Harry jolted awake, gasping for air.
Where am I?
He did not have time to think for a second as he felt his head throbbing in intense pain. This was the first time he felt his scar burning so intensely. He was disoriented and breathless, sweat dripping down his face. After a moment, the pain decreased, and Harry opened his eyes completely.
The room was partially lit, and due to the darkness, Harry struggled to make sense of his surroundings.
The last thing he remembered was the ritual at the graveyard, and Voldemort emerging from the cauldron. Harry wished for that to be a nightmare, but the reality was in front of him. Harry's eyes met with a chilling sight. A door opened, and Harry saw a silhouette, a presence both foreboding and unmistakable. As the silhouette became clearer, Harry's scar, the infamous lightning-shaped mark on his forehead, was seared with pain that sent shockwaves of agony through him once again. The snake-like eyes of Lord Voldemort fixed upon Harry with a cold gaze. Something was slithering by his side, and then Harry realized with a thrill of terror that it was a gigantic snake, at least twelve feet long.
His first thought was of the infamous Basilisk he fought in his second year at Hogwarts. But on closer look, Harry realized this snake was different. But still, a snake accompanying the dark Lord meant trouble.
Panic set in as he tried to move, but an instant realization struck him like a blow. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive.
Harry looked below.
He was seated on a rough wooden chair, his wrists and ankles securely bound to it by heavy chains.
He could not give up after just one try. Harry needed to fight it and break free.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Harry attempted to wrench himself free from the chains, his muscles straining against the metallic chains. However, the chair remained an immovable force, and the chains held him in place. The only result of this effort was the chain tightening around his wrist, causing him more pain.
"It seems that you have not fully awakened. Let me help you," announced Lord Voldemort as he raised his wand.
CRUCIO
The curse struck Harry directly, causing pain beyond anything he had ever experienced. Now Harry realized all his previous pain was child's play compared to this. His very bones felt like they were on fire. It felt like hot knives pierced every inch of his skin, his head seemingly on the verge of bursting with pain. His eyes rolled madly in his head, and the agony was so intense that he no longer knew where he was. He screamed louder than he ever had in his life, desperately wanting it to end, to blackout, to find relief in unconsciousness.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was gone.
The abrupt ceasing of pain left Harry gasping for breath, his body convulsing from the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse. The room seemed to spin as he tried to collect himself.
Lord Voldemort, his cold laughter resonating in the dim chamber, loomed over Harry. The realization dawned on Harry that he was trapped, at the mercy of the darkest wizard of his time, and the torturous ordeal was far from over.
"The boy who lived. Word has it you're almost as famous as me these days," the dark Lord sneered, relishing the irony.
"How lies have fed your legend, Harry," he said. "Shall I reveal what really happened that night thirteen years ago?"
Without waiting for a response from Harry, Lord Voldemort began narrating.
"It was LOVE, Harry!"
Voldemort raised one of his long, white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.
"You see, your mother died in the attempt to save you... and unintentionally provided you with a protection I admit I had not foreseen... I could not touch you. I was foolish to overlook
it. But no matter, no matter, I can touch you now."
Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch him and thought his head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear.
"How foolish of people to think that you were the one who defeated me, when instead it was the ancient magic that happened when your mother Lily Potter sacrificed herself for you. Now that I think about it, you must be cursed, aren't you?" and now Lord Voldemort began his gaslighting.
"Even when you were a baby, you brought misfortune upon those close to you. Because of you, your mother and father had to die."
Harry was expecting torture from Voldemort and not an accusation. And on top of that, about his own mother. Harry has always hated it when someone talked badly about his mom, and even after all these pains, he felt a surge of anger.
"No, it wasn't me! You killed them! You're the reason my parents are dead!" Harry spat the words through gritted teeth. His entire emotion has changed from fear to anger.
Alas, Harry did not know that this was exactly what Voldemort wanted.
"Ah, but Harry, you see, your misfortune didn't end there. Cedric Diggory, a mere casualty in the grand scheme of my return, and yet, his death will be another burden for you to bear."
The mention of Cedric's name echoed in Harry's mind, and the events of that tragic night replayed vividly. He tried to deny it, "No! It was Peter Pettigrew who killed Cedric, not me!"
Voldemort, however, dismissed Harry's protestations with a scoff. "Ah, yes, Peter Pettigrew, your dear rat of a friend. But, Harry, the boy Cedric was never meant to be at the graveyard. He was an unintended casualty in your misguided attempt to play the hero."
Harry's heart sank as Voldemort continued to weave his manipulative narrative. "You made Cedric Diggory grab the Triwizard Cup with you. You led him into the clutches of death, Harry, all for your desire to be the savior."
The weight of guilt settled on Harry's shoulders, his mind grappling with the realization that he had inadvertently caused Cedric's death. The haunting memories of the graveyard replayed, and Harry could feel the burden of responsibility crushing him.
"No... I didn't mean for him to... I didn't want him to die," Harry protested, but the memory of how he made Cedric grab the Cup was replaying in his mind.
Voldemort was satisfied with Harry's reaction. "Ah, but intentions matter little, Harry. The consequences of your actions are what define you. Ask yourself, if you did not make Cedric come to the graveyard, the boy would still be alive. Cedric's blood is on your hands."
Lord Voldemort could not stop himself from forming a cruel smile as he thought, "Let the seed of doubt be planted in your mind, Harry."
With that, the dark Lord left Harry Potter alone with those troubling thoughts.