Harry found himself lying on his back in a dark, dank chamber. He could hear the slow drip of water on the rocks. He could barely feel the cold, hard stone floor on his back, as it felt extremely numb. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't. It was then he began to panic. Desperately attempting to get a hold of his location, he tried to grope around in the darkness, but found his body wasn't responding. He couldn't move a muscle! The fear in him rose as he felt trapped in his body, unable to do anything. There was no way to tell how much time had passed. The drips of water were erratic and uneven, causing him to lose track of any attempt to do so inside his head. From the distance, he heard footsteps hurriedly approach. As they got nearer, the person they belonged to muttered "Enervate."
Harry felt his eyes open involuntarily. Before him stood a dirty, pudgy man with buck teeth, twitching his nose, and holding a small vial of smoking liquid. It was Pettigrew! Harry wanted to scream out in rage at him, but the words that came out of his mouth instead were, "Wormtail. What time is it?"
"M-M-Master, t-there was s-s-some... complication with the tra-transference..." Pettigrew stammered in fear.
"I asked you for the time, Wormtail. Do not try my patience or I will be asking you for your life, next." Harry could see and feel himself standing up.
"I-It is two minutes past midnight, milord," Pettigrew replied.
It was when Voldemort roared in rage that Harry finally realized he was having another vision. Once again establishing his mental shields, he did his best to observe as much as he could through Voldemort's senses. They were deep underground- as far as Harry could tell, they were nowhere near Riddle Manor any more. They were in the interior of some kind of cavern, lit up only by a few candles standing on the ground. They were arranged in ritual circles where Voldemort had just stood up at the center. Directly facing him was the corpse of a misshapen baby. He walked over to it, picking up the wand it held in its hands. He then walked towards Pettigrew and plucked the potion out of his hands. "Four minutes, Wormtail. I told you this ritual had to be completed two minutes before the stroke of midnight, not after. You have cost me a some of my power with that mistake. Crucio."
Pettigrew screamed and wailed in pain, losing all control of his body as he shook and convulsed in pain. After only thirty seconds of the torture curse, he could barely speak. "Your... magic... is... as strong... as ever... milord..." he croaked out.
"Do not assume you know what my power should be better than I do," Voldemort hissed. "Your four minutes cost me nearly half my power. I think, then, it will take eight minutes of the Cruciatus for you to truly feel the pain you deserve."
"Please... forgive me, my lord... I followed the ritual exactly... but your soul... it... aaAAAUGGHH!" Pettigrew's pleas fell on deaf ears as Voldemort tortured the little man. After one minute, Pettigrew's voice gave out and he was no longer able to scream, but his body continued to twitch and spasm under the spell. Another seven minutes later and Harry could barely tell that Pettigrew was even alive. Voldemort drank the potion that he had taken from Pettigrew. Harry could feel more detached from the vision, but he held on, still hoping to find some more clues.
~Master, may I eat the fat one?~ came Nagini's slithery voice. Harry was surprised when the snake made its appearance. When he had seen it in the summer, it was already huge, at least two meters long. If his visions were in real time, then this must was only half a year later and Nagini had grown to at least three meters. Even when rearing back it was already as tall as Pettigrew. More interestingly, however, was the shape of its head and a few of the scales that were sticking out, beginning to form a shape that was very familiar to Harry.
~No, Nagini, do not sully your palate with the rat-man. Besides, he still has some uses for me. Go outside and practice your hunting. The great boars of this mountain should sate your hunger well."
~Thank you, master. May I use my eyes this time?~ It was then that Harry noticed the snake was keeping its eyes closed.
~Your stare cannot kill yet, Nagini, but your venom sacs are developing nicely. Track your prey by smell and their footsteps. That should be enough.~
"That snake of yours still gives me the willies, Master," came a voice from behind. Harry was surprised that Voldemort would tolerate a Death Eater who would talk so frankly to him, but then again, Voldemort didn't have very many allies right now.
Turning around, he faced another Death Eater Harry hadn't noticed before. His face was completely obscured by a mask, so Harry couldn't tell what the man looked like. "Crouch," Voldemort addressed him. "Have you found out anything from your spy? How did Dumbledore know about Riddle Manor?"
"Not a thing, but Dumbledore also hasn't heard anything interesting since then," Crouch answered. His voice was completely different from Barty Crouch of the International Cooperation department. "They still can't figure out why the Boy-Who-Lived is in the tournament." He laughed mischievously. "Although, it seems that putting him in the tournament was a pretty good idea."
"What? Has he manifested any unique talents?" Voldemort asked eagerly.
"No, but it seems like you're not the only one who wants him dead now. From what I could see, he was just poisoned by someone. Spiked his drink at the New Year's party. His little lady-friend delivered it herself."
"Probably just a foolish attempt by one of the competitors. Poison, while only steps away from the Hogwarts infirmary and hundreds of witnesses? Such is the incompetence of those who are too weak to see what real power is," Voldemort crowed. "You are performing your role well, Crouch. You will be well rewarded once I return to my rightful place."
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