What Lies Ahead

Two

Harry lay perfectly still, his heart hammering a violent beat against the ribs imprisoning it. He strained his ears, listening for any sign of movement; for any sign that what he remembered was just a nightmare. The image of Ginny laying lifeless on a wet stone floor burned in his mind, but it was just a dream. He prayed for it to just be a dream. Any minute now the other boys in his dorm would begin stirring, bustling around as they prepared for their morning lessons. Ron would be throwing a pillow at him in a rude attempt to wake him up. However, he was painfully aware that his bed had become hard as stone, and there was a warmth on his skin accompanied by the soft crackle of burning wood.

Harry forced his eyes to open and blearily took in his surroundings. To his surprise, his glasses were still on, though slightly askew from laying on his side. He was curled into a ball on a scratchy hearth-rug; a large fire burned in the open rock fireplace before him. He blinked several times, trying to piece together the rapidly fading details of what he could remember before he had blacked out.

"Finally awake, Harry?"

Startled by the sudden noise, Harry quickly sat up and searched the room for the source of the voice. Sitting at a small table, legs crossed casually, was Tom. He had abandoned his Hogwarts robes and was now dressed in dark slacks and a green jumper. He was absent-mindedly flipping through the blank pages of his diary, his dark eyes fixed on Harry. Spread out in front of him, and occupying most of the wooden tabletop, was a large map.

Harry made to stand, but the room tilted abruptly under his feet and he was forced back to the rug. He sat cross-legged clutching his temples as he closed his eyes in an attempt to settle his swirling vision, but it did little to ease the queasiness building in the pit of his stomach. After several steadying breaths, he was able to open his eyes to a level room. He pried his stiff hard apart to speak, but his tongue was unusually heavy, and his words spilled out in a jumbled mess.

Riddle laughed his high merciless laugh and, uncrossing his legs, leaned forward in his chair. His eyes were bright with eagerness, like a shark closing in on a wounded prey.

"It's just the spell wearing off. You'll be back to normal shortly," he said amusedly. "Until then, there are a few details I'm hoping you can help me with. Ginny was very generous with the information she had on you, but she was ill-informed on certain areas that I wanted answered. First, how did you manage to defeat The Dark Lord when you were only a baby?" A coldness had entered Tom's voice, replacing the airy, playful persona.

"I-I'm not sure," Harry croaked, forcing the words past his dry throat.  "Professor Dumbledore said something about my mother protecting me."

Tom sat back, and for a long minute studied the boy in front of him with a speculating frown upon his face. "It's old magic, " he said finally and Harry was surprised to see a smile reforming on his thin lips. "But I guess it would do it. So, there's nothing spectacular about you after all. You're just a normal boy who got lucky."

"And last year," asked Harry, heat rising to his cheeks.

The smile on Riddle's face soured, but he forced it to remain. "Sheer dumb luck, boy," he said coldly. "But no matter, you can still prove yourself useful. Where is The Dark Lord hiding?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and shook his head shortly. "No idea."

Pursing his lips, Tom rose to his feet and walked towards Harry. "You may not know the exact location, but I know you've heard theories on his whereabouts." Stooping to eye level, he withdrew Harry's wand from inside his pocket.

Glancing at the wand, Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. "Even if I have, why would I tell you," he asked incredulously.

A wicked sneer spread across the teen's face which was now inches from Harry's. "You're in your second year, correct? Barely learned how to disarm an opponent?" Harry could hear the ridicule in the question but refused to rise to the bait. " Should I give you a taste of some real magic? The kind that loosens tongues?"

A hand clenched Harry's stomach, and he fought back the fear that was rapidly consuming him. He was suddenly all too aware of how little he actually knew about magic. Was there really a spell that could make someone spill their secrets? Would it hurt him or would it simply make him tell the truth? Either way, he had no desire to find out.

"The only thing I know is that Professor Quirell met him during his travels."

"And where was he traveling?"

"I…I don't…" Harry racked his muddled mind for details. Someone had mentioned a place, but he could not grasp the name of it. Panic sent his brain into overdrive as the tip of the wand pressed against his temple. Suddenly a light came on. "Al…Albania," he stuttered.

Apparently satisfied, Tom stood and returned to study the map on the table. With one hand he drummed a rhythmless beat against the hardwood as the other traced countries with the tip of the wand.

Harry took advantage of his captor's inattention and surveyed the area where he was being held. Besides the table Riddle was using, there were only two other pieces of furniture. A tattered black wardrobe and matching bed were crammed into what was left of the tiny room. The walls, which appeared to be rough cut lumber, were stained with years of grime and cobwebs adorned the four corners of the low hanging ceiling. The lack of a kitchen, or lavatory it seemed, suggested they were in some dingy inn that didn't receive many guests. Spotting a window near the foot of the bed, Harry unsteadily pulled himself to his feet.

Riddle paid him no mind as he crossed the room in four steps and peered out the filth smudged glass. It was pitch black, but Harry could see the tops of many trees swaying in the wind below. However, it was the nearby street lamp that told him the most about their location. It's flickering bulb cast an eery yellow glow on the dusty road that wound around the bend and out of sight.

"We're in a muggle inn," Harry asked out loud. He turned to look at Tom who was still muttering to himself as he peered over the map. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with muggles."

"Necessity, Potter," he replied without glancing up.

"So where are we exactly?"

Harry had barely gotten the question out before Tom let out an exasperated sigh and, rolling his eyes towards Harry, fixed him with an annoyed stare. "Somewhere Dumbledore won't think to look. However, it doesn't matter. We're leaving."

"Leaving," Harry asked in shock."Already?"

"If your information is correct," he said while folding the map and placing it inside the black diary. "There are a few areas in Albania that we can start our search."

"I've told you everything I know," Harry implored. "There's no reason for me to go."

Tom ambled forward, his perfect white teeth bared. It wasn't a true smile. It was the look a person gave when they were trying with immense difficulty not to strangle someone. "You may still be needed. For all I know, you have fed me the wrong location on purpose. Plus," he paused, eyes narrowing and voice dropping to a whisper. The look he now held sent an icy wave down Harry's spine. "I'm sure my older self is eager to speak with you."