Delusions: Chapter Four

I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I receiving a profit off of this.

A/N: Thanks for the abundance of reviews; I was pleasantly surprised.

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            Approaching it. Wanting it. Smell getting stronger. One bite, baring teeth. Blood gushing. Have to stop. Screaming, hitting. He is calling. He is impatient. Can't let myself become distracted. Must go, must find him. Master, my Master, my glorious Master. He beckons expectantly in the language of the serpent. Answer back. Hissing, running. NOW.   

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            This was getting nowhere, Snape decided, as he turned on another Muggle road that would eventually meander into another intersection. He was at a pace that was extremely similar to Potter's; he could not gain any ground at the moment, unless Potter halted, of course. Snape had taken to swearing under his breath at the uselessness of it all. He was in a dangerous position, he knew, alone in an unfamiliar place. Not only was he searching for the deranged son of one of his most hated enemies, he had placed himself in a position that had gaps for attacks. The feeling that the Dark Lord had something to do with this chase intensified. How on earth was he going to be able to fight off the Dark Lord and his legion of Death Eaters if it came to that? His anxiety was rapidly growing at that point. He turned right at a corner after consulting Potter's direction when he heard someone howling a little ways up the road.

            "He bit my bloody arm!" Snape heard through the drunken wailing. "That madman took a hunk out of my arm!" Snape continued up the street a little further until he came to the source of the noise. A Muggle man was sprawled out under a lamppost, gripping his right arm tightly, trying to staunch the blood flow with a handkerchief. A whiskey bottle was smashed on the ground, and amber liquid was slopped down the man's front. "Hey! HEY! You there! Help me out." Snape didn't stop; the Muggle could go to a hospital if he was that injured. It was not his job to aid intoxicated persons. But then again, it wasn't his job to chase Potter around either. However, that was the most important thing at the moment.

            He heard the man curse miserably, but Snape found something that worried him. Potter had become feral as well as insane. Droplets of blood marred the pavement, each one tinged with Potter's magical energy. Oh, things were definitely going downhill very fast.

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            Lupin paced around the kitchen nervously, waiting for Tonks, Moody, and Shaklebolt to arrive so he could leave to go to the Burrow. Things were very serious; he had never seen Dumbledore look so scared in his entire life. He jerked his head upward as he heard a soft knock on the front door. He hurried down the hall to open the door; Tonks was standing in the doorway, looking extremely tired. As soon as she entered a crack sounded trough the air and Moody was walking up the walkway. Kingsley arrived a few minutes later, and Lupin ushered him into the kitchen with the others.

            "Why did you call us here, Remus?" asked Tonks, "I wish you could've specified things. I'm so t-t-tired." She stifled a gigantic yawn.

            "We have a problem," Remus began hurriedly, only to be interrupted by Moody.

            "What sort of problem?" Moody growled, his magical eye swiveling in all directions as he stumped over to the table and sat down on the bench.

            "It's about Harry," Lupin continued. All three tired faces were suddenly sharper, more attentive. "Dumbledore has just contacted me."

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            Voldemort sat, bathed in the darkness that blanketed his room, ecstatic. He had finally managed to draw Potter to him. Oh, yes, Potter was unable to be helped by Dumbledore or those other Mudblood lovers. In just a little while he would have the boy he had longed to kill for sixteen years.

            It had been a question of whether he would be able to control Potter's mind at first; he believed that the magical barriers surrounding Hogwarts may have obliterated the fragment of himself that he had left behind in Potter's head. As soon as it became clear that Voldemort's interference had not been detected and destroyed, he had not wasted any time into feeding power through the mental link he fortunately (or unfortunately, at times it was hard to tell) shared with Potter. Had anyone been watching, they'd have recognized slight behavioral issues in the weeks after Hogwarts had adjourned for a year. He would've seemed to be on edge more than usual, restless, at times, perhaps, frightened. The slowly growing energy had come at night, at Potter's most vulnerable hours of sleep, coming in the form of unsettling dreams. It was a powerfully wonderful feeling knowing that he was making Potter's life hell after the thirteen years he had suffered in Albania. And now… now the plan was realized. Potter would come to him quite willingly. Voldemort could then easily peruse through glimpses of Potter's thoughts, using his Occlumency skills, of course. It didn't matter if Potter had landed Death Eaters in prison; it was a small price to pay, and besides, Azkaban could be broken into effortlessly. And after Potter had served what little use he had, he would be disposed of. Oh, Potter's blood would flow into the absorbent ground, and the hope of a reoccurrence of the events that took place on October the thirty-first, 1981 would be dashed. Then the only one left to stop him would be Dumbledore. Although a powerful wizard, Dumbledore had not managed to defeat him in the past, and even though Voldemort did not dare, at the present time, to invade Hogwarts, he was quite sure that Dumbledore would not become an extremely threatening figure.

            Voldemort broke his musings for a moment, only to hail Lestrange. "Bellatrix," he said quietly in that hissing, high-pitched voice of his.

            "Yes, Master." She approached and fell into a bow, only to straighten up seconds later.

            ""I want you to go to the edge of the forest. Look for Potter."

            "Harry Potter, Master?" Bellatrix's gaunt face was confused, but she realized her error, and terror swept over her features. "Forgive me, Master, I did not mean to contradict you."

            Voldemort did not acknowledge her accidental questioning of his order. "Yes. I daresay he'll be coming soon. And we naturally have to meet him as grandly as we have done before."
            Bellatrix bobbed her head readily, though still obviously perplexed. "As you wish, Master," she said, bowed again, and turned to leave. As soon as she had departed fully, Voldemort allowed himself to express his jubilation by laughing. The streaming, endless sound scared birds from the trees and they soared through the ominous night.

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            Where am I? What's happening? Someone help me! Help! Let me out! HELP!! HELP ME, PLEASE!!! Someone please help me…

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End of chapter

A/N: Boring chapter, I know. This is sort of a transition; I hope the next chapters will start to escalate into the climax.