Disclaimer: I do not own a mansion in Milan, I do not own a summer cottage in France, I do not own a cabin in the Alps, I do not own a pickle factory in Brazil, I do not own a canal in Venice…ponders…in fact, I own very little. This computer isn't even mine. So, to conclude, I do not own Harry Potter either. Woohoo. What I cangive you however is this chapter. Merry Christmas, happy birthday, etc etc. throws confetti

Chapter Seven

Game Over

"Have we found him yet?" a terrible voice hissed in his mind. Slowly an image appeared in his subconscious. He was looking through the eyes of another. He was in a dim, dank room with only a single fading torch to light the area. It was small and enclosed and his own instincts told him to be afraid and to quit this place altogether, but another part told him that this was home. The two emotions battled with each other until the latter won. His foremost instinct would have triumphed over the other had it not been for the dilemma that he was not able to move. He was merely an observer.

"No, my lord," a wizened old man groveled in a high, squeaking voice caused by his failing nerves. "We have found no sign of the man's passing anywhere. From where he escaped we followed the tracks to a grove inside the park. That's where we found our men. There was a bloodied spot of snow and some large footprints to where someone kneeled down next to it. It's as if he appeared out of nowhere," the man squeaked in a desperately bewildered voice. "There were some wolf-sized prints and then they disappeared and the man's just appeared! Please, forgive our failure! Please!" the man shrieked on the edge of insanity. He only felt cold indifference toward the old fool. After all, he was only a disappointment. And those must be taken care of immediately before further harm could be done. He raised his wand slowly. "NO! MASTER PLEASE! I BEG YOU! NOOO-!" His cry was cut off sharply and the only sound that followed was that of his body falling in a crumpled heap. He seemed to be in a daze. His mind was numbed with a sudden realization. He knew that normally he would have been furious with the infidel but now he didn't really care. He knew. All of a sudden, his reality altered itself and spun, twisting itself into two separate identities.

He was staring at two blood red eyes that smiled with malicious triumph. In his mind he heard the high-pitched, bitter voice that he knew so well. Harry Potter, it mused. You should've known that you couldn't stay away from me for long. St. Mungo's? Hmm. I should've guessed. Fear overcame him and with an incredible force of effort, he wrenched his mind from the frigid clasp of Lord Voldemort's presence.

He woke to his own strangled yells. He was on the floor in his room at St. Mungo's Hospital, tangled in his drenched bed sheets. Gasping he looked up and saw a small semicircle of anxious people around him. His brow was wet and his hair was dripping into his eyes and down his nose. He managed to breathe out two words that terrified everyone witnessing. "He knows."

AN Gahh! Don't hate me, please! It really wasn't planned! I had no idea that this chapter was going to correspond with my vacation! I didn't mean to leave you hanging at such a pivotal point! EEP! Don't hurt me! author cowers in fear

nervous cough So, uh yeah… rises from fetal position and straightens clothes Umm… Did you like it? You're all probably like "She has the nerve to ask that?" Well… yeah, I do. Sorta. This chapter, I resign myself to the fact that I am forced to accept rather, shall we say, angry reviews. Go ahead! Chew me out! I won't read them until I get back in any case. I know. I know. I'm merely prolonging the inevitable.

Hey! I remembered what I was going to tell you last time! Early on, I was asked if this was a slash fic. In answer: absolutely not. While I'm not against reading a well-written one every now and again, I'll never write one. It's not exactly my forte, I guess you could say. So if you had any notions about anything, um… happening… to Harry during his detainment, I didn't put it in there. I suppose that if you used your imagination, it's quite easy to see it there, but it was never intended. I guess if you really want to, you can add it in there yourself. ;)

Hmm… anything else? No? No. Okie! So, I guess all I have to say now is: 1. a reiterated plea not to murder me. 2. Merry Christmahanakwanzica! Personally, I'm doing the whole Christmas thing, but ya know, to each his own. And Christmahanakwanzica just sounds cool! C'mon! You know you want to say it!

Christmahanakwanzica… Christmahanakwanzica… Christmahanakwanzica…