Disclaimer:I do not own anything "Harry Potter" or "Tomb Raider" related. Please don't sue me because I'm broke.

A/N: All my work is self betaed so don't be too harsh on me about spelling and grammer. Now, on with the show!

Chapter 2

When Harry awoke the next day he was surprised to note that he didn't have any nightmares. He began to think that maybe Karma was going to give him a break for once. As the day progressed, that idea was crushed in a number of different ways. First, there wasn't any hot water when he got in the shower and he was forced him to take cold one, then he had to do the yard work in Dudley's old hand-me-downs. Not only were they uncomfortable, but were also too big and chafed in very sensitive places of the male anatomy. It was then that Harry realized that his need for clothes that were comfortable (and actually his size) was extreme, considering the events the coming months would bring. After he had managed to swipe some baby powder to ease his discomfort, he sat down at his little desk and drafted a letter to the one person that he knew for sure would love to help him with his current clothing dilemma. He wrote to Nymphadora Tonks.

He was almost certain that she would be giddy to have reason to go shopping even with the current events. It might help him to take his mind off the troubles of the world at least for a while. He hoped she would spring for it, because that was the only way he could see him actually being able to go. Not to mention that he didn't even know how to 'shop', he had never been and didn't have any experience. That's where Tonks came into the picture. She could advise him on clothes that were a mix form and function. He would need outfits for working-out, rugged clothes for trekking around God-knows-where and through God-knows-what and more casual clothes for doing normal everyday things. 'Normal.', Harry thought, 'Now that's a laugh. I have never, and probably won't ever, be anything even close to normal.' Breaking himself out of these rather depressing thoughts, Harry signed the letter and attached it to Hedwig who promptly flew out the window and off into the distance. He watched her until she disappeared into the clouds then sat back down at his desk and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment.

On this piece of parchment he began listing things that he needed to do before could leave the Dursley home.

Things left to do

Get into better shape.

Get books for magical training while in Diagon Alley.

Get physical training equipment.

Get search material for "items".

Harry looked over his list satisfied. He had the basics down and could add something on later if he thought of it. He folded the list, placed it on the corner of the desk, and took a deep breath before standing. When he was fully upright he was hit with a blinding pain in his scar. Falling to his knees with eyes watering, Harry tried his damndest at concentrating through the pain to block the intruding force. Despite his best efforts, he was unable, and soon found himself in an all-too familiar graveyard. It was almost just like he remembered it, the only difference was that it was now foggy. So foggy in fact that he struggled to make out any headstones more than a few meters away. He strained his senses to try to pick up any sign of movement, but came up empty.

Gathering his courage, Harry took a step. A high, cold laugh froze him in his tracks. He'd know that laugh anywhere; it was the one that still haunted his dreams. Voldemort. Spinning frantically to locate his nemesis, Harry stumbled and nearly lost his balance. After gaining his bearings, he decided to try and strike-up a conversation with Voldemort to acquire his location. "So, Tom, tell any of your followers about your little 'half-blood' problem yet?", Harry asked mockingly trying to goad the Dark Lord into revealing his position. Riddle laughed again and said, "You mean besides yourself, Potter?" It didn't work as the reply seemed to come from all around him. He tried a bolder tactic. "What's wrong Snake Lips, afraid to face a 16 year old boy?" All that met this was silence. Harry was about to speak again, but saw a sickly yellow curse barreling toward him in his peripheral vision. Trying to dodge it, but knowing it was hopeless, he threw himself to the left and had just enough time to close his eyes before his world erupted into a kaleidoscope of pain.

The torture curse wasn't held for more than a few seconds. When it was lifted Harry found himself on the ground soaked in sweat and curled in a ball. He took a few settling breaths then opened his eyes and saw Voldemort, in all his unholy glory, standing over him with a twisted smile on his ghastly face. Never losing his smile he said, "You know Potter, you should really learn to respect your elders." And with that said he turned and started pacing, as if contemplating on what to do next. Harry took this lapse in awareness to discreetly search his wand, only to realize it was absent. This revelation shook the young hero to his core. He was defenseless in the presence of the most feared being in the wizarding world.

As he sat dumbfounded, any defenses he may have had left crumbled, and Voldemort,sensing this, seized the opportunity to use legilimency to try and pry the memory of what happened in the astronomy tower the night the headmaster was killed. When he was done looking at the memory he took sadistic glee in making Harry relive the death of his mentor a half a dozen more times before releasing his hold on the boy. Harry collapsed to the ground in a barely-conscious heap, but the Dark Lord resumed pacing muttering about "incompetent fools" and "spoiled brats." All Harry could do was lay there and hope Voldemort wouldn't kill him. When he saw Riddle approach, he thought it was all over. When his death didn't come, he looked at his tormentor in confusion. Voldemort leaned down from above his young rival and said, "Oh no Potter, you will not die at this moment. That would deprive you of one hell-of-a birthday party." And then laughing maniacally he touched Harry's scar with his wand and the young man found himself back in his room lying on the floor in a puddle of what must have been his own blood. As his world faded to black, the last sounds that registered were shouts coming from the lower floor of the Dursley household, and the sound of people thundering up the stairs.

A/N: I had to end it there. It was at a good spot and I can start up the next chapter easily from there, which I hope to have out sometime next week. And don't worry, Lady Croft will come into the picture soon enough.