A patch of scarlet swam past, and Harry heard a soft clatter of claws beside him.

"Fawkes," said Harry thickly. "You were fantastic, Fawkes…"

He felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced him.

He could hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in front of him.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The giant, gentle bird burst into a shower of golden plumage and drifted around Harry like a shower of burning snowflakes. Harry's head dropped as though someone had attached stone weights to it.

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Harry's head lolled to the side as the chamber began to spin around him. Tom Riddle continued to talk, but his voice seemed so distant now. Harry fell on to his side and wretched violently, the thinnest dribble of stomach bile and saliva trickled from the side of his mouth.

A devastating pain tore through his stomach and he wretched again but there was little else to come up. What had he even eaten today? What did it matter?

He wretched again and the spattering of blood from his mouth mingled with the blood still gushing from the wound in his arm.

Tom Riddle rolled over with a flick of his foot and Harry knew that Ginny must be finished now, or close to it. The gloating face stared down at him, a savage expression on his face.

"Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must."

Harry stared back at him, his eyes glassy and unresponsive. Tom Riddle laughed viciously and turned away.

"Finished so soon Harry?"

But Harry was not finished; something in his brain was whirring around and around. Something Riddle had said.

'She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last.'

If Ginny had put herself into the diary, into Tom Riddle, then maybe, just maybe.

Harry used the last remnants of his dying strength to pick up a phoenix feather in his bloodied, ruined hand and inch by painstaking inch crawl towards the diary. A thin trail of blood tracked his progress and twice more he vomited en route, but finally he made it there.

Riddle turned back, saw Harry's progress and laughed.

"Go ahead, Potter. Destroy the diary if you still can. I've grown strong enough to survive it."

Harry reached out for the slim black book with trembling fingers. Eventually he grasped it and pulled it toward him, the pages miraculously clean, despite the water, filth and blood that covered the floor.

Harry pulled the diary open and through some hideous twist of fate, its pages fell open to the thirty-first of October. Harry couldn't help but giggle something that brought a torrent of frothy bubbles to his lips.

Then, he wet the end of the feather in the blood gushing from his arm and with the last of his reserves of strengths, wrote upon the page the words that he'd been so careful to avoid since coming to the magical world.

'My name is Harry James Potter.'

Riddle realised what he was doing halfway through his surname and raised his wand with a yelled curse. A hideous flash of mustard yellow light struck Riddle in the chest and sent him flying across the chamber and crashing to the ground.

Harry re-wetted the tip of the feather with his blood and wrote his name again and again. Each time feeling a little thrill of life burst through his body.

Somewhere close, Ginny coughed and moaned piteously. Harry instinctively knew he was killing her and a wave of revulsion rushed over him as he wrote his name again. Riddle had said she was almost dead anyway and besides, Harry wanted to live.

"I will not die," muttered Harry under his breath his strengthened arm wrote his name again. "I will not die."

He heard Riddle rise again and hiss in pain and anger. Harry wrote his name again, the feather scratching against paper now echoing like a propeller around his head. He heard Ginny stop breathing. He wrote his name again. He heard her heart slow. He wrote his name again and as her heart finally beat its last, Harry felt an incredible rush go through him and he yelled his victory to the roof of the chamber.

"NO POTTER!" shrieked Riddle. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry rose as the jet of green light flew across the chamber. He didn't even move. He knew what would happen, just as it had all those years ago at Godric's Hollow. The green light hit Harry like a thunderbolt, but he didn't even slightly move. It reflected with the sound of whip crack back upon its caster, who could do nothing but stare in horror.

The body of Tom Riddle fell to the ground with a splash.

Harry staggered for a moment as he felt the link between the two die. Then he let his head fall back and a green mist rose from his lips, forming a huge skull in the air, a snake poking from its mouth. Then as the last burst of mist flew from his lips, his head jerked forward again and Harry crashed to his hands and knees.

He was bemused to see a pair of sickly yellow eyes staring back at him from his reflection on the wet floor. Something inside him knew exactly what this meant and a slow hollow laugh escaped his lips. When his lips met again, he felt the presence of elongated teeth in his mouth.

He turned back to the diary, bent down to pick it up and tore it in two with clawed hands. The diary exploded a geyser of blood and ink sprayed across the chamber followed by a flash and an almighty explosion. Harry stood for a moment, surrounded by blood, water and patches of fire as burning paper fluttered around him.

He heard footsteps behind him and a gasp.

"Oh Ginny!" cried Ron.

"I'm sorry, I was too late," said Harry, without turning. Ron just sobbed into his sister's hair. Harry stared at his reflection in the water for a long time, until Ron's angry voice drew him away from his thoughts.

"You were supposed to save her!" shouted Ron.

"I'm sorry," replied Harry.

"Face me and tell me that!"

"Ron, go find Dumbledore."

"LOOK AT ME!" roared Ron and by the splashes behind him, Harry knew he was approaching.

"Ron, just trust me, go find-"

But Ron had grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly whirled him around. Harry closed his eyes tightly as Ron turned him. He heard Ron gasp.

"What… What's wrong with you?" he asked, sounding half scared. Harry could hear his friend's succulent warm blood sloshing around in his veins just inches away. He felt the compulsion to tear him to pieces, just like the diary.

"Go. Get. Dumbledore." replied Harry, tersely.

Ron made a strangled noise and dashed away, his feet splashing against the stone floor. Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and looked around him.

Surrounding him as the points of some hideous triangle were the corpses of Ginny Weasley, Tom Riddle and the basilisk. Harry's keen eyes wandered over the bodies and his tongue darted out, tasting the beautiful flavour of death.

He looked down at his terrible clawed hands and thought. He had clearly written in the diary with blood from both himself and the basilisk, which had given him some features of the snake and some features of Voldemort. He doubled up in pain again, his stomach felt so empty. It had been a long time since dinner and Harry was ravenous.

It was to be expected, he supposed, considering the ordeal he'd just been through. Ron and Dumbledore would be back soon though and Harry could get something to eat. His eyes fell upon the fan of ginger hair surrounding Ginny.

He stumbled over to the youngest Weasley and fell to his knees next to her. He gazed at her for a moment, before letting his fingers gently close her eyelids and then he trailed them across the pale porcelain skin, over the features which had made unfulfilled promises of beauty then finally cupped his hand under her cheek and laid a delicate kiss on her forehead.

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely. His stomach gave another intense pang of hunger. He made his decision.

Greedily, starting at her feet, he ate her. His sharp teeth making short work of bone, skin and flesh as he ravenously tore through her, blood spurting from the corners of his mouth with each ferocious bite.

He had just stripped the last of the meat from her ribs, his clawed hands making short work of the ribcage allowing him to feast on the delicious organs below when the sounds of footsteps behind him made him pause.

He heard several gasps of horror and could taste the scents of Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron, Dumbledore and McGonagall behind him.

"Harry?" came the sound of Dumbledore's voice, slightly shaky as he observed the sight before him.

"So hungry," whispered Harry piteously. "So hungry."

"Oh Harry," said Dumbledore in horror as Molly Weasley broke down into loud tears.

A wicked smile spread across Harry's face. He was still ravenous; the flesh of the littlest Weasley had barely been enough to dull his ferocious hunger pains. But Mrs Weasley was nice and plump. There would be plenty of flesh on her enormous bones for him.

And so, a giddy wave of excitement washing over him, Harry rose from the floor of the chamber and met their eyes.

*

Professor Snape was bored. He was sitting in the Slytherin common room, neatly bisecting a piece of asparagus he had no intention of eating when the door to the common room slid open. He was just about to look up from his work when the head of Gilderoy Lockhart rolled across the floor and landed at his feet. From the expression on his face, Snape deduced that he'd been petrified before he'd been beheaded.

The room instantly descended into chaos, screams filled the air to the accompaniment of screeching chair legs, falling bodies and blood-curdling roar. Snape flicked his wand out of his pocket and into action, tossing up a black veil in the direction of the door to disorientate the attacker, put out the lights to give him an advantage and following up with a killing curse aimed at the door.

He deliberately kept his eyes on the floor, to avoid making eye contact. Snape was gratified to see that whatever it was he was fighting gave off a sickly yellow light, indicating its position. He realised with a jolt what that meant, a basilisk. What on earth?

He aimed another killing curse toward the doorway, if it truly was a basilisk, it couldn't keep dodging them forever. To his amazement, the yellow light moved incredibly quickly, almost causing Snape to lose track of it.

He heard a screaming second year abruptly cut off with a disgusting noise of tearing flesh. Snape was pretty sure that between the teeth and eyes of the basilisk, he was almost the only one still alive. He aimed a barrage of conjunctivitis curses toward the yellow light and was confused to hear an almost human roar of pain. The yellow light disappeared however, so Snape felt it was safe to look up at his opponent.

His jaw almost dropped off his face when he saw a student through the dim light, surrounded by thirty dead students. Blood still dripping from evil looking claws and teeth that the boy had grown. His face, once the spitting image of his childhood nemesis was twisted and scaled, only the remains of his Gryffindor uniform and the lightning bolt scar identified him as Harry Potter.

Apparently, Harry didn't need to use his cursed eyes to locate him anymore and a forked tongue rolled out of his mouth and with a quick flick of his monstrous claws, tossed an armchair in the direction of Snape.

The potions master blew it out of the air with a flick of his wand and prepared to attack with another killing curse. A tossed portrait struck him in the neck and knocked him over the chair he'd just been sitting in. His plate and asparagus went flying. Harry bounded across the common room, not to attack him, but to tear the throat out of a seventh year who'd been creeping steadily toward the door.

Snape moaned as he rose, something in his chest felt broken and he could only just make out the shape of Harry Potter moving in the darkness. What had happened to that boy?

Whatever it was, Snape knew he wouldn't allow that talentless big headed fool to kill him. He was far too good, too able, too clever.

Snape followed the figure as it moved between two chairs. It was doing something with its hand, he couldn't make out what. Suddenly he felt stupid, because a suit of armour seized him from behind. The boy was still using his wand!

It bounded across the floor, claws at the ready to eviscerate the potion's master. Snape managed to pull his wand arm free in just enough time to send Harry crashing across the room. Snape followed him in a trice, his wand rising to kill him, the familiar words on his lips.

"Avada Ke-" Snape's words were cut off by a jet of blistering poison that sprayed out of Harry's mouth and struck the potion master's eyes.

He fell, clutching his face and scrabbling at his eyes, trying to free himself of the blinding liquid.

He had just about got the use of one eye back, when he felt something tickle the back of his neck. He looked up to see the forked tongue of Harry Potter flicker out right before his nose.

"So hungry," said Harry sadly. "Ever so hungry."

Snape backed away slowly, hoping that if he made no sudden moves that Harry would ignore him in favour of something else. Just as he was deciding that it wasn't working, Harry turned and chased down a boy who'd decided to make a break for it. The flash of silver hair told him it was Draco Malfoy.

Good riddance, thought Snape.

The Potion's Master climbed to his feet and staggered out of the room. His eyes still weren't working perfectly and he fell over a vase just outside the door. He broke into a full tilt run, using his arms to prop himself up but there seemed to be no sounds of a chase from behind.

He turned the corner, a great feeling of relief swelling in his chest. He had survived. Severus Snape would always survive. He was uniquely gifted and-

He turned another corner and came face to face with Harry Potter.

"So hungry," said Harry.

He turned to run in the opposite direction, only to come face to face with another Harry.

"So hungry," he said.

"So hungry," said another Harry approaching from a third direction.

"So hungry," chorused another five Harry's approaching from all around him.

"Clever boy," muttered Snape as he accepted his fate.

*

Lord Voldemort stared out from the top of Azkaban at the horde that surrounded the prison. They had come from the sea, gliding over the top of the waves like the dementors they had devoured and stopped mere feet from the tower. He felt a little shrill of terror flood through him as he watched the millions of motionless figures below.

The march of this army had been too quick for anyone to stop. They multiplied like bacteria and consumed everything they found. At first it had been merely flesh, then bio matter, then everything.

He had watched as they had consumed cities, toppled mountains and drank rivers dry. Only the salt water seemed to defeat them and it was looking more and more as though this would only be temporary.

The people of the world had united under Voldemort's banner. There was no time for petty quibbles such as blood or wealth any more, it was time to unite or die. They had retired to Azkaban, the one place in the world in which they had thought to be safe.

It had been under the fidelius and protected by seas and tall walls on all sides. Cannons, rockets, missiles and mines protected them on all sides.

It would not be enough.

He surveyed the horizon as dawn broke on the Earth. It would probably be the last dawn seen to human eyes. Far below he could hear the unrest of the ten thousand fighters that waited in the courtyard and lower levels. Wizards, muggles, centaurs, goblins, all the creatures of the world that survived had come together to form one last alliance against the horde.

It would not be enough.

Out at sea, Voldemort could hear the drumbeat. The horde, a million, million strong came from all corners of the globe, lead by the Original. He stood a little separate from the rest and Voldemort's stomach rolled as he thought of the only time they'd come face to face.

Voldemort then had done the only thing that had made sense, he'd fled. He'd run to the far corners of the earth, all the time pursued by the creature that wielded Albus Dumbledore's arm like a club. The creature that bit and hissed and commanded the horde. Voldemort spat his defiance from the top of the tower and watched it fall, until he couldn't see it any longer.

He turned to his faithful companion stood next to him.

"Well Hagrid," he said, a grim smile on his face. "It would appear we've run as far as there is to run."

"Aye, that's true, Tom," said Hagrid, nodding. "There's an awful lot of the blighters eh?"

Voldemort laughed bitterly.

"Right you are Hagrid," he turned his back on the half giant.

"I'll be go gettin' ready fer the battle then," said Hagrid, turning away.

"Hagrid," said Voldemort suddenly, stopping the half giant in his tracks. "I'm sorry for getting you expelled all those years ago."

"Aye, well, in times like these I s'pose you've just got to forgive and forget like."

Hagrid left him and Voldemort felt the wind change. Far below, the Original saluted him with the decaying arm of Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort shuddered.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.'

He never had found out the rest of the prophecy, not that it mattered much now. Power to vanquish the Dark Lord? Yes and the world in the process.

A single shot rang out in the night and then all hell broke loose with a terrifying roar signalling the attack. Voldemort smirked as the sounds of battle reached him from below and removed his wand from the folds of his robes.

Tonight was a good night to die.

*

The Original sat three inches above the water in the exact location that Azkaban had once stood. He picked his teeth leisurely with his brother wand and then ate it in one bite. He looked around at the millions of his brethren around him, they were still so hungry, he was still so hungry.

Soon they would drink the sea dry, devour that which it yielded and then the planet would be void of food. He was so hungry. His eyes drifted upward to the stars and he found his hideous teeth stretched in a wide smile.

There was plenty to eat up there.