Harry ran as fast as his feet could carry him, the darkness making it hard for him to see what was in front of him as branches, twigs, and bushes left welts and cuts as he barreled through them.
But the thing after him seemed to glide over those, not even being delayed by the thick foliage of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid was nowhere to be seen, nor was anyone else save for Harry and the man running after him.
His scar flared in pain and Harry tripped over a thick root, pain ran up his leg and he knew he had twisted his ankle.
He got up in but a moment, his eyes teared up and his vision blurred as he limped as fast as he could, ignoring the pain that lanced from his ankle every time he touched the ground.
But Harry was somewhat used to pain, and he would not give up.
A terrible laugh followed him.
Harry limped through thick bushes and his face fell as he saw he had reached a small clearing, the few trees in it with a lot of space between them and almost no bushes.
“Don’t give up, Harry.” he tried to encourage himself as he kept limping forward, minor cuts burning in the chilly night air as held back tears of pain and desperation began to take hold.
He saw a thick tree on his path with a lot of broken branches around it, and Harry refused to let himself be caught without a fight.
He had lost his Wand a few minutes ago when he pointed it at the man-thing chasing after him and it flew out of his hand when it gestured, the mocking laugh that followed brought a chill down his spine.
Harry fell down again almost at the foot of the big tree, his ankle hurt so much he saw stars, he was out of breath, sweat glued his shirt to his body as he turned to look at the tree line.
The man, thing, the monster, walked out of it, as if it knew Harry couldn’t run anymore. A long cloak with a hood covered his features, but Harry thought he looked human enough.
“Potter…” a cold, double voice spoke, one was sibilant, wispy, and the other…
“P-Professor Quirrel?” Harry said between breaths as his fist closed around a particularly thick branch, the action probably hidden by the tall grass.
A terrible laugh was his answer, one that made his scar flare up in pain and some terrible feeling of dread grip him, as if that sound was familiar, if long forgotten.
“I am sorry, Professor Quirell is not available right now, he wasn’t very agreeable with what I wanted to do tonight, so I told him to…take a nap.”
The thing spoke, the sibilant, mocking voice overtaking Professor Quirrell’s the more it spoke.
“It’s just you and me here…Harry, as it was in that night, some ten years ago.”
Harry’s blood ran cold, his suspicion confirmed.
“V-Voldermort.”
“Yes, Harry, and it was very foolish of that old man to let you come into the forest like this, with only that oaf for protection.” Another laugh, a delighted one that promised dark deeds.
“And now you are here, alone, so I can finally show that Lord Voldemort can’t be defeated.”
Harry tried to control his breathing, and did his best not to panic as Voldemort or Quirrell or whatever kind of combination that was began walking towards him, almost a spring in its step.
“Now, I do think it would be proper if we could look each other in the eyes for this, I am sure Quirinus will understand.”
A terrible cracking noise filled the clearing as the thing under the cloak began shifting, Harry gasped as he saw the head under it spin on the neck, and soon two glowing red eyes were fixing him on the spot. Long nailed hands rose to the hood to remove it as the thing, because whatever that was, it couldn’t be human anymore, began speaking and Harry swore he saw a big mouth full of teeth moving inside the dark.
“It’s anti-climatic I admit, they will think you accidentally wandered into Spider territory like the foolish boy you are, and, oh, I hope that stupid oaf blames himself for this, along with that fool Dumbledore.”
It removed the hood and Harry had to hold himself back to not scream, his hand gripped the branch in a white-knuckled hold as he looked in horror at what Voldemort had become.
A wide, inhuman mouth stretched almost literally from ear to ear, full of teeth the size of his small finger and projecting forward like some deformed lizard, a large, forked tongue danced between those teeth.
It was all made worse by the terrible slitted eyes that glowed red in the night, his gaze unwavering and cruel. “I wish my snake was here, she would love to…partake in this meal.”
The thing lunged at him and Harry swung the branch with all he could, the dry staccato of the impact reverberated across the clearing as Voldemort was swung to the side by it.
Harry scrambled back, branch still in hand, as Voldemort stayed in that position for a few moments.
Before he began laughing, and then cackling, he straightened himself and threw his head back and laughed more, and Harry realized with horror and disgust how wide that mouth could open as he did so.
“The-Boy-Who-Lived,” he began, “and the best he can do is hit me with a stick.”
He looked at Harry again and Harry saw a small cut on his forehead, bleeding a dark red substance.
“I think even your foolish mudblood mother would be ashamed of what a weak wizard you are, Potter.”
Harry barely registered the comment as he threw the branch at Voldemort, who just slapped it away, he then picked up anything he could find and threw it, desperately trying to do something.
Small rocks and branches flew at Voldemort as he ran at Harry and picked him up by his shirt, before throwing him to the ground and holding his small arms to the side, Harry fighting him with all the strength he had left.
But Voldemort seemed unconcerned, his painful grip unwavering as he loomed over Harry, his red eyes narrowed in glee.
“I must admit, you have spirit, Potter, an admirable quality, but it won’t save you.”
But Harry wasn’t hearing him, instead, he was paying attention to the three red dots that had appeared on Voldemort’s forehead, shaped as if they were the three points of a triangle.
And, for some strange, weird reason, Harry felt hope.
Voldemort barely had time to raise his head as a blue blast of energy vaporized it in a shower of red mist.
And as a loud clicking sound filled that dark clearing, Harry learned that not only magical creatures, foolish boys, and Dark Lords inhabited that forest.