1/7 of a Soul
…
"You weren't!" a voice declared loudly. Lord Voldemort looked around, almost surprised. The boy, there he was, standing in the firelight. How did he get there without being spotted? Voldemort wondered briefly. It didn't matter anyhow; he wasn't going to do it again. He smiled at the boy, a cold, mirthless smile, in a minute the boy would be dead.
"Harry Potter, the boy who lived," he whispered. It was so quiet that even a whisper seemed to echo in this clearing.
Cocking his head to one side he contemplated the boy. Voldemort's smile widened as he saw the boy's chest started to heave and sweat broke out on his brow.
He raised his wand, & pointed it squarely at Harry's face, it wouldn't do to miss. Their eyes locked for a breath that seemed to last for an eternity. "Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light and then pain. White hot pain ripped through his body. Flailing wildly he screamed. 'This wasn't supposed to happen!'
Tom gazed wildly around him. All was white, something hung not far above him. Panic set in: he couldn't talk, he couldn't control his body. It was as if the last three years had never happened, or had only been a wonderful dream. Whimpering and struggling he lay there.
Suddenly a face appeared in his vision;
The boy! No! Surely, he was dead!
"You cannot help," a calm voice remarked.
Dumbledore?! His mind screamed, impossible!
Tom's body shuddered as he tried to follow the fading voices.
But he was helpless. Try though he might, he could nothing but whimper and flail.
Slowly his energy went, which terrified him even more.
Never had he been so helpless in all his life.
His energy spent, Tom lay there in the gathering mist.
He didn't have the energy to panic any more, only to feebly repeat 'no…no…no…' over and over inside his own head.
Everything went white.
All was dark. The ground was soft beneath him. Voldemort's eyes snapped open, only to find Bellatrix's anxious face hovering inches above his own.
"My Lord… my Lord…" she whispered. "My Lord…"
"That will do," Voldemort hissed, finding his voice at last. What happened? He wondered, as he struggled into a sitting position, what had gone wrong?
The boy!
He fought to stand, to see if the boy was truly dead.
Bellatrix proffered a hand, "my Lord, let me-"
"I do not require assistance," His voice was like ice.
The hand was withdrawn, and he rose to his feet, the Elder wand clutched tightly in his hand.
"The boy … is he dead?"