"What’s wrong, Potter?" he swallowed thickly, trying to find his words again. All he could see though was the inside of a small cupboard, and bars on windows, and a loose floorboard, and a cat flap in his bedroom door, "Potter?" oh God, he couldn’t go back - to be in it, and living and surviving one day to the next was one thing; to have believed yourself free though, only to find yourself back in purgatory, he didn’t know if he could survive that, "Harry?" 