Albania is an Idiotic Country
Long, pale fingers crushed a twig between them with a cathartic crack. The pieces fell to the ground at the feet of the perpetrator.
Albania was an idiotic country.
Lord Voldemort had decided this after only two weeks of being there.
Two weeks and he had not come any closer to finding the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw.
Two weeks of scouring the Albanian forests.
Two weeks wasted.
Yes, it had been lost for centuries. Hidden away within the deep recesses of the forest by Helena Ravenclaw.
But he was Lord Voldemort.
He should have found it already.
A rustling in the darkness to his right distracted him. He paused, wand in hand. There was movement, and something burst out of the trees, charging towards him.
A twitch of his wand, a flash of green light — and it was dead.
He regarded it with cold eyes. Until his heart stilled and his mind roared. It was a predator, a large feline at that. It had tufted ears and golden-gray fur. Some sort of lynx, he surmised.
Rage reddening his vision, he jabbed his wand at the corpse of the wildcat and it disintegrated into the ground.
It wasn’t until he had thrown several other Dark curses at the surrounding trees — chopping branches off, tearing roots up, exploding sap within — did he calm down.
Albania was an idiotic country and the cat looked too much like a clouded leopard.
He hadn’t seen her in two weeks.
He hadn’t realized what being this far separated from her would feel like.
It was only two weeks. They’d been apart for longer stretches of time. But, somehow, someway, for some reason, it was agonizing. He felt sickly and incomplete. His head had a constant ache and something deep within him yearned for something he didn’t have at the moment.
There had been times at school when she had ignored him for equal or longer stretches of time. But she was still around. Her presence could still be felt, seeping through the castle like foggy tendrils of tantalizing power.
He only planned to take a month to search for the Diadem but he was considering returning to Britain and dragging her to Albania to assist him.
Because Albania was an idiotic country.
But he could not do that because that was weakness. And because she would taunt him about his miserable lack of results and they would end up bickering the entire time over whether or not it constituted a failure on his end. Which would inevitably end in a duel, which would inevitably end with one or both of them destroying the forest. The forest which hid what he so ardently searched for.
Withdrawal. He understood this as he kicked at a fallen tree branch. The sickliness. The emptiness. The longing. That was what it was. Withdrawal. From her energy. From her.
He needed her.
The realization was mortifying. He didn’t like that he needed someone. Even if it was her.
But it was so visceral. So profound. So magical.
He inhaled deeply, staring at the splinters of the destroyed trees around him.
Magic had done that. His magic.
The thought made him smile.
Magic could never lead him wrong. Magic had always showed him the truth.
Magic was the only thing he had ever needed.
He exhaled as blissful understanding dawned over him.
Her energy was magic.
Of coursehe needed her.