A/N: This is currently a oneshot, however, it will soon be added to and edited. A re-upload will inform you of the details. This is my first Harry Potter fic. Please R&R. It isn't much, its just a random idea that was born from a friends fictlet.
Story: Spark
Characters: Guess Who
Setting/Summery: after GoF, The Dark lord Voldemort chooses to have one of the most faithful rewarded. The plan could end up being foolproof.
Corroborated with: Felain2985
The dead gray eyes stare out from among the thousands of rotting corpses in Aszkaban Prison.
A gasp of air filling lungs is heard by none in this place - and unseen by sightless eyes.
Once gray, dead eyes are now a cold, crazed hazel. Once limp, seemingly lifeless limbs take shape and flexibility.
The first thing that hits him is the stench - the smell of death - the rotting flesh, and yet, they feel, as he had until this very moment - nothing. The next is the memory - his last, the fear, the terror, the ever blackness saturating him with its blood - and then ... nothing.
This is the Pit of Those Who Have Been Kissed...
Like a pile of leaves behind a deserted cottage - left to rot away - to nothingness, to piles of flesh and bone, and nothing else.
He blinks his eyes rapidly, wiggles his fingers in front of his face, making sure this isn't some phantom of a dream, some last nightmare by a Dementor..but it isn't.
Those who are left to rot have nothing - nothing is their very essence, no feelings, no dreams, no last hope of rescue, no pain, no soul.
His tongue darts to the corner of his mouth, tasting dried blood - weather its his, or some other poor lost soul, he doesn't care.
A maniacal grin spreads across his twisted, barely shaven face.
Deep in the belly of Azkaban Prison, crazed laughter resounds through the Pit of the Undead.
But it is in the Riddle Castle that another creature lets out a low chuckle of triumph.
"Morsemordre!"