Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.

Seventh Piece Chained

He rubbed the towel roughly on his scalp, drying the thick strands of black hair clumped together by water that were pressed against his forehead. Running his fingers through the short locks as droplets flung from the tips, Harry threw the fluffy towel on the floor not noticing as it made contact with the wood wetly and water instantly started to pool from it. He rolled up his old clothes, grimacing at the brownish stain of blood from his scar on it and the dusty brown dirt stains scattered along the hem and back of it. There was a light yellow stain on the collar too, from his sweaty neck in the hot summer; of course he did not have the luxury of having a change of clothes every day.

He made use of the conveniently placed clothes on the edge of the bed that happened to be his size, apart from the robe which he dropped to the floor and violently kicked under the bed, scowling at it in his unjustified anger. His thoughts were slow and sluggish, and yet they seemed unable to stop moving, each issue slipping through his imaginary net.

He paced around the room agitatedly; his hands fisted either side of his head as he hunched his shoulders, the frustration building up like a heavy stone in his stomach, the pressure on the back of his neck like a broad thumb. It was uncomfortable; he could feel a... tautness in his throat and a restlessness in his bones. He shook his shoulders trying to loosen the irritating and attention demanding feeling. He scrunched his eyes shut and bowed his head as a low groan came out of his throat.

He suddenly yelled his face contorting angrily as he violently swung his foot into the elegant feet of an arm chair. The chair groaned as it was pushed across the floor and Harry grimaced at the pain in his toes, but he stamped the aching foot in the ground and yelled in pain and anger again.

He tilted his head up, and slowly breathed out, his coiled hands slowly unfurling as he did so, and he let his hands fall to his sides. His leg shook repetitively as he tried to calm himself, to ride out the temper tantrum without making more of a fool of himself.

He sat down on the chest at the end of his bed, his spine curved as he slouched, and rubbed the dark mark slowly; attempting to sooth the slight irritation it was causing him. A choked sound came from his throat, and he rocked on the balls of his feet, he rubbed his hand down the length of his face as he felt the tightness of his mouth and the build up of tears behind his eyeballs, the pressure burning and pushing his eyes. He applied pressure to his lids with the tips of his fingers as he bowed his head, his chin pressed against his chest. For a long time he sat like that rocking and comforting himself as best as he could. He looked up at the window, and saw that it was dark out – the night sky was black, and the candles were lit, he looked around, having not realised the amount of time he had lost.

"Hello?" An irritated voice sounded from down to his right. Harry turned sharply, and saw the little snake from the other day glaring at him, an expression of indignant rebuffed pride.

"Er... sorry, how long have you been there?" He asked confusedly, his breath shaky.

"HOURS!" It shrieked, its head rearing angrily.

"Oh, I'm... yeah..." Harry rubbed his forehead, frowning as he tried to remember "Um... yeah. I'm ...sorry about that." He finally managed.

The snake huffed, but wrapped itself around Harry's arm as he braced it against the bed, to rub sharply the burning brand on the embodied thick covers. He bared his teeth at the feeling, and almost growled at the thing.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you – you might infect it." The snake advised as it circled his arm continually, slopping down until its body completely covered the mark. The body of the snake being cooler than the raw skin made Harry sigh pleasantly, as it provided a bit of relief from the consistent reminder of it being there.

With the coolness of the snake on the brand, Harry felt his eyes closing again, so he rose and lay on the bed, on the side that he hadn't before and he placed the brand and the snake on the cool sheets. The snake seemed to have given up on conversation, and had decided to close its eyes and settled to sleep on his wrist, while Harry hung on the edge of consciousness as his eyes remained half lidded. The candles flames dimmed, giving the room a cool and relaxing feel, easing Harry into a light slumber.

It was when the Dark Lord entered the room that Harry woke from his light dose, and his eyes focussed on the dark figure that bore a smug smirk on his handsome face. Harry's whole body tensed at the sight of the man, the loose muscles coiling tightly as his wariness increased.

"Evening Harry – did you rest well?" He asked casually, looking with bemusement at the messy trail Harry had left in his wake. Eyeing the puddle of water that had formed around the towel and the rug that had started to absorb the water, he waved his hand and the towel and water disappeared, the rug drying quickly and leaving no trace that there ever had been anything there.

Remembering that he was supposed to answer, he averted his eyes to his lap and responded in controlled English. "Very...well, My...Lord." He rolled his tongue around in his mouth trying to coax the feeling of speaking properly into it.

"Hmm, that is good then." He saw the Dark Lord take a seat by the fire, his long fingers wrapping around the arm of the green velvet chair.

"Harry, I came here to address the fact that you and Bellatrix undoubtedly do not see eye to eye – so much so that she cannot teach and you cannot learn. So, due to these circumstances ... I will teach you what you need to know." His faced the fire, but he turned his head ever so slightly, as he heard Harry stir.

"What? Why?" Harry burst out, his desire to remain in English lost with his control, colour flushing his cheeks, as he stared dismayed at the imposing figure in the chair.

"Mr Potter – do not question me. I, as your Lord can do as I wish – it is not your place to object. I do believe we went over this earlier – unless you would like the lesson to be repeated?"

"NO! ...Uh, no My Lord! I did not mean anything by it. I just...um, nothing. I'm sorry." Harry pressed his hands to his face, breathing deeply through compressed lips, his legs folding up to his chin. He stifled the angry and frustrated groan that was wriggling in his chest; he bit his lips, his eyes shut as the pressure of his knee caps was pressed against them.

"Honestly Harry, you haven't even enquired how tonight went – not even about your beloved Rose." Voldemort spoke chidingly from besides the fire, his shadow flickering menacingly on the far wall, the exaggerated monstrous form hunched over guarding its treasures lovingly, echoing the man leaning forward in his chair and watching his horcrux with possessive eyes.

"How did it go, My Lord?" Harry asked hoarsely, turning his head to face the man, the side of his head resting against his legs.
"It went well. Very well indeed." He spoke softly, with a proud smile gracing his features. Suddenly he sat forward clasping his hands together in his lap, his face a blank canvas "Tomorrow we shall venture out to Diagon Alley, you shall need a wand for what I wish to teach you."

"Diagon Alley?" Harry asked, he shuffled to the edge of the bed, ruining the smooth quilt by rippling it as he flung his feet to the floor and paid attention to the figure looking bemused in the armchair.

"Yes. I presume your...mother told you about it." He sneered heavily when mentioning his mother as though catching a taste in the air that was most foul.

"Yeah – she talked about it. How...how am I going to pay for it?" He frowned – he knew the Potter's had a vault but after eighteen years of no activity within the wizarding world he wondered whether they would give him access.

"A wand is no great deal of money – and later in the year you will be attending Hogwarts – if of course you improve enough in time for the new school year – so you will get money from your vault then. As for tomorrow I will pay for your wand, and it will remain with me until I feel you are secure enough here not to do anything...stupid."

Harry volleyed between delight and sulkiness – Hogwarts sounded like a dream, after his mother had told many tales from being in the magical school. However, the bastard in the chair had decided that he would be keeping his wand, and although he hadn't even touched the undecided wand he felt possessiveness towards the carved wooden stick. He only nodded though, his lips curling at the corners and as he spoke the bubble of happiness made his voice waver slightly "Thank you, My Lord!"

Voldemort seemed genuinely happy with his suppressed excitement, he stood gracefully and moved towards the door. "Be up and ready to leave by nine in the morning. I shall come here at exactly nine. Do not be late. I hate to wait – and it will be you who will feel the brunt of my impatience."

He closed the door behind him, just as Harry said "Of course, My Lord."

The morning came very quickly, and soon Harry was sitting in his room, waiting for the Dark Lord to arrive. It was 8:55 and the slow steady ticking made Harry's heartbeat seem exceedingly fast.

The door opened at nine, the Dark Lord walked in and saw Harry ready and waiting to go in a chair, looking an odd shade of grey.

"Come along Harry." He said and gestured with a long pale hand to the open door. Harry got up and walked quickly behind the Dark Lord as he led the boy through the lavishly furnished upper section of his own fortress. Harry knew that below there was only cold grey metal and stone – where those who weren't considered worthy were detained. He himself was lead down a grand wooden staircase, with the middle carpeted in a bright crimson red that complemented the mahogany carved details on the banisters. When reaching the entrance hall of the magical world's exit from the Dark Lord's home, just before the doors, the tall man stopped.

The Dark Lord pulled up Harry's and his own hood "We will be entering Diagon Alley straight away – this door leads straight to the middle of it. It used to be a lawyer's office before I acquired it."

Yes, Harry thought I can bet how you acquired it too.

He opened the door, to reveal the royal blue outside of it with a large lion's head on the door with a brass knocker grasped in its mouth. An expensive lawyer then, Harry thought as the Dark Lord grabbed his arm and started to manoeuvre him through the crowd.

They came up to an old shop with peeling paint with the name Ollivanders on it, Harry looked at it through sceptical eyes, as he tried to look through the grubby windows. Voldemort pushed him towards the door, and Harry dubiously opened it, the bell ringing loudly somewhere deep in the cavern of the wand shop. Harry looked around in amazement at all the wands stacked impressively around the room.

A hunched man walked towards the desk, his bright pale eyes alight in his face. "My Lord." He spoke quickly and impatiently as he bowed, before turning to Harry and watching him with interest. "Mr Potter – I thought you were a bit overdue."

Harry blinked. "Most people in the wizarding world thought I was dead." He said, a look of confusion crossing his features.

Ollivander only smiled wider and pulled a tape measure from his pocket. He let it loose from his fingers and it floated towards Harry. "Hold out your wand arm, Mr Potter."

Harry wasn't exactly sure what that was, but he went with his dominant hand, and he stuck out the mentioned limb to his side. The tape measure measured his arm, and danced around him measuring other parts of his body that he wasn't sure was actually necessary for his wand, his nose, feet and width of his head. He pulled it off his face, where it was held tightly enough to compress his nose and dropped it to the floor where it lay lifeless.

Ollivander came back to the desk and placed a dusty long narrow box in front of Harry, his bony fingers reaching out to lift of the lid until he was rudely interrupted when the Dark Lord's shadow fell over them both from behind Harry.
"Try the other wand." He spoke, using his own to nudge the box on the desk away from him towards Ollivander as though its presence offended him. "You know which wand I mean." He cut the old man off as he opened his mouth. He looked rather put out, but bowed at the waist and snatched up the box before disappearing into the darkness of the shelves. The Dark Lord ignored Harry's confused gaze, as he turned around and drifted towards the window. A few minutes later Ollivander reappeared with a dull faded box that bore the evidence that the dust had been swiped off it quickly.

"My Lord? How can you be sure?" He asked, he seemed ever so slightly angry but presented it respectfully.
"Do not question me Ollivander – I just believe that it will be so."

Ollivander pulled the lid of the box and carefully removed the wand. "Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 inches. Nice and supple." He said, offering the handle towards Harry. He watched him carefully and he looked fearful of what would happen.

When Harry took to the wand in his hand there was a sudden rush of euphoria, the wand tip glowing a bright white and a wind swirling the dusty air of the shop around him.

Ollivander looked pleased with the reaction but his face held a gravity that hadn't been there before this wand was mentioned. The Dark Lord seemed smug and pleased as he waltzed over to Harry, leaning over his shoulder and plucked the wand out of Harry's hand. "Very good." He purred happily, as he fondled the thin piece of wood almost lovingly. "And how much are you owed Ollivander?" He enquired, as he pulled out his own again and compared the two pursing his lips at the pair. He put Harry's wand in the box as his was placed back into his robes.

"Nothing from you, My Lord or your companion." The old man placed the lid back on the box before pushing it towards them, bowing and disappearing into the shadows again without another word.

Harry looked at the Dark Lord as the man hid the box in his inner robe pocket "What was that about?" He asked, his eyes still fixed on the place where he had seen his wand disappear.

"None of your business Mr Potter." He said, smiling contentedly. "I shall look after this, I hope you don't mind?" It wasn't a question though, more like teasing him by reminding him of their earlier conversation. However Harry answered dutifully.

"Of course not, thank you, My Lord." He said grudgingly as he was stirred out of the small stuffy shop on to the busy street of Diagon Alley where the Dark Lord brought him back to his gilded cage.

One week later –

"No, no, no Harry!" Voldemort smiled, it seemed genuine enough as he came over and unhooked Harry's hand from the wand, and replaced the limb properly on the handle. "Loosen your hold. Honestly Harry it is your wand, you control the power flow. You are like a first year – a common mistake." He smiled tightly, before grimacing a bit. "However you have time to catch up on." He grabbed Harry's shoulders gently, and turned his body to the target. "Relax, there is no pressure!" He pinched the boy's taunt shoulders until they loosened, and took Harry's wrist in his long fingers before twisting the boy's hand in the correct wand movement. "Loosen your wrist Harry," He spoke softly, he twisted the arm again and nodded in approval of the flexibility.

"Right, now the spell." He encouraged, letting go of Harry's arm, gesturing with his long fingers for him to do so.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, trying to force the magic out of him, a scarlet light flew out of the wand fiercely slamming into the target and splintering wood. Harry was pushed violently backwards hitting Voldemort's chest. He staggered slightly, but Voldemort's arm came under his arms and across his torso supporting him.

He let Harry get his balance again before letting go, he laughed loudly a healthy flush donning his cheeks as he rubbed his chest as though bruised.

"Harry," He wheezed "I know I told you that if a wizard or witch didn't learn to use a wand and channel their magic before a certain age then they would not be able to at all – but I also told you that you are not at that age! You don't need to... do that. That is amazing, but as I said you do not need that much force!" However he was internally delighted, crowing with victory – power like that put in an unforgivable... he could rip through great cliff faces, and all his. Harry also seemed to enjoy the lessons, being responsive to his teachings and able to recall facts easily enough. There was still distrust but the boy was slowly thawing towards him.

A perfect horcrux, with such power... Voldemort had only ever felt proud of himself and now was no different, however he felt a pride for his soul's host. He smiled at the flush that spread across Harry's face as he looked down at his shoes. Voldemort fixed the splintered target and said "Again Harry, and this time do not push yourself too hard."

Three days later –

"Harry, I need you to use an unforgivable." The Dark Lord said as he walked around the chair in which Harry sat.
"W..w...what?" Harry stuttered, looking up at the Dark Lord in fear.

"Mr Potter – I will not be repeating myself – you have had half of the pain relievers in my potion store. Poor Snape cannot put them on the shelves before your removing them. I have a theory to stop the pain. Use the dark arts," He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled slightly at Harry's expression "Ahh, Harry! Don't look so scandalised! It need only be done once, and hopefully that should at least ease the pain." He smiled deviously at the slowly hardening resolve in Harry's face – he would say no and stubbornly stick to it, which was displeasing, yet endearing. He ought to treat this horcrux with the same tolerance he gave Nagini, even though his fingers curled around the air where his wand should be.

"Harry – you will do this when you're ready, but from now on you will not be allowed any pain reliving potions. They are addictive – I won't have any servant of mine dependent on any substance."

Yes, apart from your presence, praise and you in general of course. Harry thought, he could feel his expression souring more and more.

"Tell me Harry... I confess myself curious, why do you think the killing curse is an unforgiveable?" He walked towards the bookcases, and ran his fingers across the spines on one of the lower shelves. "Why do you think Harry? Let me see how clever you are. Or perhaps, how ignorant you are." He casually leant on the shelves and watch the boy, he squirmed slightly under the hawk like gaze.

"It's dark." He offered feebly, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. Voldemort picked a book off the shelf and let the boy stew for a while until his feet started to move, crossing at the ankles and then back again. He looked up as Harry sniffed slightly and leant back.

"Hm" He chuckled mirthlessly making the boy jump. "It isn't just dark spells that can kill people. Anyone can be killed by other means – a severing curse, a cutting curse, even a heating charm can do extraordinary fatal damage." He purred, he pushed the book gently back into its place on the shelf. "Come on, Harry, surely you must know. I do not think it is so obvious that you would simply over look it – even if you're from the light."
"You can only kill with the killing curse – that's why it's unforgivable!"

"Well done Harry, but you can of course use supposed light magic to kill too."

"What's the point of this – you're trying to lure me to the dark. You're giving me tips on how to stay with the light."

Voldemort merely smiled. "Lure you Harry? Why would I attempt to do that?" He laughed airily. "So why Harry? Why do we define the difference when they are used for the same purpose?"

"Cutting curses can cut the noose that is choking someone you love, it can be used for light purposes too." Harry swallowed thickly, very conscious of the Dark Lord's presence that circled his chair. "The killing curse can only kill."

"However, it is painless, a mercy kill Harry." Voldemort was behind him, and placed his hands on either side of his head. "Would you rather use a light curse, one that would make the death drawn out. Would you like that person to have a slit throat, while they lay there on the floor their lungs slowly filling with blood?" He swapped to the other side of Harry's head. "Would you like them to choke slowly ever so slowly to death as blood stains their teeth? What would you like that Harry? Would you like that when you could have said two words and there was no suffering, just as though they were going to sleep?" He felt the Dark Lord's breath ruffle his hair. So suddenly the world Harry knew ruptured, the seams ripped apart, the black and white not right, the puzzle didn't fit and he felt so disjointed. How could something so wrong seem...right? He remembered his mother's corpse lying on the floor tragically, her eyes open in her shock and her mouth parted to show her the bottom on her teeth on the upper jaw, but her cheeks still held the traces of the sun burn from the day before as she planted some petunias, her hands still were rough and calloused from her hard life and her hair had still been the vibrant red that her spirit had been, that her body racked with an unknown illness could not show. She hadn't looked well but she had looked no different than two hours previous.

And the world shattered.

It was a dark, cramped room that made him feel suffocated and uncomfortable. Incense hung in the air making it hard to breathe; Harry coughed as he choked on the stale air. The Dark Lord walked through the thick atmosphere, waving his hand as though to rid himself of the clogging smell that filled his nose. He glanced back at Harry when he heard the hacking cough, his face showed only subtle curiosity, before once again turning around and walking further into the dark room. Harry hurried after him not wanting to get lost in the unnerving dark that the whole place was in. It was only the day previous that the Dark Lord had suggested the fact that the killing curse was merciful, and yet that was all Harry could think about. Today's 'lesson' had not continued on that subject, as he had been whisked away to this strange place.

They entered a larger space, a few orbs of misty light drifting lazily around as though caught in a breeze. The lights brightened when they entered the room, but the space remained shadowed and empty to Harry's eyes.

"Hello Matilda." The Dark Lord turned his head to the right looking into the shadowed corner where only the shadows seemed to dwindle, there was a deep, dark chuckle and the small hunched from of a person hobbled out into the small light provided by the hovering orb.

The little form leant heavily on an old warped cane. It appeared to be made from a tree stump or branch, it had garnered a greenish hue and was gnarled; it was of many pieces of wood wrapped around each other tightly, plaited together by nature herself and every time she leant on it, it creaked, the individual pieces of wood prized open revealing the scenery behind the large piece of wood. Harry regarded the little figure with unguarded awe, in a morbid fascination at the mutilated little being.

She suddenly looked up, and Harry jumped back in shock at the state of her face. Old and worn would be a polite way of saying what she looked like – a thousand lives that woman seemed to carry on her face, each wrinkle a century at least and a purse mouth that regarded Harry with amusement. Her large nose scrunched up at the sight of him and she took a large draw of breath through the bulbous thing. Harry felt his stomach roll at the sight of her, being in the same room as her and breathing the same air as her made him want to be violently ill, he could feel his food trying to climb its way back up his throat, his gullet constricting as the hot liquid had to be swallowed again.

"You're not the first, boy." She laughed, it sounded aged as her face yet kinder than she could ever look with the amount of skin she had. Harry on the other hand flushed, biting his lip at being caught; he looked at his feet, focussing on a piece of dirt on his shoe.

The Dark Lord's eyes were boring into the side of his head and he did not want to look and see the anger there – he would be punished later most likely. The crone (for there was nothing else she could be) also looked at him, he could feel her inspecting eyes on him yet could not bear to actually meet either of their gazes.

"Look at me boy!" She snapped, and he looked up startled at her sharp demand, many voices of age and power seemed to emit from her vocal chords.

"Harry" She smiled at him exposing large red gums and black pointed teeth. He could feel his lip attempting to curl at the sight. Instead he spoke, so the movement of his lips could be disguised.

"How do you know my name?" He whispered, watching her as she came closer staggering, the old stick making an odd beat as she crossed the room on the thick carpet.

"Boy, I know many things, I feel your sorrow, the depth of it is almost overwhelming, your magic showers everyone with your despair. Poor child." She reached up an old hand, each vein snaking under the thin skin that was draped delicately over the skeletal frame that was her limb. Her surprisingly long arm came up to his cheek and cupped it. "And yet you do not release the pain, you old it close like the mother you have just lost."

He hissed withdrawing from the warmth her hand provided as though stung. He watched her in fear as she focussed on him as he shuffled away.

"How do you know that?" He asked, it came from his clenched teeth in a dangerous serpentine hiss, but his face betrayed his fearful and astonished feelings at her announcement.

"But my child, she is behind you, she protects you even now."

Voldemort scowled at Matilda, his eyes narrowing at a spot above Harry's left shoulder.

Harry looked behind himself at the empty space, before turning back to the crone just as quickly, panic across his features. "LIAR! There is nothing there." He squeaked in a hysterical squeal terrified of an invisible and nameless terror.

"Don't YOU dare call me a liar boy! I have seen countless ages go past, more than you will ever will! Do not suggest that I would lie to you when I have seen the age of the dragons! I have been sought by Merlin himself for guidance! I shall tell you this only once child – I am no liar!" The crone's height seemed to become larger in the second the word liar had slipped past Harry's lips, the room crackled with raw magic and age. Harry shuddered from the feeling of her age stroking his skin, how it brushed his hair away from his face like the wind would. A crone she looked though she was a wise woman, who was very powerful when she was young, her magic so strong that it stopped her body dying and kept her alive. Magic had got weaker in time, wands being conductors instead of magic being spun from wizards and witches fingers. As her height increased the wrinkles were pulled back, and a vision from her youth seemed to peer through, and perhaps she had been pretty once.

Matilda seemed to shrink once again, becoming the crone and looked at him in sympathy, all the wrinkles on her face echoing the shape of her mouth almost to her cheeks. "Child, I tell you now she stands behind you, she has her hands on your shoulders."

There seemed to be a cold tingling on Harry's shoulder he noticed in the shape of a pair of hands – a woman's; small and delicate. Harry felt sorrow settle in his stomach like a stone as he once again focussed on the crone. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to call you a liar. I... It's just..." He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, increasing the pressure on the closed lids to try and push back the tears. "It's just... hard... just hard to accept that... well...everything that has happened lately."

"Be at peace child. Now Tom? Why have you brought the boy here?"

"The boy has muggle in him. That does have its effects on magic. It's restrained him."

The crone looked at unwaveringly with beetle black eyes folded within her old weathered face.

"I can see his magic" She whispered "Little parts of it exhale with his every breath, much like your does Tom." She grinned showing all of her black teeth.

Voldemort grimaced at the name but said nothing – he couldn't teach wise women manners and they were unfortunately old enough to not have to speak with respect to those of power. They are equals to even the most powerful of men, even one of Voldemort's calibre.

"He however will struggle, some magic cannot be taught to those with dirty heritage. Muggle taints him." Voldemort watched her with cold calculating eyes, as she regarded Harry in much the same manner. She squinted at him, her eyes two dots of black in her haggard face before she burst out in a sudden exclamation.

She wailed and bowed at the waist withering in her displeasure. "His magic is crippled!"

Harry startled like a rabbit and watched her wide eyed as he rubbed his chest where his heart was currently trying to claw its way out of.

"Oh Merlin!" She whispered. "Have to clear that muggle blockage." She dropped the thick stick onto the floor and seemed to withdraw into herself deep in thought.

All of a sudden she seemed very animate, her form wobbling around on her uneven legs as she rushed about seeing things in the dark that Harry could not. The Dark Lord stretched, a couple of his joints cracking with the effort, before he conjured himself an arm chair and settling himself in it.

"Oh yes, Tom, make yourself at home why don't you?" She asked sarcastically, looking over her shoulder, her thick white hair obscuring her eyes.

"It can take time can it not?" He asked, making an extreme show of stretching out his legs. He smiled lazily, folding his hands in lap, another chair appeared next to his. "Harry sit." He ordered.

Harry shuffled back warily and sat down on the edge of the seat, watching the wise woman as she mixed some herbs together.

She poured the concoction into a goblet and handed it to Harry, who made no move to take it.

"Don't you worry yourself, poppet! You won't be physically altered; you won't lose those gorgeous emerald eyes of yours." She grasped his chin with her liver spot covered skeletal hand. She pressed the goblet into his hand and made sure he had a firm grasp of it. She let go and hummed cheerily as she rummaged through the cupboards once again.

He held the goblet in his hand dumbly for a moment before Voldemort told him to drink it – though it sounded like he was far away. Harry carried on looking at it, not even registering time passing or the Dark Lord's growing irritation.

His head was pulled back sharply, and his jaw forced open and the steaming beverage ran into his mouth. He gagged on the foul taste but a large hand cupped his chin and made sure to hold the jaws tightly together. He held the liquid in his mouth for a while, every time he tried to rid himself of it, it came back into his mouth. Voldemort made sure it didn't escape from between his lips either. Harry didn't want to swallow the concoction and every time he attempted to swallow he stopped himself before it went down his gullet.

"Swallow it, Harry!" The Dark Lord hissed angrily, Harry shook his head as much as he could with Voldemort's vice like grip around his head. There was and aggravated hiss from the Dark Lord.

Then he felt a hand run down his throat, in his shock and with the automatic encouraging action to help the reflex to swallow, he did so, the potion burning as it travelled down to his stomach. The hand wrapped in his hair loosened slightly.

"I never put much faith in that gesture." Voldemort said in a completive way. Harry shook his head like an animal, his tongue stuck out as he made and "ergh!" sound. "Honestly, if you had just swallowed straight away it wouldn't have been so bad!" Voldemort rebuked, his hand suddenly tightened again and pulled his head back tighter until his neck was completely bared. There was the sound of metal slicing through the air in the silence. And there was a sudden pain in his gullet, it felt like something was lodged in it. It hurt to swallow and Harry let out a shaky shocked whine, as he felt the weight drag upon the wound. He jumped out of his seat in shock.

There was a knife sticking out from his throat, he could see the hilt from the corner of his vision. He barely hesitated, even though he knew the cost of doing so, he reached with shaking hands and pulled the very small blade out, groaning with the pain of it pulling on the tissue. He let it drop to the ground as soon as it was free from his neck.

He felt blood drop down from the open wound, a heavy yet thin stream of it staining the collar of his shirt. However when he reached to the wound and pulled away the wet fingers, he discovered them to be coated in mud.

"Mudblood..." He whispered he looked at them in abject horror. He couldn't see a thing as the dark room began to spin, the sparse lighting making him nauseous with their continuous spinning.

The Dark Lord chuckled, and grabbed his biceps when his legs gave out in the shock. "Steady Harry." He all but purred. Harry's hands went to his throat as he pressed on the wound which now was bleeding freely.

"I'm..I'm... bleeding." He tried to staunch the flow but the mud slipped through his fingers fast and easily.

"Harry it is called purging." The Dark Lord informed, as he placed him down in a chair "Just sit down and let it finish."

"Nononono...NO!" Harry jumped up, but before being able to take a step forward the room suddenly spun around him once again, and he found himself taking hold off the offered hands and leaning on them. "I can't lose my Mother again – not any more of her." He bemoaned, and fell into the hold of the Dark Lord – a small part of him asked why would you do that? Funnily enough it sounded like Rose.

"Shhh, Harry." It was spoken with no emotional affliction and there was enough warning in there that Harry knew he was not to continue his emotional charade. He was gently placed back in his chair. "I know that the purging can be uncomfortable, but try to relax. Talk to me, take your mind of it."

Harry breathed deeply closing his eyes to stop the room's movements bringing up his stomach. Finally when he was composed enough he opened his eyes, and saw the Dark Lord watching him bemusedly.

"About anything specific My Lord?" Harry asked shuddering as a drop of mud ran down his back, racing over every pronounced rib.

A pressed wad of cloth was placed on to the open wound by the Dark Lord. "How about we talk about you?" He asked as he whipped away the dirty smear, before looking at Harry with an all too innocent expression of curiosity and eyes that sparkled devilishly. He placed the cloth back, and let Harry wipe away the remains of the mud as it evacuated his jugular vein.

Harry's first thought was shit!

But he then got distracted by the mud that had escaped the cloth and had managed to run down his front this time. "Won't I bleed too much and... I dunno ...die?"

Voldemort laughed, a low almost gentle chuckle "You only have one generation of bad blood in you Harry, and that is only 50% of you. You might be light headed for a while, but you certainly will not die. I would not let that happen, after all you still have your uses."

Comforting... Harry thought.

Harry went to open his mouth to speak but found that a yawn found its way out instead and his eyelids began to feel very heavy. Matilda bustled in, her stick thumping rapidly as she moved around the room with a speed that did not look possible for her to manage. Harry let his eyes shut, for they seemed to be a lot heavier than they had been a second before.

"Honestly," She clucked her tongue in an exasperated manner "Let him sleep Tom. Most do, you..."

The Dark Lord let out an irritated hiss at the wise woman, she merely let out a grumpy 'humpf' sound before speaking stonily. "Don't use your snake tongue on me boy!"

Harry briefly wondered why the Dark Lord had cut her off although the thought was fleeting as he found himself listening to them down a tunnel until they got too far away for him to hear.

"Do it." The terribly sweet voice in his mind whispered, its words sickly like syrup, Harry shook his head, no he didn't want to – but he also wanted that influence out of his mind. "Do it."

"No." Harry shook his head fiercely, his hand holding his wand shaking.

Resistance to the imperious. Voldemort smiled at that, it showed Harry's strength of character and will.

After Harry's reluctance to not kill anyone Voldemort had taken control and told him he would be, whether he wanted to or not. Harry was the sort to shoulder the blame anyhow, all he needed was the dark magic to run through him. It should help but if not, it should draw the boy closer to him in his guilt. The boy would see this act as a door closing, and think there was no way back – which was all the better for Voldemort. He knew he could cloud the boy's judgement but decided he wanted Harry to know and decide his own feelings towards it without being persuaded.

"Do it." He pushed again, forcefully, his concentration completely on the boy. Harry's eyes glazed over, his arm rose and stilled with confidence that was not his own and with a casual flick of his wrist, the green streak of violent light whipped from his wand with the whispered "Avada Kedavra."

The muggle twisted as the curse hit him, his body turning with the force as he landed on the cold floor. The only sound in the room was the slap of flesh on the concrete as they met each other brutally. The floating feeling in the back of Harry's mind abruptly vanished and the world swam into focus. His scar peaked in a stab of pain, spreading across his face, like tiny little sharp feet running across the skin lightly.

The terrible burn of his scar seemed to fade all of a sudden, like light being sucked in a void, the pain stopped. Harry fell on his knees, the shock of it removing the strength from his legs; he faintly touched the scar that was now only a blemish on his pale face. A delighted gasp let his mouth as he rubbed at the painless thing. It soon stopped when he saw what he had done.

The muggle lay on the floor motionless, his legs folded under him and his left arm draped over his stomach while the other was under his torso.

Harry couldn't feel anything – no remorse, no pity, no sympathy. The lesser of two evils he felt, he could have died more painfully, he could have...lived, Harry didn't have to do that. He could feel the guilt slowly building, his own selfish joy drowning in the sorrow and shame. He didn't deserve the lack of pain – he should suffer for what he did, he shouldn't be granted reprieve when he had taken human life.

"Well done Harry." The Dark Lord walked over to the body and looked down at the dead muggle in some sort of perverse pleasure.

"...you!" Harry suddenly spat "YOU! You... You made me do it!" He hissed scathingly, looking like a rabid animal from his hunched position on the floor.

"You could have resisted." The Dark Lord turned around, and looked at him as though he had expected the vicious outburst of suppressed emotional turmoil.

"No – you made me! I ... you bloody MONSTER!" Harry leapt to his feet, his face contorted into a hideous gargoyle as he tried to physically attack the Dark Lord.

He never made it. He fell to the floor agony exploding in his veins, his head smacked loudly on the concrete as his back arched as he screamed at the agony. His hands formed fists as he contorted into odd angles in the pain. Then it stopped – though it must have been seconds it felt like hours. He slumped to the floor, panting and feeling like energy had been sucked out of him.

Voldemort loomed over him, an ugly sneer on his handsome face. "Do not test boundaries you do not have Harry." He spoke slowly, as though Harry was a simpleton – not just stubborn. "I have shown you extreme leniency – I do not look favourably upon you spitting on that honour." He summoned Harry's wand and pocketed it along with his own. He went back over to the muggle's corpse.

"Go to Severus – you look like you need a calming draft." He ran his eyes over Harry's form "Go. Dismissed."

"Thank you, My Lord." He spoke softly, although he glared at the man's back, and pushed himself up and half staggered out of the room.

Snape handed a warm cup of tea to the shaking boy along with vial of calming potion. He felt no positive emotion to the boy – in fact he felt extremely negative towards him but if only to honour his feelings for Lily he took a neutral stance regarding her child.

"Drink up Potter." He said, watching as the young man stared blankly at the wall, his hands gripping the material of his trousers tightly as he trembled. He started when Severus spoke, but nodded and emptied the vial down his throat before wrapping his hands around the cup full the warm beverage. His trembling stopped shortly after, however he still remained fixated on the far wall.

"Potter, I do not claim to know the Dark Lord's reasons and it's not my place to say I can presume what they were, but you might not have to do it again. Even if you do... it does get easier." He briefly put his hand over Harry's forearm, before moving away to start a potion. It hurt to see Lily's eyes so tortured, so he found the most complex potion he could to remove himself from those green orbs of misery.

Harry had taken to walking through the corridors in his spare time, as he found the small amount of free time too long and in abundance. He couldn't bear to look out at the muggle world, smouldering and decaying nor could he look at the beautiful busy, yet dark world that the wizard and witches bustled around in. Both sides of the great fortress were under a heavy shadow, one magic folk seemed comfortable under whilst muggles feared it and felt repressed. He hated and loved his life under the Dark Lord's thumb, though the man seemed to have taken Harry under his wing and had a lot of patience with him, he couldn't not hate the fact that he was going down a road he didn't necessarily want to go down. He avoided going down the narrow staircase to his right, with poorly crafted stairs that sloped both left and right, often bowed both up and down which led to the muggle confinements, where Rose stayed in cold metal rooms with metal beds if they were lucky. It was however the hurried many footsteps coming up the steps that made Harry pause at the top of the descending steps. He couldn't see a thing down there as the torch brackets were empty. He stood there listening as the people came closer. The light that entered through the roughly shaped doorframe shed light on the first few steps and a person entered the light, a smile came unbidden to Harry's face.

"Rose!" He stage whispered in delight before flinging himself at her, hugging her tightly.

"Harry!" She replied into his shoulder as she hugged him tightly back. "Oh I'm so glad to see you!" She leant back and cupped his face and looked him over. "You look so well! I'm so happy you're alright!" She gushed, smiling widely, tears spilling through the creases around her eyes.

He just smiled happily at her, and clutched her hands unable to express his joy. A polite cough came from a large figure behind Rose. A large blush spread across Rose's cheeks, and she turned and grabbed the arm of the man behind her. "Harry – this Jim." She gestured between the two of them awkwardly.

"Pleasure I'm sure." Jim said sharply and briskly shook Harry's hand, but dropped it quickly as though it burned him. "Rose... we don't have time for this – I'm sorry, you know I am – but we need to move now!" He and another man walked up the last few stairs and into the corridor.

"Oh Harry! We... we're going! Come on! Come with us! We can go home!" She tugged excitedly at his hand, her smiling becoming bigger again and swapping her weight from foot to foot as she balanced on the balls of her feet. Harry, instantly felt himself torn – he realised that he wanted to stay, he felt at home in this world...safe and wanted. The muggles feared him because of who he was born as, because of what ran through his veins. The torment on his face was apparent because as Rose looked again at him she stopped shuffling and stilled, her movements almost comical in the way they slowed to a stop.

"Harry?" The smile slipped of Rose's face, as realisation seemed to set in.

"I'm...sorry, Rose...I can't...I just can't! I'm...accepted here, in... a way that I can't be in the muggle world. People hate your kind here, like they hate me out there."

Outrage crossed her face "They don't bloody well matter!" Her hand tightened brutally on his "All that matters is what I think!"

He ripped his hands from hers and stood as though he was bracing himself for something, before anger burst out of his mouth in hurried words.

"No – it does! You won't be around forever! You fight so much it could be days maybe even weeks, and I'm...I'm a wizard! Wizards live for so much longer than muggles – years and years I will outlive you – and I will be alone without you! That isn't fair! I want to stay with my own kind! I love you Rose, like the sister I never had... but we are so different – from different worlds and the only connection we have to each world is each other! It's not fair to ask either of us to sacrifice our own for each other, because it's just wrong to leave one another on our own... and I'm sorry but I'm staying here." He looked at her pleadingly, begging her to understand.

"What has he done too you?" She whispered suddenly, as though she was winded. "Where is my Harry? What... who... Harry?" She looked at him with those pained blue eyes, questioning him with her trembling jaw and hands that held the air in front of her like it were him.

"I'm NOT your Harry!" His hissed savagely, before he slapped a hand to his mouth rapidly deflating. "I...I didn't mean that." He said in a void tone, "I don't know where that came from... I don't know anything anymore..."

Rose looked at him, her lips pursed together and she stood stiffly, her eyes so cold in a flawless face of ice. Then she thawed and slumped nodding her head tiredly as though she knew it had been coming, the eventual flight from the nest, and the longing to be with his own – like she so wanted to be at that moment. So finally, composing herself she told Harry something his mother didn't have the chance to.

"When you get the chance go to the cottage – under your mother's bed – there's a floor board... a loose one, just don't tell anyone...only you can know. There is stuff you will want." She looked unbearably sad for a moment, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a chain with a couple of rings on it; she placed the chain in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it forming a solid fist. She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. She wrapped her spare hand around her gullet and swallowed a couple of times, her eyes flooded with large tears and she patted her throat as she attempted to force some words out. "Please...please...stay...safe...pl-please Harry." The tears ran down her face and she took a heavy breath, the sound of it painful and just bobbed her head at him.

"If you go down this corridor and down the stairs, third door on your left it will take you to a corridor, if you go down the corridor right to the end, there is a doorway to the muggle side of the wall. There aren't guards at this time of night – normally they round the muggle children up if they are out." Harry whispered pointing down the way he been about to travel.

Rose smiled shakily and looked at her watch. "We have two hours boys before our doors lock and people start to wonder where we are." The two men nodded and started to set off down the shadowed hall.

She cupped Harry's face, asking silently for his permission – if he wished she would go back to her cell and stay there as Harry was all she had, and she didn't mind so much, she had less to lose. Harry he nodded to go – as he didn't want her to suffer, she patted his cheek and smiled painfully before letting go and running down the corridor silently after the other two shadows. He fell back against the wall, his skin erupting in goose bumps at the chill seeping into him from the wall. He breathed out slowly and deeply, trying to compose himself and still his treacherous shaking hands. He looked at the warm chain from Rose's pocket and saw his mother and father's wedding rings on the solid gold chain; he clasped it gratefully to his chest where his pounding heart could be felt and decided to head back to his room the need for a walk suddenly gone.

Bellatrix cowered on the floor, shuddering at the feeling of her master's power angrily swooping around in the room.

"M..m..master... please!" She whispered, her back curving into a hunch, water and saliva bubbling in her mouth as she wrung her hands together.
"Three. Three muggles have somehow escaped my fortress – the first time in eighteen years – and also the first time I leave you in charge of the filthy beasts!" The Dark Lord spat, his upper lip curling viciously, as he snarled at her. His fingers tightening on the arm rests of his magnificent throne.

"I'm sorry My Lord!" She wailed, sobbing raggedly into her petite hands. "I came to their rooms last of the round up... I...I never thought anyone! Anyone..." She gathered her breath, drawing it in sharply. "Never thought...anyone would...disobey you..anyone..My Lord! I beg you Master! Pl-please I just ...presumed ..I –I was too relaxed in my duty! Master..." She clawed at his robes, pressing her face on to the finely made garment; she peppered kisses along the hem, sobbing her hot wet plentiful tears on to his bare feet, her long thick hair drying it as she moved along the hem. Such a mockery of Jesus and Mary, he thought – but he would rise were Christ had not, he would not die for the faults of others...they deserved to suffer.

"Oh Bella..." He cooed at her and stood from his throne. She stopped instantly a sob cutting midway through its vocal pronouncement. She sat back on the bottom halves of her legs, her shoulders heaving with the force of her tears. He bent down to her, "Bella, most faithful... look at me..." He spoke softly to her, in a kingly manner, with a gentleness only reserved for her. She blinked up at him through fat tears. "My Bella, my beautiful Bella – I am your Lord, your most forgiving Lord." He stroked back the hair of her face, the thick curls falling stunningly over her tragic posture. "You have faulted me so little, how can I not be merciful?" He smirked at her, and with his thumb he caught one of her tears as it ran down her porcelain cheek. "Go Bella, go clean yourself up, do not return to me for three days else I might be tempted to not be so kind. I do not want to do that to my favourite." He whispered, he grabbed her left arm, and slowly exposed her dark mark, he brought it to his mouth and gently placed a lingering kiss to the crown of the skull. A moan of gratitude escaped her throat "Thank you Master." She said and brought her arm to her mouth and held it against her lips where his mouth had touched it and held it there rocking with her eyes shut.

"Go Bella – I will summon you when I need you." He touched her back, between her shoulder blades, his finger lightly skimming the flesh. She grabbed the hand with no hesitation.

Her eyes were smudged with black blotches of her makeup, and she grasped at his hand. "Thank you" She spoke breathlessly and gratefully, her eyes watering with gratitude as she pressed his hand to her cheek. "Thank you Master!" She kissed it, trickles of water running down her cheeks as she sniffled and kissed his hand again before scrambling to her feet and leaving the throne room.

He idly turned one of the thick pages in his book, the words sitting on the page contentedly whilst making no sense to Harry, he watched the moving pictures blankly as he tried to compose his scattered thoughts. He turned his focus back to the pages and tried to read the opening paragraph however the book slipped through his fingers and landed heavily on the floor, the spine creasing as it was sprained when the book landed on the wood, the pages spread mercilessly. He screamed. The Dark Mark burned angrily, sharp burning spikes of concentrated anger shot through his body with each pulse of his heart. He cradled the limb, his hand curled over the mark but unable to touch it as it would hurt the burn more. He leant forward curling himself into a ball as he groaned and chocked on the noises of his pain. He heard his body hit the floor with a loud thump, but he shut his eyes trying to control himself try to stop the searing agony.

He didn't hear the door open, but he felt the dark intoxicating presence of the Dark Lord hovering over him, he could feel the dark magic scraping at his skin, happy while he tried not to scream.

"Harry..." Voldemort purred as he crouched next to Harry's prone form. He watched Harry's eyes that were screwed shut, and the pursed lips pressed tightly to stop vocalising the pain. "Oh Harry... I know you know what I am here about." He tapped the boy's cheek with the tip of his wand. He leant down to his ear, as the boy wouldn't be able to get up. "Where is she?" He whispered.

A low pained groan emerged from the boy's throat, as his hand became a gnarled claw over the dark mark.

"...Please...please...stop it...please..." The boy forced out, his knuckles snow white on his left hand. "PLEASE?" He grabbed at the Dark Lord's robes. "...I will...tell you...anything!...just... PLEASE!"

Voldemort smiled indulgently, and unhooked the boy's hands as he reduced the pain in the mark. Harry slumped on the floor, shuddering and gasping in relief.

"Th...thank you...My Lord." Harry sighed, the words no more than an escaped sigh. He lay on his side, his shoulders hunched inwards covered in a sheen of sweat. Voldemort pushed gently on his shoulder until Harry flopped on to his back, his chest heaving in his laboured breathing.

"Now Harry, tell me what you promised you would. Where did the muggle go?" He asked.

"I don't know where she went afterwards, but she left through the east corridor – where the guards don't normally go, she will have gone back to London. To find other muggles." He spoke slowly, his left arm lying uselessly but his side. "I swear, I...swear My Lord, that's all I know."

The Dark lord scowled at the lack of information provided but could see that it was all Harry knew – a carefully constructed plan formulated by both of them so that she couldn't be found. He ran a hand through Harry's sweaty locks "See Harry – by telling me the truth you do not have to feel pain." Now if he could only get the boy to volunteer information as it happened...

He picked up the heavy book of the floor and placed it carefully on the coffee table. He looked back at the boy lying on the floor and left, the door slamming shut with the force of his magic and anger.

Muggles, wizards, vampires – humans and humanoids in general were pack creatures. They instantly formed groups, they needed social interaction to survive. Some need to be led whilst others want to lead and even though sometimes leadership can be handed over graciously it sometimes ended in vicious fights to the death. Needless to say Rose found her way to fellow muggles shortly after escaping with two others. The first response was hostile – in a way most muggles had formed their 'packs' by now and had become respectfully cautious of each other. They were almost shot at when the snakes on their arms were spotted, until with persuasion they understood the need to remove them.

"They don't know we have left yet – the moment they do, these will turn on us." Rose said as she strapped down her arm to the metallic arm of a dentist chair. "Plus attempts to remove the snake by cutting will cause it to poison us anyway." She tightened the straps, giving each one a firm tug as it pulled the flesh around it a ghastly pale shade, whilst the rest of it became a pale red. She single handily attached a tourniquet to her upper arm above the crook of her elbow. "Morphine?" She asked irritably.

The young man blinked blankly before nodding uncertainly and going to a cabinet on the far wall. "Uh.. how much do you want?" He asked.

"Just a whole syringe." She muttered looking at the snake that had gone eerily still. She was presented with the syringe, she took it from him with haste and twirled the thing in her hand.

She tapped her arm slightly, the blue vein rising under her pale thin skin. She gave herself the injection emptying the whole syringe forcefully and hissing as it stung her insides with the force and the chill of it. Rose didn't wait for the medication to work – after all there wasn't enough time. She braced herself and examined the knife, the sharp point catching the light, before she lowered it to the crook of her arm.

She didn't scream, but through an hour of sweat, blood and tears, finally the arm was severed from her body. The bone was filed down to a smooth rounded edge, the wound rinsed in sterile distilled water and the flap of skin she had left was folded over. When she was given a needle and thread she started to tourniquet her blood vessels, veins and arteries before sewing the flap of skin over the gaping wound.

She looked at the arm that once was hers as the snake suddenly reared to life and savagely attacked it, tearing at it and injecting venom into it. The bites started to swell with the poison in them. The snake's work being done it dissolved into ash around the now blue and purple limb.

Rose couldn't feel a thing, and she felt rather light headed, but she managed to slur a question about the other two's health, and found out that one had managed to survive – but was touch and go with shock, but the younger of the two hadn't be separated in time from the snake and died. She noticed a stranger tightly binding her stump with bandages dipped in carbolic acid. Her eyes were closing and she felt sleepy and for once she decided that she had to rest and simply trust those around her.

Five days later –

Harry had been apparated by an agitated Dark Lord, whom had stormed into his room and grabbed him roughly by his arm, and taken to a muggle settlement in Dover where fifty other death eaters were finishing up their hunting, before hearing an angered "Say your goodbye to you muggle Potter – I will give you five minutes." The Dark Lord pushed him towards a figure sitting on a large rock on the edge of a cliff. He heard Bellatrix laugh loudly as she tugged a muggle by a whip around its neck, and the screams from the other prisoners blending it with the horrid laughs of their captors. It was all lost to Harry who just stared at the figure highlighted by the setting sun.

He approached slowly and cautiously until he could see the girl clearly. "Rose." He said, and started to run as fast as he could towards her. She looked up, hearing his heavy footfalls and smiled dazzlingly. She stood and turned to him, Harry stopped in shock tripping when he saw what had happened to her.

He looked at her arm – at least what was left of it in absolute horror, a stump with a purple swollen and poorly sewn together end where her elbow joint used to be was now what she had.

"We couldn't get the snake off without killing me – so I just took the arm." She said as she looked at it as well, a sad frown morphing her face. "It was the only way we could get away – hurt like hell." She laughed ruefully, her right hand going to scratch her arm, but she stopped before she reached it. "Nearly bled to death!" She said instead with false brightness. A slightly hysterical giggle jumped out her throat, and her eyes darted about flightily. "Infection has already set in – that old bastard is doing me a favour- a long painful death awaits me if he doesn't kill me... Anything you wanna say? Harry? Last chance."

Harry looked down and let out a long painful groan, needing to get it off his chest. "I have something to say Rose – and what you say really matters to me. No...not what you say – what you really feel." He grasped her hand, she bit her lip and smiled encouragingly.

"Rose... I, I killed a muggle...I just killed him." He suddenly cried out, frustration burning under his skin. "Oh God! Rose – I dunno if I can cope." He ground his teeth together in guilt and frustration. "It was his face, an...and the way he fell, and jesus... he was just so still..."

Rose smiled and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb and then she pulled out a gun, Harry felt ever so slightly bemused at how she still had a gun on her person, but listened to what Rose said.

"Harry, it does not matter what I think about what you have done... I do not mind – how can I? I have killed more than you – too many. What you need to consider is if you can live with what you have done?" Rose, placed her gun in Harry's palm and carefully wrapped his fingers around it. Slowly she placed his finger on the trigger, before pulling it up to his head and placing it to his skull.

"If you cannot live with it – pull the trigger Harry." She whispered, her tone was placating and soothing. "If you feel such guilt at what you have done that your will to exist has dissipated then you will not even hesitate to do it. I think you may feel guilty now but it will get better, easier and you will deal with it – you won't want to die."

Her warm hand moved away and when the support she provided left too his arm fell and the gun dropped heavily to the ground slipping through his loose fingers, it landed with a thunk and billows of dust floated upwards from the dry barren land. A warm burst of air whipped through the landscape and blew the dust to the east, Rose watched it go, before kicking the gun away in a sudden violent burst of energy, it flew through the air before disappearing of the verge. She turned back to Harry, looking radiant with the setting sun behind her, making her brown hair glow much like Lily's had.

She smiled heartily causing many lines to appear across her skin and the small laughter lines that had formed around her eyes many years ago reformed upon her face, and she looked fantastic the weight that had slowed her down for years suddenly seemed to have been kicked away with the gun. She threw up her arm and spun before skipping over to him landing inches from his toes. "That's my little survivor." She whispered and hugged him and although he was several inches taller he felt like a child in her embrace. He rested his head on the crown of hers. "I'm sorry."

She rubbed his back in small circles "You don't need to be." Was the muffled response the vibrated through his chest, right to his heart and he felt the icy chill that had coiled around it since the incident melt, leaving a warm feeling of love and belonging in its place.

Of course that was ruined by the arrival of the Dark Lord, although there was no sound to accompany his arrival, the air around him seemed to vibrate and ripple announcing his approaching presence.

A silent gasp escaped Harry, his hand automatically rising towards his scar, the slight feeling of pressure still underneath it when anger like this was at a peak. Rose looked concerned and scared, a large crease on her forehead forming.

"Har..." She began, but was immediately cut of when a giant streak of green struck her forcefully in the chest, she staggered back a step, as her ribs bent inwards and shattered, her eyes already glassy and dead, before her body fell.

It happened slowly at first, her knees bending as her body landed jarringly on them, her body swayed backwards like the capsizing of a ship, her expression still set in the manner of beginning to speak when it happened.

Head first she toppled over the verge, her booted feet following her in an almost sedated lazy manner, as they flipped in the air, the laces waving like streamers in the warm summer late night breeze. Harry didn't seem to breathe for that moment, his eyes fixed where she had been seconds before, and looking at the footprints in the dusty dirt that were long and disjointed as her feet had dragged with her dead body.

Harry ceased to exist for that second, nothing happened, nothing moved and nothing else mattered, except for the fact that he was completely alone now. He was on his knees, the unregistered movement only acknowledged by the sudden changed in the height of the horizon. He crawled to the edge and peered down, he could see her distantly, her body bent in an unnatural angle and her hair splayed out like a tarnished halo around her head.

But... he didn't feel anything, not one thing, he felt so so hollow inside, however that was not it – he didn't mourn Rose at all – not in the slightest – they had been close due to the circumstances that they had been forced to live in. When he truly thought about it he would have never been close to Rose at all, Rose... was not nice, not really but she could do the right thing. The more Harry thought about he realised how different they were – chalk and cheese so to speak.

He sat back on his heels, gazing emptily at everything, until his focus distorted, he could feel the Dark Lord's presence behind him, demanding his attention. He turned and faced him, swivelling on his knees whilst simultaneously getting to his feet.

He watched the man coldly, eyes adverted to the man's knees – if looks could kill the Dark Lord's kneecaps would have been shattered and ground into fine dust.

The dark arts had done this to him – he could feel it in his bones. There was nothing but ash where a light used to be, he felt withered, old and burnt. He felt tired and lost, the only one to follow now was the Dark Lord, who stood watching him, arms crossed against his chest, and placing the majority of his weight on his left leg.

When Harry finally looked up at him, his dull green eyes meeting the bright red ones, and he nodded acceptance, he took the offered hand and braced himself for apparition – he didn't look back at the scuffle in the dirt. The only thought that swamped and plagued his mind was what was she going to say to me?

The death eaters ran through the corn fields, allowing their opponents to chase them, letting them have their short illusion. The team formed a circle, all of them back to back, and they waited for the enemy to catch up. Their white masks grinning like skulls as the moon shone on them.

The five death eaters were surrounded by the strangled remains of the Order of the Phoenix. They had allowed themselves to be herded into it.

They started to walk towards each of their prey, approaching one each and heading to them at an angle. Suddenly they each spun and attacked the person to their right, that opponent having their back towards that particular death eater, the light fell within one swoop. No killing curses were used, bindings wrapped around each starved body, wands fell from brittle dirty fingers and dull thuds echoed their loss of balance.

They had caught the last of the Order of the Phoenix, a couple of Weasleys, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and of course...Dumbledore.

A/N - Review please? I am going to sound terrible – but I want reviews, because they actually act like an engine for my story – the more I get the quicker and more I write.

For my first chapter I got 26 reviews and for the last 9 :( It is gutting to start off so well and not having a continuity of it. So give me your opinion in a review– it does mean a lot to me.

So sorry, if you want me to move faster the best way to encourage me to actually write, and I sound like a bitch, but I want reviews – even if it's one word – I want that one word! :L

Right – you must be thinking where the hell have you been? I'm terribly sorry – but life has just taken over. On a positive note – I did really well on my GCSE's (1 A*, 7 As, 6 Bs and 1 C) and am now going to college doing my A-levels :D

So – unfortunately everything takes a backseat to them, but I'm working really hard on this. It will not be forgotten.

I'm hoping your quick enough to realise whom I'm on about, if you're thinking but you said Dumbledore is dead – then think which Dumbledore I might mean. :D

Thank you all my reviewers – you make me so happy every time I see them, so thank you all so much – and I hope this chapter reaches your expectations.

P.S. - Sorry - fanfiction keeps editing out my page breakers : :L

All the best, till the next time :~)