Tom's eyes flickered open. The room was dark, and he couldn't see a thing, but something distracted him from being wary of this fact. As he lay in the utter darkness, taking a deep breath to wake himself up, he felt pain in his chest. He knew this is what had awoken him the moment he noticed the uncomfortable feeling, and he felt as though it had been worse only a few moments ago, dragging him away from sleep. It didn't feel as though anything was attacking Tom from the outside, it felt more as though something was happening within him, and this made him worry.

Sitting up on the bed, Tom reached a hand up to his chest to try and target where the pain was coming from. He reached for his wand on the bedside table with his other hand, and mumbled "Lumos" to light up the room, having always hated being in the dark. He felt more comfortable when he could see. He turned to his left tiredly to look at Harry, wishing to forget the pain that was fading now… but he found that Harry was gone.

Tom stared at the empty space, confused. It was still very dark outside, so it seemed unlikely that Harry would already be up. The part of the bed where Harry was supposed to lay was cold, so he had to have been gone for a while. As Tom examined the room further, in a slight rush of fear, he saw that both Harry's robes and wand were nowhere to be seen. This concerned Tom further. He wondered whether Harry might be downstairs, reading or doing something of the sort… but Tom wasn't truly confident in this, even as he got out of bed.

He got dressed quickly, and checked the bathroom for Harry, but he wasn't there. He left Harry's bedroom, and searched the library-like room that he himself had insisted Harry have, but again Harry was nowhere to be seen. Downstairs, Tom ventured into the kitchen, living room, and the second bathroom, but Harry didn't appear to be in the house at all. Tom stood in the kitchen for a time, anxiety beginning to seep in. He decided to go upstairs and get dressed properly, before leaving the house, to search for Harry elsewhere.

He walked to his own home, the early morning sun just visible over the treetops of the vast land he now owned. Birds twittered and fluttered about overhead, but Tom barely saw them. If something had happened to Harry… but his mind wouldn't allow him to think about that yet. He had reached his house, and he headed in it quickly…

The living room, bathrooms, kitchen, bedroom, and every other room within the house were searched, but Harry wasn't here. A strong sense of foreboding filled Tom, but he tried to ignore it as he stood in his own bedroom, the last place in this house that he had searched. He was too restless to sit, so he stood. He contemplated where Harry might be. He wondered if maybe Harry left his house for some rational and calm reason, but Tom couldn't think what this might be…

Unless Harry had left willingly, trying to get away from him. Tom didn't enjoy the company of this thought, but he refused to ignore the possibility. Tom worried about this deeply… until he came to a conclusion. Harry would have packed more items if he wanted to leave, and Tom was sure that Harry wouldn't have spent the night with him if he were just going to run away the next day. These rational thoughts calmed Tom somewhat, and got rid of a little worry. Harry cared more than to just leave without a word, and though the last few weeks had been shaky, ever since the murder Tom had committed, it wouldn't end like this.

Tom winced slightly at the memory of his latest murder, and moreover at the reaction he had received from Harry. Tom's sudden impulse to try and get Harry to murder had worked out very badly… Tom wasn't really sure what he had been thinking at the time. He hated the way Harry had reacted to the death of that tramp, but only because Tom hated himself for misreading Harry, and Harry's evaluation of what was right and wrong. Although they hadn't fought for very long over the subject, Tom still regretted what he had done. He still suffered through the agonizing knowledge that Harry must have hated him that night, and perhaps even after it…

Then, Tom abruptly remembered something. If Harry hadn't left this land willingly, then he must have somehow left unwillingly… Tom stared at the ground, his eyes glazed and unseeing, as he felt strong fear spreading through him. He tried not to worry, but his heart was already beating rapidly. He told himself that he shouldn't panic yet… he didn't know anything yet… but his heart was pounding and his mind was numb. He tried to take a deep breath as he blocked out thoughts, but his breath was hard to regulate. He decided to merely leave the house now, to distract and postpone all thought. He needed to find out where Harry was…

He headed for one of the fine buildings where his friends stayed. The two long structures that Tom had build, to ensure general comfort for his friends as they visited Albania, were positioned close together, and Tom headed into one of them, knowing it would only take a minute to search the other house if the particular person he was searching for wasn't in the first one. Inside one of the dark buildings, Tom walked across the long hallway to where the dormitories were located. He knocked on the door loudly, knowing that few of his friends were likely awake yet, but ignoring this fact. He knocked on and off for about thirty seconds, before someone answered.

It was Nott. He appeared tired and slightly annoyed with being awoken so early, but this emotion slipped away from his face the moment he saw who was at the door. "Oh, good morning."

"Where's Harry?" Tom inquired impatiently, forgetting to say 'hello'.

"Er…" Nott said slowly. "Do you mean–?"

"Jonathan," Tom confirmed, not caring that he had used Harry's real name. "Where is he?"

Nott refrained from responding, 'How should I know?'

"I haven't seen him since yesterday."

Tom decided to ask a more useful question. "Where's Quentin?"

"He's in here," Nott said, turning his head to look back into the room. "Or, well, he was…"

Tom could see an empty bed on the left hand side of the room, already made. He felt sick at the sight, and stared for a long moment. Harry was gone, and so was Quentin… Quentin had been planning to harm Harry in some way all week, and even before that…

"Are you alright?" Nott asked. His tired blue eyes were fixed on Tom.

"Did you hear anything, last night?" Tom asked quietly, still staring at the empty bed. "Anything unusual outside?"

Nott hesitated. "It sounded like someone was fighting, at one point."

"Where?"

"In the dining room. A few of us went to see what all the noise was about, but the door was locked, and it stopped soon after. We thought that maybe it was you–"

"Wake the others up," Tom ordered, his heart beating sickeningly.

"What?"

"You heard me. Wake them up!" Tom snapped, turning away from the stunned Nott. He heard Nott addressing the dormitory behind him as he, Tom, headed for the dining room.

It was locked when Tom got there, but a moment of magic allowed him to break in. He hadn't even stepped through the doorway when he saw blood on the floor, and stopped. When he looked up, he saw chairs knocked down and blatant spell damage on the walls. It was evident that a fight had taken place here… Tom withdrew his wand, and tested the blood on the floor. He was relieved when he saw it wasn't Harry's. It was instead Quentin's, which both infuriated and satisfied him. He realised, from this amongst other things, that there must have been more people help Quentin fight Harry…

"What did you wake us all up for?" Avery asked from somewhere behind Tom, but Tom didn't really hear him. The others were all standing behind him now, and he walked into the dining room.

He could see evidence of a fight everywhere he looked, and it appeared that some of his smarter friends could see it too. Tom viewed this place without sensation, until he noticed that the door at the end of the hall, leading outside, was open. He headed for it, his heart hammering and his friends following him closely.

"What happened to Jonathan?" Nott asked Tom hurriedly.

"I don't know," Tom muttered, as they stepped out the back door. He breathed in the cold morning air, trying to think straight.

"Did he get into a fight?" Duane Gonson inquired. "And if so, with whom?"

Tom didn't give a reply to this. He continued walking, to stand upon a more open part of the grass that stretched out for what looked like miles.

"Someone broke into this place, didn't they?"

"That's what we're about to find out," Tom said very quietly, raising his wand. He had stopped walking, and his friends did the same, people from the second building joining them quietly by this point. All emotion was suddenly ceased within Tom, as though his whole being was holding its breath.

"Was it the Ministry?" Nott wondered aloud. "Did they find out what we're doing to those Dragons?"

Tom merely closed his eyes, and began using magic to check his protection around this land. It didn't take long for him to see that the Muggle-Repelling Charm was broken. The Anti-Apparition Jinx was broken. The Caterwauling Charm, placed tens of meters around every other protection, was broken. Everything from Cave Inimicum to Salvio Hexia had been smashed down to a million pieces, and not a thing was protecting Tom's land now…

Tom opened his eyes slowly, knowing now that there was no other explanation for Harry's disappearance other than Grindelwald's people taking him. A deep emptiness was spreading through Tom like poison at the realisation. Grindelwald's followers had broken down all of the defences that Tom had put up, including all of the extra protection he added when suspecting Quentin of being up to something. Tom knew he really shouldn't be surprised, considering these people would have broken into the Ministry of Magic itself had they really wanted to do nothing more than scare England, but to put it all in the simplest wording, it terrified Tom that his magic had been defeated without him even realising it.

"What's wrong?" Nott asked, audibly startled with the way Tom was now acting.

Tom seemed to have lost the ability to speak. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands curled into fists. The others were staring at him, waiting for him to do something, but he no longer cared about them. He elevated his wand with haste, focusing, as he began frantically repairing the enchantments so recently broken. He did all he could to make the magic stronger this time, but he knew it was going to take a lot of energy. He would have to research better defences later on, to protect them further…

He was stressed with wondering how quickly he would have to secure this land again. His hands were shaking slightly in infuriation, fear, and shock, but he knew his friends didn't notice. He tried to calm himself, stalling thought…

"What's going on?" Nott squawked, as a muffled booming sound rang in their ears. The first massive sphere of shielding had surrounded them. Tom felt anxiety tear through him as he continued building the magic, but he didn't let his friends see his true emotion.

"Are they coming back, to attack us? Why would they do that, after only taking Jonathan?"

"Because," Tom answered quietly, "they might be able to extract information from Jonathan. Information that could scare and intimidate them."

Another deep, echoing crash surrounded them all, and this eerie sound appeared to disquiet the others. They began talking in hushed voices as Tom focused on another piece of magic, building up its power as quickly but powerfully as he could. He stopped himself from thinking about what Grindelwald's people might be doing to Harry, and he stopped himself from panicking about how long it would take him to find his lover. Tom feared that Grindelwald's followers might come and attack him the moment they heard about Dragons – whether through torturing Harry or questioning Quentin. But whatever might happen, or be happening, Tom understood that he needed to act now.

"All of you, search the grounds," Tom ordered, his voice forceful. "If you find anyone lingering around, or if you find a body, report to me immediately."

No one moved.

"Who are these people?" Gonson questioned. "What do they want with us?"

"Did I not give you an order?" Tom asked sharply. He stopped using magic for the moment, and turned to face his friends properly. Their scared faces only annoyed him further. "Nott, Gonson, Macnair, you must leave this place at one."

"Why?" Macnair asked.

"Because I told you to," Tom retorted. "Leave for England, now, and contact anyone you can to find Quentin. Find his family and friends, and force information out of them if you must, until you know where he is."

"But he's been in Germany for the last eight years, so there might be people–"

"Then ask about the people Quentin knew in Germany!" Tom instructed, annoyed that they weren't following his orders. They were all taken aback by his visible anger, and he was glad of this fact. Harry was doubtlessly suffering in some prison somewhere, and none of his friends seemed to know how to react, how to rise to the occasion, and follow his demands. "Now get out of my sight, all of you!"

–X–

Tom was sitting in his own home, at the head of the long wooden table that currently brought together nine other Wizards – all of his friends who remained in Albania at this time. They were all sitting in silence, waiting. Tom had spent the day in a state of anxiety, reassured by none of the claims from his friends that there were no unusual people within his land, alive or dead. No matter how alone he and his friends were, he still didn't feel safe.

He hadn't heard any news about Quentin, and by extent Harry. It was past midnight, and he was waiting for Nott, Gonson, and Macnair to return. His other friends seemed just as keen to hear back from the others as Tom was, and Tom knew this was because none of them usually slept until around two or three in the morning, and they wanted to hear the news as soon as possible, in fear of their safety, out of general curiosity, or just because they wondered and worried about Tom's reaction to this all.

Tom sat with one hand curled over the other, his fingers tightened into a fist. He rested his chin against his hands, and occasionally his forehead against it too, when his anxiety, or the pain in his chest, worsened. It had been a very long day, but his mind was too busy to be tired now. He thought about Harry, and worried. He could barely believe that Harry was honestly gone. Everything around him felt like a part of some sort of nightmare, one that he hoped so dearly he would wake up from soon…

He didn't know what could be happening to Harry now, and he hardly dared to think about how far Grindelwald's followers might go in questioning him. A strange emotion would form inside Tom whenever he thought about Harry suffering, and all Tom could do was swiftly replace it with anger, because that was the only thing he truly understood, emotion wise. He didn't like to think about what was happening to Harry… He focused instead upon how he would find him again. He would do anything just to see Harry's face again, and to know he was safe…

It was around two in the morning when his three absent friends returned from interrogating Quentin's friends and family all day. Tom had made it so his friends could go in and out of his land freely during the day, but at night he planned to completely seal them in his dome of protective magic, to be safe. When Nott, Gonson, and Mulciber walked into his house, Tom watched them enter the living room, knowing at once what the only news could be.

"We, er, talked to any friends and family we could," Macnair began slowly, avoiding eye contact with Tom. "We visited about fifty people altogether, but… we couldn't find him."

Tom felt vexation seeping through his veins, as glowered at his friends. He didn't know how to respond for a moment, as he reflected upon how this meant he had no chance of finding Harry… He sat up more in his chair, and tried to accept their failure, but he was unsuccessful in this attempt. He knew that none of his friends were happy with facing defeat in any way, but he wanted them to know just how much they displeased and maddened him this time.

"Do you mean to tell me," Tom responded in a cold, deadly tone, "that you questioned over fifty Witches and Wizards close to Quentin, across all of England and Germany, and you couldn't even get one piece of useful information out of anyone?"

The three of them avoided Tom's eyes determinedly, and none of them appearing at all willing to compose a reply to this. Tom's other friends glanced around the table cautiously, all of them solemn, and relieved only because they weren't the ones being yelled at now.

"Well, we got information about more people connected to Quentin from the people we spoke to, but it's all getting sort of ridiculous," Macnair mumbled, attempting a hushed laugh, and as a result voicing his pure nervousness. "We'd have to look for everyone he's ever met just to find him–"

"Then go and do it!" Tom ordered, enraged and antagonized. "What is it that you wait for, now? I didn't instruct you to stop when you became too tired! I don't care if it takes you all night – just find him!"

"But you told us to report back to you –"

"And now I'm telling you to get out of my fucking sight!" Tom roared, seething.

His friends flinched, and stared at him in bewilderment. Tom stood up, unable to rest any longer. He began running his hands through his hair, unwilling to accept that Quentin was undetectable. He was itching to reach for his wand, and curse all of his foolish friends for their lack of success, but he resisted the urge, pacing around the room instead, and trying to maintain his anger.

"I don't know what I've spent years teaching you all, if you cannot follow even simple orders," Tom smouldered. "You have brought me not a single piece of useful information – You're useless! All of you are useless! More of you, join these three incompetent idiots to find Quentin Pyrites, and bring him to me – this is all I ask for! I don't care what you do to get the information I need, merely bring him here alive!"

He was going to make Quentin suffer so terribly when he got hold of him, Tom decided, finding morbid pleasure in the thought. Rather, he would make him suffer if his idiotic friends could ever find Quentin… Tom thought that maybe he would have to search for Pyrites himself. He would spend endless hours, even days, searching for him if that's what it took. But he knew that he would – he must – find Quentin soon, especially if he had most of his present friends searching for him. Tom tried harder to overcome his anger, as his nails dug painfully into his palms.

"What are you all waiting for?" he snapped, noticing suddenly that no one had moved. "Get out, all of you! And don't return to me until you have a satisfying piece of news on Pyrites!"

His friends began to stand up, and to leave the house. Before many of them had left, however, Avery spoke. "Which of us have to go, then?"

Tom was too infuriated to find an answer to this, and Avery seemed to see it when Tom glowered at him, his jaw clenched, and his mind jammed with a storm of emotion. Avery left the house with all of the others, while Tom paced the room. When they were gone, and when the last of them closed the front door firmly, leaving Tom alone, Tom continued pacing, trying to deal with his aggravation.

They didn't have a single clue as to where Harry was located. Moreover, they didn't have one piece of information on the only person who knew where Harry was. Tom's teeth were gnashing together painfully. Quentin had done everything that Tom feared he would. He was harming Harry, and thus seeking revenge for Grindelwald in some way… Tom tried to control his breathing, but it was deep and increasingly more impossible to regulate. Quentin had betrayed Tom, and had broken through all of his magic in sheer contempt, causing Tom to slowly lose the one person he cared about so dearly, whilst pushing Tom behind in a fight he had so long ago predicted…

Before Tom could control it, he raised his wand, and threw a spell at the nearest target – a collection of delicate and dark instruments and antiques, placed carefully within a tall, glass cabinet. The cabinet smashed to pieces, objects falling and breaking on the hard wooden floor. Tom should have stopped Quentin, should have hurt him when nothing had yet happened. He threw another spell at a chest of drawers full of papers and documents so cautiously organised. Parchment and polished wood exploded with a flash of light, sending smoke and dust to twist and curl through the air. Still, Tom was blind with rage.

He didn't know how he was supposed to find Harry if his plan of seeking Quentin didn't work out. He didn't know what he was supposed to do if Grindelwald's followers protected Quentin wish as much skill as they had used when breaking into Tom's land. Tom's chest was contorted, and he felt the need to smash every window, to break every item and piece of furniture in sight. He couldn't stop himself from blasting a fine antique couch into smithereens, fire smouldering the remaining pieces. The armchairs nearby were also ruined with no hesitation.

Tom ended up destroying many of the chairs that sat around the long table, as well as the table itself, the bookshelves he had placed downstairs, and the mirrors and other decorations he had put up around the living room. When almost everything in sight was demolished, Tom's hands were gripping his hair; his eyes closed tight, much like his jaw, as he tried to control his anger. His breath came in shudders, as he tried not to despise his useless friends for failing in their search for Quentin. He stood for perhaps ten solid minutes, trying not to think, and not to feel, before he told himself that he would be better off in a room he hadn't smashed yet, to get over his anger.

He headed upstairs, ignoring the wreckage around him as he walked past it all. He went up to his bedroom, and paced it for a time. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep even if he was tired. He began thinking, trying not to become infuriated once more, but it was difficult. He wondered how they had managed to capture Harry. Had they have perhaps snatched him from right besides Tom, as they slept peacefully in Harry's home? Had Harry left the house willingly, perhaps urged away by someone like Quentin? Had Grindelwald's people merely knocked on his door, dragging Harry off to the other building to try and talk to him there?

Tom could barely believe how much he hated Quentin now. When his friends found this untrustworthy follower again Tom was going to make him pay an irreversible price for what he had done. Tom could feel the waves of craving to torture the absent follower pulsing through his veins. He wanted to hurt every inch of Quentin's skin, and make him suffer both inside and out for however long it would take him to confess where Harry was. Perhaps Tom would even continue to torture the fool after the confession, to rid his anger and show the others what happens to those who betray him…

Tom thought about Harry again, and how he would save him as soon as possible. Tom knew that Harry was strong past the emotional strain that their relationship seemed to put on them in the worst of times. But Tom wasn't sure how well Harry would cope with the torture and agony Grindelwald's people would likely inflict upon him. Tom didn't want to worry about that, but he couldn't help it as his chest burned. Whatever Harry may or may not be forced to confess, Tom believed that it would be irrelevant when he rescued Harry. He had no choice but to believe this. Tom was going to find Harry, and he was going to protect him once more… Tom continued to think these thoughts, as he paced him room for hours on end, until the dawn came again.

It was only when the sun rose, and birds sang, when Tom fell asleep. After this terrible night, which he longed to never suffer through again, he came to realise that past all the years of growing into an adult, and spending countless nights in candlelit chambers and dim rooms, nothing had ever cured his continuous fear of the dark without Harry standing right besides him.