemort cursed him again, and he screamed through his clenched teeth.

And so it went. The Death Eaters laughed and slapped each other heartily on the back as though watching a sporting event, the pain kept coming, and Harry kept screaming. It started to feel almost good to scream, as if he could force all the pain and misery and fear of this place and everything that had hurt him over the past five years out with the strength of his cries. In a way, the agony of the Cruciatus Curse almost helped him, because he could concentrate on the pain and on yelling, rather than let his mind bring up memories that Voldemort might see.

Eventually, the world around Harry seemed to get smaller as agony roared on through him, and black edged his vision. Then it closed in, until Harry found himself falling down the darkest tunnel yet…

Merlin's beard, he hurt. Harry's eyes felt scratchy as he dragged them open. He was still lying on the floor of Voldemort's meeting chamber, judging by the cold hardness beneath his back. Forcing his head to turn so he could look around—ow—he decided it must have been some time since he'd lost consciousness. There were far fewer Death Eaters in the room, and Voldemort appeared to be half-lounging in his chair, stroking his snake. It was Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, no longer wearing their masks, who had awakened Harry. "Master?" called Lucius, seeing Harry's eyes on him.

Voldemort waved a careless hand. "Continue."

"Yes, Master," said Bellatrix gleefully. "Crucio!" And the world exploded into pain again.

Time lost all meaning as Harry became acquainted with all the fine points of torture devised by the Dark Lord and his followers. Bellatrix soon grew bored with the Cruciatus Curse and asked her master's permission to "try a few other methods." She received it, and happily scampered from the room like a third year on her first trip to Hogsmeade. Harry was left on the floor to wait, his throat raw from screaming, his face damp with sweat and tears of agony. He felt too weak even to lift his head. All too quickly, Bellatrix returned with a small vial in her hand. Harry flinched and buried his face in his sleeve to keep from being forced to drink it.

It was in vain, of course. Bellatrix held up the bottle—its contents glowed an ominous green like the Dark Mark—for Voldemort's approval. Voldemort paused from petting his snake and said, "What does the prophecy state, Potter?"

Harry was silent, glaring at the Dark Lord from behind his arm. Voldemort looked back at Bellatrix, and at his nod, she bowed mockingly, uncorked the bottle, and simply dumped it over the back of Harry's head.

It was like acid. In fact, Harry was certain that was exactly what it was as he writhed on the stone, screaming himself hoarse and vainly trying to wipe the stuff off. Where his fingers touched the wetness, they also burned, and Harry screeched, staring at his hands, fearing he would see them melting before his eyes. To his astonishment, they were not; he could see the translucent green of the potion, but other than that, his skin was unmarred.

Eventually, Harry's voice failed completely, and he lay moaning on the stone, squirming in pain, but (to the astonishment of all, including himself) still glaring at Voldemort. He had never imagined it possible to hate someone this much. The pain was monstrous, but Harry knew that even giving them the prophecy would not end it. He'd seen enough of the Dark Lord's mind to know; Voldemort enjoyed causing pain to much to pass up the chance with Harry, even after he'd gotten what he wanted. So Harry would give him nothing.

Voldemort in turn was at last growing irritated at Harry's resistance. Apparently, neither he nor his Death Eaters (nor Harry) had thought that Harry could last so long without breaking. Why he hadn't tried harder to read Harry's mind, Harry didn't know. "I tire of this, boy. If I cannot have the prophecy from you, I shall at least have your pleas for mercy before you die."

You won't get either from me! Harry wanted to shout, but his voice was long gone. So he settled lying silent on the floor, defiant. For all that this was the longest stretch of time he had ever been hurt, Harry had felt worse pain in his body when Voldemort had possessed him—and worse pain in his soul at seeing Sirius fall through the veil. Sirius…what could Voldemort do to him that compared to that?

Voldemort's lips curled. "Perhaps it would be unwise for me to end your miserable life without knowing what the prophecy states. But I can be sure that success in destroying you would eliminate one threat, and throw all others who oppose me to their knees."

That's what you think! And even if you do kill me, you'll still have to deal with Dumbledore! Harry tried to shout, but all that came out was a raspy, "Dumbledore…"

Voldemort gave another hissing laugh. "Do you believe that old fool still poses a threat to me? Just what do you suppose it will do to him to learn his precious Boy-Who-Lived is dead?"

No!

But Voldemort had obviously decided that the benefits of killing Harry outweighed the risks. Even if he had been holding his own wand, Harry doubted he could have put up much of a fight. So he just lay there, resigned, waiting for death to come for him. This isn't quite the end you read about in battles between Good and Evil. I hope Dumbledore can still get him afterward, he thought idly as Voldemort approached and several of the Death Eaters clustered in to watch.

Oddly enough, Harry wasn't frightened. He'd seen the Killing Curse; compared to what they'd been doing to him, a quick end wouldn't be so bad. He was too tired and too hurt to care about surviving anymore, lying here surrounded by Death Eaters and their Dark Lord. He wanted out, any way possible. I'll see Sirius again. And…Mum and Dad. Uncle Vernon, even. I never thought I'd be looking forward to that In a funny way, it made him want to smile. I'm only sorry for…Ron and Hermione. And Remus. I wish I could tell them it's not so bad. Maybe then they wouldn't be upset when they found out.

But it was clear he would never have the chance to say goodbye. Voldemort raised his wand, Harry sighed and closed his eyes—at least it's finally over—and—

"NO! My lord! You cannot!"

Harry's eyes flew open as commotion erupted in the entrance to the meeting hall. Voldemort stepped back, furious at the interruption, and motioned the Death Eaters to drag Harry out of the way as another one pushed through the group. "What is the meaning of this!"

The newly-arrived Death Eater awkwardly knelt and set a large object on the ground before kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. His voice shook, "Forgive me, Master. Forgive me! I had to warn you not to kill the boy! It would spell your downfall!"

Voldemort, who had looked on the verge of punishing the Death Eater, paused. "Rise and explain yourself."

The Death Eater scrambled to his feet, stepping back from his master and keeping his head down. "Master, I have obtained information vital to you! I have the conclusion of the prophecy!"

The rest of the wizards murmured amongst themselves as Harry realized, with icy horror, what the object on the ground was. Dumbledore's Pensieve. How had a Death Eater gotten it? The only other person who knew was—

"My loyal servant, I think introductions are in order," Voldemort purred, mollified by the new arrival's information. "Let us see how young Potter reacts to the identity of my informant."

The Death Eater bowed again. "As you wish, my lord." Harry frowned; now that it did not shake, the voice was familiar. The Death Eater turned to face him and pulled off his mask, to reveal a large, hooked nose and greasy black hair. With dark, hating eyes, his sallow face was pulled into a sneer that every Hogwarts student knew. "Well, Mr. Potter. I am pleased to finally have a chance to meet you outside of my day job."

White hot fury ripped through Harry, making his scar burn. Until now, he had never imagined himself capable of hating anyone more than Voldemort. He had never imagined himself capable of hating anyone this much! If there was anyone else responsible for Sirius dying than me… "I knew it!" he rasped out.

The meeting chamber erupted into laughter, from both Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Severus Snape, mask in hand, was in fact the only one who did not laugh, though his sneer grew. "I do beg your pardon, Master," he said mockingly while not taking his eyes off Harry. "I appear to have been lax in my disguise."

That amused Voldemort still more, and he replied, "I will excuse it, Severus, for we can only hide our true natures so much. I will not punish you for failing to pet Potter like the rest of Dumbledore's pathetic lackeys." Now it was his turn to sneer. Harry gritted his teeth. "Perhaps now you will reveal to us the prophecy."

Snape turned and picked up the Pensieve. The Death Eaters tightened their grip on Harry's arms as he wriggled instinctively. Perhaps he could smash it…it was no use. Lucius Malfoy conjured some ropes and tied Harry up. "Dumbledore trusted you, you bastard!" Harry shouted hoarsely. Why didn't he see what you were, the way you treated people—that idiot!

His face never losing that awful smirk, Snape tapped the Pensieve. "You're quite right, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore did trust me, enough to reveal the one other location where the prophecy was kept in its entirety."

Voldemort frowned, and Snape cringed. "Am I to take it you looked already, Severus?"

Snape bowed low, making Harry maliciously hopeful that a punishment might still be in store for him. "I did not want to risk the Pensieve being lost or damaged in my escape, Master."

Slowly, the Dark Lord nodded, though Harry could not tell whether Snape had escaped his wrath. Judging by the way he was sweating, neither could Snape. "Does the boy know?"

"That I cannot say, Master. Dumbledore did not tell me, but my experience with him suggests not. He's most protective of the children, Potter above all."

"Lucius, Bella, and I have attempted to find out for some time now. Potter said nothing."

"Indeed?" Snape raised a mocking eyebrow at Harry. "I suspect then he does not know. The boy is not so strong as all that."

With that, Snape waved his wand, and the silvery figure of Sybill Trelawney floated into view. All the Death Eaters leaned forward.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him…Born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And if either should die at the hand of the other, one cannot live if the other dies…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…

Harry's mouth was hanging open. Fortunately, so was almost everyone else's. Voldemort was staring at Harry. Snape said from behind the Dark Lord, "You are irreversibly connected to him, Master. To kill him would destroy you."

"But the boy still has the power to kill him," protested another Death Eater.

"It said 'vanquish,' not kill," said someone else. "What does that mean?"

Bellatrix Lestrange smirked, ruffling Snape's hair. "Then we shall have to find another way to keep the boy under control, obviously."

"You can possess him, can you not, Master?" suggested Lucius. "Surely that would neutralize him."

"That's dangerous," Snape said. "And what is this 'power the Dark Lord knows not?'"

Bellatrix aimed her wand at Harry. "Why not ask him?"

Snape snorted. "For all his Potter arrogance, I doubt he knows. He's really rather dense when it comes to understanding magic."

Another Death Eater threw up his hands. "Something must be done, Master. If we cannot kill the boy, he must be kept where he can do us no harm and Dumbledore's followers cannot reach him."

"Silence." Voldemort waved a hand at the arguing wizards, and then the only sound was the leathery slide of Nagini moving on the now-empty chair. Harry watched, confusion overriding all other emotions. What had happened? What did the proph—he caught himself and cut off that line of thought. Fortunately, Voldemort was still contemplating the Pensieve. But was he necessarily lucky that Voldemort no longer intended to kill him? Harry doubted it. "Severus," said Voldemort. "Your planning has served me well today. What do you think?"

Snape took a casual step in Harry's direction, eyeing him thoughtfully. Harry spat at him. The Death Eaters sniggered. After several moments, he smirked. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry went rigid. No…oh no… They wanted to keep him alive, but trapped, and out of the way—NO! He knew what Snape was getting at, of course. He'd never forgotten that question.

Or the answer. The Death Eaters began to laugh as Harry attempted to squirm away once again, fear naked on his face. Voldemort's red eyes flicked from Harry to Snape. "A good suggestion, Severus."

"We would need a place to hide him, Master," said Lucius Malfoy, though he was nodding in agreement. "Where Dumbledore's Order cannot get to him." Harry squirmed harder, and Rookwood came to wrap a burly arm around his neck from behind.

Voldemort pondered the ideas, and finally said, "Lucius, find a place where the boy may be…kept out of the way…" he smiled at Harry, "permanently. Crabbe, Goyle, obtain the asphodel and wormwood for Severus. Severus, you and Bella will come with me, to prepare an additional safeguard. Keep the boy here."

And so they left, leaving Harry still tied up and held by three Death Eaters, with his heart sinking faster and faster. If they couldn't kill him, they would lock him up somewhere that he couldn't be found and force him to sleep…forever.

Harry had no idea how much time passed while he and the remaining Death Eaters waited for Voldemort and Snape's plan to be put into action. The fact was, he fell asleep. It struck him as rather silly that he'd feel tired enough to sleep now when it was possible he'd spend the rest of his life asleep. Snape had made the first year class write a detailed essay on the Draught of Living Death during their second week.

Some time later, he was jolted awake and the Death Eaters jerked to attention by a loud crash in a side corridor. The sight of the cloud of dust and running Death Eaters set Harry's heart racing with anticipation, but Lucius Malfoy emerged, dusting himself off. His cold smirk told Harry all too clearly that there was no rescue to be had.

Harry glared as Snape and Bellatrix trailed into the chamber after Voldemort, Snape carrying a tall and ornate torch. "Report, Lucius," said Voldemort.

"All is prepared as you ordered, Master, The Draught is ready."

"And your assignment?"

"Finished, Master," Malfoy gestured to the corridor where the dust had not quite settled.

Snape was standing with Crabbe and Goyle, inspecting a vial of jet black potion. Harry forced himself to relax. If he struggled, they'd only hold him tighter, and he knew he would have once chance to make a break for it. "The Draught, Severus?"

"Perfect, Master. The torch awaits only your charm. And Potter's blood."

Always my blood, Harry thought.

Voldemort drew his wand and strode to the unlit torch, beckoning Rookwood to bring Harry. Bellatrix handed the Dark Lord a knife, and roughly pushed Harry's arm out to him. Voldemort turned Harry's palm upward, then drew the knife across it in a sharp slash, making Harry hiss as blood welled up from the slice. Then Voldemort, to Harry's surprise, cut his own palm. Harry noticed that for all the Dark Lord looked more monster than human, his blood was still red.

Voldemort circled the torch to stand on the opposite side of Harry, then told Bellatrix and Rookwood, "Now."

The two Death Eaters shoved Harry's bleeding hand against the bowl of the torch just as Voldemort pressed his own to it. The Dark Lord shouted an incantation, and the torch burst into flame. Harry stared in surprise at the fire—it was emerald green, like a Floo fire, only darker.

Voldemort's red eyes went from the green flame torch to meet Harry's. "Yet another magic now unites us, Potter. With the torch, you shall always be bound to me. Even when you are sealed away for all time."

"Is it safe to keep the torch here, Master?" asked Snape, almost meekly. "If Dumbledore's people were to find it, it could lead them to Potter."

"We will close it in with him," Voldemort replied. "I will not need it to know if he awakens. Your potions have made sure of that."

Snape bowed, looking relieved. "They have, my lord." Obviously, making suggestions to Voldemort was a chancy business. Harry only wished he'd gotten to see Snape foul up and get punished.

But now he had a bigger problem. Voldemort smiled cruelly as he turned back to Harry. "Now all that remains is to say goodnight, Potter."

Harry knew it was now or never. He sagged in Rookwood and Bellatrix's grasp as if in defeat. They laughed, leaning forward to pull him upright again, and he rammed his elbow into Bella's stomach as hard as he could. Caught off balance, she doubled over with a wheezing gasp, and Harry yanked his arm from her grasp, twisted, and slammed his fist into Rookwood's neck, forcing the man to also release him.

He was free! Harry whirled, grabbed the staggering, retching Bella's wand, and threw himself toward the tunnel as Voldemort shrieked, "Stop him!"

"Impedimenta!" Harry yelled, aiming the stolen wand over his shoulder, and kept running. He dodged a stunner from Snape that hit Wormtail instead, and ducked a disarming spell, shooting every curse he could think of off in every direction. Glancing behind him, he saw that one of his randomly-thrown hexes must have hit Snape, and he'd fallen in front of the charging Death Eaters, tripping up more than half of them.

I hope Voldemort hexes you into oblivion for it! Harry thought spitefully, and raced down the tunnel. Seeing several more black robes charging toward him, he swerved into the nearest side corridor and careened down it, desperate to find a way out. "Point me!" he hissed at the wand.

It led him down the corridor to another turn, opening into an even narrower tunnel. This one was quiet, and Harry slowed to a cautious walk, tip-toeing along with one hand on the wall, listening for any approaching steps. Nothing. Exhaling softly, Harry crept on, and the wand pointed him around another bend.

Merlin's beard, this place is like a maze! he thought, completely confused now as to where he was. Did this snake nest have a way out? The wand turned him again, and he found himself in another of the wide open tunnels. He edged along the wall, barely daring to breathe. Then there were footsteps, and he dove into a smaller side passage.

This one was the most narrow yet. Stone snakes adorned the walls and ceiling until the tunnel ended in what appeared to be a pitch black nothingness. "Lumos," Harry whispered, aiming his wand at the opening.

The light revealed nothing more than a claustrophobic chamber barely large enough to stand up in. Harry frowned to himself—what was this dead end he'd found? It looked like a…tomb.

"Ohhhh…damn!"

"Language, Potter, language!"

Harry spun around, but Snape's disarming spell sent Bellatrix's wand flying from his hand. "Take him," he heard Voldemort say, and no less than six Death Eaters charged Harry as Snape brought out the vile of black potion.

"Never trust an enemy's wand, Potter!" Bellatrix hissed in his ear as she and the others wrestled Harry toward the opening.

"Get off me! Get off!" Harry yelled, and fought harder than he ever had in his life. He kicked and punched and scratched and even bit, and Death Eaters simply piled on top of him until they bore him to the ground.

"Take the torch!" he heard someone yell, and caught a fleeting glimpse of it passed over his head, but he was too busy struggling to think about that.

"Hold him!" Snape shouted, and Harry clamped his mouth shut. "Get him over!" Hands grasping his head forced him to turn his face toward Snape.

No! No! Harry didn't dare open his mouth, but grunted and squirmed against the efforts to pry his jaws apart. But there was a pile of Death Eaters holding him down, and even in his desperation, he simply wasn't strong enough to throw off the weight of so many determined adults. Little by little, they began forcing his mouth open, and though he bit several fingers, there were simply too many of them.

No! Please, no, please…let someone come…Aurors…Dumbledore…anyone…please, help me!

Harry couldn't see; the grasping hands all over his head had obscured his vision, but with a wave of incredible despair, he felt liquid slide past his teeth and tasted something vile on his tongue. He coughed and choked, trying to spit it out, but it kept flowing, and suddenly his jaws were forced closed again, around a whole mouthful of the stuff! "Mmmf!" he squirmed and wriggled, but couldn't get his mouth open again to spit it out, and couldn't hold his breath much longer.

"What is the delay!" he heard Voldemort say.

"Any moment now, Master!" Snape replied.

Gulp! His body had taken over for him, and Harry's heart sank in despair as the Death Eaters roared triumph. "How long?" said someone.

"Less than a minute," said Snape.

"Nighty-night, baby Potter!" cooed Bellatrix.

The Death Eaters piled off him, but before Harry could even think of trying to put up a fight, the exhaustion hit him, making him feel so weak he nearly fell over. It was almost over. Hands grabbed his arms and propelled him into the chamber, which was lit only by the eerie green light of the torch. "No," he moaned at the thought of being shut in here forever.

"Once he's under, we'll seal it off, Master," said Snape from somewhere behind him. The voice began to echo very strangely in Harry's ears. "Between the protection spells and concealing charms, even if Aurors penetrate this place, they'll never find him."

"He's nearly there," said Lucius Malfoy's voice, sounding as if it were coming from a long tunnel. Harry lost the strength to hold his head up. The green flames seemed to be darkening.

"Won't your son be heartbroken not to have Potter's company at school?" said a woman's voice.

"Devastated, poor boy!"

Laughter echoed in the distance, and Harry felt himself lifted and laid down on his back next to the torch. He couldn't seem to see the green light from the flames anymore, but there was some brighter light coming from the opening of the chamber. His whole body felt so very, very heavy…

"Good night, Potter! Sleep well!" The grinding of heavy stone being moved into place was the last sound Harry heard as he sank into an endless well of velvety black.