Blood, blood, blood. That was all Harry could see. He knew there was no hope for him. He was lying flat on the ground, blood gushing out of the wound that revealed his bone. It was sickening, distasteful. He was going to die.
"Well, well, well, Potter has finally lost all his luck, did he not?" a cold hissing voice forced him to look up. A transformation was happening. As more blood gushed out of Harry, the more Voldemort was looking like Tom Riddle. "So… what is your will, Potter?" He said in a mocking tone.
"Just leave me alone; haven't you caused enough pain for me to deal with?" Harry tried to yell. Nevertheless, it was almost impossible. The pain in his hand was making him almost unconscious; all he could think of was to get away from here. Voldemort was right, he had run out of luck. Or had he?
"You know, Potter…" Voldemort hissed calmly. "The day you had almost (he put great emphasis on this word) defeated me, when I was weak, undetected, unseen, I was glad. Oh yesssss I was really glad." He turned to look pitifully at Harry, whose was matted in dust, clothes covered with blood. Harry had no wish to hear Voldemort talk; nonetheless, he knew he had to. "Do you know why, Potter? Because that day, I had a bond with you. From that very day, I had claim over your blood."
Voldemort kneeled down to Harry and sniffed at his wound. "Your blood…" Harry heard him hiss. "your blood… My cure…"
The Dark Lord stood up again. He looked exactly like Tom Riddle now. "If only..." He was about to say something, but stopped abruptly.
"Leave him alone." A feminine voice echoed into Harry's ear. No kidding his luck still hadn't run out?
"Would that really be you, Venessa?" the cold voice replied.
"Leave him alone."
The black robed figure slowly approached the hazy new figure that had come into Harry's vision. "What you be wanting from me, Venessa?"
"I want you to leave him alone." The voice was impossibly steady and even. "You certainly know what I came capable of, I hope."
"So… You have come to rescue Harry Potter, yet not know anything about him. Isn't that a bit too blind for an act done by my Venessa?"
"I am not owned by any half human filth, Riddle." The tone was still miraculously robotic. "You very well know why I am here, and also know that I am no person to say please. Time short and so is my temper."
This time Harry could see Voldemort lean his face over Venessa and grab her jaw in his spidery fingers with visible strength. "Is that so, My sweet blooded pet…"
Something happened right then, something important. But it was too much for Harry. Just as he could make out some movement of the girl's lips, everything blackened…
XXXXX
"Is he going to be OK?"
"What happened?"
"Where was he?"
"Shush! You'll wake him up!"
"Ouch! Ginny, stop that!"
"Silence!"
"But she—"
"He started it!"
"Out! Out! All of you!"
Harry opened his eyes and blinked. He was in the familiar and friendly environment of the Burrow. He was is Ron's room, which was bathed in the sunlight.
"Harry! Are you all right?" Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's worried voice at his ear. He tried to get up, but was just too weak. His left arm was aching. His head was throbbing with pain.
"When did I come hear?" Harry managed to croak out. His voice sounded rusty, like an unused door.
"Oh, that dear was – "
"The water is ready, Aunt Molly." A silhouette of a girl stood in front of the open door. Harry gasped at the familiarity of the voice. It was Venessa.