Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.

Seventh Piece Of Me

Prologue

There was a war around eighteen years ago, a war of the wizards. It had been carefully disguised from us Muggles. Poorly disguised from the muggles – dust under a rug, a bad clean up, they messed with our minds, removing the evidence. They called themselves 'The Order of the Phoenix' and the Ministry of Magic, they burnt out the insides of our minds, they crippled us of defending ourselves. They locked us inside, without a window, without a light. They forgot who we were – who we are! We may be muggles – but we have conquered more than they ever have. We have never needed their magic!

We, the muggles, banded together, no longer did race matter nor nationality, previous feuds were put behind us and suddenly these wizards were against the world, but then again I am getting ahead of myself, not many of our kind knew about these creatures yet.

This war between their kind escalated – and the 'light' asked for our help, in which the government then sent out our troops to help them despite the fact we couldn't defend ourselves against their magic. By this point the war had reached unpredictable heights, no longer was their world... their society... no their cult hidden, it was caught on a camera and in less than an hour the world had watched it on youtube. It became a hunting field, muggle shopping centres, children's parks and homes. Those that called themselves 'dark' proved their dominance, showing their willingness to cut down anyone who was not in their ideal perception of the world. In less than 2 months our muggle troops had been eliminated and the leader of the light Albus Dumbledore fell, a sickly green light struck him in the chest and he crumpled like a rag doll.

Voldemort had won. Muggles managed to film it all live – and the most haunting thing happened at that moment, he crowed with victory, a maddening grating scream of joy, before his crimson eyes fixed upon the camera. The Dark Lord himself, as he was proclaimed, was every bit as evil as they described him to be, they said he was immortal and eternally youthful. His ebony hair fell in dark silky waves, his face was perfect, set like a fallen angel, and he smiled a sickly smile with that perfect mouth and stunningly white teeth. There was the same green light, and then the camera fell from its stand tumbling to the ground and rolling several times before settling in the long grass next to the camera man's head and we saw his eyes wide with fright and empty of life.

Collectively the whole world screamed in fear, and we scattered, we ran trampling on the less able and started to hide, we all knew there was nothing that could even attempt to protect us. Our homes were raided, and the people – children, babies and elderly even they were slaughtered by his hand. With the few links left to the world we watched as he destroyed us all, how he let the wizard children slaughter us too, then he found the problem in his plan, a large flaw.

He suppressed the muggles, used them as targets for his anger, until he realised he couldn't get rid of them all. He started to capture them – he used them for cleaners, put them in wizard brothels and also used them as target practice. Soon though, he established a system where the mudbloods lived in cages, where the muggles lived in cages, he would use them as pawns as he moved across the Atlantic chess board. Many didn't have training but they would take the lethal curses in the superior wizard's place. The muggles and mudbloods were bound with a black magical snake wrapped tightly around their left forearm. It remained peaceful unless the person wearing it tried to actively fight against any bearer of the dark mark or even if they dared the Dark Lord himself. Only then would it tighten to discourage the action and if that didn't work it would pierce the flesh with it fangs and inject poison into the blood stream. A long painful death, befitting of those willing to harm their superiors, the Dark Lord had all but purred as he watched the first die, blood trickling out their eyes, nose and mouth. They bucked and gurgled under the affects of the poison, before slowly dying as their insides were liquefied.

Muggle qualifications meant nothing in this new world and we were dying slowly and nothing could stop our slow disintegration, but then again there was a reason why us homo-sapiens had survived longer than all others. Muggle vigilante groups fought back and as their last act of kindness to us who were dying every day, guns were made legal by the falling government, but we had to make them – every piece of metal we could find went into producing guns and bullets to fire them. For some time we had light wizard help, they would magic us guns, but even the plentiful resistance from the magical world that was soon crushed too and even light wizards betrayed their cause and joined the dark.

It became every muggle for himself, and if you fell no one would pick you up, no one remembered how to function in groups anymore, but there was the rare case people found each other.

That is how I met them – Lily and Harry Potter, being only thirteen at the time; I had held a sharp, pure silver knife to the young boy's throat- couldn't be too risky now that the Dark Lord would unleash the werewolves. I had only been young at the time myself, but he was around five and I thirteen, unlucky age. My hair hung in limp greasy strands, and my clothes were dirty and half shredded. His mother, looked at me with fear in her eyes, large green eyes focussed on the trembling boy in my arms. I felt a twang of pity pull at my heart, but I ruthlessly squashed it, turning my grimace turn into a snarl of sorts. I had recently lost my Mother and younger sister to them and my emotions stopped me from saving them – I wouldn't let it happen again.

"You got any food?" I demanded gruffly – my throat sore from my angry screaming and the lack of use it had had in the past few weeks.

She shook her head slightly "Please... please give me back Harry. Please!" She had cried desperately, kneeling on the ground, clutching her hands together desperately, begging me to give her back her child.

"You got anything?" I asked, pressing the blade closer to the child's throat. He whimpered, I loosened my hold on him slightly.

"No! I swear!" She sobbed, her large stunning eyes filling with tears. "Please don't hurt my baby!"

I choked on my retort, and despite my toughened mentality to emotions, I felt the tears run down my face, and I let go the blade still clutched tightly in my hand I withdrew. I watched her as she hugged him fiercely, and cupped his face asking him if he was alright, and looking him up and down. I couldn't bare the similar scene of my Mother and sister any longer.

"Sorry" I muttered and turned and ran. Hunger was messing with my mental stability, I told myself.

Some people believe in fate – I never used too, but I ran into them again a few weeks later....

Chapter 1

10 years later, present day -

Another raid had been planned, another move in the muggle resistance to the wizard dominance. There was a small wizard safe house that sat near the outskirts of town, who or what type of wizards inside was unknown. Muggle Vigilante group 05 had gathered in a small damp cellar, and they would attack regardless, long gone was the caring part of them who would have spared the weak and innocent. They were that kind of people – and they had to be eliminated!

The room stunk of mould and body odour fermented the air making the weaker stomached people leave to evacuate their churning stomachs. Bodies were packed tightly in the compact space. Men, women and young teens were all there, staring at the front of the room where their self appointed leader was. She looked tired, but there was a fierce scowl set deeply in her face, her hair was ratty and cut jaggedly, to be frank she looked a mess. Then again she was the best person for the job, she had strategy and power. She was known a Thorn to most in the room, her actual name was Rose, she had given herself the name, she had chuckled saying any man worth his salt would figure out the correlation between Rose and Thorn if it was to come up in conversation somehow.

Said leader of the operations was sitting at her desk at the front of the room, her desk in fact was large partially green wet box, and she was perched on a wooden crate. She sat ramrod straight as she bellowed out facts about their suppression aggressively, winding up every person in the room each using their weakness against them. She twisted it beyond recognition and made every man woman and young adult froth at the mouth in their rage. Some stroked the muzzle of their guns, whilst other drew their knives, so far gone they were in their madness and rage. She was a good leader although her point of view blinded her of other conclusions, she saw the wizards in hiding as an ambush, they were waiting for them to let their guard down. They would find them and torture and kill them with their wands and destroy their resistance. There were others of a different view – they saw it as some of the wizards were being hunted like they were – they could have magical help! Their leader had squashed that idea brutally, one had told her that she was a liar and as corrupt at the Snake Lord, for that she had killed him. She had no remorse, and if she ever had a heart it was blacked like soot and like stone, but she was a good leader.

"HARRY!" Her harsh voiced yelled angrily, cutting her speech of mid-rant. Her bark was like a knife to a young man stared dazedly into space, fixated on a spot of mildew with was growing with spidery fingers across the wall. He turned to her sharply, jerking in shock as called for his attention. The whole room stilled, each person turning to look at him.

"Yes Thorn?" He asked softly, as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Did you get all of that?" She had stood up and walked up to him, towering over his hunched form as he balanced on an upturned bucket. Her cold blue eyes regarded him, emotionless and chilling as ice itself and her hands placed upon her hips, her long fingers on her right hand drumming against her side. He sighed wearily, rubbing a filthy hand across his forehead and frowned at her "Yes." He finally said, licking his dry lips as they were chapped and pale, almost as much as his skin was.

She looked at him hard for a moment, dropping into a crouch to be level with him, before smiling and nodding. "Are you alright? Do you need some water?" She asked in a softer voice, she gestured sharply with her left hand that had a dagger clutched in it to a man that held a flask. He shuffled forward – desperate to please and yet desperate not to share the hard to come by water. Odd man Peter Pettigrew he was, Rose looked at him carefully scrutinising him. He was hiding something – she just knew it. He hesitantly offered it towards her, she took it rather softly, but her grip of the flask was tight, her skin taunt over the shiny ivory like bone that was her knuckles. She unscrewed the cap, keeping her eyes on the stout man, and held it out to Harry.

He took a minuscule sip of the much craved for liquid, although his body screamed for more, he handed back and nodded his thanks to the man who had given it. He saw Rose watch him through narrowed eyes, as he shuffled backwards. She turned back to him, her face considerably calmer.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." Rose smiled, her face was soft and kind, but the eyes still remained as unfeeling as ever, maybe she wished to feel something but couldn't either way, her positive emotions were dead buried deeply like her Mother and sister and as deep seeded as her hate for wizards, apart from Harry and his mother. She sprung gracefully to her feet and paced around the room, judging her faithful followers – her fellow victims of the wizard war, she smiled at the darkness and pain in each of their eyes. Watching it turn to anger, there was a reason why muggles were always top dog. Her boots landed heavily with each step ringing out in the silence, each step a step closer towards their liberation.

"Meet back here tomorrow – my friends. Tomorrow will be another step in our movement back to power." She purred, her almost guttural voice now silky smooth "Harry, wait behind." She added as an afterthought as she saw him leap from his crouched position on the ground towards the large metal door. His shoulders slumped, but he stopped and moved back till his spine touched the wall letting the large congregation of people try to fight their way out of the small door first.

Once the room was empty, she turned to him, her right foot placed on her seat and she slid her dagger in to her boot next to the other three.

"Rose" He sighed, exasperated. "What is this about?" He scrubbed his forehead angrily revealing a lightning bolt shaped scar. She scowled at her name used in an unsecure environment.

"Your Mother is asking for you, she is getting worse" She frowned slightly, swallowing heavily "Harry. Uh...Oh God!" She gripped fistfuls of her hair, her eyes creasing up in obvious emotional pain, but they remained dry. "Harry, I don't think she will make it."

"She will make it." He murmured, his head hanging down, his long unkempt hair covering his face.

"Harry - "

"I said that she WILL make it!" He shouted, angrily, scowling, his emerald eyes blazing through the thick paned grubby glasses.

"Alright" She stepped back frowning slightly, she gestured with her hands in a calming motion "Alright – let's go." Rose nodded to herself, as she pulled her dirty chestnut brown hair up into a pony tail and picked up her rucksack which was hidden under the crate she had been sitting on. "If we are quick we will miss the dementers." She strode to the door and walked into the cold summer night. Harry followed after her, shutting the door behind them. He shivered, his skin instantly being covered goose-bumps.

"They're coming, they will be here soon."

Rose made a non- communal grunt, and turned and started to jog slightly towards the town centre. She weaved in and out of the shadows until she reach the large shopping centres doors. Harry followed quickly, not quite as lightly as she, but still moving gracefully and quietly.

"Why are we going this way? There are the surpluses here, you can't trust them" He whispered harshly, glaring around at the tramp like people that were scattered around. Their bodies lay limply and their rising and falling chests erratic from the dementor's chill.

"They are long gone, and even if they weren't they aren't in any shape to take to fully grown adults who are trained to kill." Rose walked through the place as though she owned it, her head held high and she didn't even glance at the people. Harry made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat, as Rose jumped over a large pile of junk that had been pilfered out of stores.

"I don't approve of killing Rose, you know that." He commented bitterly, as his pitying glance caught the eyes of another man, who was dead, his hand inches away from a bottle of water.

He stopped, fighting the urge to go over to the body and set him straight, though the body most likely had all sorts of diseases on it. Suddenly Rose was next to him, she picked up the bottle of water, and checked the seal, and then broke it off. "Drink" She commanded, placing the bottle in his hand.

"I ... can't...this was his" He handed the bottle back to her.

"Harry, you will drink this or so help me..." She left the threat hanging in the air, and held the bottle out "At least for your Mother's sake, if not your own."

He drunk it, he drained the whole bottle dry, hating Rose for being so right, hated himself for letting her play his weakness as well as she played the fiddle. She patted his arm and started to drag him off, "Come on – we do not have time."

"Rose – why don't we help them?" He suddenly asked, jogging along to keep up with her long strides.

"They can't help themselves, more mouths to feed, we just can't, and they aren't a threat. Your kind on the other hand... are."

"My kind?" He hissed venomously

"Well, you're Mothers a mudblood, so is hunted as much as we are and you as her son are under our protection too." She turned the corner sharply approaching the exit. Harry just scowled at her back, the bitterness of not fitting in anywhere throbbing in his chest.

She pushed on the glass doors, making them swing open "Look for a car, quickly Harry, I can feel them now"

"So can I." He grumbled as he tried car doors, trying every car that hadn't been raided or smashed in to pieces. "Here" He called softly, Rose ran quickly over "I'll drive."

"No you bloody won't" She chuckled, sliding in through the broken in window. After a couple of minutes hotwiring the car, they were moving and fast. Harry, hung onto the edge of his seat, with pure terror etched into his face as Rose drove without care. She sped through the deserted city, as the sun set, leaving the sky an bloody red, which faded into pink and purple.

They drove, hard and fast into the country, tackling the large ditches in the roads ignoring the gravel flicking and scratching the paintwork. Harry has turned a faint shade of green, his grip on the soft padded chair crippling, Rose on the other hand had pressed her lips into a hard line, to fight the rocking motion of the car making the minimal liquid in her stomach slosh around. She suddenly hit the brakes, and climbed out, walking into a dark field, where half the crop was burned away, where the ground squelched with the blood of their brothers in arms. She swallowed slowly several time and breathed deeply trying to sooth the swirling acid in her stomach.

Harry rolled his eyes at her dramatic manner, slowly walking behind her as his stomach too settled after the rocky ride, glancing around every so often as he felt like he was being watched. He could feel the hairs raise on his arms and the back of his neck. He hurried to catch up with Rose.

"Do you feel that?" He breathed, looking down at her.

"Of course" She hummed, "Don't worry, just animals" She burped lightly, she clamped a hand over her mouth in her shock. She laughed under her breath, and then cursed loudly as she froze. "They have the lights on!" She shrieked in rage and astonishment, but Harry wasn't most scared at that, it was the lining of fear that was wrapping her words that caused him to start to sprint down the hill towards the brightly lit up cottage, which was normally hidden in the darkness.

He could hear Rose behind him, cursing under her breath at their stupidity and praying to whoever would listen that they were okay. As they got closer they realised that the front door was wide open, Harry spluttered and gasped, and backed away, ambush he thought, until he walked into the tip of a wand. He froze instantly stiffening, thoughts pausing as his fight or flight instinct triggered. As he was about to turn around a leather glad arm wrapped around his torso.

"Be a good boy now" The voice cooed, it was an arrogant drawl of a man. "Did you get the other one?" He asked in a cold tone, to prove his station. Slightly insecure? Harry thought trying to analyse the situation like Rose would have done.

"Yes Sir" The other person's voice trembled, weak? There was a groan from that person then, as Rose twisted and kneed him in his groin. She went to hit him, but she was hit with a spell, she froze and toppled over being hit with a leg locker jinx. She was grabbed roughly by the wrists, by the fuming wizard who had his 'nads' crushed.

"Are you ready now?" Malfoy asked coldly, irritated that he had to work with incompetent fool such as this.

"Yes sir!" Came the prompt reply.

Harry was prodded in the back sharply; he walked forward into the house. He could feel a slight prickling in his scar; it throbbed unpleasantly as he drew closer to the living room. Their footsteps rang loudly through the long corridor. The door swung open of its own accord, creaking loudly – it seemed so much louder in the silent repressive atmosphere that had ensnared the place.

The room was lit with floating candles, and all of the furniture had been removed, instead the room was filled with people – all glad in black. Some of them wore masks, whilst others had a black snake entwined around their arms. Many held wands lightly in their hands, and others held knives and guns. They were all facing the centre of the room, Rose and Harry both glanced up.

There in the middle of the room was the Dark Lord sitting in a throne, raised several feet of the ground, made of golden snakes with green velvet draped across the padding in the back. He unlike many 'kings' slouched in his chair, perfectly at ease, he had even had placed one leg across the arm of chair. A large black snake had wrapped itself around the throne and had its head resting upon his stomach, it was hissing at him, and he was nodding along distractedly, as though he was only half listening. He turned his head lazily towards the four people entering. He shushed the snake with a wave of his hand – she huffed angrily and turned her head slithering of his lap.

He held a crystal cut glass in his hand and he swirled the fire whiskey around in it several times, smiling faintly, no he was smirking largely. He removed his foot form he arm of his throne, sitting up, leaning forward eagerly. He looked no different from eighteen years ago, he looked sinfully gorgeous, but the stench of evil rolled from him, smothering you in his presence, enticing you and scaring you, the perfect demon.

Harry's strangled cry rang out as he clasped his forehead in agony, the man restraining him letting him fall, his bones shook with the impact of hitting the floor, but what he saw on there made him sob, his Mother laid across the floor, her red hair spread across the ground in waves of fire, her eyes – his eyes, were wide open with shock and completely lifeless. He screamed out in horror and terror. The Dark Lord stretched and shifted his feet slightly on his mudblood foot rest.

Rose gurgled in her shock, but no other sound emitted from her throat. Harry's capturer grimaced at the sight of what he had been handling. Lucius Malfoy prided himself on being well dressed, and looked on in disgust at the filthy creature he had to restrain. He brushed his robes of slightly, keeping his dignity and Malfoy pride printed across his face as he did so, before sweeping into an elegant bow.

"My Lord" He said softly, respect and deference dripping from each word.

Voldemort nodded once in greeting and Lucius melted into the crowd of people, although remaining near the front. The half-blood restraining Rose, bound the girl's feet and hands, before too dropping into a deep bow, it was almost twice as low, and not nearly half as elegant. The Dark Lord looked at him coolly and gestured impatiently at him to move away from the two prisoners. The man scurried in to the sea of black cloaks, but this man moved to the back, trying to blend in and remain unnoticed.

"Ahh at last – my informant did say I could find Lily Potter here, but her son too? – well, such a bargain and at least now, dirty blood you may have but the Potter line can once again flourish." He purred. His voice was a smooth, yet dangerous, like a honey covered knife. It ran like a set of fingers down your back, pleasant enough but a slight grazing of nails reminding you of the danger.

Suddenly he leaned closer studying the boy twisting in front of him, he tilted his head curiously, his silk like hair shimmering in the candle light. He smiled suddenly, he stroked his chin with his abnormally long fingers. "I wonder" He whispered softly in parseltongue.

"What Master?" Nagini hissed, intrigued nudging his ear, her tongue flickering in the air.

"I will discuss this with you later." He murmured, stroking her head in his ponderings.

"Who is your informant?" Rose shrieked, struggling against the bonds holding her. Voldemort glared at her in annoyance, casually pulling his wand out of his pocket.

"Crucio" He said, as though he was commenting on the weather. She screamed and cried with the agony of the torture curse upon her person. As quickly as it had been on her it was gone and she shook with the aftermath. "You...Bastard!" She gasped out, as she tried to pull herself back on her knees. A smaller figure stepped out of formation and stood in front of her swaying body.

"Be quiet you filthy muggle!" It was a shrill tone and it grated on Rose's ears. There was sharp slap and a cry of shock.

"Let her go" Voldemort said calmly, amusement thinly veiled. He chuckled throatily "Shall I call him here?" He asked Rose. She looked up at him through half lidded eyes, her left cheek baring a bright red handprint. She tilted precariously, before managing to right herself.

She nodded, glancing at Harry, refusing to comfort him and yet desperate to help in, he lay on the floor holding his head and shaking with the rolls of pain that hit him constantly.

"Wormtail, come forward." Voldemort turned as a little stout man came to the front, he smiled at Rose in a patronising way, and in his hand he held a flask of water.

Rose started in dumbstruck horror for a few seconds at the man she had seen not even two hours ago, before screaming in anger and fury – at herself – she bloody knew there was something odd about him. All affects from the cruciatus curse were gone as her animalistic rage consumed her.

"YOU LITTLE...RAT!!!!" She screeched, throwing her head back, her eyes smouldering in her molten like anger.

"I believe it was you Thorn, who didn't realise there was a wizard in your midst." He smiled, baring his yellow, rat like teeth.

She scowled at his insinuation that she couldn't tell magical folk from normal people. She hadn't known that he was magical, but she would be damned if she let him know that!

"You're too magically weak for it even to turn up on the lowest radar!" She hissed, spit flying from her mouth as she forced the words out.

Wormtail looked down at her crossly "That's no way to talk to your superiors, girl!" He pulled out his wand. "Crucio"

The spell hit her, she cried out slightly and buckled under the curse, but soon the noise stooped and she looked up at him from her foetal position and chuckled through her split lips "I've felt w..w...orse!" She laughed, her eyes screwed up in the pain.

She lay on her side, and reached down to her boot quickly, and grabbed a dagger from her boot and flicked it sharply. There was gargle and a thud as Wormtail fell backwards onto the hard wood flooring with a small dagger embedded in his stomach.

At first Voldemort looked alarmed, but then he watched Wormtail writher dispassionately. With a wave of his wand the knife was in his hand and the wound healed.

"Beaten by a muggle, Wormtail. Tsk, tsk I didn't believe you could sink any lower and yet you amaze me again and again." A chuckle ran through the crowd, as Wormtail whimpered pathetically.

He studied the weapon in his hand, his perfect eyebrows raising as he noticed that is was pure silver. Rose's teeth snapped together as Wormtail got back to his feet, she growled at him, her face reddening as blood pooled her checks at her humiliation, she slammed her bound fists upon the floor.

"Muggle" The Dark Lord looked at her, she lacked appropriate training, but that could be fixed, but first a test...

The girl turned towards him, her head held up defiantly, but her eyes only focussed on his chin. He smirked at that. "I believe for his betrayal, he owes you somewhat." He threw down the knife, it slid sharply into the floor, cutting the wood like butter, landing next to her bound hands.

"Finite Incantatem" She felt her legs regain their separate use. "He is yours to kill if you wish..."

"PLESE MASTER NO!" Peter squealed pathetically.

"Rose NO!" Harry cried out from his sprawled out pose on the floor, but Rose was too far gone – she was completely feral. She spliced the ropes on her wrists, pulling the knife free once again. She had cut the ropes around her ankles in the blink of an eye and had charged toward Wormtail.

Blood splattered the walls, as she covered him in deep cuts with her collection of cutlery. He screamed in agony, and she was painted in his blood, and then through the hate filled void she was contained in she heard his next words.

"...in exchange for your life services."

She paused mid-hack, she heard Wormtail's left hand hit the floor, she turned to him completely frozen in horror. She could feel a cold chill run up her left arm, and she looked at it in a detached manner. The black snake curled around her arm and settled snugly around it.

The knives dropped with a clatter as she started hyperventilating, and tried to pry the horrid creature of her with shaking hands, as they were blood sodden and just slipped of the scaled body.

Voldemort rolled his eyes "Stupefy" He sighed, exasperated at her antics, the young woman fell unconscious to the ground.

"As reward for your services Wormtail " A silver hand replaced Peter's now missing one, and his cuts healed over, not even a scar remained.

"Thank you, Master" He whispered reverently, and breathlessly, marvelling at his new hand.

The Dark Lord nodded graciously, smiling, not only had he re-enforced Wormtail's loyalty, he also had a way to snuff out any thoughts of betrayal as the hand would turn on him as soon as he did. He chuckled demonically.

He waved his hand, and several knifes flew from the girl's body, ripping sounds were heard as her clothes were almost completely removed as knife upon knife was piled up at the bottom of the Dark Lords throne. There were many different types of knifes, long ones, short ones, some stolen, some bought and even some handmade, and the occasional couple were magically made. Then there was the sound of tearing flesh as a knife was ripped out from under her arm, where she had surgically placed it that if she twisted her arm in such a manner it would sever one of main arteries and therefore would never be taken captive. He body was flipped over revealing a large rip in the underside of her arm. Voldemort healed it, with raised eyebrows, disgusted with himself for being slightly impressed with the muggle. This was something that Lily Potter had done, magically manipulating the blade so not to harm her until she so wished it. No more weapons were found then and most of the death eaters looked at the large stack of blades impressed, shocked that the muggle could carry such a large amount.

There was a large groan which drew the attention of the whole room, Harry was trembling with the onslaught of plain, trying to pull himself up of the floor and continually falling back down.

Voldemort rose like a snake of his throne and glided across towards him, he didn't pause even as Harry's cries grew louder. He stopped next to him, and pushed him onto his back and leant over him, watching him like a serpent.

"Are you there seventh piece?" he asked softly, cajolingly in parceltongue. He lifted his hand making Harry rise in the air, twirling slowly until he was face to face with the Dark Lord, he grabbed his chin forcing the boy to look at him, his Mother's eyes looking at him in the same accusing manner as she did, his glasses having fallen off. Harry screamed in agony as fire coursed through his head, Voldemort ran a finger down the scar make Harry's eyes roll back in pain and his cries grew weaker as he tried to fall unconscious.

"Yes, you are" He purred, before letting the boy drop heavily to the ground, he waltzed back to his throne, placing himself back on the heavily padded seat. "You have proved yourself once again Harry Potter." He chuckled to himself.

Nagini, sensing her master's good mood and opportunity, slithered over to him "Master" She hissed enticingly, her forked tongue grazing his earlobe. "Master, let me eat the body of the mudblood." She wrapped herself around his torso, and leaning around towards his other ear, "Please Master, she's fresh...." She nuzzled his cheek with her large head, her large yellow eyes half lidded, she butted him again gently with her head.

Harry, the terrible pain had now eased considerably in the light of the pain as he ran his finger down his scar, heard Nagini's plea and with his last bout of energy and pain tolerance he yelled, not realising he spoke the language of the snakes. "DON'T YOU BLOODY DARE!!!" He lost consciousness after the outburst – energy spent.

Voldemort started in his internal debate to let Nagini eat the body; of course he would let his beloved familiar have her chosen dinner – but she was easy to tease, although the angry hissing words from his horcrux stopped all thoughts as though they had hit a barrier.

"A speaker" He looked at Harry appraisingly, demurely summoning back his glass, and running his little finger around the rim. He smirked looking at his new toy, and he stroked Nagini "...This. Is. Just. Too. Good." He drained the remainder of his fire whiskey. "Enjoy your mudblood, Nagini."

A/N – Right, wow that was an awful lot of writing. The longest chapter I have ever written actually. Please review as I need to know what you think. Whether or not I continue this story is down to your reviews... so please? :~)