Disclaimer: Don't own anything

Warning: this chapter is EXTREMELY short, and may carry signs of writers block.

Chapter 14

Pasha tightened her grip on her wand. "What do you want?"

Bellatrix took a step towards her. She didn't even bother to draw her wand. Did she underestimate Pasha so much as to not even take out her wand?

"Stop right there! Don't come closer," Pasha said, pointing her wand threateningly at her. She should just kill her right then and there. After all, how many innocent people had Bellatrix killed, how many lives had she ruined? She should just do it now; no one was around.

But she couldn't help but notice there was something odd about Bellatrix's behaviour. There was something about the way she looked at her, something about the way her posture, that suggested to Pasha she was not thinking of attacking. In fact, she looked almost fearful of her.

"What do you want?" she asked again.

"Master," whispered Bellatrix.

"What?" Master? Had Bellatrix just called her Master? But why on earth would she call her that?

"Master, it is I; your most faithful servant. I have done as you asked."

There was only one person in the world Bellatrix would call master, and that person was dead. Suddenly, she realised her hand was reaching inside her robes of its own accord. What the hell is going on? She desperately tried to gain control, but failed. Was Bellatrix performing the Imperious Curse on her? But that was impossible. She didn't even have her wand out; not even the Dark Lord could do wandless magic.

She felt her fingers grasp a hold of the necklace she had just bought. She pulled it out and still gripping her wand in one hand, pulled the chain over her head. As soon as it settled around her neck, she felt dizzy. Her surroundings spun around her, leaving her swaying on her feet. Memories flooded her. But they were not her memories. They were somebody else's: Voldmorts.

Various scenes flashed before her eyes. Images depicting Voldemort's childhood slid past her eyes like a slideshow, yet she somehow felt all his feelings, thoughts and opinions about them as well. Other memories bubbled up as well: Dumbledore coming to the orphanage to get him, his years at Hogwarts, the making of the Horcruxes, killing people, gathering his army. The night he had killed the Potters, the night of his downfall, his revival, the night he had killed the Mayes, taking their daughter and embedding part of his soul in her, using various tricks of the Dark Arts to make the shattered piece of his soul lie dormant in her until his body had been defeated. And when the soul had been awakened… her soul had been pushed out. He had put all of his memories in the necklace, and spelled it to draw the person in which his soul lay: Pasha.

The Dark Lord – the most feared wizard in history, responsible for killing thousands, was reborn as a seventeen-year-old girl.

"You have done well, my servant," said Voldemort imperiously. His voice had the feminine, velvety voice of Pasha, but there was also something else under it. Something dangerous.

"Thank-you, my Lord," said Bellatrix, bowing her head.

"But there is one last thing for you to do."

Bellatrix looked up, shuddering slightly at the menace she saw in his golden, cat-like eyes.

"We will be going for another visit to Hogwarts tonight. I want you to bring the others and meet me there."

"But… my Lord, how will we get in?"

Voldemort smiled evilly. "I took Hogwarts' defences down last time I was there. We will have to go in before Dumbledore realises."

Bellatrix bowed her head again. "Yes, master. I will see to it." She Disapparated with a 'pop'

Voldemort made his way out of the alleyway, up a flight of stairs and back out onto the busy street of Hogsmeade. Hundreds of Hogwarts students jostled him as he weaved his way towards the Three Broomsticks. Even with his memory back, he still had Pasha's, and he now knew the extent of her betrayal.

He caught the eye of a tall, dark-haired boy in black school robes. The boy winked at him. He felt himself grip his wand, or rather, Pasha's wand, tightly, but restrained himself from cursing him just in time. He couldn't expose himself now, not when he was so close to finally getting Harry Potter. The boy drew back at the glare he sent him instead.

Voldemort finally reached the small inn. He swung open the door and made his way towards the table where he remembered Potter sat.

"Hey, did you get your purse back?" Potter asked as he sank down in the seat next to him.

"Yes." It was all he could do to restrain himself from killing him then and there. How many times had this boy weakened him, thwarted his plans, held his goals just out of reach? Despite Pasha's feelings for Potter that he could sense stirring inside of him, Voldemort hated him. He hated him with all of his being. But he would have his revenge soon enough.

He listened, bored, as the conversation carried on between the girl, Potter, and the redheaded boy.

"We should probably get back to the castle now. I think everyone's going back," said the bushy-haired Mudblood known as Hermione.

They trooped out of the inn, and back out into the cold. Voldemort drew his hood up to stop his hair from whipping his face. He stiffened when he felt Potter's arm encircle his waist. He clenched his teeth, concentrating on keeping his hands over his hood and not going for his wand. Slowly, they began to make their way towards Hogwarts.

Harry made his way up the steps, through the double oak doors and into the Entrance Hall, grateful to be out of the cold. Flakes of snow fell to the ground as he removed his cloak, shaking it out. Hermione, Ron and Pasha did the same. He spotted Mrs. Norris as she padded out of the Great Hall. The dust-colored cat turned towards them, inspecting them with large, amber eyes. Then, she did a very unusual thing. She made her way towards Pasha, as if going to greet her. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. She appraised Pasha with her lamp-like eyes and hissed, the fur on her back standing on end. Harry had never seen this happen before. Pasha usually got on well with cats, considering her Felimorphis ability, but he guessed that it would be hard for anyone, even her, to get on with Mrs. Norris. Except, perhaps, Filch.

Harry watched, intrigued (and slightly creeped) out as Mrs. Norris turned towards him instead. She purred and twined herself around his legs, rubbing her head on his shin.

"Woah," said Ron, raising his eyebrows, "now that is weird."

They all knew that Mrs. Norris did not associate with the students. She was Filches little helper, reporting back to him whenever someone misbehaved in the corridor. Perhaps someone had drugged her water, or put a spell on her, because this certainly wasn't Mrs. Norris.

"Lets go," said Hermione, indicating towards the marble staircase. Harry followed Hermione and Ron as they made their way towards flight of stairs, stepping over Mrs. Norris. Then, he heard a voice behind him: Pasha's voice.

"Harry."

He turned, and was met with the tip of Pasha's wand pointing directly over his heart.

I know, I know. Evil for ending on a cliff-hanger. I was probably doing you a favour though, seeing as how my writing was getting worse and worse. Trust me, I was doing you a favour by ending it there. But I do hope you enjoyed it!

And thank-you to all of you who reviewed!

Kittels, ShortandTuff, amrawo, Kunai-chan, c.vigil xX, rkktalks alot

ps, I dont know if you've noticed, but I've started a new story! Yay! I'd really like it if you went and checked it out, I would really appreciate your opinion on it.