"You can have them back."
Harry stared at Voldemort. His enemy. The man - if he could be called that anymore - who had destroyed his life so many, many times.
"Who?" he asked slowly, staring at the dark lord, hand on his wand. Voldemort's wand was at his side, but three hooded Death Eaters stood beside him, wands raised. Harry wondered if he could kill Voldemort before they could disarm him. He knew he'd die directly afterwards.
"Who do you think?" Voldemort asked. "Your parents. That's what you want, isn't it?" His voice dropped until it was almost a caress, the words sliding past Harry like silk on silk. "I can give them back to you?"
"How?" The word was torn from his throat. "That's impossible. You killed them!"
"I took life from them." Voldemort smiled, a cruel, twisted smile. "I can give it back to them."
"Not even Dumbledore can resurrect the dead," Harry said stubbornly.
"There are powers, Harry, powers that fool could have but won't touch…power I will give you, if you let me." The smile remained but his eyes shone with a dreadful light. "I can. Look." He raised his wand - Harry pointed his own at Voldemort instantly, and the dark lord aimed to one side. Harry relaxed only slightly. Voldemort whispered words, and beside him appeared two dim shadows, shadows that Harry recognized instantly as his parents, looking not a day older than in the photograph he had of his own first birthday. "There they are," Voldemort whispered. "Not alive yet, but I will restore them. All you have to do is join me."
"Never!" Harry shouted. "They died to stop you, they wouldn't want me to join you, even for them. Especially for them!"
"Are you so certain?" Voldemort whispered. "How can you know? How do you know what death is like? What if you are condemming them to endless pain and suffering?" Harry didn't answer. "Come, Harry. Look at what I am offering you! Power, your family, everything. I'll even spare the lives of your friends, if they don't try to oppose me."
Harry hesitated. In the back of his mind he could hear words. "What was there to be gained by opposing him? He was taking over everywhere!" The plea of a coward. Yet - there was so much to be gained here. Everything he wanted; and what he wanted was his parents back. "Only innocent lives, Peter." That was what was at stake. His parents' lives. His friends' lives. His own, no doubt.
No, not their lives. Other innocent lives. They had all chosen to oppose Voldemort, knowing full well what their choice might mean. Harry had a sudden dark and terrible vision of a world ruled by Voldemort. He looked at the shades of his parents.
"No," he said, terribly and calmly. "They died. It's not for me, or you, to change that. And I won't, anyway." He raised his wand.
"You think so, then?" Voldemort smiled, cruelly now, and raised his own wand. He pointed it at the dim figures, and they vanished. "I won't make such an offer again."
"Keep your offer," Harry hissed. "And prepare to die."
*****
Author's note: no explanations. Not how he got there, not what happens next, not why I haven't bothered to write anything recently, not why I wrote this, not whether I'll ever write Aurors again, not what I was thinking when I wrote this, nothing. And none of this is mine, either. And no threats for people who don't review.
Harry stared at Voldemort. His enemy. The man - if he could be called that anymore - who had destroyed his life so many, many times.
"Who?" he asked slowly, staring at the dark lord, hand on his wand. Voldemort's wand was at his side, but three hooded Death Eaters stood beside him, wands raised. Harry wondered if he could kill Voldemort before they could disarm him. He knew he'd die directly afterwards.
"Who do you think?" Voldemort asked. "Your parents. That's what you want, isn't it?" His voice dropped until it was almost a caress, the words sliding past Harry like silk on silk. "I can give them back to you?"
"How?" The word was torn from his throat. "That's impossible. You killed them!"
"I took life from them." Voldemort smiled, a cruel, twisted smile. "I can give it back to them."
"Not even Dumbledore can resurrect the dead," Harry said stubbornly.
"There are powers, Harry, powers that fool could have but won't touch…power I will give you, if you let me." The smile remained but his eyes shone with a dreadful light. "I can. Look." He raised his wand - Harry pointed his own at Voldemort instantly, and the dark lord aimed to one side. Harry relaxed only slightly. Voldemort whispered words, and beside him appeared two dim shadows, shadows that Harry recognized instantly as his parents, looking not a day older than in the photograph he had of his own first birthday. "There they are," Voldemort whispered. "Not alive yet, but I will restore them. All you have to do is join me."
"Never!" Harry shouted. "They died to stop you, they wouldn't want me to join you, even for them. Especially for them!"
"Are you so certain?" Voldemort whispered. "How can you know? How do you know what death is like? What if you are condemming them to endless pain and suffering?" Harry didn't answer. "Come, Harry. Look at what I am offering you! Power, your family, everything. I'll even spare the lives of your friends, if they don't try to oppose me."
Harry hesitated. In the back of his mind he could hear words. "What was there to be gained by opposing him? He was taking over everywhere!" The plea of a coward. Yet - there was so much to be gained here. Everything he wanted; and what he wanted was his parents back. "Only innocent lives, Peter." That was what was at stake. His parents' lives. His friends' lives. His own, no doubt.
No, not their lives. Other innocent lives. They had all chosen to oppose Voldemort, knowing full well what their choice might mean. Harry had a sudden dark and terrible vision of a world ruled by Voldemort. He looked at the shades of his parents.
"No," he said, terribly and calmly. "They died. It's not for me, or you, to change that. And I won't, anyway." He raised his wand.
"You think so, then?" Voldemort smiled, cruelly now, and raised his own wand. He pointed it at the dim figures, and they vanished. "I won't make such an offer again."
"Keep your offer," Harry hissed. "And prepare to die."
*****
Author's note: no explanations. Not how he got there, not what happens next, not why I haven't bothered to write anything recently, not why I wrote this, not whether I'll ever write Aurors again, not what I was thinking when I wrote this, nothing. And none of this is mine, either. And no threats for people who don't review.