Several years ago…

Harry woke slowly. Or maybe he didn't. He wasn't quite sure if this was some horrible dream or weather it was reality. Either way, he felt as if his brain was covered in marmalade.

"Ah, he's awake," said a dispassionate voice.

"Whu?" Harry mumbled, that being all he was able to get out.

"Not entirely awake, I suppose. Johnson?" the voice said, and Harry's side was jabbed with some sort of taser. He screamed in pain, and was instantly awake. The room was cold and sterile, with a harsh white illuminating the space. Harry was strapped to a table, his robes replaced by a white jumpsuit with the numbers "002" over his heart. Immediately his heart began to race. This was no dream. He looked around and saw an older man in a lab coat flanked by two guards, one holding a buzzing rod.

"Glad to see you are still with us, 002," the man said. "Before we begin, we must get some information from you. Do you happen to know your blood type?"

"Where am I?" Harry countered.

A flash of annoyance crossed the man's face. "There is no need to know that, 002. Now, are you going to tell me what I need to know, or must I use force so early?"

Now Harry was panicking in earnest. He had no idea where he was, or who his captors were, or why all of their equipment seemed so advanced. Were these muggles or wizards? He started to thrash against his restraints.

The man in the lab coat sighed. "Force it is then. How disappointing." He snapped his fingers and a team of nurses appeared around Harry. They poked and prodded him with all sorts of medical devices. Harry didn't know what half of the equipment even did. The Dursleys were the last to take him to any sort of muggle doctor, and that had just been a regular checkup. Eventually, they stopped and stepped back. The man in the lab coat took out a vial of some glowing liquid and a syringe. He squatted down so he was at Harry's eye level.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, gesturing at the syringe. Harry shook his head. "This is Element Zero. I'm assuming you also don't know its effects when injected incorrectly." Harry shook his head again. "Painful, agonizing death," said the man, looking rather like a cat playing with a terrified mouse.

Harry gulped. "And if it's injected correctly?" he asked.

"Transformation," gushed the man. "You will become a biotic. You will have the power of telekinesis, you can make your body all but invulnerable, you can rend the very fabric of space time!" He was getting more and more excited, circling around the room as he spoke. "Of course, it will still be painful and agonizing. But as long as you cooperate, you will not die."

Harry got the feeling that he had traded the Death Eaters for a far more sinister cult. And this man seemed to be in charge. He looked around at the nurses who had been poking and prodding him so eagerly just moments before, only to see them standing perfectly still, faces a tense blank. He would get no help from them. He looked to the guards, and discovered they looked bored. They looked like they had seen this play out countless times. Turning his attention back to the crazed doctor, Harry held perfectly still.

"Good boy," said the doctor. "This will only take a second." Whatever his ravings, the doctor was a highly trained professional. Harry hardly felt the needle pierce his skin. What no doctor could prevent, however, was the feeling of Eezo entering Harry's body. The burning started immediately after the doctor pressed the plunger, and the needle was gone just as quickly. It spread from Harry's shoulder to the rest of his arm and across his chest. Lava was coursing through his body, burning his entire being. He was in such pain he couldn't hear his own screams. Harry could feel his grasp on consciousness slipping. As the darkness closed in, he heard one of the guards say, "Hah! Told you he'd last more than ten seconds! Now pay up!"

For the next few days, Harry was only vaguely aware of where he was. He would wake up for a minute and be surrounded by nurses, only to open his eyes again and be completely alone. The pain was the only constant. Harry didn't know how long he could take this agony. After what felt like a hundred years, he woke to find the searing pain he had expected was only a dull throb. Looking at the sterile white light no longer split his head in two. He blinked, then sat up very slowly. He looked around, and saw he was not alone. There were others, children in the same room as him. They were all wearing the same jumpsuit. A jumpsuit, Harry saw, that he was now wearing as well. He rolled onto one side and caught the eyes of one of the children. The boy immediately rushed over to his side.

"Don't get up!" he said in hushed tones. "If they know you're ready, they'll start the experiments!"

Harry looked at this boy, who couldn't have been older than 5. "Experiments? They already injected me with that...stuff."

The boy shook his head. "That's just the first one. Everyone here," he spread his arm to indicate the other kids in the room, "went through that one. Then they do more, to see what works."

"And do they all hurt like that one did?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Some better, some worse." said the boy, shrugging. "Sometimes…" he seemed unable to say anything more.

The look on the boy's face reminded Harry painfully of the look on Amos Diggory's face the night his son died. He had a horrible feeling about some of these experiments.

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

The boy gave him a weird look. "143," He gestured to the number on his jumpsuit. "It's how everyone's named." The boy-143- stated this so matter-of-factly that Harry was taken aback.

"What do you mean, it's how everyone is named?"

"Well, when you're born, you get a jumpsuit and it has your name on it. Some people get numbers, and some people get words. Like the doctors. They get words. We get numbers."

Harry couldn't speak for several seconds. What were the doctors doing here that they needed to strip so much of these kids' humanity away from them?

"Hey, would you like to have your own name?" Harry asked 143.

"I have one," 143 stated, confused.

"No, I mean like, a proper one. Like the doctors."

143 frowned. "I would, but the last one who named himself got Fridayed."

"Fridayed?" Harry asked, but 143 seemed unable to give him an answer.

Harry returned to lying on his back. He had already resolved to escape here as soon as he could, but now it seemed he'd need to break out all the kids as well. This would be a complicated escape.