Harry glanced furtively behind him, checking the empty alley for the umpteenth time. His heart pounded viciously in his chest, threatening to betray his presence. Voices sounded…the muted mumble of two hunters wandering the dark streets of Little Whinging in the wee hours of the morning. The moon shone benignly down on the quiet neighborhood. A full moon. Harry shuddered to think what that might mean.

Slowly, cautiously, Harry removed his wand from his pocket. His arm shook as he held it defensively in front of him. The Invisibility Cloak slid sideways, exposing half a leg, but Harry reflexively pulled it back on. A black cat skittered across the mouth of the alley and Harry winced. He could not afford any bad luck tonight.

The voices drew nearer and nearer. Soon Harry could just make out the words, whispered in grating tones.

"Where is he?" one voice growled. A wolf-like snarl ripped through the cold night air.

"Patience," the second voice soothed. "He's here somewhere…he can't hide forever. Soon these muggles," the term sounded like a swear-word on the speaker's lips, "will wake up for their morning routine. They'll flush him out."

"I want to find him NOW," the first voice grumbled. "The glory – "

"Don't touch the Mark, you idiot!" the second voice half-shrieked. Clearly it was a woman. "You'll summon him and then what will we do when he finds out we don't have the boy, hmm? He'll kill us for sure!"

Suddenly, without warning, Harry's head cleaved open, blinding him to the dreary gray walls and ugly green dumpsters in the alley –

He was stroking the head of a great snake, caressing it's poisonous fangs with careless abandon.

NO. He was hiding in an alleyway, clutching his wand and a book, a very important book…

"Ssssooonn, Nagini," he crooned. "I can feel it. So close…" He flipped his wrist to the ceiling, exposing the dark tattoo of a skull with a snake flowing out of its bared teeth…

Harry watched the shadows, his eyes watering with pain. He was raising his wand, scrambling to think of the words. Of anything…

He was watching coolly as his servants appeared in an instant before him, bowing low, respectfully murmuring his name, awaiting his command. He was glad to give it, glad to send them after the boy…that irksome boy…

He shouted the words and light flared in the dark alley. The first of the two shadows crumpled to the ground and it's companion roared with anger, twisting grotesquely as it expanded to fill the narrow space, teeth snapping…

He was laughing, high and cold. Weaving the cage in which he would keep the Potter boy. Light sparked, deceptively beautiful for such deadly magic…

Harry ran, desperately trying to escape the hunters. They appeared in droves now, bearing down on all sides. Magic filled the sky of Little Whinging that night. Harry frantically cast spell after spell behind him as he ran, knowing it gave away his position, knowing the alley ended in a wall.

Light burst behind his eyes and darkness closed in.

"Ennervate."

Harry opened his eyes to find someone had removed his glasses. He squinted blindly at his surroundings, put off guard by the strange blue light in the air. He stretched out a hand tentatively…

"Potter…" a voice hissed. In Parseltongue.

Harry's breath caught in his throat and his hand froze. "Riddle?" he called out.

"That name is dead," the voice hissed back. "That past is dead. I am VOLDEMORT."

Harry spread his hands along the ground, searching for his glasses. His right hand brushed against scaly skin. It writhed under his touch and he quickly withdrew his fingers. "Tell me where I am."

Voldemort laughed coldly and switched from the snake language. "Not so fast, Potter. We are in Death Eater territory. No one to save you now…"

There. Harry's heard the scrape of glass against ground as he shifted his foot. He reached down to grab his glasses and quickly forced them onto the bridge of his nose. The world came into clear view through the spidery cracks running across each lens.

He was enclosed in some sort of light cage. Strips of blue and red lights crisscrossed in a sphere just large enough for him to stretch out his arms. On the floor, lying half-in and half-out of the cage, the giant serpent known as Nagini lay curled on the floor. Harry reached out to touch the light, half-hoping it would let him pass and he could escape –

Zap. Pain shot up Harry's arm, leaving it numb as he withdrew his hand.

"Yes, Potter. Trapped."

"So now what?" Harry threw at Voldemort. He could just make out the red eyes and snake-like face through the spaces in the cage.

"You have something I would very much like, Potter."

Harry automatically felt his jeans pocket and was shocked to discover the small book still intact. He pulled it out and cradled it in his hands.

It was a rather old book, the pages yellowed and cracked. And written on the inner pages were the magical secrets of one of the greatest wizards known to the world – Godric Gryffindor.

"Yes…" Voldemort breathed at the sight. "Give it to me."

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Do not argue, Potter. It would take less than a second to kill your friends…"

Harry swallowed and clutched the book closer to his chest.

"No? Perhaps a little dose of persuasion…"

The pain hit Harry before he had time to think, to gather his wits. Excruciating knives ripping through his skin, claws running across his back, red-hot metal branded to his face…he just wanted it to end. He screamed and dropped to the ground, blinded to the world around him.

As suddenly as it had come, the pain stopped.

"Now, Potter…the book."

"No."

"Potter – "

"NO!" Harry dug his hand into his pocket only to find his wand gone. The Invisibility Cloak too had been taken from his possession.

"Nagini," Voldemort hissed.

The great snake began to writhe, sliding closer and closer to Harry. He was barely able to pull his hand back before the fangs snapped shut where it had lain not seconds before.

"Kill me then," Harry said with a laugh. "But then you'll never know what the book says."

Voldemort hissed in anger, for he knew what Harry said to be true. Were the book's bearer killed by force, the book would disintegrate into thin air, to be lost for yet another century, another generation.

"Give me the book, Potter."

"Never."