Title: The Deafening Silence
Original Author: SemeSideOfThePaddle
Setting (General): Slightly Alternate Universe
Setting (Chapter): Tri-Wizard Tournament, Maze, Mysterious Graveyard
Pairings (Intended): Lord Voldemort (TMR)/ Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini/Ronald Weasley, Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape. Perhaps a few others?
Pairings (Chapter): Some hinted CedricHarry, which Lexi-chan and I have decided I could incorporate into the story should I so wish, and Voldemort/Harry sexual hints
Rating (General): Mature. 17 or older is much preferred, but hell, I'm fifteen, and I'm editing this thing
Rating (Chapter): Teen. 15 and up. But like I said above, I don't really care how old you all are
Warnings (General): Non-consensual, rape, consensual sex, mild OOCness, violence, language, psychological warfare, character deaths
Warnings (Chapter): Innuendo, some violence, character death, overall grossness of Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the plot sadly enough.
Second Author's Note: As some of you will know, and be understanding of, is that Lexi-chan (SemeSideOfThePaddle) has had some personal issues. I don't know how much she told any of you, so I'm not going to reveal anything, but she is going to be taking a long sabbatical. And even when she does come back, these stories will remain on my profile, just as her versions will remain on hers. I'd love to hear your comparisons, so if you're reading this, and haven't read Lexi's, go read hers first. Oh, and if you find mistakes, don't hesitate to copy and paste 'em into a review or PM so I know where they are and what to fix.
Chapter One: In The Devil's Grasp
He could hear Cedric running with him, just out of range of the collapsing hedges of green, broad-leafed growth, and he knew that he wouldn't be winning the Tri-Wizard Tournament, at least not alone. But Harry couldn't bring himself to mind so much on that point, focused simply on getting out of the maze that had turned so hellish in the few hours he had wandered it. He ran faster, barely glancing back to check on Cedric until he heard a strangled cry, and skidded to a halt, twisting his body to look to the older competitor.
The Hufflepuff was stuck, vines twined around his ankle, causing him to thrash wildly, each time he moved accented by a sharp keening sound of pain. The vines had tightened, effectively cutting off the blood flowing from his leg to his foot. More of the thick, charmed plants came to life, sliding up Cedric's body to wrap more fully around him, restricting all movement. He threw a pleaded look to Harry, who snapped from his shock and rushed towards him, tearing at the vegetation. Each vine reared back, off of Cedric, and Harry took that opportunity to drag him to his feet and take off, still dragging Cedric along.
Harry glanced at Cedric, and the older gazed back a moment, just as they reached the trophy. Both were thinking the same thing, and with an understanding that each couldn't really believe they came to, they grasped one handle each. Abruptly, Harry felt a tug at his navel that reminded him of the feeling he got when taking a portkey to the Quiddtich World Cup, and before he could say a thing, he and Cedric were spinning in a short world of colors. Then ground met their backs as suddenly as they had been taken.
They each looked around in a daze, shocked to find themselves in a foggy graveyard. Harry clumsily stood after a few moments, wand at the ready, and offered a hand to haul Cedric up. Before the older could take it, he heard sudden movement to the right and swung around to face who made the noise.
To Harry's shock, and disgust, Peter Pettigrew stood in all his nine fingered glory. He was holding something in his arms, something that had the same basic shape a baby would if folded into a thick blanket.
"Kill the spare," the 'baby' hissed, and Harry had no time to protest as a green flash rushed past him to Cedric. Cedric fell limp, eyes still wide, and mouth still agape. Harry spun back, biting back a soft sob, and raised his own wand.
"Ac--" he started, with all intent to summon the Cup and take Cedric's body back. But he was quickly cut off by Peter's 'Expelliarmus' that caused his wand to fly into the rat-man's free hand.
"Come here, Potter," Peter beckoned, pointing at a grave stone a few feet away. Harry looked to the side, seeing a small gate in the distance, and tried to judge his chances of reaching a village that could help him. But it was useless, even in his hopes, and he trudged over to the gravestone obediently, unsurprised when ropes sprung from the tip of Peter's wand, wrapping him securely to the stone. He groaned a bit at the slight pain, but took a moment to gaze at the large cauldron that was in a small clear spot. Peter stepped towards it, and dropped the bundle in his arms inside, the bundle that Harry now had figured was Voldemort. He could only wish the horrid man--if he could even be called a man in the state he was in--would drown, ridding him of his problems.
But that didn't seem likely as Pettigrew, Wormtail, drew a small handful of dust from his pocket and began to speak, voice shaking as if he was terrified to do what he was about to.
"B-bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will revive your son!" And the dust trickled into the clear surface of whatever was in the cauldron, turning it a blue-ish color. Harry snapped from his barely aware state, finally realizing the sharp pain in his head, that had appeared upon the beginning of the whatever was happening, was from his scar. He hissed in slight pain, and tried to look away, only to watch in horrid fascination as Wormtail withdrew a dagger, pressing it to his own wrist.
"Flesh..of the servant..w-willingly given…you will revive..your master…" He sobbed, then lopped off his right hand, screaming as it splashed into the liquid, turning it a blinding white. He collapsed to the side, cradling his arm to his chest, his sobs continuing. Another moment passed, then he moved to his feet once more and made his way over to Harry. He carefully sliced Harry's arm, as the boy struggled, and caught the blood in a small vial. Wormtail limped over to the large cauldron that abruptly reminded Harry of a movie he had seen once, in which an ogre was trying to boil some poor innocent maiden, just before she got saved. But he was the maiden, and he clearly wasn't going to be saved..
"Blood.. of the enemy.. unwilling taken..you will revive your foe.." Wormtail stuttered, then slid down once more, sobs loud and harsh. Harry's eyes turned to the cauldron, widening in horror. Voldemort.. He was going to rise again.
From the cauldron, sparks began to fly, but it settled after a second, and gave Harry hope. The..thing had died, drowned, right? Something had gone wrong.. But his hopes were dashed as a skeletal form of a man rose.
"Wormtail, my robe," the high pitched, cold voice of the newly arisen Voldemort sounded, and whimpering softly, Wormtail stood, grabbing the robe that had previously been used to wrap what Voldemort had been, and put it on his Lord. He then stumbled back to allow him to exit the cauldron. Harry could only stare as his vision focused on the disgusting creature that his enemy had become-that he had unwillingly helped him become. He shuddered, and Voldemort seemed to notice the slight movement.
"Harry.. Don't tell me you're frightened.. Is this.. shadow of what I once was too horrifying..? Why don't we make that better so the little boy isn't so scared, hmm?" Voldemort suggested, taking the wand Wormtail had and waving it over himself so he appeared like an older version of the Voldemort Harry had met in second year. Harry looked away, and began to struggle against the bonds that had him against the marble gravestone. He didn't want to die. Not when he still had Cedric's body to take back to his parents.
"What's wrong, Harry? Do I not look any better in this form?" Voldemort asked, mocking tone cold, but clear. He turned to Wormtail, and beckoned him closer.
"Show me your arm," he commanded. Wormtail's ugly face broke into a smile.
"Th-thank you my lord, oh thank you.." he blubbered, holding up the stump that had once held his right hand. Voldemort's features twitched a bit at Wormtail's stupidity, and with a sigh, the same type a parent would give a child in exasperation, he corrected his servant's idiocy.
"Your other arm, Wormtail, before I become impatient." Wormtail whimpered once more, and let his stump fall to the side, holding out his left arm. Voldemort pressed to the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark that was splayed on Wormtail's forearm, causing the man to his softly in pain as it became darker.
"Soon.. The faithful will come…" he whispered, shoving Wormtail back, and onto the ground. The pathetic looking man whimpered, and Harry couldn't help but feel slight pity for him, even if he had been the cause of all his troubles.. And the reason this was happening. After all, had Wormtail not revealed Godric's Hollow, his parents would still be alive, and Voldemort long defeated.
There was no time to continue that train of thought, however, as Death Eater's began to show themselves; some slid into view one by one, others were with their respective partner (Harry felt disgusted at how being Dark seemed to be a family thing) but no children were present, and Harry was mildly thankful. If Malfoy could see him now, bound, unable to move, not even trying to run away because he knows it useless, he would have a field day.
But the faithful Death Eater's were falling to their knees, heads bowed low in a submissive gesture. Murmured greetings, and praises slipped easily from each's mouth, and most prominently from the ones who had abandoned the thought of an exiled life. Lucius was one such, having lied, quite believably of course, about being under Imperius while he served Voldemort. A few others, as well, had gained social standing by lying about mind control, threats, deaths of their family members.. Yet Lord Voldemort-Tom Marvolo Riddle-did not seem to be listening to the hushed tones of his followers, but instead to the sounds of the night, as he surveyed what was left of the fifty-odd that he had originally accepted into the second inner-most circle of his sect.
Obviously, there were people missing, if the large empty spots in the ranks were any indication, and though Harry could guess who would fill them, he couldn't say for sure. He had never exactly been privy to all that information, his surrogate wizarding family--the Weasley's, Dumbledore, McGonagall--had never thought it appropriate to tell him the workings of Voldemort's…'organization'. But as Voldemort began to speak, he didn't have to ponder it longer, the answers being vaguely given in a speech, though he knew it wasn't intended for him.
He didn't recognize half the followers Voldemort named off, nor any of the one's missing, as he gave no real name to them. When he was finished, and after giving Wormtail the 'reward' of a metallic arm, crimson eyes fell upon Harry. His pale lips twitched into a smirk, and a forked tongue flickered from between them, almost in greeting.
"My dear followers.. Let me introduce the bane of my existence--Or as most of you know him as--Harry James Potter. He has decided to be our guest for the night.. And perhaps longer if we need a bit of play," He gallantly threw out his arm, directing everyone's attention to Harry. Uproarious laughter followed the mock, and Harry's cheeks flushed with shame. The wicked smirk on Voldemort's face widened at this.
"And look at how pretty he is with pink dusting his cheeks, and embarrassment in his expression! He's practically begging to be taken.." The sentence trailed off, but even at fourteen, Harry understood the meaning perfectly, and thrashed in his bonds. Voldemort couldn't touch him, but that didn't mean his followers would be idle.
Voldemort simply stepped closer, bending down so his crimson eyes bore into Harry's dark green. His mouth moved slowly to the younger's red-tipped ears, and he blew softly, causing Harry to squirm uncomfortably. He delighted in the reaction, and took the lobe in between his teeth, nibbling a moment before pulling back, slender fingers gliding over Harry's cheek.
"Did you know, Harry… Your mother's love, that runs through your very blood, is not a barrier anymore.. The same blood that flows through your veins, now is mixed with mine…" He hissed. Harry understood instantly. If Voldemort had his blood, he could touch him.. And touch him, Voldemort did.
Skeletal fingers made contact, drawing a line down one side of Harry's cheek, and to his chin. They pushed his head up, forcing him to look. To gaze at who would be his demise.
A second hand joined the first, and Voldemort was cupping his face harshly, nails digging in. Harry winced, but didn't make a noise, or indicate discomfort until the searing pain in his scar became prominent. Then, he cried out, throwing his head back slightly in attempts to get out of the Dark Lord's grasp. But his head held firmly in place, long enough for the pain to begin to subside slowly.
The younger was confused as to why the pain had stopped. He had been sure, very sure, that his scar would always hurt when near Voldemort.. And he had been sure that it would be even more intense if Voldemort could touch him. He had been right on both accounts, but hadn't thought the pain would leave eventually, especially in such a short amount of time.
He shook his head, and focused in once more on the disgusting creature that was Voldemort. The man--thing, because although his appearance had changed, he was still a monster, and didn't deserve to be referred to as even remotely human--had moved away, and retrieved Lucius Malfoy, speaking quietly to him. The other Death Eater's threw taunts at Harry, and each word was a blow. He couldn't even defend himself. Responding would have gotten him killed quicker anyway.
Two minutes of the treatment went by before Voldemort raised a hand to them, telling them to be silent. He then moved by the still smoking cauldron, and tilted his head a bit, working out a kink in his neck briefly.
"We now have the most prize possession of the Light side in our hands," Voldemort said after a moment, commanding everyone to give their attention simply with their tone of voice, "And we are happy about this, are we not, my followers?" There were murmurs of agreement all around.
"Very good.. Lucius, and I have talked, and before my rebirth, my most faithful and I spoke.. From what they have said, I have decided on what to do with Potter before his death…" Voldemort turned to Harry, and removed the bonds with a slight flick of his wrist, but kept Harry under a charm that kept him from moving too far away.
"I will be taking Harry to my home. Your orders, however, are quite simple. Break into Azkaban first, and retrieve my faithful. Then, half of you will destroy Hogsmeade, while the other half storms Hogwarts, using the plans in Wormtail's pocket. When you have finished those tasks, send word." Harry stared in horror as Voldemort spoke, terrified. Azkaban.. Hogsmeade.. Hogwarts.. Hogwarts..! Hogwarts was his home, the one place he felt safe. All of his friends were there.. Hermione, Ron, George, Fred, Katie…
Voldemort took Harry's wrist in hand, Apparating, and as Harry fell against him, dizzy and quite ready to pass out, he prayed for his friends to be spared. Even if he couldn't be.
Edit: I missed a part of the ritual that brought Voldie back, so I had to add that in. Sorry for the mistake.