Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)
"Yes."
The rat-faced man stirred some more into the cauldron as the voice suddenly attached itself to the mouth of the being.
"Peter," the voice called softly. "Come hither."
Peter walked nimbly like that of a mouse and twitched his imaginary whiskers. The voice was now coming from a mouth and the legs were forming. The servant was staring in awe and admiration.
"You have come back."
The being did not display any emotion because what body parts did he have to show?
"Yes, I have."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Harry's scar shot searing pain through his veins, shooting imaginary daggers in his temple like soldiers fighting inside his mind. It was as if a knife pierced his scalp. He rose from his bed. Three in the morning was not really a great time to wake up as everything around was sound asleep, oblivious to what he had felt that night.
All was calm.
Harry, tired, staggered back into bed and shut his eyes before the truth had finally shown itself.
"My Lord, you look better than ever." Peter nodded and stuttered. He twitched for a second time that night.
"Now is not the time for compliments, Peter Pettigrew!" Voldemort snapped as his body was taking complete form. His absent nostrils were intact, his piercing eyes were back, and his white, pale body frame was formed. He stepped out of the cauldron and Peter, shutting his eyes out of pure modesty and respect, handed him a robe he had conjured while Voldemort was still in progress.
"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry, my Lord," the Scabbers fraud replied shakily. "I-I-I'm just so overwhelmed with joy…"
"What have you heard?"
Harry's eyes scrunched themselves shut as lines of frustration and pain began to etch themselves on his forehead. His scar was piercing him slowly…
"Heard?
Voldemort shot sparks out of his wand due to Peter's lack of comprehension.
"Peter, don't be stupid!" he snapped angrily. "What news have you heard after my, er…"
"Disembod-d-iment, my Lord?"
"Must you make me remember such a failure?" Voldemort replied coldly.
"I'm s-s-sorry…"
"News. Now."
Harry's fists balled up as he tried to withhold the pain.
"The mudblood Granger is dead."
Voldemort grinned evilly. "Go on."
"The blood traitor Weasley is still alive but his whereabouts were unknown."
Harry struggled to breathe as visions of Voldemort speaking to Peter Pettigrew flashed before his eyes. He still had that connection with Voldemort…
"Is he still alive?"
"Who, my Lord?"
"You know who I am referring to."
Harry's breath shortened as he was hyperventilating, the pain progressively more excruciating as each second passed.
"Yes."
Voldemort clenched his wand tightly.
"Is such a thing true?"
Harry screamed.
"Yes, my Lord. Harry Potter is still alive."
Voldemort pointed his wand to the sky and shot angry bolts out of his wand. Harry felt torn apart and the vision ended. With a sweaty body but not minding it the least bit, he fell into a dreamless slumber.
But one thing still was embedded in his mind:
Voldemort was still alive and he was thirsty.
Thirsty for Harry Potter.
A/N: one of the shortest chapters I have posted. :-( sorry. HEY WHERE ARE MY REVIEWS, FRIENDS?
