Harriet shuddered, eyes widening marginally. She aimed her wand higher, between Voldemort's eyes, and held back another shudder. She felt so angry, oh so angry. How dare he keep her from that monster, the woman who murdered Sirius. She crawled to her knees behind Voldemort, grinning madly, a high cackle forming in her throat.

Voldemort had raised his hand to wave her wand away, but stopped, hesitating for a moment. Unsure why, Harriet had stood there in silence, watching the man who murdered her parents and her prey, Bellatrix.

"You're a fool, Harriet Potter," His slithering voice said, a mocking touch to it. "That you so blindly follow your dear Dumbledore like the mangy mutt you are." Bellatrix's laughter increased much to Harriet's ire.

She gripped her wand tighter, glare darkening on her face, but still said nothing.

Voldemort sneered. "Why do you fight me?" He asked, curiosity light. "Is it because you wish to avenge your parents? Friends? Or is it because Dumbledore has you wrapped around his old little finger?" Voldemort took a small step forward, hands by his sides.

Despite how much Harriet wanted to stop him there, both verbally and physically, she didn't.

He continued. "Do you fight for the public? Because they have put so much of their faith in you in the past? To save the innocent, naïve lives that care nothing for you now?" An odd smile made its way on Voldemort's face. "Dumbledore hasn't told you about the prophecy, has he? How we're destined to fight, and in the end, only one will live? He's been keeping it from you for fifteen years now, Harriet." His words dug themselves in Harriet's heart, burrowing deep and tearing her from inside out.

No matter how much she never wanted and never want to say the words, Voldemort was right. Dumbledore hadn't just been hiding from her personally, ignoring her and keeping things from her, but he was keeping a prophecy from her. A whole prophecy about her life and maybe even her death. Didn't he trust her?

Although Voldemort thought Dumbledore was forcing her into it, he was wrong. Dumbledore had kept her from all of it. And it made her mad, but he was partially right that she was fighting for the public. She was also fighting for herself. But did she want to fight anymore?

"Stupid girl." Harriet realized too late that she had been too caught up in her thoughts and was immediately shot at, getting hit square in the chest with the crutiatious curse. She cried out as she felt many knives piercing her over and over again, gasping for breath between whimpers and cries of pain.

Finally the invisible knives' pain disappeared, but the ache in her limbs remained.

Voldemort walked toward her, finally coming to a stop by her side. He leaned down fractionally and watched her with hateful and calculating eyes. Harriet couldn't find it within her to care. Perhaps if she didn't fight back he wouldn't harass her too long and kill her quickly. It was all over for her, there was no way out, she thought to herself. Her wand had gone flying once she had been hit by the curse. She was wandless, hurting and pretty sure she didn't want to fight. Voldemort had done all of this perfectly; making her rethink who she was fighting for. After all she was fighting for people who didn't care for her. People who kept mocking her. For herself. But what life was she living that was so great? All she had going for her was her friends. Her godfather was dead. Her parents were dead. Every year at school she ran into trouble. Her aunt, uncle and cousin couldn't care less about her. When would she be free of this pain?

Suddenly Voldemort whipped around, the sound of someone entering through a fireplace breaking not only her but Voldemort from their twin trances.

"It was a mistake to come here tonight, Tom. The aurors are on their way."

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Fighting, aurors, camera shots, the daily prophet…she didn't think of any of them. She listened to Dumbledore's story. She played along with her friends, eating and giving them fake smiles. She knew they could see through them, but they didn't push her too much, appreciating her privacy. Even on her way "home" to her aunt and uncle's with her cousin wasn't enough to pull her out of this trance she was in. The moment she was back at the house she began packing a light bag of clothes and other necessities that she would need. She snuck out of the house when everyone was sleeping and left. She didn't turn back to glance at the house, even while knowing it would be the last time she saw it. She just kept walking.