What Lies Ahead

Six

Fear. Pure terror. Body shaking, eyes clenched, all-consuming panic. There were no words to adequately describe the emotion flooding through Harry's veins like ice, chilling him to the bone. Even if Riddle's vise-like grip wasn't holding him in place, Harry wouldn't have been able to move. Every part of him was yelling run but his legs had gone numb as he watched the shadow draw away from the wall in a slow gliding motion.

On the contrary, Tom was smiling from ear to ear like a child on Christmas morning. He gave Harry an unexpected shove that sent him tumbling to the floor. Quickly, Harry scurried to the opposite wall and watched in horror as the shadow moved closer to Tom who was now blocking the only exit. The dark mass stopped before the teenager, hovering in the torchlight. Tom gave a short nod and the darkness consumed him entirely.

A flash of white-hot light filled the small space, blinding Harry of his surroundings. He turned his head away, shutting his eyes tight to block out the glow but it burned through his eyelids. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Hesitantly, Harry opened his eyes, blinking away the spots that seemed to be seared into his retinas. The room slowly came back into focus, though he had to squint to make out the finer details. He couldn't miss the figure standing in the door frame, however. Riddle seemed to have aged by several years. He had grown a few considerable inches and his face had become leaner, almost hollow beneath his sleek black hair. However, the most noticeable change was staring directly at him. It was the bright red eyes he had faced a year ago.

The man examined his bone like fingers before running them over his torso. A smug smile pulled at his thin lips and, as he stood tall, he pulled Harry's wand from the back pocket of his now too short trousers. He gave it a wave, but nothing seemed to happen. Another wave and a bright fire roared to life in the old fireplace. He flourished the wand in front of him once more and this time his black pants and green jumper lengthened to accommodate his new height. He ran a hand through his black hair and took in a deep breath before letting it out in a satisfied sigh. It was then that he turned his full attention to Harry.

"I was hoping we would meet again, Harry," Voldemort said softly. He lazily closed the gap between them and sat back on his heels. "How happy I am that it was so soon. However, my real concern is, am I able to touch you now?"

Up close Harry could see the familiar features of Tom Riddle still remained, albeit older and more hollowed around the cheeks. He swallowed against his suddenly dry mouth and tried to form a plan but those piercing red eyes made it hard to think. Voldemort raised a skeleton-like hand and placed it against Harry's cheek. Harry tried to cringe away but the wall kept him from moving. The hand slid down his face and came to rest on his neck, the thumb pressing firmly against his windpipe.

"Are you scared, Harry, " asked Voldemort with mock concern.

Setting his jaw, Harry gave his head a short shake but the tremble in his lip betrayed him.

"Stubborn, I like that," he said with a sharp laugh.  He dropped his hand from Harry's neck, apparently unscathed. "Your father was a stubborn man too. How old are you, Potter?"

Something about hearing Voldemort talk about his father replaced Harry's fear with anger. He turned his emerald eyes to stare back into those crimson irises and fixed a defiant scowl on his face.

Voldemort's lips pulled back revealing his white teeth in a wicked grin. He raised the wand again and pointed it at Harry's chest.

"Crucio."

Pain as he'd never felt before coursed through him like lightning, boiling his blood. He fought the scream only for a second before it tore out of him in an animalistic howl. Rolling to his side, he curled in on himself trying to escape a thousand knives that seemed to be piercing his flesh.