Disclaimer: I will not profit off publishing this story. I am doing this only for my enjoyment, nothing more.

Chapter 1

Skyscrapers soared toward a distant sky, wisps of clouds marked the horizon, and gravity was turned on its side. The horizon was up, the side of a steel glass building was down, the sky was left, and the ground was right.

Voldemort didn't like being confused.

He tried walking a few steps to the left and found that he could. The forces did not suddenly reassert themselves. In his mind, he had just walked up the wall of a building. The skyscraper was covered in dark glass windows, smooth underfoot, but otherwise unyielding.

He moved his leg to take another step when the air became heavy. It felt as if Hogwarts had uprooted itself and landed on every possible piece of his skin, crushing his bones, mincing his flesh into pulp. His back bowed under the sudden weight and he fell to his knees. He frantically held himself up with his arms as the very air rebelled against him.

Breathing was difficult, if not impossible. His heavy breaths resounded in the serene silence of this strange mind, completely alien. The silence then got loud, suddenly screaming at him, begging at him to break it, to make it stop. But he couldn't break the silence, no matter what he did. His voice would not come. His heavy breathing continued to the beat of his heart.

He couldn't lift his head to see more than the window in front of him. Then the window suddenly got blurry as his eyes went in and out of focus. When they returned, everything was the same.

The air suddenly doubled in weight, and he slammed into the building, flat on his stomach. He watched as the window next to him rippled like the surface of a lake disturbed by a leaf. The rippling got more intense, almost becoming waves. The dark glass waves settled before hitting him, reforming into the building underneath, regardless of whether it was concrete or steel it needed to reform into.

Rising inexorably from the center of the disturbance was a humanoid figure. First, rising from the rippling glass, was a ghastly head with a bone-like mask and two vicious horns. Black as ink with two white stripes down each side, the eyeholes were dark but for the glint of malice held deep within. The figure continued to grow, like a figure resurfacing from the depths of an ocean. A white jacket hugging his lean torso extended to his ankles in the back, ending in the front at loose white fabric in a style completely unfamiliar to him, tied with a black cloth. The entire figure was white, as if bleached of all color, everything but the black mask. Long white hair streamed behind the figure in a wind that only it seemed to feel.

When the figure completely formed, the heavy air dissipated. The huge weight pinning Voldemort down was gone in an instant, and he stood up. He still couldn't breathe normally.

The creature, fully formed, screeched. The sound shattered the careful silence that was maintained before. The sudden sound was a force. It beat Voldemort in the chest, making him stumble back, consuming all thought but the need to cover his ears. The scream was like that of a beast, but bizarre in the echoing quality it contained. Like two creatures screeched at once, but one a second after the other.

The screech continued a few moments after the creature stopped making it. Once silence reigned again, it moved.

One second the bleached creature stood a few feet away, the next it was in Voldemort's face. His breath misted the black bone-mask of the creature. The creature lifted its hand, perfectly human except for the long pointed nails, and clamped it down over Voldemort's face, nails digging in.

Voldemort got a sick feeling in his stomach, something he wanted to get rid of. Unbidden, the thought arose; I should not have looked at this person's mind. I should not be here.

He searched mentally for the life-line that will allow him to return to his body and break eye contact and found it-

"Looking for something?" said a male voice from behind. Voldemort, of course, couldn't turn. The creature still held his head. Disconcertingly, he found the creature start to lift him up with its one hand, the other casually hanging by its side. First the tips of his toes, then he was completely in the air, dangling for his life, his neck straining under the weight.

"Trespassers are unwelcome," continued the same male voice. "Our secrets are our own." Voldemort felt the tug on his life-line from where it was safely attached to the middle of his back. Once, twice, snap. A shock flooded his system, locking him up even more. He was suddenly cut free, a drifting strand.

"Well? Anything to say for yourself?" said the male voice. Voldemort was aware of the other end of the broken strand being held by that voice. Why was the voice so damn calm? Voldemort felt squished, like he was stuck in a box far too small. He needed to get out.

"Oh. What a shame."

Voldemort felt the voice start to let go of the other end of the line, and tried to find his own voice, but found it was still locked. Voldemort opened his mouth to say something when he felt it get filled with sand, running out between his teeth, coating his tongue. The sand ran down his throat and he started to breathe it, coating his lungs.

The bleached creature with the black mask cracked open its teeth and laughed. Almost a perfectly human laugh, it echoed on itself, building in a strange crescendo.

Then it squeezed.

(o)(0)(o)