Well, this is my first fanfiction! I'm quite excited! It's just a rewritten version of the revival of Voldemort from book 4 from Peter Pettigrew's perspective. I did it for school, and I thought it was pretty good, I guess. But it's not very creative (UnU). I hope you enjoy! Yeah, and it's a one-shot. I think that's it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Reviving the Dark Lord
I lift the small body of what was left of Lord Voldemort into my arms. He was disgusting, with his skin, a reddish black color, and his snakelike face on the body of a baby. It was all wrong. I almost toss him down and run away, but I need to stay. If I do this, I will gain his eternal respect and he won't kill me. He won't kill me. He won't kill me. If I do this, he won't kill me and I won't have to die. I put Lord Voldermort into the massive, grime encrusted cauldron. I was glad that I didn't have to touch him anymore. Now for the s-s-spell. Thinking about it makes me sh-sh-shiver. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The first part was done, I could do this, couldn't I? It was better than death. It was better than death. Was it really? But what if Voldemort kills me because of my disgust? What if he can read minds? Maybe I should just kill him, and end it all. End everything that we have worked for, stop it all, but everyone would kill me. That isn't an option now. It isn't an option; it isn't an option… is it? I can't I can't I can't. No. I can. I will be the one to resurrect the Dark Lord, and earn his eternal trust. But… still. Do I really have the strength to do this?
Dust fell into the cauldron, and the ground seemed to shake a little, as if the world would not accept this moment. The water broke and sparks flew around. Now it was time. It was time, it was t-t-time. Time to do this. "Flesh – of the servant- w-willingly given – you will – revive- your master."
I pull the dagger from my coat, the blade laughing at me. I swung the blade against my wrist, and my hand fell into the cauldron with a splish. The pain! It burned and bled, the pain flew throughout my body, oh, I need to lie down! I screamed. This was too much. But I could still stop, couldn't I. No. I was too far now. But, the pain, I need to stop now, it hurts so much, maybe death would be the better option, to be killed for failing, to be killed by the wretched child, Harry, to die here in a graveyard, a fitting place. I had to continue, but, still, the Dark Lord couldn't do anything about it, not in this state. But, the Death Eaters, they will find me, they will kill me, but won't death be nice, when I'm in this state? I'm bound to the Dark Lord, but isn't that what I want? No. I must. I will be bound to him, but I will have his honor, his praise. But, he's killed so many, James, Lily, and more, shouldn't I kill him for them. No. They were never my friends. They included me in their silly group, the Mauraders, but I was never truly one of them. I was always at the back, I was always the one who was cast behind, the fourth wheel. I should revive Voldemort because of them. I can do it now. I can do it now, I can do it because of the pain they caused me.
Now to walk over to Harry. "B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe." I raised my dagger up, and cut the child's skin, I then took a vial, shakily, and let his blood flow onto the glass. I stumbled over to the cauldron and dumped it into the thing, as soon as the liquid hit the water, it turned as white as milk, but not as comforting. It was over. I dropped to my knees and finally lay down. This was better than death, wasn't it?