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Harry ran like he had never run before. He didn't stop when he reached the gardens or when he spotted the tiny passageway hidden in the hedges. He just ran.

Stepping into the forest robbed you of one sense and heightened the others. He had underestimated the utter blackness of night time in the woods. In his mind, the trees would be black trunks against a bluish charcoal sky, the path would become deepest brown and the moonlight would bleach the stones within it. The silvery rays of the moon were incapable of penetrating the dense canopy above. It could be no blacker in a coffin, six feet under and piled with dirt. He began to breathe the cool air more rapidly. The darkness pressed in on him from all sides and his body screamed as he continued to run.

It was disorientating to be almost blinded. Even the soft susurration of the branches felt heavy in the ears. His sense of smell was sensitized, the loam in the earth and the decomposing leaves made the atmosphere close and thick. The blackness nurtured a sense of claustrophobia inside you even though the woodland stretched unbroken for miles. The narrow path, which was made uneven by the knotted roots that crossed it, branched at intervals. Harry pulled out the map from his pocket but the perpetual dark prevented him from using it so he thrust it back.

Suddenly, he tripped over a root and landed face first on the ground. White, hot pain was pulsing through his ankle. He clenched his teeth. He had to get up. He had to run. He wasn't going back to that castle because that would mean lifetime imprisonment for him. His hands curled up in the moist soil and he instantly raised himself to his feet.

His feet slipped outwards on the wet, dead leaves that littered the forest ground as he stumbled through the thick trees. The cold evening air shocked his throat and lungs as he inhale deeper, faster. With each footfall, a jarring pain shot through his ankle up to his knee. His heart was beating frantically, all or nothing. Fail and his whole body would pay the price, run and the damage would be limited mostly to his ankle plus he would have his freedom.

Harry was glad for one thing though. So far, he hadn't felt Voldemort's heavy gaze on him which either meant that he hadn't caught up to him or the man simply hadn't begun the hunt yet. Hunt. He was being hunted. The image of Lord Voldemort made him shudder and he ran a bit faster.

Harry heard the sound of twigs snapping around him and he realized with cold dread that he wasn't alone. In fact, he felt surrounded. Harry heard voices coming nearer and nearer: rough excited voices. Heavy footfalls surrounded him and Harry froze in place. A large, vicious-looking man with matted grey hair and whiskers stepped out from the trees. Harry stole a quick glance around to find an opening but there was none. Twelve or Thirteen men surround him and there was no way he could make a run for it without knocking down on of them, which seemed highly unlikely because every single one of them was bulky and muscular.

The vicious looking man seemed to be the leader because he stepped forward and Harry reluctantly took a step back. His back instantly came in contact with something solid. The unbearable warmth and the sickly stench of sweat and blood informed him that he had backed up into one of the men. Harry felt a muscular arm wrap around his midsection and he struggled and attempted to slip out of the hold but all his efforts were for nought and his injured ankle was screaming in pain.

Greyback flashed him a feral grin and Harry noticed the pointed teeth and long yellowish nails. He wasn't a vampire. He was something far worse,

"My name is Fenrir Greyback. What about yours, Lovely?"

Harry didn't reply. Couldn't reply because his throat was constricted with fear. Greyback drew closer to him and the stench grew stronger. Harry tried holding his breath but it was useless. The stench was making him feel nauseous and sick. Greyback grabbed his face and snarled,

"What's your name?"

Harry finally managed to say his name,

"Harry."

Greyback laughed and stroked his cheek with a yellowed nail,

"And what is a lovely, delicious human like you doing out here in the woods?"

Harry didn't miss the fact that Greyback had referred to him as delicious. Why was everything in this place so hostile and ready to feed on him? His fear was quickly dissipating, just like it always did and he felt reckless,

"I was searching for you, handsome."

Greyback grinned again and closed the distance between them further. The stench grew stronger and Harry resisted the urge to gag. Greyback continued to scrape his nail over his cheek and growled lowly,

"Delicious.… what a treat … I do enjoy the softness of the skin …"

Harry cursed his own stupidity and lack of self-preservation but there was only way to escape. Harry batted his eyelashes in what he hoped was a flirtatious gesture and spoke in the deepest voice he could muster,

"Can we go somewhere private?"

Greyback licked his lips. Harry could see the contradiction in his eyes. He was thinking but Harry was wishing he would act on impulse. Finally, Harry saw the first indicator that he had been triumphant. Greyback's pupils dilated with lust and he signalled the man to release him. Harry winced in pain as pain shot through his ankle again. Greyback, however was too focused on his body to notice his facial expressions. Harry steeled and readied himself to run. He just hoped these men weren't fast. Just as Greyback removed his hand from his face. Harry made a run for it. His ankle protested and screamed but he couldn't stop. He swerved through the trees. He could hear their cat calls, their jeering, their panting. They were on his trail and Harry was certain that they would rip him apart as soon as they would get a hold on him.

That was when he felt it. Lord Voldemort's heavy, ominous presence right at his heels. NO…...NO…...NO. His heart was pounding, his panicked breaths sounded like thunder in his ears, thighs burning, lungs on fire, he just prayed he didn't trip again. Adrenaline was almost bursting through his skin. His eyes were wide with fear. His screams locked in his throat. He was coming. He groaned in infuriation. Voldemort laughed and the sound echoed all around him. It seemed the forest was laughing with him. Harry felt his long, thin fingers snatch his hair, tangling and tugging. His head bobbed backwards. The scream squeaked through his scorched throat. He snatched at the air and begged it to help him keep his balance. But it was over. Voldemort's laugh grew maniacal and asserted his victory. Harry saw the stars watching from the heavens above. His parents were probably up there looking down at him too. The night sky was blocked out by Voldemort's face looming over him. The man smirked demonically and his red eyes glowed with jubilation. Harry's body went numb. Blackness.

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