Unexpecting the Unexpected

by Sexy Blizzard

What happens when Harry finds out the truth isn't exactly what he expected? When his world turns upside down and everything he knows is question: it all comes down to the path he chooses. Will he walk that darkened path that will lead him to his own salvation? Or will the light continue to blind and consume him like an acid until there is nothing left of his soul?

1. Chapter One: The Rise of the Dark Lord

CHAPTER ONE - The Rise of the Dark Lord

A/N Ok guys, I'm going to be using some of the lines from Harry Potter and the Goblet of fire. This is Voldemort's rising from his perspective. All Rights to JK Rowling. Also, this will be a more basic version of this story because I've heard that fan fiction is going around deleting stories that are a little juicy ;) So I've not got a blog containing the more mature version of this story which I will be posting on my page. Thank you all! Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I own not the characters I just own the thread
And we all play in the imaginary sandbox I built-in my head
so thank you J.K. Rowling for the chance to play
the harry potter game in the imaginary sandbox today.

* H/V * H/V * H/V * H/V * H/V * H/V * H/V * H/V * H/V * H/V * H/V *

It was almost time for the ritual to begin. Almost time once again to have Harry Potter within my grasp. To end it all where it never should have begun. That boy would not be the death of me

"Everything is prepared my lord. They have arrived as planned."

"Good, good. It is time than."

I felt him gently and carefully pick up my body. I was strong from the milk Nagini had offered to me but not by much. Still, it was strong enough for this. The voice of Potter carried to my sensitive hearing on the wind.

"Where are we?"

He didn't sound afraid or terrified...yet. Just confused, as though he was trying to figure something. I heard something I didn't expect, than. Another voice after Harry's. I heaved a mental sigh of fatigue. Were my Deatheaters always this sloppy? I didn't specifically remember them being so but it would have to do. After all, he'd gotten the boy this far.

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a portkey?"

"Nope is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno. Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah,"

"Someone's coming."

Their wands were drawn and they looked weary, as though trying to figure out if this was still part of the task. Foolish boy. Foolish friend. But than again, the taller one was a Hufflepuff.

Wormtail carried me carefully through the graves, cradling me like a child (to my utter disgust). However, seeing as I was physically unable to coordinate my own movement, it was logical. But Soon.

As we neared closer to the boys, they slightly lowered their wands, more confused than before, than turning back to watch. I hated being looked at, being stared as if I were a puzzle someone needed to figure out. That was the way he always looked at me. As though I wasn't human. And now, I'm not.

It's rumored he's the only wizard I ever feared. Oh how woefully ignorant is my simply adoring public. No. I didn't fear him. I despised him. Hated him. In fact more so than Potter. Potter couldn't kill me, nor did he mean to. But him...I always knew that bastard would be the death of me when I told him no. When I told him I had no interest in his manipulations, his games. I always knew he would find a way to kill me when I told him to stuff it. I told him exactly where he could stick his little prophecy. This is what has come of me.

Apparently, Dumbledore never learned from his mistakes.

I motioned gently for Wormtail to stop, who flinched at my touch. Disgusting rat that he was, he had his uses. We stopped beside a gravestone, from what I could sense about six feet from them. And than the boy fell to his knees, groaning, holding his scar. The wand in his hand slipped from his fingers and his knees buckled. The pain was worse than that of the cruciates, I knew. Whenever I was near him, he would be forced to relive the same pain I felt when I was pulled from my body. And the closer I was to the boy, the more of my pain he would feel. And he deserved every bit. Another perk to sharing blood. He would feel more of my pain.

The other inconsequential boy I hadn't recognized or cared for knelt down as Harry screamed for him to run. The time was long past for running. "Kill the spare."

Wormtail made a silly swishing movement as he screeched the killing curse. A true wizard wouldn't have to swish their wand at all. Merely tap it. After all, it was just a tool through which we channeled our power. My sensitive ears also didn't appreciate the screaming. But it would soon be him, not me, who would be the one in pain.

A blast of familiar comforting green light blazed through my eyelids, and something heavy thudded to the ground. I sensed it moving no more. Thanks to my past rituals regarding snakes, I was more sensitive in this form to noises, light, texture, taste, and temperature. Me and Nagini now shared much the same traits than we had before. I would forever appreciate her gifts. Snakes truly were magnificent creatures.

I felt pain as Wormtail set me down on the rough grass. The bundle's texture was soft as silk, thankfully, but the blades were corse. Rough. They chaffed against the only layer of skin I had and as I felt one digging into my side, I winced. But soon, it would all be over. Thank Merlin.

I watched as he lit his wand and pulled Harry to his feet, dragging him toward Tom Riddles headstone. He would rest in the tomb of my father. And die as my father did. By my hand. But I had to give the boy this much. He had courage. He didn't struggle or scream. He simply sat there for a moment, looking calmly for a way out. It made me wonder how many other times the boy had been faced with death besides our little "run ins'. It was, to say the least,...interesting.

Covered in cords from the neck to the ankles, I watched as Wormtail conjured more of them around Harry, tying him to his fate. Harry seemed to think he could escape Wormtail who began to breathe faster as he struggled more with keeping him tied down. Than hitting him, he continued his job. I wasn't surprised to know that he knew his attacker.

"You!" he gasped.

But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, rumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away.

I felt Nagini moving towards me, slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where Harry was tied only once before she came to me and wrapped me up to keep me warm. We'd all been preparing for this day. Wormtail by going over the ritual repeatedly. Harry by playing in the tournament. Barty Crouch Jr. by setting Harry up perfectly. And of course, my Nagini by laying near the fire and keeping herself warm constantly and storing the heat to give to me. It was not something that snakes normally did. But all she wanted was to make the transition easier for me. She was the only one who cared. The only one who came to find me when I 'died'. She returned to me out of loyalty. Not out of fear. She cared for me. She was the reason I didn't need any friends...nor want any.

I flinched as Wormtail's fast wheezy breathing grew louder again, grating on my low tolerance nerves. I saw him moving the cauldron towards me and was excited to begin. Nagini coiled herself around me tighter, as if to keep me from moving.

Her tone sounded more in awe than caring. "It will all be over sssoon."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Asss you sssshould be. You poured over the ritual enough. With all thossse booksss you were reading and the little amount of planning you were doing, I thought you'd finally gone sssenile."

"As if I would ever settle as a librarian."

"It would sssuit you."

"Quiet you."

"Yesss...My Lord. Too bad you don't have robesss to kissssss...yet."

"Why do I put up with you?"

"Becaussse Wormtail annoysss you."

"And you don't?"

"No, I feed you hatchling."

"As if. I was there when your egg produced its first crack."

"But you need taking care of."

"I won't soon. And remember, this means nothing. You are still mine."

"Asss you are mine masssster. Are you nervousss?"

"It could not possibly be worse than what I went through when my soul was pulled from my body."

"Hold your breathe." She suggested.

"No, I actually fancy gulping in copious amounts of fluid and cutting off my air passage ways."

She let out a hissy laugh, which was cut off when I flinched. How did she deal with it?

Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing grew louder as he pushed the obsidian stone cauldron across the ground. It looked adequate. By my calculations, its height and circumference would be sufficient for when I arose-when I arose, not "if". It truly was only a matter of time. He pushed the cauldron to the front of the grave where...he, the-boy-who-lived, sat, tied to the stone. I hadn't thought of him once since I was...brought here.

He'd grown since I'd last seen him. His hair was longer. His ankle was twisted. I thought about healing it for a moment. But Slytherins don't fight fair. Yes. That was our motto.

Wormtail was pointing his wand at the bottom of the cauldron trying to get a fire going, failing miserably. The air here was too misty, too humid, to ignite any kind of flame. It would be put out before you tried. What he should do is create a vortex of a small space of energy where there is no humid air and then ignite a controlled fire and let air back in to further control it. But no he couldn't do it the easy way. So instead, he gathered grass and set that on fire. He was lucky that it stayed in one spot. The idiot.

Nagini was right. He did annoy me. The real question was, why did I keep Wormtail around. But than again, Wormtail was useful. A coward to be sure, but a useful one.

"Wow, that's warm."

"I'm surprised you aren't insensitive to warm as much as you've been around the fireplace."

"I was storing heat for this moment, when you would need it the most. That potion will not be pleasant so I'm heightening your body temperature so you don't get burns."

I always knew I chose the right egg, despite what the hatcher said.

Suddenly, the heat intensified and the surface began to send out fiery sparks. I stopped the grass from burning up with a small charm that Wormtail should have had the foresight to place. The steam thickened, obscuring my sight of the boy for a moment. I was becoming increasingly impatient. The potion should have been ready the moment I got here.

"Hurry!"

The diamond encrusted waves of water nearly blinded my eyes.

"It is ready. Master."

You think, you incompetent fool?

"Now."

He began pulling the robes away from my body and the first thing I was aware of (aside from the insufferable cold) was the boy struggling to flee as he screamed into the wad of material obscuring the interior of his mouth. I would have to remember to thank Wormtail for sparing my hearing...figuratively. His new hand should be able to cover most of it. After all, Lord Voldemort was gracious to those who served him, was he not?

As he picked up my body I wrapped my arms around his neck as I looked into his revolted face, feeling momentary glee at his disgust. He walked me over to the cauldron, and for a moment, I saw what I looked like for the first and last time, reflected in the surface of the water. My skin looked scaly, my eyes were covered in a thick film like substance. I had the size of a small hairless scaly half serpent child, mutilated beyond repair.

And I was furious. Furiously happy. Happy that I was scaring the boy. Happy that he would die for what he had done to me. Overjoyed that I was getting a new body. Gleeful that I would no longer rely on Wormtail for services of which I was perfectly capable. And than he gently lowered my body into the boiling potion.

I was thankful Nagini had raised my core body temperature. It merely felt like a warm bath. If she hadn't, I might've come to my new body in boils, which would have been very uncomfortable indeed. I started sucking in lungfuls of the potion, which would be needed to rebuild my frail organs and lungs. Above me, I could hear Wormtail speaking, his voice shaking.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

I heard a crack above the surface of what I was sure was my real father's bone being lifted from his grave. I was not surprised to hear that Dumbledore was a liar when he said my father was a muggle. It was laughable to me now, given the height of his blood status, muggles were most likely no more than myth to him. I'd obviously inherited Riddle's power. Riddle, the direct descending son of the Peverel family. Ingenious.

The surface above me hissed as the bone was added and I watched with rapt attention as it turned the most poisonous shade of blue. Which I would have found delightful, were I not bathed in it myself. It was irking to be sure I thought. But than again, I was the only one who valued my life.

Interrupted from my musings, my attention was drawn to the lights danced on the surface of the water above me. It was like watching the most glorious of shows. The scenery was hypnotizing and went unbroken broken by the sound of Wormtail's cowardly pathetic whimpering as he prepared for the next step of the ritual.

"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master."

His throat ripping screech sounded as his hideously disfigured hand plopped into the cauldron before me. But before I could show further disgust, it disintegrated. The potion than turned a burning red, like flame. The light emitting from it above was so much so that I had to blink for a moment before the itch began, burning and smelling of rat as it went. I flinched as the bones in my body grew slowly and the skin stretched along with it, preparing to remove itself as a snake shedding its scales. I steeled myself as my organs grew and the itching escalated to a new level. But I laid, frozen. I would not allow myself the opportunity to move or show pain. And most certainly not in front of a servant. After all, this was simply the healing process creating skin. I grit my teeth and bared it, smiling as I heard the last line of the spell.

"B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken .. . you will. . . resurrect your foe."

I looked on as he stood above me tipping the vial in which was stored the blood that was so necessary to the completion of the ritual, this potion. The blood that I had schemed so hard to get. I flinched for a moment as the first drop fell, preparing myself for the pain. The potion turned an instant blinding white. But for all it did for me, I couldn't have cared if it blinded me...for the moment anyway.

The pain was unbearable. It took all my training not to scream as the boys blood mixed with what little was left of my own. His blood and mine mixed in what proved to be a heady cocktail that would make a masochist faint. This was every sadists wet dream. I was neither. I lay there as his magic and mine intermingled and fought for dominance. But as there was too little of his blood to fight against mine, I felt it succumb and the mind numbing pleasure was enough to turn the most brilliant theist into believing there was a god.

The ecstasy was cut short however when flesh ripped off my bones. Potion seeped into my veins whilst new skin covered my exposed organs in layers upon layers. I lay there for a moment in shock as all drifted to an inky velvety black. It was almost over. I opened my eyes in relief when I found myself standing behind the cauldron, momentarily blind.

"Massster."

For the first time in fourteen years, I looked upon my familiar with my own eyes. I would forever appreciate her value, I decided. She was precious, however, I had other endeavors on which to dwell, like the current state of my nakedness. Surely I couldn't summon my death eaters in the nude. The thought was laughable.

"Robe me."

I took pleasure in the disgust of Wormtail, who was still pathetically sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm as picked up the black robes from the ground. With one hand, he robed them over my body to hide my current state of undress.

As the mist emitting from the cauldron slowly evaporated, the boy became clearer in my line of sight. He was pale, fearful, and analyzing as he stared at me, as if I was the embodiment of a ghost from a not so distant nightmare.

It was most certainly good to be back.