Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. There is no point in assuming I do.
-ooo-
ONLY SO MANY BATTLES
By Splitbeak
-ooo-
Chapter Three: Leave No Ground
-ooo-
Harry dreamed of the graveyard, covered in darkness and surrounded by malicious laughter. "We are not playing hide-and-seek Harry!" Voldemort called out to him.
Or Voldemort was calling out to where he should be. Harry remembered this dream all too vividly from real life. He knew that he should be behind the headstone Voldemort was speaking to, and yet here he was, on the other side of the death eater's circle. Harry frowned, wondering why he was here again. He didn't know why he'd dreamed of this place the first time, but here he was again.
Harry grimaced. After losing Sirius, the Tri-Wizard cup hadn't mattered so much anymore. He had bigger problems to deal with. If he were going to have nightmares, the Department of Mysteries seemed a more appropriate background.
"Ah, Harry. I see you've joined me once more," a silky voice cooed.
Harry spun, shocked to see Voldemort standing right behind him. Shocked, Harry turned back the memory to see Voldemort right where he should be: chasing down a frightened teenager. The Voldemort in front of him chuckled. "Surprised?"
"What do you want?" Harry spat.
The snake face split in a wicked grin. "To finish what I started." Without further ado, Voldemort's wand flicked in time to the wizard's "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry was caught up in the green light before he even had a chance to raise his wand. He felt the spell skewer him through the heart, cutting his chest in half and sending waves of roaring agony speeding through his veins. Harry screamed under the onslaught, vaguely hearing one of the Voldemorts shout his own cry of frustration.
Well, of course he was frustrated. The idiots! How could they have let the boy escape? What was the use of servants who failed to serve? The incompetence. And this was the mighty army feared by all of Wizardom that he would lead to conquer the world. He would make them suffer for this humiliation! Crucio! They deserved every last moment of pain. How dare they fail him!
Somewhere Harry heard death eaters screaming as they fell beneath the weight of the Cruciatus Curse. It was agonizing; he would know. Voldemort's made him feel it so many times. He… was Harry! With a gigantic heave, Harry pulled his mind away, suddenly hyperaware of how entwined it had become with Voldemort's. He could see in his mind's eye their thoughts weaving together tighter and tighter.
"No!" Harry shouted, pulling away mentally and physically at once.
Voldemort fell back with a startled gasp, and Harry took the opportunity to attack. "Expelliarmus!"
To his shock, nothing happened. For once acknowledging when he was in over his head, Harry took off running. His limbs felt oddly heavy, weighed down by lead weights. Lethargy possessed all his limbs, making each movement agony. Harry bit his lip, tasting a light trickle of blood. Every bone in his body wanted him to stop and rest, if only for a minute. He longed to give in, but he could feel Voldemort hot on his heels.
Panting, Harry rushed between the headstones, remembering the path to the portkey and desperately hoping it might still be there. Maybe it could take him away from this place. Diving, Harry hid behind the tallest headstone he could find: the angel. The roughened cement that formed her base felt familiar beneath his fingertips making him wonder if it was the same one he had hidden behind last time, but he didn't have time to focus on that. Voldemort was chasing him; he had to keep moving.
He just needed to catch his breath first. It was so hot….
"Hello, Harry."
Harry didn't hesitate. He blindly cast a "Stupefy!" over his shoulder and bolted from the angel. He could hear Voldemort laughing behind him as the man once more cast the killing curse.
Harry dodged behind the nearest grave, seeing the headstone exploding in green light behind him, leaving him exposed. With a grunt, he catapulted himself towards the next nearest one, ducking his way between stones. Looking back, he realized Voldemort was between him and the portkey. Frantic, Harry looked for an alternative escape. How did one escape a dream? Over the rise he could see the old Riddle House. Was there shelter there? Seeing no other choice, Harry made his way towards the imposing shack.
"There are no exits Harry!"
The ground was slippery under his feet. His seeker reflexes were the only things that allowed him to keep his footing. The more he ran, the farther into the distance the mansion seemed. Was it actually retreating from him? Losing hope, not to mention the feelings in his limbs, Harry quested about for anything that might offer him shelter, even for a moment. A tree, a boulder, a bigger headstone! Or… a mausoleum like the one staring him in the face if he just looked past the ivy hiding it.
Counting his blessings, Harry stumbled until he made it to the dark building, praying Voldemort hadn't seen which way he'd gone. The building was well hidden; he might actually be safe if Voldemort doesn't see him enter! Desperately, he grabbed the door handle, silently begging it to open. The metal was unnaturally hot to the touch, but the heavy door opened with a great reluctance. Harry rushed inside and threw the bolt, collapsing against the door. The sound of his harsh breathing echoed in the stone chamber, sending dust motes flying.
Harry stained his ears to hear any sound, but he didn't need to. Voldemort was right behind him. Harry could feel him like a phantom limb. He knew his exact location, could practically see him through the door. He clutched his wand tightly, feeling it slip between his sweaty fingers.
The red trickling down his elbow caught his attention. He was bleeding from a good three-inch gash. When had that happened? Harry frantically searched his memories, but he couldn't remember cutting himself. Headstones had exploded, but he hadn't been hit by the debris. The most he'd fallen into was grass. And suddenly, the world fell into order.
"It's just a dream. It's just a dream," Harry chanted, willing himself to wake up. How had he done it last time? Cursing, Harry threw his head against the wall, regretting it when he was forcefully reminded that it was stone. He'd been in too much pain last time to remember what he'd done to escape. He could swear he heard Snape yelling at the top of his lungs, telling him to Occlude. Squeezing his eyes tight, Harry tried. Breathe in, breathe out. C'mon!
"Oh, Harry," Voldemort sang outside the mausoleum, jerking Harry's attention away from his breathing. "You've never hidden from me before. Don't start now."
Time was up. Okay, c'mon, you can do this. Clear your mind. You're calm, you're cool. Nothing upstairs but sand. Harry tried, but there was no way his mind was emptying when it was too busy screaming at him to run.
"Is this how a Gryffindor fights? By hiding? How very Slytherin of you," Voldemort continued to taunt. "I'm sure your parents would be so proud."
Harry snarled. How dare he? That was it! He wasn't going to die hiding in some old crypt. The prophecy demanded one of them die? So be it. Anger lent his limbs the strength they'd been missing before, allowing Harry to spring to his feet. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard someone sigh before an invisible hand mentally slapped him, sending him flying into the darkness.
-ooo-
Bile scorched his throat as Harry sluggishly curled up on his side. The vomit trickled down his chin, pooling on the floor by his nose. It smelled awful, but Harry didn't have the strength to move away. The cupboard was too small to do so even if he had. He moaned, unable to do much more in the oppressive heat. All his muscles ached and his head hurt worse than he could ever remember it hurting. What had Voldemort done to him?
He could hear the television playing in the kitchen as his aunt cooked dinner. "Blackouts are occurring all over the area. With this heat, everyone's inside hugging their air conditioning units," the reporters were laughing. "I tell you, Don, it hasn't been this hot in southern England since before I can remember. We've got temperatures reaching forty-eight degrees celsius. I don't think we've ever had such a heat wave. And it's here to stay for a while folks. Electric companies are working on the problem…."
"Water," Harry called, barely above a whisper. "Please, water, water, water…."