Within You

Chapter Nine: Too Close For Comfort

Darkness.

That's what Harry had woken up to, when he finally managed to regain consciousness. He was in a room somewhere, likely at the bottom of a house or building; the walls were cement, and there were no windows. It smelled of mildew, if he was being perfectly honest, and there seemed to be a water leak somewhere, due to the constant dripping he heard.

Harry had woken up on his back, and he could easily feel as if he was tied down to something. It was by moving his hands this way and that—as much as the restraints provided—that he was on an old mattress, likely the same quality he had had while living at the Dursleys. There was a torn mattress pad upon it, and a thin bottom sheet, but no upper sheet, or blankets to speak of. Only his hands were tied, and they seemed to be so via a hook on the wall behind him; his legs, however, were loose, which Harry briefly wondered had been an oversight to his kidnappers, or, if that they wanted him to have a fighting chance.

Harry swallowed, somehow managing to push himself into a sitting position, knocking his head back on the concrete wall behind him as he struggled to do so, crying out slightly. He shuddered at the smarting pain which surged through his head, hoping that it didn't bleed everywhere. He gritted his teeth, hearing a door squeaking open, a light shining on the staircase just opposite him, and found his heart beating loudly in his chest at the oncoming approach of an unknown person, but his heart soon entered his throat.

"Ah, Harry Potter," said Riddle moving so that he was standing just in front of the mattress, that serpentine grin of his never wavering.

"What are you...? You're supposed to be in prison!" Harry shouted.

Riddle tsked then, shaking his head. "I have many friends on the inside and outside, young Harry, whose hearts still beat for my cause. It wasn't too difficult to put them to use," he went on with a shrug.

"What do you want with me?" Harry demanded, his tone bitter. "I've got nothing on you. They couldn't try you for trying to kill me when I was a baby, and I was hardly able to give a witness testimony about it."

Riddle charged forward then, grabbing ahold of Harry's shirt and yanking him closer, which was difficult, due to him being tied, and Harry cried out at the push-and-pull sensation that ripped through his muscles. "Regardless, I like to leave no stone unturned," he declared, looking Harry up and down. "And besides, it will be very difficult for Vernon and Petunia to be sentenced without you being around to continue your complaints."

"I already testified," Harry growled at him, despite the pain in his smarting muscles. "Too little, too late, Riddle."

"Their solicitor is the same as mine, you know," Riddle informed Harry, and his blood ran cold at the declaration. "While the plan was constantly put off, we finally managed to come together for a successful snatching."

Harry shook his head at him. "No. No, that's... They'd never..."

"You betrayed them, Harry," Riddle declared. "After feeding and clothing you for over a decade, they were entitled to reap the rewards. And now, you've defiled the notion of a happy household, forever breaking apart a family with a taste for discipline."

"Discipline?!" Harry spat, angry that Riddle would bring up his home life with the Dursleys. "I think you know very well that that wasn't discipline, Riddle! That was abuse, pure and simple, and of all kinds. I'm sure you got copies of the transcripts on the day I testified, when I spoke about what they would all do to me."

"Child's play," Riddle said, glaring down at him. "It is mere child's play, Harry, compared to what I've wanted to do to you since I saw you in the paper, in the wake of Bella killing your precious Sirius."