Fight had broken out, all students from sixth year and up engaging in the battle. McGonagall had taken the younger students to a safe haven, leaving everybody else with questions and a will to survive.

The Death Eaters were not vicious, after something that wasn't worthy of a death toll. They would not hesitate to curse anybody who stood in their way, though. They were already weakened from breaking through the walls of Hogwarts, the fight not amounting to its full potential.

Bridget threw herself in the corner, eyes squeezing shut in terror. She refused to open them and watch as innocent peers fell at the hands of her father's followers. She could not fight this battle, after all. The girl could not fight against her own kind, but had vowed to never again side with the Death Eaters. Like a coward, she was left with the only option of hiding.

And yet, Bridget knew this was her fault. There was a reason her father hurt her last night, her rebellion angering him to great extents. He sent his followers, not for a fight, but to scare her. He was proving to her that the consequences for disobedience were not limited to her own body being beaten. There was so much more to lose.

"Having fun here?" a low voice hissed in her ear. Bridget's eyes widened in shock as she turned to face the owner of the sound.

"Well, if it isn't Robbie Robinson," she snickered. The Death Eater was just two years older than her, and ever since Bridget had reached puberty he had been trying to marry her in order to rise on the food chain. Bridget refused him every time, disgusted by his perverted actions.

"I take it you know why we're here," he mused, placing a sweaty hand on her cheek. Bridget glared, swatting him away.

"Yes, I know."

"He doesn't want you talking to Potter. You need to be loyal to the side you're on," Robbie stated, his face suddenly turning serious.

"Maybe that side isn't is," Bridget commented with a smirk. Robbie laughed, the sound hurting Bridget's ears.

"Your father won't like this," he warned, waving his index finger warningly.

"I don't care what my father thinks. He's a stalker, you know. Follows people around like a hound dog."

"You better keep you attitude in check, girl. You've lasted longer than most, but don't expect that privilege to prevail," he snapped, turning his wand upon her.

"Haven't I already been injured enough?" Bridget pouted. Robbie growled, frustrated. His place was not to hurt the daughter of his master, only to warn her.

"Just because-"

And he was interrupted by a scream.

--

"So how's your pathetic Godfather?" the voice taunted, sickenly sweet. "Oh, wait. Never mind, I forgot I killed that one off."

"Shut up!" Harry yelled, sending a curse her way. Bellatrix Lestrange blocked it smoothly, the sly grin not leaving her face.

"You're going to have to try harder than that, Potter," she hissed. "Crucio!"

Harry was just barely able to doge the curse, and the wave of hate inside of him was growing unbearable. He hated the women in front of him, down to every last tooth in her mouth, every last hair on her ugly head.

"I'll kill you for what you did to Sirius-" but Harry could not finish his sentence, for a flash of red had just passed before his eyes, an ear piercing scream stopping the hall. A body crashed to the floor, dead.

It did not take long for Harry to realize who it had been.

"Lillian!" a scream came from across the room, but Harry could not move, not turn to see who it was. A curse was shot, another thump as a body landed to the floor, but none of that mattered.

His sister, the one he'd only just met, was dead.

"Fools!" Bellatrix screamed from in front of him. "We were not supposed to hurt her! We were not supposed to kill!"

Chaos prevailed as the Death Eaters realized what had happened, that they had messed up, and they fled, fearing for their lives.

The fight was not supposed to come to it, and because of this they were all going to be severely punished.

But Harry did not care, for his sister was dead. His last bit of hope, his only family, gone.

He stood rooted the spot, staring ahead of him at the body, pale on the ground. Even as the rest of the Great Hall left, teachers hurrying to ensure their students of the peace, Harry could not move. He heard voices, but Harry didn't care.

His sister was dead.

"Albus-" McGonagall whispered from behind.

"Take Ms. Riddle to the hospital wing. She's fallen and hit her head. Madame Pomphrey must attend to her."

"And what about the Potters?" the teacher questioned, fear written in her features.

"After you are certain Ms. Riddle is safe, owl Stacey. Until she arrives, Hagrid will take care of the-" Dumbledore seemed to stumble on his words, his calm exterior falling.

"I will speak with Mr. Potter," he finished finally.

Harry could feel his headmaster place a weathered hand on his shoulder, and will a great force of will be tore his eyes away from the scene. He did not want a better look at her. He did not want to see Hagrid crying as he raised her off the ground. He did not want to imagine the wall her limbs would fall limp, her hair dead and stringy. He did not want to imagine the way her body would look, perfect but dead, the effects of a curse that killed.

"Why?" was the first word that escaped his lips, followed by a sob. "Why her? I'd just met her and suddenly she," he words faltered, pain mixing with anger. "Bridget," he hissed, seething. "If it wasn't for her-"

"Ms. Riddle did not cause this. The blame shall fall on nobody but Lord Voldemort."

"I didn't even see," Harry choked. "Who…"

"Knowing will not help you, Harry. Blame will not heal the pain, it will only fuel the anger."

"Why?" he repeated again, not bothering to hide the tears.

"She will reside in the hospital wing, if you would like to see her," Dumbledore told Harry, sympathy clear in his watery blue eyes.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Both of them, Mr. Potter. Is it not both of them you would like to see?"

So Harry turned, feeling as if his mind could no longer control his actions as he walked towards the hospital wing. He stood outside the room for hours, not wanting to face what he never wished happened. The crying did not stop, even when he heard the strange voice from inside. Could Lillian still be alive? Was it possible?

No, Harry would no fill himself with false hope. Voldemort had stolen his parents, his innocence, his childhood, and how he'd taken away his sister. There was no family left, excluding the Dursleys.

There was nobody left.

--

"You were not supposed to touch her," Voldemort seethed, pacing. Robbie shuddered in fear. It was a rare occasion to see the Dark Lord face to face, and Robbie was certain it was not a good thing he was here now.

"It was an accident. I d-didn't mean t-to," he stuttered in one last desperate attempt to save himself.

"Crucio!" Voldemort yelled and Robbie was engulfed in the pain of the curse.

"What about Malfoy?" he whimpered.

"What about him?" Voldemort asked, his anger still not quenched.

"He k-killed the girl. He killed the girl!"

"His punishment is being dealt with."

"P-please," Robbie whimpered before losing consciousness.

Lord Voldemort sat down, crossing his long, white fingers together and leaning back.

The attack was a warning, but no death was to come upon them. Voldemort could sense it, feel it in his bones, that his daughter was leaving him. She was slowly fading away, turning against him, his worst fear.

With the death of the friend she held so dear, the betrayal would only come faster. Voldemort knew, as soon as he could, that amends must be made. He must divert her attention, keeping her far away from Potter and fueling the hate for him. He must show her where she belongs, on his side.

"Severus," Voldemort called. His faithful follower immediately walked in.

"She is healing. The school nurse predicts she will be as good as new by morning."

"Is she conscious?"

"I am unaware of that, but it is not expressed how she's taking the death of Potter."

"Keep her close with Malfoy's son. Keep her far from Potter. Watch her, Severus, for if she strays I will not hesitate in letting the blame fall on you.

"Yes sir," Severus Snape responded, and not even he could realize the immense importance of the situation.


Fear not, for this isn't really the end. We've still got about 100 chapters to go...