When he next regained consciousness, he made sure that he regained some of his rationality as well. He didn't want to end up like he'd done the last time he'd come back to his senses.

Opening his eyes was a struggle but he managed it after a minute or two. It was Andrew's concerned face that met his gaze as soon as he did. He held his gaze as he gathered every ounce of strength he had and managed to sit up straight. Andrew hurried forwards and placed a pillow behind his back before inquiring,

"How are you feeling?"

Harry fisted the covers as rage boiled through his blood. The need for revenge was like a rat gnawing at his soul, relentless, unceasing, it could only be stopped by the cold steel of a rat trap, a trap he would devise himself. His need for revenge was like an abscess on the skin of the soul that could only be cured by the cruel sharp steel point of revenge. Festering like a septic wound, and the only effective antibiotic was cold hard revenge. Savage. Spiteful. A dish best served cold. Unforgiving. Tom was going to pay for what he'd done to him.

He managed to keep his voice cold and calculated when he spoke,

"Get the doctor."

Andrew nodded before leaving the room in a hurry and Harry ran his fingers through his bedraggled hair as he thought about how he was going to get Fenrir back. Andrew returned with the doctor in tow and Harry stared pointedly at the IV that was once again attached to his arm,

"Take it off."

The doctor carefully removed the IV and Harry spoke,

"Should I be worried about passing out again?"

The doctor shook his head,

"Not really, Sir. The toxin shouldn't affect you anymore."

Harry flexed his arm and swung his legs off the bed,

"I want an enhanced version of that toxin… Get to that immediately, Andrew."

Andrew replied promptly,

"It shall be done."

Harry rose to his feet and picked up his phone from the side table as he dismissed the doctor. When he was gone, he inquired,

"How far have we gotten in tracking down Fenrir?"

Andrew was silent at that and that certainly wasn't a good sign,

"I want an answer, Andrew."

Andrew cleared his throat and spoke,

"Mark and his team have been working day and night to find him… The twins have combed through the city's traffic camera footages but couldn't track his movements… We did however manage to access his phone data and…"

Andrew's voice died down and Harry felt his frustration growing,

"What did they find?"

Andrew picked up his tablet from the couch and swiped through it before handing it to him. Harry found himself staring at a picture of himself that had probably been taken when Tom had knocked him out. It wasn't the only picture though…There were several more and suddenly it all made sense.

Tom had lured Fenrir to him by using him as bait. He had known that Fenrir wouldn't be able to resist coming to his rescue and he'd used that to his advantage. How could he have underestimated Tom once again?

He threw the tablet against the wall as a roar left his throat. How the hell had he been so stupid?

He drew in a deep breath to calm himself. Anger wasn't going to help him get Fenrir back. He needed to stay calm and collected.

He walked towards the bathroom and spoke over his back,

"I want names of all of Voldemort's known associates… I want their addresses and I want anything else you can dig up on them."

Andrew spoke,

"Sure."

He hurried out of the room and Harry walked towards the sink. He considered his reflection in the mirror before splashing cold water over his face…It seemed to help him regain some more control over himself. He shaved off the short beard that had sprouted over the days he'd been unconscious and brushed his teeth before deciding that he needed a shower as well. He shrugged out of his clothes and remembered what had taken place between him and Tom before that bastard had pricked him with that needle…

A very miniscule part of him was relieved that Tom had dressed him up before photographing him and leaving him…

He waved away those thoughts. Tom was going to die and that was the end of it.

He stepped under the stream of ice cold water and relished in the way it restored his strength and energy. He shampooed his hair and soaped up every inch of himself. He wanted to erase Tom's touch from his very being.

When he felt clean enough, he stepped out of the shower and walked towards his wardrobe. Picking out an outfit wasn't a problem. He just grabbed the first shirt and pair of jeans he could get his hands on before he made his way downstairs. The Estate was hauntingly silent, and Harry felt something akin to pain in his chest as Fenrir's absence aggravated him.

He was going to get him back at any cost...

He found Andrew in the dining room, which he'd apparently converted into his office because the table was littered with files and documents. He was talking to someone on the phone, probably one of his street rats as he scribbled away on a piece of paper in front of him.

Harry passed a cursory gaze over the papers littering the table as he waited for Andrew to get off the call. And when Andrew finished his call, Harry demanded,

"I want you to call Voldemort."

Andrew started at him for a moment, slightly befuddled when Harry snapped his fingers,

"Now, Andrew…Call him now!"