"Please, my lord!" Bellatrix Lestrange pleaded. "You must take a break!"

The black-robed witch tugged gently at her master, trying to help him up. Voldemort had always pushed her away, but this time, it would be different. He was on the floor.

Yes, Voldemort was on the ground. Gasping for breath. Wand clutched with his long spidery fingers and the other hand holding the handle of an innocent-looking bronze goblet so tightly, his pale knuckles were turning even whiter.

Meanwhile, Nagini lurked in the corner, slowly circling a terrified black mouse.

"Get," Voldemort breathed. "Get away from me!" His wand hand immediately rose of its own accord. A burst of bright red light knocked her to the other side of elaborately decorated room.

She was lucky that it was a Punch Jinx, and not the Killing Curse. That meant that she was still valuable. She shouldn't be killed.

Maybe he even loved her.

Voldemort blinked the lights out of his vision, the entire manor room swaying. The pure white chandelier seemed to crush him and the marble floor looked too far away.

He must remind Lucius to provide a room without distractions.

Leaning against the velvet curtains, he counted the dizziness away.

One, two, three, four.

Some orphanage habits stay on him like flies on a dead body.

Five, six, seven, eight.

By seven, the world seemed stable again. Hating himself for his moment of weakness, he tossed the cup to his servant, already on her feet.

Nagini moved close and closer to the mouse, occasionally tickling it with her tongue.

"Hide that, my dear Bella," he said, as if he didn't curse her a few feet back. "Do whatever you want with it. Just. Don't. Let it be found by Potter. Or Dumbledore." Bellatrix bowed and scooted to the double-doors. "Not yet, fool!"

Bellatrix involuntarilly lifted on eyebrow. "My lord...?"

Breathing out of his nose in exaperation, Voldemort reached inside his robes and tentatively pulled out a locket.

It was beautiful.

And expensive. It was made of gold, and little green emeralds and small serpentine grooves created an elaborate 'S' shape.

Bellatrix's jaw dropped. "Master!"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. A dangerous sign. "Will you kindly stop referring me as 'lord', 'master', 'sir' or anything of the like?" His voice had an angry, hissing tone to it.

Bellatrix heard none of that. She was still holding the cup to her chest, true to her promise of protecting it with all her heart. "But, sir! That's Salzar Slytherin's locket! It must've cost a fortune! Y-you wouldn't make another…" The word 'Horcrux' was stuck in her throat.

"Silencio. Five isn't enough, Bella," he said patiently. "Death is powerful. Immortality…" he paused, searching for the right word. "Is a hard path to take. A path I'm willing to take. Now, will you help me, or do I have to get Malfoy?" The last words were snappish.

Bellatrix nodded so fast, her head was a blur. Slipping the goblet into her magical pouch she pointed her wand at her master. Voldemort placed the locket on the floor and pointed his wand at it.

"Now don't miss this time," he said when Bellatrix's wand started to tremble.

This was a complicated spell. He couldn't mess it up, or he'd die. The opposite of what he's trying to do. He'd made five already, including the cup. After each incantation, the pain became muter. His appearance changed slightly. His skin became paler at the second split. His hair fell around the fourth. Split by split, he had noted that he was turning a bit more snakelike. Now, making Horcruxes were part of his life. They were his life. He was ready.

But Bellatrix didn't think so. "But, my lord! Surely you can take a rest! At least a day… or a week."

Sheesh. Did he look that tired?

"Now." His voice is quiet and deadly.

Better not argue with that.

Nagini now had the mouse in a death grip, squeezing the life out of it. But it wasn't dead yet. She was just playing with her food.

Aiming has never been so hard. Bellatrix was going to put her master in pain. But an order is an order. Taking a deep breath, she timidly breathed out the spell.

"Vita Haud Nex."

The pure blue ray that emitted from the tip of her wand was so powerful, her wand jerked up a bit.

And it hit Voldemort.

Nagini lunged at her mouse.

There was a silent sceam. You could feel it in the room, like there was a blood-curdling scream in the air, but everything was totally muted.

It was a weird sensation. Voldemort had his mouth opened. It was as if he was in a silencing spell.

Voldemort could see lights beneath his eyelids. It grew brighter and brighter, until it looked like he was standing in a white room. He frowned. He never had to do this before in a Horcrux incantation. Usually, it was just lights, him passing out, pain, and waking up.

What in the name of Merlin's shaggy beard?

Suddenly, shadows appeared in his vision. Then details. He wasn't in the Malfoy Manor anymore. He was standing in a simple bedroom, with wooden walls. The locket was nowhere to be seen. There was a dark wooden closet in a corner, and his bare feet can feel the comfortable blue rug underneath.

There was a neat bed. It looked slept in.

Voldemort tensed, one word in his head.

Orphanage.

He looked down at his clothes. He was wearing pure white, just-out-of-the-laundry robes. He scowled at them and they turned black again. Much better.

"Hello, Tom."

He whirled around and saw a man on the messy bed. He wasn't there before. "Avada Kedavra!"

His wand did nothing. He tried again. Still nothing.

The man looked up from his half-moon spectacles. "Magic doesn't work here, Tom."

Questions began firing out of his mouth. "Who are you? How come? Where is here? Don't call me Tom."

The old man chuckled. "I thought you'd recognize my face," he said, gesturing at his light blue robes.

Voldemort's breathing quickened. "Dumbledore?"

"Correct. I'm not actually Dumbledore. It's just the body that your mind substituted for me. This," he glanced down. "Is just a manifestation."

"Oh, then what are you?" Voldemort said. "If you're just a 'manifestation'?" Saracasm dripped from his words.

Dumbledore smiled. His teeth were crooked. His wrinkles were creased. "I'm your worst enemy, Tom. I'm Death."

Author's Note:

Hiya! If you're reading this, then congratulations! You've finished the first chapter of Fighting Death! Someone bring out the champagne!

Okay, never mind, I'm underage anyway.

So, Voldemort is a bit OOC, but no one can make excellent quotes all the time like, "Harry Potter. The Boy who Lived..." Dramatic breath. "Come to die." And we don't know how he acts like outside of Harry Potter's glasses. He may be funky. He may make cute comments about ponies. He may be Team Jacob. So I'm giving him a bit of a troubled-and-depressed-man-with-insane-actions angle. And no one can be all evil, just as Harry Potter can't be truly good. (Hello? He pushed Ginny so she could break up with Dean.)

This will be a short multi-chap on how Voldemort made the seventh Horcrux.