Author's note: I know it's been a while since I updated this. For those who are in doubts, let me assure you that I'm definitely not abandoning this story. I love it as much as you do. I'm working on it whenever I have free time. I could possibly write shorter chapters and update more often like before. I just decided against it because I felt that you wouldn't be able to see the progress and the chapters would be missing their depth. You can however let me know which way you prefer. I will gladly contemplate it.
And now please enjoy The Chase, part II. Your reviews are always welcomed.
Rating of this chapter: T
As always, my special thanks belongs to my great beta: TheSecretUchiha
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The Chase, part II
xxxxx
Harry was naturally curious and also slightly sceptical when Voldemort briefly informed them about some mysterious jib door connecting the Slytherin's library with a system of secret corridors behind the walls. That was before the Dark Lord led them to a large stone block in the rear part of the old library, where the youngster could see the Slytherin's emblem - a silver serpent on a green field - embossed into the stone. When Voldemort spoke to it in Parseltongue Harry already knew what was going on. It had to be, without a doubt, another entrance to the Chamber of the Secret. He was certain of it when the block moved inside, revealing a dark passage large enough even for Voldemort to come through. Harry always found it a bit strange; how could Riddle possibly discover the entry into the Chamber from the girls' bathroom. Even as a Head Boy, there were certain places in Hogwarts where his presence was strictly prohibited.
"After you, Potter," Voldemort said as he turned to him, smirking slyly.
"No, Harry. L-let him go first," Ron spoke in a whiny tone, catching Harry's sleeve while looking inside the dark tunnel with trepidation. "What if there's another basilisk and he's leading us into a trap?"
Voldemort produced a short nasal sound, which Harry interpreted as a snort of disgust, and entered the dim, rounded corridor, disappearing from their sight.
"Look Ron," Harry said quietly. "If I have to decide between the Basilisk and Negura, then I prefer the snake, 'cause I already know how to kill it."
He patted Ron's shoulder lightly.
"I'm going in."
And he did as he said, entering the passage calmly and resolutely. The first thing which welcomed him inside was a sudden whiff of a chilling draught. It stole his body warmth, making him shudder. As he exhaled, a thin film of fog covered his glasses. He wiped the condensation onto his sleeve and pushed his specs back up his nose. His eyes began to accommodate to the decrease of light and soon Lord Voldemort's tall, black figure became apparent in the shadows. He stood approximately twenty feet from him, barely recognizable in that odd, soft-greenish illumination coming from some unspecified source ahead. His silky, black robes were billowing around him in the gusts of cold air, emphasizing his mysterious aura.
Harry stared at him for a while and Voldemort stared back in silence.
Then, Harry's feet began to move from their own accord, bringing him closer to the Dark Lord, whose gleaming, red eyes followed his every movement. As he drew nearer, Voldemort's pale face gradually became visible in the gloom. His skin appeared to have the quality of white alabaster, but Harry knew that it, in fact, felt more like a cool satin.
Those crimson eyes, which usually blazed with rampant hatred, seemed dulled and reminded Harry of mere glowing embers. Voldemort's fierce spirit was dampened by the crushing circumstances. But there was more in Riddle's stare beside the obvious. The Dark Lord wasn't just watching him; he was drinking in the sight of him. Harry could feel it like an inward pull. He couldn't get free and he didn't even want to.
Voldemort's thin, colourless lips soon became another source of Harry's fascination. They moved imperceptibly with every quick inhale he took, becoming drier and drier until he wet them distractedly. Harry watched breathlessly as that pink tongue darted out, slid against a thin upper lip, tracing its shape with precision.
His tongue.
It looked normal, human.
How would it feel if he could touch it with his own, if he could taste it, stroke it and play with it?
A rush of heat turned Harry's knees into jelly. He wanted to know … he wanted to try it so badly...
He looked down at his shoes, biting into his own tongue mercilessly.
"It's like being back in the cave again," he said throatily in an attempt to divert Voldemort's attention from his evident endeavour to puzzle out his thoughts.
It worked; the Dark Lord instantly hissed in discomfort.
"Indeed, Potter," he snapped moodily, walking past him down the corridor.
Harry inwardly swore.
"W- wait! We have to wait for Ron and Hermione. They're coming too!" he called after him.
The Dark Lord stopped only to glance over his shoulder.
"Shouldn't they be pursuing us?"
"Yeah, but what's the matter if we go together? Honestly, what's the chance of someone catching us down here?"
"Harry...!"
The young man immediately turned, following the sound of Hermione's voice and then back at Riddle who hissed acidly.
"There's a great chance if your friends continue to be so loud and undisciplined. Remember, Potter, Negura is a vampire. He has perfect hearing."
Voldemort didn't wait for his reply and left when Harry's friends got too close. His desire to stay away from them was blatant. Harry didn't understand (though he was secretly glad for it) why he didn't treat him the same. It probably didn't have any deeper meaning, but for Harry, who was unconsciously, yet desperately seeking any form of attention from him, it meant a lot.
"Harry," Ron spoke to him, making him jump a little in dismay.
"What took you so long?" Harry asked a bit resentfully.
"The entrance closed itself just as we passed through," his friend explained in a nervous voice. "We can't go back."
"It's not that bad. Negura can't follow us," Harry said quietly. "Listen, we've lost too much time in here. Let's follow Voldemort and stay as quiet as possible. If we get lost or caught then we would..."
"Harry, I don't mean to interrupt you like this but ... I don't see anything good about this," Ron said hesitantly. "How can we be sure that he's leading us where we think he's leading us?"
"You-Know-Who's first priority is to stay alive, Ron," Hermione spoke in a soft, yet resolute voice. "He won't try to deceive us without a good reason."
Ron looked astounded. "Hermione! It's You-Know-Who we're talking about, if you've forgotten!"
"What I meant is that he won't try to deceive us now," she corrected herself. "There is however another problem which we'll have to deal with once we're in the second floor girl's bathroom."
Harry bit into his lower lip. His whole mouth hurt from the constant biting, but he could help it. He was just about to develop an allergic reaction to that word.
"What problem?" he asked in a slightly exasperated tone.
"A problem called Moaning Myrtle," Hermione explained.
"She's just a ghost so why should she cause us any trouble?" Ron whispered, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"Yes, she is a ghost indeed; but remember, who murdered her?"
At that point both boys fell silent.
"I didn't think it through very far," she admitted, which was rare of her. "I had to hide our things somewhere and I chose that bathroom because no one usually goes there. I expected that I would be able to retrieve it without Myrtle seeing anyone of you – especially not him. But now when we are probably going to emerge in the entrance to the Chamber of Secret with You-Know-Who among us... Honestly, can you imagine Myrtle's reaction? Her scream is going to bring the castle to ruins!"
"Damn," Harry cursed. "You're right. We have to think of something..."
"We'd better avoid the school's corridors too, especially if Negura's searching the school through and through. Using a different exit to reach the bathroom as I planned it out is also out of the question," Hermione continued in a quiet voice. "But there's another way."
"What way?" Ron asked hopefully.
"It's not a secret that Myrtle likes you, Harry. She likes you a lot," Hermione said with a small smile. "If you could – let's say – keep her full attention for a while, I could retrieve the bag and lend You-Know-Who the invisibility cloak. Then we could escape from the bathroom without her making a scene."
"Merlin'sbeard! You want to lend You-Know-Who the invisibility cloak? Are you sure this is a good idea? Seriously, he's not going to give it back! You'd better turn him into a mouse again, Harry," Ron suggested.
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "Regardless of his promise, he would kill me if I did it again. Hermione's right, Ron. Let's lend him the cloak. He won't try to escape without his wand," he said and raised the yew wand a bit. Ron just rolled his eyes.
"Anyway," Harry continued, "I seriously doubt that I can fool Myrtle. She can be very suspicious."
"Oh, I'm sure you can do it," Ron chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing from one dark conduit to the next as they passed them in rush. "Girls are crazy about you, Harry. Even the dead ones."
"Thanks a lot, Ron," Harry said ironically and shook his head. "I'm going to tell Riddle about the plan."
"Be careful, Harry." Hermione said quietly.
"Yeah, and ask him about the Basilisk. We should know ahead if he wants us dead and eaten," Ron added.
Harry shook his head again and then bolted after the Dark Lord.
He caught up with in a minute and asked breathlessly.
"Where are we?"
For his bold announcement of his presence he received a quick glare. Surprisingly, Voldemort took the trouble to answer him shortly afterwards.
"Obviously in the conduit system which Salazar Slytherin built for the Basilisk to freely move inside the castle. Recently, they're occasionally used as water pipes, but they weren't designed for that purpose. Magicians don't need water distribution, Potter. They can easily conjure whatever amount of water they need whenever they need it."
That wasn't exactly what Harry wanted to know. He would appreciate learning about their location, not about how Slytherin planned to murder all muggleborns in the school. In the end, the most important information Harry found in the answer was that Voldemort didn't try to lower his voice, which probably meant the risk of them being discovered was smaller than before.
"Oh right, water pipes," Harry said quietly. "Giving these tunnels such an innocuous name is probably better than to call them what they really are - Basilisk tubes. Thinking of which, have you brought a new petinto the castle? You've been in control of Hogwarts for nearly a whole year, if I'm correct."
Harry only asked this to clear Ron's doubts about a new monster residing in the castle. He wasn't prepared to hear anything else beside a 'no'.
"Actually yes, I did," the Dark Lord said coldly, smoothing wrinkles on his robes. "I was certain that sooner or later mudbloods would want to come back."
His blunt statement caused that Harry tripped over. He also choked on his saliva and spent a couple of seconds coughing it out of his windpipe.
"S ... so it is in the Chamber of Secrets now?" he finally asked, his voice strained in apprehension. No matter what he told Ron, he wasn't prepared to fight a Basilisk again, especially without Fawkes' help.
"No, it's dead. That stupid half-giant killed it," Voldemort snapped irritatedly, casting a quick glare at Harry.
"Hagrid? Hagrid killed the Basilisk?-!"
Harry gasped for breath again, gaping at the Dark Lord disbelievingly.
"Yes, Potter! But don't think that it was some kind of heroic deed on his side," the older wizard whispered virulently and clenched his fists in anger. "It happened three years ago when Snape was still a Headmaster. I brought him the Basilisk's egg, which I obtained by a lucky chance. They are incredibly rare because Basilisks usually refuse to mate*. I told Snape to treat it as a child, with great caution and care. It didn't occur to me that he would give it to that ultimate moron, who somehow gained the impression that it was a dragon's egg. That idiot put it into a cauldron and boiled it. Luckily for him, he missed my subsequent visit. I felt very malicious at the time."
Harry tried to keep his face even. He really tried, but who could blame him that he eventually broke into laughter?
Voldemort failed to see how humorous that story was because he seethed in rage at Harry's outburst. The youngster's attempts to stifle his mirth had a minimal effect. Tears continued to roll down his cheeks as he fought new eruptions of laughter.
As a result, the Dark Lord was tremendously bad-tempered again, while Ron and Hermione who caught up with them just a moment later looked flabbergasted.
"Who … who would have thought … that ruling over Hogwarts … can be so difficult?" Harry said between hiccups, trying hard to be serious again, but the damned corners of his lips still twitched upwards. He just loved the way Hagrid got revenge for being unjustly kicked out of the school. He probably did it completely unintentionally.
"Laughing in my face, Potter?" Voldemort sneered nastily. "Just how many borders do you think I'll let you cross with your outrageous impudence?"
The Dark Lord's robes whirled as he spun around, striding away stiffly.
"Wait! Tom...!" Harry called after him, but Riddle didn't look at him this time and Harry felt suddenly hurt.
"He's mad at me," he muttered, downcast.
"Why does it surprise you, buddy? He's always mad at everything. He's completely nuts," Ron said quietly, dropping his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"But, honestly, can you tell us what was that about? Why were you laughing so much? It was a bit … disturbing to see you so cheerful beside him."
Harry sighed as he watched Riddle turn the corner and finally looked at his friend.
"Er- nothing, Ron. It was just a funny story. The important thing is that you can calm down, there's no Basilisk waiting for us in these corridors," Harry said, gathering himself. "However, let me warn however, if Hagrid ever offers you an egg sandwich. I suggest to kindly decline it as you would probably find it inedible. Oh, and one more thing: don't say 'Basilisk's egg' when Voldemort's around. He might become very furious without an apparent reason."
"I won't, don't worry. Still, I don't think that You-Know-Who would ever make me laugh, no matter howhumorous a story he told," Ron said with distaste.
"Apparently, he thought the same about me," Harry replied quietly.
Ron wasn't mollified. He continued to grumble for himself and Hermione, who was until that moment unusually silent, took the opportunity and quickly mouthed few words, making sure that Harry would understand her.
"You looked so happy," she said without a sound.
The remaining shred of Harry's previous elation was gone in that second. She could see right through him as always. He wasn't doing a good job hiding his feelings. According to Hermione's reaction, he was still being painfully obvious. His heart shrank in his chest as if some invisible hand squeezed it.
"Anyway," she spoke aloud. "Did you tell him about our plan?"
Harry tripped up again, losing his balance in a second and muttering a juicy swear word right after that.
"Damn … I … I forgot."
He didn't wait to see his friend's surprised gazes and sprinted after the receding Dark Lord again.
xxxxx
London, the Ministry of Magic
27thDecember 2000, 1:17
He had been imprisoned, supervised by Nestor Desalmado for hours and hours.
Draco cherished the fleeting moment of freedom he was given. He never thought that merely walking down a corridor alone could bring such a relief. He feared returning, he thought he might have reached the brink of his endurance. But he couldn't escape; Negura sealed his fate when he took away his wand.
Desalmado told him that it was his own fault. As a Death Eater, he represented a huge threat to the new system which Umbridge established. Draco decided to call it a system of 'average-ness' for he couldn't find a more suitable term.
Mudbloods were gradually being restricted again for they would soon be classedas 'unnatural existences'. What a funny thing to called them. When the Dark Lord was the ruler, they were pitiful thieves of magic. Half-bloods as 'the average group' mostly fulfilled Umbridge's requirements. The last group, purebloods, was probably the most problematic category. Some of them stayed privileged, the others were unwanted.
But the most absurd thing was that the Death Eaters were sorted among the scum. They were treated worse than Mudbloods. Those of the Death Eaters who committed no serious crime (Draco could only think of only two or three of them) were outcast from the magical community and the same fate went for each and every one of the Dark Lord's supporters. The rest of them were being hunted and killed by Aurors. Yes, the Minister ordered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to stop chasing vampires and focus on killing purebloods instead. It was entirely sickening. And Draco could only suffer it for he was stuck in here. Without his wand, he couldn't really do anything.
Every minute spent in Negura's presence threatened to drive him crazy. Desalmado, his supervisor, was no better. The constant creepy stares would break even the toughest guy.
At this point, the only thing that kept him sane was the thought of getting out of here by some miracle. He had to find his mother. They would flee together and never come back.
That would surely make Desalmado happy. The freak openly desired his position as Negura's plaything. He probably wanted it so much that he wouldn't hesitate to deceive his Leader to get it. It was something Draco couldn't imagine ever doing to the Dark Lord. He didn't understand why was everyone here so obsessed with Negura. What was so special about him, beside his magic? Draco didn't see anything. He only knew that he hated him, that stinking murderer who killed his father.
His thoughts returned to his mother again. He didn't know where she was, had no idea where to look for her. Maybe he should begin searching here, in the Ministry. What if she was already caught and turned into a vampire just like his father was?
Negura needed a new army, he heard him saying that. His servants were outside, each searching for someone redundant and dispensable, someone who was alone and easy to overpower.
His mother was alone. Draco's throat began to burn when her face was replaced by the grimace of his dying father. He made a quick decision. No matter how risky it was, he was going to visit the Atrium. The captives and soon to be victims were being sorted there,like cattle before a slaughter. If his mother was one of them by any chance, he was going to use his influence as Negura's godson. He was going to find her and save her.
Several minutes later, he reached his destination. So far, no one was asking questions, no one was trying to stop him. Even the vampires stayed off, though they were watching him as if he were a walking snack.
Draco stopped by a robust pillar at the entrance. He leaned against it, faking ease. The Atrium was nearly empty, only four vampires stood by the fountain, probably waiting for the 'sorting'. Draco suppressed a gag reflex and looked away.
A couple of minutes later he saw them coming. More than a dozen people; he couldn't count them so quickly. He also couldn't see their faces properly through the darkness.
They were much closer now; soon they would be passing him. Draco was nearly panicking; why couldn't they look up so he could see their faces? Why were all of them staring at the ground, walking in silence? Were they bewitched? What kind of wizard would do that? Negura? Hardly, he wasn't even here.
And then he caught sight of a blond strand. His heartbeat faltered for a second as he realized that he had just missed a chance to look into his or her face. If it was his mother... Draco's hand curled into a fist. Finally he saw the wizard who brought them here. He watched that horrible traitor, leading these people to death. His instincts were screaming at him to attack. It wasn't his style, he always tried to avoid direct conflict, but under these circumstances he would not back off.
The wizard passed him and Draco assaulted him from behind. They collided and fell on the floor. The man was so surprised he nearly dropped his wand. Draco reached for it quickly, but he missed it by a fraction of an inch.
At least he managed to pull down the wizard's cape and look into his face.
The shock was so great that his fierce grasp slackened a little.
He wasn't prepared to see that face.
He couldn't believe that he was looking at ... Percy Weasley.
xxxxx
Hogwarts
27th December 2000, 0:35
"Myrtle?"
Harry scrambled up from the wet and slippery tunnel, sweeping the dirt from his knees.
"Myrtle?" He repeated, surveying the gloomy bathroom quickly.
No one replied him. He could only hear someone's scream and quick steps coming from the corridor outside the room.
And then a distinct sound of a flushing toilet a couple of feet away from him.
"Myrtle … are you in there?" he asked nervously, coming a bit closer.
Again, no answer. Harry nervously looked over his shoulder, but Ron, Hermione and also Voldemort were still hiding down in the 'water pipe'. Hopefully, they wouldn't kill each other in the meantime.
He took another step towards the toilet, rolling the wand in his hand nervously. The running water could only mean that...
"Hello Harry!"
Harry jumped a feet high and yelped in surprise.
He spun around, standing face to face to the floating image of a dark-haired, bespectacled girl.
"Hello Myrtle," he said once he caught his breath. "You look … er … fine."
"Just fine?" she squeaked, the corners of her mouth dropping instantly .
"Eh … eh … no! Much more than fine. I mean … you look … gorgeous … as always," Harry stuttered out a terrible lie, gesturing wildly to stop her from whimpering and wailing. To his great relief, her face immediately began to brighten up.
"Oh Harry, you've come to see me at last…" She smiled sheepishly and tugged at one of her ponytails, combing it with her translucent fingers. "Let's sit down … and talk," she suggested with a snicker.
"Sure, why not?" Harry said with a forceful smile. "Just … would you mind if we go over there?" He couldn't tell her that from their current viewpoint she would be able to see everyone coming from the entrance to the Chamber.
"Because the moonlight makes your face … really pretty," he came up with a quick lie while receding towards the window in the farthest corner.
Once there, Harry plopped down on the bench and she sat beside him, giggling quietly. He was quiet. He knew he should lavish her with compliments, but his mind was completely blank. Fortunately, she spoke first.
"It's been so long since you've last come to see me, Harry," she sighed, looking at him longingly.
"I'm really sorry, Myrtle. It's just ... I'm no longer a student. You can't expect me to come here very often."
"Oh … the time's running so fast for those who are alive," she whimpered. "If you died here, Harry, everything would be so much better. We could be together … forever."
She laid her head on his shoulder, making herself comfortable.
"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" she said dreamily.
"Who knows, you might get lucky soon enough," Harry ground through his teeth, praying silently for Hermione to hurry up.
"Tell me, Harry, have you come back because you were missing me?" she asked when a new idea occurred to her.
"Absolutely. I was missing you … so very much," Harry nodded, exerting himself to suppress the sarcasm which began to seep into his voice. He gulped idly to hide the tick in the left corner of his mouth. He forced another smile on his lips, which looked completely unnatural – at least from his point of view. Myrtle was still beaming with happiness.
"Oh, Harry," she sighed again, her hand falling through Harry's leg. Harry found it very unpleasant and tried not to squirm too much.
"Tell me, Harry," she said playfully, circling one of the buttons of his shirt with her finger. "What were you doing in that dreadful Chamber again? I heard you come out of there."
Harry quickly thought of some clever excuse. He didn't want to make a mistake by telling an obvious lie, so he tried to modify the truth a bit.
"I was looking for Voldemort. He's on the run, hiding somewhere in the castle."
She gasped for breath she didn't needed anymore and covered her mouth with her palm. Harry took it as a sign that she was going to scream and quickly exclaimed.
"No, no no!You don't need to worry! There's no reason to panic because..."
She wailed and whimpered, flying up above him and then furiously around him.
"There's no need to panic because I'm already dead! That's what you wanted to say, right?-!" she screeched and wailed again.
Harry's blood nearly froze in his veins after hearing it.
"No, Myrtle! Listen!" he yelped at her, jumping up. "All I wanted to say is that there's no reason to panic because...," he browsed the possibilities in a rush and picked the worst one, "because I'm here to protect you!"
She stopped her maddening swirls that instant.
Her eyes grew wide, glimmering with happiness again.
"Oh … no one has ever tried to protect me before," she whispered, her face suddenly very close to his.
"Harry … you are so..."
Harry was petrified. She was coming closer and closer and all he could do was stare at her and let her do whatever she wanted. He didn't want to be kissed by a ghost. Even the thought of it felt gross. Why did these things always happen to him?
"Harry?"
Harry quickly turned after the call, missing her incorporeal lips by a fraction of an inch. His friends, who called at him, stood by the entrance; Ron was smirking and Hermione's lips were twitching too. Harry bristled. The only thing which stopped him from sputtering at them was Hermione, who was holding the travelling bag. So his mission was successful after all.
"Who are they?" Myrtle hissed in anger. "What do they want?"
"They're my friends, Myrtle, remember? They're helping me find Vol..."
A cold, invisible hand squeezed his throat all of a sudden.
"Unnecessary, Potter. I'm standing right behind you," a soft, icy voice hissed into his ear.
And then, he was being forcefully dragged towards the door.
"We are in a hurry, Myrtle. See you … later...," Harry managed to choke out before he was pushed out of the room. Hermione and Ron quickly followed them and soon the bathroom's large doors separated them from Myrtle's moaning. Still, Harry could hear her wailing through the wall.
"Good job, Harry," Hermione breathed out. "She ate right out of your hand."
Harry rubbed his neck, where he still felt imprints of Voldemort's fingers. He watched him shed the cloak and step aside from them as if they were highly infectious.
"You see, I told you. He didn't even have to try that hard," Ron muttered nervously. He probably meant it as a joke, but the shock of seeing Voldemort again gave his voice a grave undertone.
"If you think so," Harry shrugged. "The important thing is that we've made it so far. Now, let's decide our next course of action..."
"You don't know yet, Potter? I thought you had a plan," Riddle sneered at him. Harry was taken aback by the fiery agitation in his voice and gleaming gaze.
"What's your problem? I don't hear you coming up with any clever ideas," he answered back.
"I think you're stalling on the purpose, Potter. Deep inside you want Negura to catch me and kill me. Your flirting with that dead mudblood showed your priorities. I just wish I didn't have to witness that most disgusting act of blood-treachery."
"You bastard!" Harry raised his voice as the words cut deep into him. "I was doing that only because of you!"
He pointed his finger at him and snarled. "You know what?-! If this is what you think of me, then give me back my cloak and go! You don't have suffer my company!"
Harry's steaming anger took Voldemort by surprise. People around him probably didn't express their emotions so wildly. He didn't answer – and didn't even leave. He just glared back at Harry, silent.
"Harry," Hermione said, distracting him from his frenzy. "Don't forget that Negura's reinforcements are coming here. Before they arrive, Negura won't be able to track all the secret passages, if any. We could use the one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy and once we're at the castle grounds, we could escape through the passage beneath the Whomping Willow."
Her soft voice had an amazing calming effect on Harry. He took a deep breath and nodded.
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea..."
Ron gasped. "But that passage leads to...!"
"Potter...," Voldemort hissed but Harry interrupted him.
"We all know where it leads, okay?"
He turned back to Hermione.
"Why did you suggest the Shrieking Shack, Hermione?" he asked urgently. Something was telling him that they should hurry up.
"It used to be Lupin's hideout. Vampires are naturally repulsed by werewolf's smell, we should be safe in there for some time," Hermione quickly explained.
"Potter!" Voldemort snarled again.
"That house is haunted!" Ron protested. "They say that a black-clad person walks around it at midnight and then disappears inside! It's Snape, Harry! I really don't want to see him again!"
Harry doubted it. In his opinion, Snape was too brave to become a ghost.
"We have to choose a hiding place. If the Shack is the best at the moment then we should go there," he decided and glanced at Voldemort. Even if it was Snape who was haunting it, the only one who should be really afraid of him was Tom.
"Potter!" he hissed furiously. "You fool...!"
His face was stiff, his mouth jerked violently and spasmodically at one corner. And the old wound on his neck was bleeding. Harry's heart plummeted through his stomach at the realization. He knew who was causing this. It was Negura; they ran out of time.
"He's here...," he breathed out it terror.
"What?" Ron asked in confusion.
"The vampire..." Harry choked out. "Run..."
Ron froze and Hermione's face turned ashen.
"RUN!" Harry roared and they did.
They sprinted blindly; regardless of what corridor they chose. They hadn't seen anyone yet, knowing that if they did, it would be too late.
"We have to split up," Harry heard Hermione's breathless voice.
She was correct, Harry remembered that if the worst happened, they must not be caught together.
"Turn left and meet us in five minutes by the statue," he yelped back at her, following the Dark Lord who picked the route to the right.
"Harry, no!" he heard Ron's yell from behind. He could only hope that Hermione would be able to hold him back and make him follow the plan.
He and Voldemort reached the corridor leading to the classroom where Harry used to take Transfiguration lessons. It was blocked, someone was running after them from the other side. Harry felt Voldemort grasp his collar and forced him to change the direction. Then, a huge blast of light blinded Harry's eyes for a couple of seconds. Someone send a curse after them and missed Harry's head by few inches. He gave all he could into his sprint and before the next turning he glanced back, seeing six people pursuing them. He didn't have time to check whether Negura was among them.
"Kill them, Potter!" Voldemort, who was just slightly ahead of him, snarled.
"No!" Harry gasped.
"For Salazar's sake kill them, you brat, or we're dead!"
"I said no!" Harry snapped back and turned to hex the pursuers.
"Impedimenta!"
The flare enlightened the corridor and Harry suddenly saw him. Negura was already gaining on them, raising the wand too.
"Sectumsempra!" Harry screamed just as the vampire cut the distance to mere twenty feet.
The curse ineffectively blasted against the wall and Harry nearly went to his knees to avoid a flash which Negura sent back.
"NO!"
Harry heard someone's desperate scream from behind.
"STOP IT! STOP IT! IT'S POTTER!"
Harry's throat was on fire, his legs were turning heavier and heavier. He glanced over his shoulder again, seeing the vampire close, too close to them. He could even see his smirk as he mouthed a curse. Harry raised his hand to cast the Shield Charm, but he was too slow. The blast hit the underside of his arm with full force.
Harry screamed in pain; his arm felt like being stabbed by a molten blade. Blood immediately gushed out of the wound and the next second his shirt was soaking wet from the warm, sticky liquid.
Negura was now within his reach. Harry could see the victorious gleam in his eyes.
And then the monster was forced to turn around as someone's curse hit his back. He was being attacked by one of the pursuers. Harry didn't have a chance to discover who was it as Voldemort was suddenly right beside him, throwing the invisibility cloak over him and pushing him to the wall. Harry only heard a soft snap of some lever and then he fell through narrow doors which appeared out of nowhere.
They heavily fell on the cold floor and the doors closed behind them with another quick snap.
Harry was in shock.
He knew somehow that he was bleeding from the artery and that he had to stop it before he fainted. The problem was that he couldn't bring himself to move. His body refused to respond, as if he'd forgotten how to use his muscles. He only shook in wild tremors, pitiful sounds were escaping his lips and his eyes were seeing nothing beside crazy revolving patterns.
And then he felt that he was being dragged and someone made him sit. He also heard a voice, however he was unable to understand the meaning of words over the buzz in his ears.
"Potter!"
Someone snarled his name.
Harry focused on the face before him and managed to recognize Voldemort. He spoke to him again and this time Harry listened and understood.
"Breathe! Don't swoon!" he saw the pale mouth bark orders at him.
Harry did as he was told, forcing the air into his lungs. The surroundings cleared a bit and Harry began to feel a new pain coming from the junction between his neck and shoulder. It was a result of vicious pressure Voldemort was applying a spot under his collarbone, he realized.
Riddle's other hand seized Harry's healthy arm, where he still clutched the wand. He pressed the wand's tip against the wound and spoke insistently.
"Remedium hexia. Say it, Potter."
Harry gasped for breath. The room began to spin wildly.
"I … I … can't..."
"Say it! Remedium hexia!"
The biting voice was cutting through the mist which began to obscure to his senses.
"Re … reme..."
No, he couldn't speak anymore, he was too tired.
"SAY IT!"
"Remedium hex … Remedium hexia," Harry muttered.
"AGAIN!"
"Remedium hexia."
"Again! Repeat it!"
"Remedium hexia, remedium hexia, remedium … hexia..."
Harry was saying it over and over again, and the pain in his arm began to gradually subside until it finally disappeared.
"That's enough."
Harry opened his eyes. His eyelids still felt a bit heavy, but it was great to see the surroundings steady and clear. He looked up, gazing into two glowing embers which stared back at him from Voldemort's porcelain white face. Harry straightened his back, breathing in deeply. He propped his head against the wall, concentrating on the fact that Voldemort was straddling him, sitting on his thighs. Harry was almost happy he didn't have a normal amount of blood in his system, otherwise his body would react in a way which would be hard to overlook. As long as he was anemic, he only had to suppress a soft moan.
The hands which rested his shoulders tightened their grasp on his shirt for a second. Harry took a glance at the unusually pale hands, which were dirty from his drying blood.
"It's your lucky day today," he finally whispered. "You've always wanted this - to have my blood on your hands - haven't you?"
Voldemort, seeing that Harry was responsive and even attempting to be funny in the most pitiful way, got up and graciously took a step aside.
"Lucky day you say," he sneered. His face however lacked resentment.
"My survival solely depends on one reckless teenager, whose limited knowledge and poor fighting skills cannot offer me any protection. I fail to see my luck, Potter."
"Firstly," Harry said as he scrambled on his feet as well. "I'm twenty, my teenage years are over. Secondly, I fought you several times and I always survived it!"
Voldemort snorted.
"If you're so great then what was that right now?"
"Look, just because I refuse to kill people, it doesn't make me a bad fighter," Harry said, making Voldemort snort again.
"I admit that I'm not a great one either. Negura is a completely different league. But it's doesn't mean that I will let him do whatever he wants! I won't let him terrorize and murder my friends!" Harry said and then lowered his voice. "I admit that I was too slow this time. You saved me again, Tom. Thank you."
Voldemort turned to him, outraged. His eyes flashed dangerously and he opened his mouth to say something but was prevented by Harry's warm embrace.
Harry buried his face into the hard chest, enjoying the feeling of warmth seeping through the silky robes.
"I swear I won't let him terrorize and murder my friends," he repeated, his voice drowned by the clothes. "Not even you."
He inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar smell. Voldemort fell silent. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine and Harry, who was pressed against him, could feel it. It made his head spin again.
"Potter?"
Harry expected a much more forceful rebuff.
He removed his face from the robes, feeling a bit tipsy. He spoke without thinking, his voice deep and sultry.
"I wonder … have you ever desired something completely forbidden, Tom? Something forbidden even to you, the Dark Lord? Is there even such a thing?"
Voldemort didn't answer immediately. Harry had to gather his courage and look up into his gleaming, red eyes first.
"Even if there is such a thing, I would certainly not tell you."
Riddle's reply was short, his voice displaying formerly unknown tension. He extracted himself from Harry's hold, turning away from him.
"You'd better pull yourself together, Potter," he said coldly. "We aren't any closer to escape than we were half an hour ago."
If he was right about one thing, then it was Harry's bad timing. The young man realized this too and decided to change that.
"Right," he said, shaking his head. "You're right. Let's find my friends. They must be terrified that we didn't come to our meeting point."
"First of all, Potter, get rid of that blood on your clothes … and I shall do the same. I don't want Negura to smell us for miles." He finally turned his head towards Harry again. "The kitchen is downstairs."
They reached it within a minute and Harry went inside first, keeping the wand ready. Fortunately, his precaution proved to be unnecessary, because the room was rather empty. Only several house-elves were present, working on preparation of breakfast. The rest were probably doing the cleaning in the Houses.
Once the house-elves noticed his presence, they ran towards him, beaming at him, bowing. Their smiles, however, fell from their small faces once they saw Voldemort behind him.
"Er... Hi, can I talk to Kreacher?" Harry said with a strained voice.
Just as he said that name a small, scrawny house-elf with a bulbous nose and bloodshot eyes appeared before him with a soft pop.
"How can Kreacher serve the Master?" he croaked, bowing deeply.
"Kreacher, I need your help. Go find Ron and Hermione. Once you find them, come back immediately and tell me whether the people from the Ministry managed to catch them or not. Don't speak to anyone until you return."
Just as Harry finished, Kreacher bowed to him again and disappeared.
Harry looked at the rest of the house-elves, who were regarding him curiously.
"Do you think you can help me clean this up?" he asked and pointed at his bloodied sleeve.
He didn't expect their eager reaction. The next moment he was buried under their small bodies. Each of the house-elves was carrying some scrub or towel, rubbing and washing off the stains from his hand and cloths. They were finished within a few moments and Harry appreciatively admitted that his shirt was as good as new.
"Thanks," he said and they bowed deeply and hurried to hide beneath the tables.
Harry first wondered why, but then it occurred to him, that they were still stressed by Voldemort's presence.
Thinking of him, he realized he hadn't seen him for a short while. Growing curious, Harry went to the fireplace situated in the farther part of the kitchen, where he thought he could see his tall figure. It was indeed Voldemort and he was dining … or having a very early breakfast. Harry finally perceived why Voldemort wanted to come here. It didn't occur to him before but Riddle had to be thirsty and starving.
Now he was presented with a very interesting spectacle. It was unusual to see someone eat so fast and yet maintain his dignified manners. He missed seeing him eat. Voldemort on the other hand wasn't thrilled that he was being watched.
"I cannot regain my magical power without any source of energy, Potter," he spoke coldly, glowering at him for his curious stare.
"I understand," Harry nodded. "I'll pack some extra food for you."
He conjured a small bag and began to stuff it with basic supplies. He regretted that he hadn't learned Hermione's undetectable extension charm yet. It would be really handy at the moment. His bag was nearly full when Kreacher reappeared before him.
"Kreacher found them just as Master ordered," he rasped out, wheezing. "They are looking for Master. They are desperate to find Master."
"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said quickly. "Have you seen anyone from the Ministry? The Leader? Umbridge?"
"No, Kreacher hasn't seen them."
"Thank you. I have one more request for you … if you don't mind."
"Kreacher is very happy to serve his Master any time he wants," the house-elf muttered, gazing up adoringly.
"Good. Can you take me … take us … to them?"
"Kreacher will do anything his Master asks."
"Okay, do it, please."
Harry gestured towards Voldemort who was clearly displeased, yet reluctantly came closer.
"Time to get out of here," Harry said and handed him the bag with food and invisibility cloak. He seized his hand, reaching out with the other for the elf.
The moment he touched it the world spun around him and in the next second they stood in a large, dark classroom.
Harry looked around and gasped for breath.
At least a dozen of wands were pointing at them.
R&R
Author's note: * Basilisk is usually born from a chicken's egg hatched beneath a toad. - Harry Potter Wiki
"speech in Parseltongue"