Of Badly Hidden Lies (and figuring out cool magic shit)

No difference between Jekyll and Hyde

It was dark in the hallway. He slithered this way and that. He could smell his prey, smell his master's enemies. Smell who he needed to kill.

He flicked his tongue out. There!

With barley a hiss, his teeth sunk into the leg of the man, biting through cloth. It wasn't enough. He released his teeth. More, the man needed more. How dare he go against his Master? Master was all powerful! Crunch. Master was the greatest wand wielder in the world! Crunch. Master would be pleased with him. He slithered over the mans crying, snivelling form. Pathetic. Until-

Mr. Weasley! Harry thought. He had just attacked his best mate's dad! Oh but his Master would be so very pleased, Master would love that he gave into the temptation! His venom would flood the man- no no no NO!

Come back to me, my sweet, he heard in his head. It burned, the pain in his forehead burned. He was going to explode, he was going to die. Yet it felt so delicious, this magic running its hand over his scales.

Where was he? Who was he? This didn't make sense. He needed to get out of here, he needed to wake up, this had to be a dream. He needed to tell Ron. He needed to figure out where the hell he was-

Come to me, Nagini. My wonderful creature of the night.

Nagini's mind was a tumultuous blend of emotions and thoughts as she slithered by Voldemort's side, his praise echoing in her consciousness. The memory of her previous life as a woman, her autonomy and identity, had been overshadowed by the Horcrux's influence. She struggled to reconcile her past self with her present state as Voldemort's loyal serpent and Horcrux.

As Voldemort's cold, sibilant voice resonated through her mind, Nagini felt a mix of pride and submission. His words were like dark melodies, playing upon her desire for recognition and purpose. She had become an essential part of his sinister plans, a living vessel for a fragment of his soul. While the human emotions she had once cherished were distant echoes, a small part of her still yearned for his approval.

Harry was both disgusted and enthralled. Something connected him to Voldemort, he released. There was no way that he wasn't some normal kid who had been targeted by Voldemort. Nagini, my sweet, the voice called again.

Voldemort's praise fed into that yearning, validating her loyalty to him. His acknowledgment of her contributions to his cause stoked the flickering flames of her devotion. His words seemed to seep into her very being, twisting her thoughts and desires until they aligned with his own. She was both a weapon and an extension of his will, a willing participant in his quest for power and domination. Her master, she loved her master-

Harry flung himself out of bed, gagging. He ripped off the covers, almost flying down the stairwell to McGonagall's office. It was closer than Dumbledores. As he ran, he tried to shake off the lingering darkness in his mind, the power surging through his veins. Something was wrong with him. Fleeting memories of laughter, friendship, and the warmth of human connections resided in the corners of his consciousness. They weren't his memories, no, they were Nagini's. Was she a human once? Was that the purpose of holding onto memories that were barely fragile threads?

"Mr. Potter! What are you doing up at this hour!" McGonagall demanded after Harry banged on her door.

"Mr. Weasley's been attacked, he was in this hallway, and Voldemort's Snake, Nagini- I, he's been attacked! Someone needs to go help him!"

"Mr. Potter those are serious-"

"Please!" Harry practically screamed. Harry didn't know if it was the look in his eyes, or his tone, or if McGonagall had taken pity on him, but she nodded.