Chapter 3
The Headmaster's office was almost completely dark, lit only by the red embers of a fire that had long ago burnt itself out. Candles that had been left to burn were now only piles of hardened wax on the floor. Some of the past headmasters were snoozing in their portraits while others seemed on edge, fiddling or exchanging anxious whispers.
An eruption of emerald fire burst from the harth, and a slender figure stepped out with a whirl of ash. It stood there for a moment, head bent fingers pressed tightly into the corner of each eye, before making its way wearily to the ornate chair behind the desk. Every portrait was awake now, eyeing the old man as he sat down with a long sigh. After a moment of silent stares, each afraid to be the first to speak, one broke the silence. "Dumbledore what has.…"
Albus was quick to raise a withered hand, silencing the question before collapsing his head onto his steepled fingers. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been such a fool?
Another burst of fire roused him from his thoughts, though he did not acknowledge his new guest. He expected he would have an abundance of visitors over the next few hours. Slow, precise footsteps approached the front of his desk, and soft creak indicated the person had seated themself in one of the chairs directly in front of the Headmaster.
They sat in silence for what seemed like ages before Dumbledore let out a sigh. "I think it best if I had some time alone to gather…" His sentence was immediately cut short by a soft, yet eerie, chuckle. Eyes opening wide, Albus slowly lifted his head to face what he knew waited before him.
Those gleaming red eyes were bright with excitement and triumph as they pierced into Dumbledore's defeated blue's. "Now now Professor, surely you have enough time to talk with a former student." With this, Voldemort pointed his wand at the door which let out a loud [i]click /i] as it locked, and then turned his attention to the fireplace, making sure no one would interrupt them.
"There now, how about some privacy," he said, turning back to the Headmaster who seemed to be trying his best to keep his calm composure. "Ah, the great, fearless Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort goaded, leaning back in his chair with legs crossed. He had the upper hand here and he knew it. "Is that worry I see in those old eyes, Headmaster?"
Thinking quickly, Dumbledore took a deep breath and leaned casually back in his own chair. From the look of them now, anyone could mistake them for mates having a casual chat. "What have done with Harry, Tom?" The question was calm but inside Dumbledore was fighting the urge to yell. He knew it would be some time before anyone would find him here. After all, he wasn't technically the Headmaster anymore.
Voldemort let his gaze drift to the floor as if he were pondering the question. "Who's to say I haven't already killed your boy hero?" he asked confidentially, snapping his attention back to the professor's face. He wanted to see the defeat wash over him as the words sank in. Yet, he was slightly disappointed to see a smile spreading across Dumbledore's lips.
"Come now Tom, we both know that if you had already killed him you would have brought his body with you. It's your biggest downfall Tom, " Dumbledore said, holding Riddle's gaze which no longer held the same glee. "You never pass up an opportunity to gloat."
Voldemort's smile dropped a fraction but he merely shook his head. "You know me to well, Albus but," he paused here, calculating his next words. "Apparently not well enough to know this was coming. You basically delivered the boy to me you old fool. You knew he was having visions, didn't you? " He took a moment to laugh here as Dumbledore dropped his eyes in shame. "And yet you still didn't find it pressing enough to help the poor boy. What's wrong Professor? Did you see something familiar in those emerald eyes?"
It took several minutes for Dumbledore to respond. He remained staring at the multiple unfinished Decrees that littered the top of his former desk, unwilling to see the taunting look in Voldemort's eyes. "I stand by what I said earlier. I've grown extremely foolish in my old age. Looking back on what I should and should not have done will change nothing now. I've learned that all too well." It was here he returned his view back to Riddle's. "I'm willing to make a trade for Harry of course."
Voldemort let out a loud cackle that filled the room. Daybreak was upon them and a grey light was beginning to seep in through an open window. Soon students would be starting their day, unaware of how much things had changed over the course of one night. Unaware that directly above them sat the world's biggest threat.
Leaning forward, Voldemort was still shaking with laughter. "You have nothing to bargain with. Nothing I…"
"I'm talking specifically about myself," Dumbledore interjected.
Voldemort's laughing ceased immediately and his red eyes narrowed. Leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head, he stared at a spot directly above Dumbledore's head. Chewing his bottom lip, he seemed to be weighing his options. A small grin broke out suddenly as if a funny thought had crossed his mind. "Have you ever heard Harry scream, Albus?"
A mixture of anger and nausea overtook Dumbledore as he tried to find the words to say. "Tom I don't-"
Voldemort gave out a soft chuckle, ignoring Dumbledore completely. "The boy tries to be so strong," he pressed on, locking his eyes back on Dumbledore's color drained face . "But that sound he makes, oh that beautiful sound, when his will breaks and that scream that's been building bursts out in a gagged cry. Not to mention the way his body thrashes…"
"STOP!" Dumbledore's hand was now resting on the hilt of his wand, his usual cool composure overtaken by complete rage. "Tell me where he is Tom."
"Or what?" Voldemort whispered propping himself on the edge of the chair, that sick smirk still resting on his thin lips. A quiet settled over them, neither one willing to budge.
A loud pounding came from the door, but neither seemed bothered by it. "Albus! Albus!" came Remus's' panicked voice from the other side.
"It seems that my time is up," Voldemort said, rising to his feet. He started to make his way back to the fireplace.
Dumbledore rose to his feet as well, drawing his wand and taking aim at his former pupil. "Tom please. Let Harry go. I'm begging you to let me take his place." The panic in his voice was now palpable as he watched the wizard stop right outside the harth.
The door shook as Remus threw his body against it repeatedly. Voldemort spun on his heal, eyeing the wand that was pointing at his chest and then resting his gaze on those pleading blue eyes. "It's so nice to see you begging Dumbledore," [b] CRACK /b] The door began to splinter. It was one hit away from bursting open. "But I think I'll keep the whipping boy. He seems to be more valuable than I first thought." Taking a backwards step, Voldemort stepped into the fireplace as the door splintered open.
Remus stumbled in, wand drawn and breathing rapidly. Turning to fix his aim on the dark wizard in the fireplace, he faltered. "I'll make sure to give Harry your love of course. He seems to think this is all your fault after all," Voldemort sneered.
Taking a hand full of flue powder the wizard raised his arm but before dropping it he couldn't resist one last remark. "Oh, and I'll see if I can get you to one of our torture sessions. You just have to hear him screaming." Before anyone could get a spell off, Voldemort dropped his hand full of powder, disappearing in blaze of green fire.
Dumbledore collapsed back into his chair, face in his hands. In the background he could hear as if coming from far away, Remus shouting, cursing, as he tried to make since of what was going on around them. All Albus could do was think of the damage he had caused. All the wrong choices he had made this year that had led them to this.
A pounding on his desk awoke him from his thoughts, and he raised his head wearily to see Remus leaning forward, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the oak wood. "We can't just sit here Dumbledore! "
Letting out a low sigh, Albus erected himself in his chair. "What would you have me do Remus?" His voice came out calmer than he felt. In all truthfulness, he would rather be the one up shouting, throwing things, anything rather than sitting there helplessly.
Reality began to sink in forcing Lupin to take a seat in Voldemort's former chair. "I don't know. I thought you of all people would have a plan."
"I have all the Order's spies out looking for his location. So far they have had nothing to report on. It would seem that Voldemort hasn't even told his Death Eaters that he has Harry."
A look of panic crossed Remus's face. "Are we sure he's alive? Voldemort could just be toying with us. "
"I'm positive he's alive," Dumbledore quickly reassured him. "If Harry were dead we would surely know it."
A small amount of relief washed over Lupin but not enough to settle the nausea rising in his stomach. "I can be of some help. I'm plugged in with some werewolves that…."
Dumbledore raised a hand, stopping Remus from finishing his offer. "Remus I must implore you to wait until we have more information. They know you are working for the Order and if they were to capture…"
"I can use a polijuice potion. They would never have to know it was me," he pleaded, desperate for a way to feel productive. Yet, the look on Dumbledore's face told him his answer without speaking.
"I'm afraid the only thing left for us to do is wait."