"The things a girl will do to get a little decent conversation and attention." I think to myself as I regurgitate chewed and mostly digested food for my DARLING surrogate offspring. Not that he hasn't been good to me, well, as good as a disembodied spirit can be. And he's made me quite a deal. The thing is, whether I look at him from a humanlike, or a snakelike point of view, he's ugly. Revolting actually. And fussy. He's constantly whining about how slow he's growing. As if it is my fault I don't have any hands to brew potions with at th moment, or anything warm to cover him with but rotting vegetation. Well, technically, it is my fault, but its not like when I left Burma and my source of magic looking for a mate with half a brain, that I knew I was going to run into the self declared DARK LORD VOLDEMORT. Oooooooooh. Scary, not. Somebody should have told him that actually calling yourself a Dark Lord is a sure sign you don't have the brains and sneakiness to take over the world. The evil villains who pretend to be good get the farthest. As soon as dear Voldie has developed the mental capacity for anything beyond whining again, I'm going to start reciting my Mothers Handbook of Power to him.

"Mothers Handbook of Power

Rule number one: Choose your evil minions carefully. You need to avoid both being stabbed in the back, and being undermined by incompetence.

That said, get rid of Wormtail ASAP. He's liable to do both."

I then listen to a long boring rant abut how Wormtail is the only one who's so much as bothered to look for him. BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. I take back that bit about intelligent conversation. I swear I need to find a way out of this rotting house and its garden. Its a lovely garden, but this country is so cold. There is no way I'm going to find any of my kind here. Maybe a Parselmouthed wizard or two besides my DEAR MASTER. Now that's a thought.

NOTE TO SELF: Find out if anything of the Death Eaters who show up tomorrow can speak parseltongue.

Wait a minute! He wants me to do WHAT! Eat Harry Potter? That's just disgusting. Does he have any idea how bad humans taste? I mean, if I was starving, maybe, but I'd much rather eat ten rabbits and some little kiddies pet puppy than a nasty human. Humans, wizard and muggle, are always swallowing the nastiest things. Ever heard of you are what you eat? Bleh.

Oh well. I suppose I can swallow, then go off and bury the nasty thing.

Rats, no parselmouths. Wait, here comes somebody who is very very late. "Oi, slimeball!" I yell as he unknowingly steps over me in the dark. "You'd think that if you were going to be late, you would have at least taken the time to put on clean underpants and wash your hair so you would make a better impression!"

This is similar to the remarks I made when the others were arriving. As I received no responses, other than chuckles from my master I had assumed that either someone had quite a hold on their temper, or nobody had a clue what I was hissing at them.

"Silence, you impudent creature!" he hissed back at me. And then he stands there! I'm going to be scarred for life, I tell you!

"Move, you creep!"

"I'm not the one looking up my robes."

"My eyes are on top of my head! I can't help it!"

"You could move."

"I was here first!"

"Anything particular nice about this spot, other than the view?"

"I told her to wait for me there." Voldemort said coldly. "if, Severus Snape, you are quite done flirting with Nagini."

FLIRTING! EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Nice name though.

Severus Snape...oh I do love alliteration, especially with s...groans loudly as he tries to pick himself up of the ground.

"Not so cocky now, are you." I comment.

"Glorified earthworm." he says.

That was a bit more than I could take. I steal his shoes.

"Great," he mutters, in English "Now I'll have to walk up the hill to the castle stocking foot."

"Never mess with a she-demon." I say smugly.

"Demon?" he says curiously, managing to get to his feet, still twitching from being Crucioed half the night.

"Or Demi-god, depending on what kind of mood I'm in."

This man is supposed to be the most intelligent Death Eater, but he apparently doesn't make a connection between my name and nature.

He staggers off, muttering something about haggis, I think.

"You know", I remark later to my master, "It really wasn't terribly brilliant to give Wormtail that weird hand."

"Oh?" he says menacingly.

"Handing out the occasional gift can ensure loyalty. MHoP 52. In his case, its likely to increase ambition."

He laughs hysterically. "Wormtail? Ambitious? That's ridiculous."

"You'd be surprised" I mutter as he walks off snigering. After all, if he would stab his best friends in the back, why not somebody he hates?"