Chasing Harry

Chapter 14: Morsmordre

He was falling--falling into the endless chasm that stretched before him. He could see nothing but darkness. Panic quickly overtook his senses and he opened his mouth to scream.

"Harry!"

He blinked and was instantly overwhelmed with pain. He shut his eyes instinctively and, almost at once, felt a hard stinging slap on his cheek.

"Ow!" he yelped, squinting at the hazy blur before him. In moments, the blur solidified into a very concerned-looking Sirius.

"Sorry, Harry," he said. "But I was afraid you wouldn't wake up."

"I doubt if you needed to use such harsh measures to rouse him," Snape said from somewhere above. "But I'm not complaining."

Harry groaned and lifted himself on one arm. Mystified, he gazed at the small group of people around him. "I don't understand. How did I get here?"

"We brought you here," Sirius answered happily, clearly relieved that Harry was out of danger.

In spite of Sirius' satisfaction, Harry noticed the troubled look on Dumbledore's face as he turned to the Headmaster. He crouched beside Harry and looked at the boy in the eye. "Harry, what is the last thing you remember?"

He placed a hand on his forehead, trying to think in spite of the throbbing headache. "I was falling for the longest time. It was horrible, I thought it wouldn't end." He paused, his brow wrinkling slightly. "And before that I was with... Tom! He was right here, beside me. Where is he?" Suddenly remembering, he looked around frantically but Tom Riddle was nowhere in sight. Harry was lying in the middle of a dark clearing and he could see Hogwarts Castle in the distance, but with him were just Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sirius, Remus, and Snape.

"That's what I'm worried about," Remus admitted, frowning a little. "He was supposed to come with you."

"But what--" Harry started to ask, perturbed.

Dumbledore quickly cut Harry's question and spoke soothingly, "We'll discuss that later. Right now, you need to rest. Coming here must have taken a lot of your energy." Turning to Remus, he requested the other wizard to take Harry to the hospital wing. Sirius volunteered to accompany them and left with the two.

As soon as the three were out of earshot, McGonagall voiced what the rest of them feared but were afraid to say in front of Harry, "What did we do wrong? They were supposed to come together!" Her hands were clasped in front of her in an uncharacteristic show of apprehension. The fear that they had somehow put the other young man in danger was running in their minds, unspoken.

Dumbledore shook his head, a look of concern on his face. "From what I know, we didn't do anything wrong. But someone interfered with the performance of our spell. However, we used an unstable form of magic and I was afraid of something like this happening."

"Someone? Did Tom Riddle manage to repel us with magic?" This came from Snape.

"No. I'm suspect there's another party involved here. Someone other than us wants him as well." With a wave of his wand, the materials they have used diminished into much smaller pieces. Dumbledore pocketed them and motioned to the others. "It's late, and it's getting colder. We should be getting back. We can discuss this inside."

***

He woke up alone. Tom tried to stand but the incessant pounding in his head impeded his efforts. He lay back on the ground, shivering.

What struck him most was the cold. It seeped through his clothes and chilled his insides. He wasn't dressed for this kind of weather. Aside from the black robe, he just wore cotton trousers and a thin shirt underneath. He knew that if he didn't move soon, he would likely freeze to death.

After he managed to stand upright using a tree as support, Tom suddenly remembered Harry. The last thing he recalled was sitting with him, enjoying their light banter before he dropped and lost consciousness. Looking around, he called Harry's name repeatedly. He heard nothing but faint sounds of the mysterious forest where he found himself.

He brushed the snow from his clothes, his arms so cold that he could barely move them. He must've been unconscious for some time. Massaging his temple, he started to walk, intent on finding Harry. He was sure that Harry was somewhere nearby.

An hour later, Tom still had not found Harry. Nor had he seen any other human being in the place. There was nothing here but snow, rocks, and the white-topped evergreens that towered well over him. He sat on a boulder, resting his tired feet. While he walked, he had tried to find an explanation why he ended up here. He knew that there was a way to summon him; but if someone brave enough to risk the highly experimental spell did that, then Tom should have materialized where the spellcaster was. Clearly, something had gone seriously wrong and now he was in the middle of nowhere with Harry in... well, in some other place.

He tried not to think about the possibility that Harry could be dead, hoping that wherever he was, he was at least alive. Safety was another matter. It had occurred to him that the only people who would've done the spell would be the Death Eaters. If Harry was in their hands then his life could be in danger. He thought grimly of Lucius Malfoy and vowed that he would kill the bastard if he ever dared to lay a finger on Harry.

Tom licked his dry lips. He was thirsty. His stomach growled a moment later; and very, very hungry. He had tried to make food appear but his efforts failed earlier and he only got more and more frustrated after each try. He couldn't understand why it worked so well before. There was nothing to eat in this dead place. If he didn't find a way out then he could slowly starve--if he didn't freeze to death first.

***

"So you think someone else tried to perform the same spell?" Remus asked.

"I'm almost sure of it. Of course, it's also possible that our method simply backfired when we tried to take Tom along with Harry. But there's a greater chance that he's with the person or persons who called for him at the same time we did," Professor Dumbledore explained.

They sat in Dumbledore's office--the five adult wizards, one witch, and Harry who had just woken up from a long sleep under Madame Pomfrey's care. Previously, they had listened to Harry's brief telling of the events that occurred since he left. He had told them what he had seen and what Tom had revealed: Lucius Malfoy's abduction, the Death Eaters' torturous act of transforming Tom to their old Master, Tom transporting the two of them to his private world... all the details that could possibly help Dumbledore. But he kept what had transpired between them a secret; he wasn't sure if he could tell anyone about that yet.

They had been horrified at his description of Tom's transformation. Dumbledore had been more affected than the rest. Upon hearing of it, he had banged his fist on his desk. "Magnus. I had spared him years ago, believing that the old recluse was innocent of his brother's crimes. I should have killed him with Grindelwald."

Nobody had dared to reply. It was the first time they had seen Dumbledore lose control. Now, much later, they sat quietly as a group, mulling about everything Harry had said. Sirius was the first to break the silence.

"After all this time, I thought we were finally free of Voldemort. Now it seems as if we're destined to suffer again," he said grimly.

"No," Harry countered firmly. He looked at them one by one. "Tom would never side with them. He's different now."

"Harry," Professor McGonagall started gently. "We don't know him that well to tell. One could never know what's on his mind. For someone so young, he has suffered too much."

"He may be against being the Dark Lord right now. But who knows after they're through with him." Snape's eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at Harry. "The Death Eaters, or what's left of them, aren't a gentle bunch. Besides, you said it yourself; he has changed a lot since he was here last."

"But I know he won't," Harry insisted. "I know it. I can feel it." If only he could explain better.

"I would want nothing more than to comfort you, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Still, Tom Riddle is Voldemort. As much as he would like to deny it, he and the Dark Lord are one in spite of the years between them. The temptation to revert to his old self may be too much for him." He suddenly smiled. "But I don't think we should all give up. Tom is an intelligent young man, wise beyond his years. Someone so gifted must have the strength to change his convictions."

"Snakes don't change," Sirius muttered angrily.

"Would you kindly look at someone else while saying that," Snape snapped with narrowed eyes.

"We have to find him," Remus said simply, ignoring the two. "We have to take him away from the Death Eaters and give him a chance to live the way he wishes to. And while we do, I think we don't have any choice but to trust him."

***

Surprisingly, it was Ron who cried.

Harry entered his dorm room, expecting to find it empty as it usually was during Sunday afternoons. Instead, he found both Ron and Hermione inside, talking. They had stared at him, open-mouthed, for a full minute before they rushed at him with shouts of delight. Ron instantly burst into tears, blubbering something about dying while Hermione nearly smothered Harry with a hug.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ron exclaimed after quickly wiping his face on his jumper. "We've been worried sick about you!"

Harry smiled wanly. "I know. I'm so sorry, guys. I never meant for this to go this far. I should have told you before I left."

"Where did you go?" Hermione asked curiously. "Dumbledore wouldn't tell us anything last night except that he would try to get you back."

Harry sighed, "It's a long story."

They sat on his bed. And after making them swear that they wouldn't tell anyone, Harry told them what he had told Dumbledore and the others, including their failed attempt to retrieve Tom. They listened attentively to Harry's narrative, sometimes interrupting him with startled gasps. But after everything was said, both Hermione and Ron understood the seriousness of the situation.

"We should have known this would happen," Ron said grimly. "We shouldn't have let Tom Riddle wander freely. Now we're facing the same danger we thought we had erased after all those years."

"No," Harry objected softly, somewhat sadly. "It wasn't his fault. We should've protected him better. If we have to find someone to blame, it's Lucius Malfoy." He clenched his hand into a fist of anger, remembering how he had almost died under the elder Malfoy's wand.

Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly, trying to make him relax. "I agree with you Harry. Tom had been given a chance for a fresh start. The Death Eaters are trying to take that freedom away from him." She turned to Ron urgently. "We have to do something. We can't just sit here without trying to help."

The redhead shrugged. "But what can we do? Do you suggest leaving Hogwarts to look for him?"

Harry sighed tiredly. "No. Dumbledore forbade us to do exactly that, as if he knew we would think of it. Remus and Snape have been given the task to look for him. Dumbledore is certain that he's somewhere in Eastern Europe but even he couldn't pin down the exact place. Malfoy and company might be keeping him prisoner there. They're keeping this hushed up, even from the Ministry. I don't think everyone in the Order knows."

"It would cause a worldwide panic if news of this leaks out," Hermione said. She took in Harry's exhausted form worriedly. "You should rest."

He shook his head. "I've slept enough. I'm just very concerned about all this, and I can't stop thinking of what they're doing to Tom."

"I don't really care about Riddle," Ron confessed. "But I do care about what happens to him. You guys were right. This is bigger than we first thought. Harry, you said you were able to sense Tom's pain the day before Christmas. Can you feel anything now?"

"That's the problem." Harry flinched. "I've been trying and trying to see if I could but there's nothing! I can't feel anything from him at all since last night!"

Hermione tapped her chin, thinking. "Maybe you don't have to try. Those flashes only came whenever Voldemort--Tom, in this case--felt extreme emotions. It might be better for you to wait."

"I know." Harry winced. "I just feel so useless! And guilty. He was right there with me. I should've been able to bring him along."

"I don't think that's exactly how the spell worked. From what you tell me, it seemed as if Dumbledore performed it twice. He would have had to retrieve Tom separately regardless of whether you were with him or not," she said.

"It's ironic that this happened during Christmas. I'm afraid you missed the holidays here," Ron added with a slight smile. "Not that it was a lot of fun. The highlight of the week was my argument with Draco Malfoy while I was looking for you."

"That's all right. I don't feel much like celebrating anyway," Harry replied. He flushed a little, remembering how he and Tom had spent Christmas. But the joy of the holiday had been tragically short-lived.

"At least you're back now. Hey!" Hermione suddenly remembered something. "We should tell Ginny you're all right. She was really worried about you."

"Extraordinarily worried, even for her," Ron noted. "I fed her some dumb alibi but I don't think she bought it. Hermione's right. If you don't want to sleep, we could go and look for her."

***

He balled his stiff fingers into fists, squeezing the sleeves of his robes shut as he wrapped his arms around him more tightly. He could see the steam rise from his lips with each breath coming quicker as the minutes ticked. He had been walking around for hours but he still had not found a way out of the woods. Darkness was now coming fast. He didn't relish the thought of the temperature dropping, as he knew it would as soon as night fell.

Tom leaned against the tree, resting his tired body for a while. He had to take a break, even for just a few minutes, or he wouldn't be strong enough to go on later.

Taking his fingers out of his sleeves, he whispered softly, "Lumos."

Instantly, blue flames appeared--suspended above his hands. He sighed at the feeling of warmth that helped relieve his chill. He brought the conjured fire as close to his face as he dared, wanting to absorb all the heat it emitted. The fire wouldn't last long; this one was already much weaker than the one he had made earlier. He could barely support his magic, and soon, he might not be able to perform even the simplest spells.

He sat on the ground, his back to the trunk. He was tired, very tired. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a while...

***

He was back in the school. He wandered through the empty halls, mystified with the silence. Where was everyone? There were no students, teachers, or even any one of the many ghosts that lived in the castle. He didn't even hear the usual noise from the classrooms.

Spooked, he ran down the stairs and went straight to the Great Hall, his footsteps echoing sharply. Even that busy room was empty and dusty with neglect. The whole school seemed to have been uninhabited for a long time. He looked up and saw a bare stone ceiling; gone were the charms that mirrored the outside sky perfectly.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he yelled. But no one answered.

Dejected, he walked outside, expecting to see the courtyard to be just as deserted as the rest of the school. But it wasn't. Surprised, he stared, wide-eyed, at the numerous slabs of stone and marble that littered the courtyard. They rested on uneven ground, carelessly pitched atop the freshly turned mounds of earth.

Headstones! Tom realized with horror.

Near the fountain, he could see a tall figure with a shovel, patting the earth on the newest grave. Numbly, Tom approached him, hoping to get some questions answered. Avoiding the tombstones, he stared straight ahead. The digger was obviously done and was now admiring his handiwork. From this distance, Tom couldn't recognize him. But as soon as he was five feet away, the mysterious stranger turned and looked at him.

"Congratulations. You have succeeded where I failed."

"Grindelwald!" Tom gasped in shock. "What is this? What have you done?"

The dark-haired man smiled in response. "Me? Nothing. This is all your doing. Or don't you remember?" he asked cunningly. He nodded toward the graves, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"What? No! Tell me this isn't true," he demanded.

The Dark wizard laughed loudly. He leisurely rested the shovel on the ground and stared at the graves, seemingly amused. As if he didn't hear a word Tom had said, he continued, "All Muggle-borns, just as you wished. Even the half-breeds are dead." He turned back to Tom, eyes burning with intensity. "You have very capable men, Lord Voldemort."

Tom raised his hands, aghast. They were pale--bone-white--and thin, the nails growing out of spidery, claw-like fingers.

Grindelwald, or his ghost, swept his arm grandly over the graves as Tom watched with escalating dismay.

"No... no," Tom whispered, desperately wanting to believe that he was wrong, that what he saw before him was wrong. All he wished for was purity--a magic Utopia where there would be no want, no danger from the outside world. Or was it all a dream? He could barely remember. It had been so long... so long...

He dropped on his knees, wiping the marble stone before him until he could see his image reflected faintly on the white surface. Red slits that served for eyes stared back. He barely registered the flat reptilian nose and the cruel lipless mouth before the words on the headstone stole his attention.

Harry James Potter.

"NO!"

***

"No!" He jerked himself awake. Slowly, reality took over the nightmare. His breathing calmed and Tom sighed with relief. It was just another dream.

Not that the real world was any better. Feeling the frost on his lashes, he tried to lift a hand so he could rub it off. He could barely perform that simple task since his limbs, even tucked close to his body, were stiff with the cold. Damn, he had not planned to sleep this long.

He tried to conjure another warming fire but the simple spell wouldn't work. He repeated Lumos, stronger this time, but the most he could produce were a few faint sparks that died in his shivering hands. He would give everything he had just to have a wand right now.

It was dark; night had fallen while he remained unconscious. Tom licked his dry lips, wondering if this was the end to everything about him. The Wizarding World would rejoice, he thought bitterly. There would be no more danger of Voldemort's return.

It was lonely here in the forest, but he vastly preferred this than living in a pleasant hell where there would be nothing but suspicion. It had been hard enough for them to reluctantly allow the young Voldemort to live--even that had taken all of Dumbledore's considerable influence and persuasion. But a young Voldemort with part of his old power might be a little too hard even for the most generous souls.

Long ago as a child, when Tom had first entered Hogwarts, he had felt so happy to leave the miserable Muggle world behind him. He had channeled all his energy to excellence, fueled by the hatred of his past and the alienation he received from his peers. He had wanted to live forever. Instead, he would die forgotten. Still, this was better. He had been a fool. There was nothing in the world for him anymore.

But Harry would care. The thought came suddenly, unbidden. And Draco.

Draco Malfoy. Tom had been trying not to think of him since he left Malfoy Manor with Harry. It pained him to suspect his friend of deceit, but he wouldn't know for sure until he talked to Draco himself. Only, now, it didn't seem like he'd have the chance. Someday, Harry would forget, and so would Draco.

But there is a chance, the same persistent voice whispered in his mind. You can leave this place.

He stared at his hands. His skin was pale, the tips of his fingers slightly blue. He realized with a start that he was right! Yes, there was a chance. He could still call for help. All that was left was for him to decide whether he wanted to and if he could spare the strength for another spell.

It took only a moment to make his decision. He would let them find him. He needed to live! And maybe afterwards, he could decide what to do.

Throwing his fate to chance, Tom summoned all his remaining energy for this final wandless spell. He grasped his wrist with a hand and uttered the word he thought he would never have to say.

"Morsmordre."

(tbc)