The Darker Side of Me

Chapter Two

POP

Harry was pushed forward into the darkness, stumbling onto his hands and knees. A searing pain erupted in his palms as splinters embedded deep in his skin. His hands and trousers were stained with what seemed to be several years of dirt and grime that had built up on the old wooden floors he was now kneeling on. A cool breeze whistled through the cracks in the dilapidated walls, chilling his sweat-drenched forehead. Glancing up, he saw an old ornate door directly in front of him and he scrambled for it. He grabbed the handle and frantically began to pull and twist it, willing it to open to no avail. He quickly changed his attention to the windows that had been boarded shut, tugging at the dry rotted wood only to find them as solid as if they had been nailed in yesterday. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and his breath came in desperate gasps as the truth sank in. He was trapped.

A soft chuckle behind him reminded him that he was not alone and dread filled his heart as he turned to face his captor. It was the first time he was able to see the room he was imprisoned in its entirety. He was standing in what looked to be the foyer of an old manor that had been vacant for some time. Graffiti and tattered painting adorned the filth covered walls and a chandelier hung above twisting creakily in the draft. In both directions, hallways led off into separate wings of the house and directly in the middle stood a grand staircase. He could see the elegant banister and the handcrafted spindles even in the moonlit room. It was then that he realized exactly where they were.

"Finally starting to put the pieces together, eh Harry?" The cold voice finally broke the silence and Harry was forced to turn his gaze to the slender figure leaning casually against the banister. A smirk played across those thin white lips as Voldemort shook his head. "You really think I would bring you to a place that you could escape from? You must think me a fool, my dear boy."

Pushing himself away from the rickety staircase, Voldemort made his way to the corridor on his right. " Come let's talk somewhere with less of a draft," he said without so much as a glance back. Harry remained rooted in his spot, unwilling to follow directions from his enemy. He could see the light of a fire now burning from one of the many rooms down the hall. "There's no use in being defiant this early in the game, Harry. You can't stand there all night after all." The Dark Lord's voice rang through the empty house and deep down Harry knew he was right.

Regaining his nerve, the boy cautiously followed the sound of the crackling fire. Turning into the third door on the left, he found Voldemort sitting at a mahogany desk starring over his steepled boney fingers. Glancing around, he could see hundreds, perhaps thousands, of dust-covered book lining the room in ceiling-high shelves. "Please sit." Voldemort was motioning to a high-back chair directly across the desk from him. Without arguing, Harry walked the length of the room and sunk into the moldy fabric, dust billowing out as he sat down. "Now that's a good lad," Voldemort said with a wide sneer.

"So," he began, leaning forward a bit further in his chair. "I assume you're wondering why I've brought you here to my muggle father's house instead of returning to the rest of the Death Eaters." He paused here as if to see if Harry would answer him. When he saw no response would come, he pressed on with a slight sigh. "You see I knew if I were to bring you back in the midst of all those Death Eaters you wouldn't survive till morning. I..."

"So you're saying you can't control your own slaves?" Harry interjected, speaking for the first time that night. His voice was cracked but held no fear of interrupting the dark wizard. He watched as Voldemort narrowed his red eyes but his smirk remained.

"You do realize you were on the brink of torturing Bellatrix into insanity?" The glee in his voice was almost palpable and Harry had to look away as shame washed over him. He didn't need reminding of the pain he had just caused someone. "Besides that, you have many enemies that would jump at the chance to kill you if I were to bring you back there without warning."