Chapter 3

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Harry's scar burned excruciatingly. He held his head in his hand and bit his lower lip to hold back the scream that threatened to escape his lips. Harry had his eyes closed tightly but he could hear the metal door opening with a rusty creek and he footsteps approaching. Harry felt his lip tear and he felt the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth. The footsteps drew closer and the pain reached new heights. He felt Voldemort's presence close to him and the pain grew intolerable. Harry threw back his head and screamed.

Harry didn't know what was what anymore. All he knew that his scar was burning up and it was killing him sooner than he had expected. The pain vanished unexpectedly and Harry's eyes shot open. He felt his cheek against the cold stone floor and he saw an extremely well-polished shoe close to his head. Harry's body trembled uncontrollably and he coughed. He raised himself up on his knees shakily. He knew who was standing in front of him. But he didn't care. A smooth, silky voice shattered the silence of the room.

"Harry Potter, The Chosen one and my prophesized enemy."

Harry didn't look up but he felt that something was wrong. Voldemort hadn't sounded like that the last time he had heard his voice. Harry felt himself looking up out of curiosity and his jaw dropped in astonishment. Was this really Voldemort? The man standing in front of him was too handsome to be Voldemort. Harry was curious. He had nothing to lose so he got up to his feet and looked at Voldemort closely. After his observation, Harry came to the conclusion that this was indeed Voldemort because despite the handsome features, the crimson eyes were the same. Harry was about to touch Voldemort on the cheek when Voldemort gripped his wrist and smirked in amusement,

"You have reached new heights of fearlessness, Harry. It shall not help you survive."

Harry wiped the blood trickling down his chin with his thumb. He had torn his lip too badly. He met Voldemort's gaze and spoke,

"The prophecy is a lie. I'm not the chosen one and I will not be defeating you."

Voldemort tilted his head and his amused smirk grew wider,

"It does not matter whether it is a lie or the truth. I shall not be taking any chances. You shall die, Harry Potter."

Harry stepped forward and spoke,

"I am not going to die at your hands."

He coughed again and held his hand to his mouth. Voldemort looked inquisitively at Harry and spoke,

"You seem paler. Has Dumbledore not been taking care of you?"

Harry removed his hand from his mouth, smiled and spoke,

"I'm fine."

Voldemort drew closer to Harry and spoke,

"You are lying."

Harry stepped back and looked away,

"It doesn't matter. Why do you even care?"

Voldemort gripped Harry's chin and forced him to meet his gaze,

"Tell me the truth."

Harry met Voldemort's gaze and pulled away from Voldemort,

"I am fine."

Voldemort looked at Harry and spoke,

"Are you prepared to die then?"

Harry looked up at Voldemort,

"No, I am not. Not yet."

Voldemort looked at Harry and Harry saw something flash in his eyes,

"Your godfather passed away recently."

Harry felt tears unwillingly well up in his eyes and he looked away. Voldemort forced Harry to meet his gaze,

"Are you considering suicide, Harry?"

Harry had considered it but fate had decided something else for him. Harry shook his head and wiped away the tears,

"I am not that weak."

Voldemort tsked and released Harry,

"You are weak, Harry. Your tears are proof of that."

Voldemort turned around to leave and spoke,

"You have made me very curious, Harry. You get to live another day."

Voldemort left the basement, walked up the stairs and locked the door behind him. Harry sat back down against the wall. Voldemort's last statement had made him worried. He hadn't wanted to make Voldemort curious. Ollivander drew closer to Harry and asked him,

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded his head. He wasn't alright. Everything was messed up. All he had wanted was for Bellatrix to die so that he could die in peace. But now he would be facing a trial and possible conviction at the ministry and he was imprisoned by Voldemort. Well at least he didn't have to worry about a trial anymore. Voldemort fully intended to kill him before that and there was no way he could escape from here.

Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. He hoped that the order didn't know of his absence. He didn't want to face any of them. Maybe it was better this way. He despised Dumbledore. No, scratch that. He hated Dumbledore. Harry didn't know when he dozed off.

He woke up with a start and realized that Ollivander was shaking him,

"Wake up, Mr. Potter. You must eat something."

Harry sat up straighter and realized that his stomach was indeed grumbling. Ollivander slid the tray of food towards Harry. Harry looked down at it and realized that there was only a single piece of bread and a bowl of watery soup on it. The amount of food was enough for only one person and he felt that Ollivander needed the sustenance more than him. Harry slid the tray of food back towards Ollivander and spoke,

"I'm not hungry."

Ollivander looked knowingly at him and spoke,

"You have to eat."

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes again,

"I really can't eat anything. I feel like I'll throw up."

He suppressed his hunger and focused on sleep again. It came easily and soon enough he found himself in his troubled dreams.

Harry saw the Dursleys hugging each other and cowering in the corner of a room. They were begging for mercy. He spoke in a cold harsh voice,

"Tell me everything now!"

Harry saw his uncle speak,

"We don't know what's wrong with the freak. He stays locked up in his room."

Voldemort roared in rage,

"Did you just address him as a freak?"

Before Vernon Dursley could reply a flash of green illuminated the room.

Harry woke up and a cry escaped his lips. He held his hand to his prickling scar. Voldemort had killed the Dursleys. Harry felt his heart racing and he drew several deep breaths. The Dursleys were dead but Harry couldn't bring himself to cry. He couldn't even muster a single tear. Voldemort had been asking them about him. He thanked the heavens that no one knew about his condition.

Harry turned around and found Ollivander staring at him with deep concern. Harry wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke,

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

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