Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Warning: Um...I still don't know if this will be slash or not.
Dedication: For Tara, who gave me so much inspiration!
Author's Note: I just can't get this out of my head! It won't leave me alone...I don't know why. I swore once I'd never write a James-Back-From-The-Dead fic, but I am. Oh well, we all fall prey to cliche's at one point or another. I like to think mine is original though...
Body and Blood
Chapter Two
//This is wrong.// Peter couldn't shake the thought. He sat, his arms wrapped around himself, as Voldemort circled the coffin. //This is very, very wrong.// He tried to be very quiet, hoping Voldemort would forget he was there. That happened sometimes.
"Remove the lid, Wormtail."
"What?" Peter shuddered. He didn't want to do that. He wanted to pretend that none of this was happening, and that he was somewhere safe and warm and happy. But Voldemort wouldn't let him. It was as if the Dark Lord knew, went out of his way to remind Peter of who and where he was.
"Remove the lid of the coffin, Wormtail." Voldemort said again, stepping back. He looked more human then he had when was first resurrected, but still frightening. Peter nodded, scampering to his feet. He approached the coffin hesitantly, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He looked around for something to use, and found nothing. He'd have to do it by hand. Taking a deep breath, Peter placed his hands on the soft, damp wood, and pulled. It broke apart easily, filling the room with a stale scent. Peter coughed, falling backwards. He had expected some sort of resistance.
"Very good." Voldemort said. "Now remove the body."
Peter wanted to pass out. He nodded, eyes tearing. He pushed himself to his feet, and approached the coffin. He didn't want to look inside. He didn't want to see what was in there. But he had to.
Licking his lips, he peered over the edge. His eyes widened, and he felt a bit of wetness on his cheeks. That couldn't be James.
It was...practically nothing. A heap of greenish bones and red cloth. And a pair of round glasses. That was all that was left. Peter couldn't associate that with his old friend James. He reached inside, skin crawling at the feel of coarse bones. He lifted them, one by one, out of the coffin and placed them inside the circle that had been drawn. He made sure they were in order, as well. He kept talking to James in his mind, apologizing over and over again. He finished, the skeleton put together correctly, and stepped back.
"There my Lord." He said, bowing.
"Very good, Wormtail." Voldemort clasped his long, thin hands together and stepped forward. "You have done well."
"Thank you, my Lord." Peter said, bowing again. He wanted to leave now, but he knew he couldn't. //Why do these spells always call for blood?//
Voldemort began preparing the rest of the spell, placing the various items where they were needed. The heart, still red and faintly warm, was placed in the skeleton's chest cavity. Peter wanted to be ill. Phoenix feathers, bought on the black market, were scattered about the corpse. Voldemort began muttering under his breath, dropping a handful of dirt over the skeleton.
"Wormtail!" He snapped, crooking his fingers. Peter nodded, and scurried forward, offering his left arm. There was more flesh to rend there. Voldemort took out a knife, carved of bone. He dragged it from the crook of Peter's arm to the wrist, letting the blood splatter onto the skeleton and the floor. Peter whimpered, biting at his lower lip. He managed to not scream. Voldemort delighted in hurting him, whether by hand or by curse.
He was released, and fell back to the floor, crawling backwards to get out of the way. Voldemort was chanting again, summoning dark forces. A great black wind rose up in the chamber, and the room went cold. Peter shivered, holding his wounded arm close to his body. He didn't understand the words Voldemort was saying, and he didn't want to. He felt the icy prickle of unseen things, and heard what sounded like low screaming.
//This isn't right!// Peter backed himself against the wall, making himself as small as he could. Voldemort was opening a gate to the underworld. There were few things more dangerous. Voldemort, as the channeler, was in little danger. But anyone else who happened to be in the vicinity could easily be taken down when the portal closed. Often that was the case. A life for a life, a soul for a soul. The black wind was forming into a column inside the room, and Peter swore he saw spirits inside of it. And unhappy ones at that.
//NO!// He screamed in his mind. He buried his head in his knees, not able to watch. Voldemort was screaming now, to be heard over the wailing of the wind. It made Peter's head hurt, sounding akin to nails along a blackboard. It rise and rose, growing to a cacophony that threatened to burst Peter's eardrums. And then there was a flash of light that he could see behind his eyes, and everything went silent.
Peter was afraid to open his eyes. He could hear little, save his own heartbeat and the soft sound of Voldemort's breathing. He had to look. He lifted his head, opening his eyes. Voldemort was collapsed on his knees in front of....
James.
Whole, and complete, as he had been in life. Peter gasped, his throat constricting. It had worked? He wished it hadn't. How many times did he wish things hadn't worked, when they did? When Voldemort was brought back, Peter had prayed he had done something wrong, messed it up somehow. But he hadn't. And he hadn't messed this up, either.
"It has been done." Voldemort said, laughing. "It has been done!"
"Yes, Lord." Peter mumbled. //It's been done. But that doesn't mean anything. It's not over yet...//
"Come see, Wormtail." Voldemort beckoned Peter forward, and he approached slowly. He paused, not sure what to think as he looked down at James. //he looks just like he did.// Peter thought. Jet black hair, chin length and slightly curly. His eyes were closed, but his features were the same. Thin and sharp, his lips neither thin nor full. He was as well formed as before, the muscles of his arms, chest, abdomen and legs just barely defined. And he was breathing.
"You did it." Peter said, blankly.
"This is truly a historical moment, Wormtail." Voldemort said. "Ah! Look! he moves..."
Peter shuddered, watching as James' eyes twitched, and then opened. He wanted to run, to hide behind Voldemort, to fall into a hole...anything. But he could only stand, eyes fixed on James.
"How do you feel?" Voldemort asked, as a pair of soft blue eyes fell on them both.
"Awful..." James said, his voice sounding thick and muzzy.
"That is to be expected." Voldemort said. James was staring at him with an expression of confused fear.
"Where...where am I?" James asked. "What happened?"
"What is the last thing you remember?" Voldemort asked gently.
"I..." James paused, sitting up and rubbing his head. "Well..Nothing, really. Who...who are you?"
"Ah ha." Voldemort grinned. "I am Voldemort, your lord and master."
"Voldemort?" James seemed to be trying out the name. "Yeah...that sounds right."
"You suffered an accident." Voldemort continued. "But we have found you, and brought you back to the fold."
"We?"
"This is Wormtail, my *faithful* servant." Voldemort urged Peter forward. James eyed him oddly, cocking his head.
"Wormtail...I think...I know you." James said, nodding his head.
"Yes." Peter said, swallowing.
"Wormtail will get you settled." Voldemort said. "I...I must rest. Conserve my strength. Wormtail, please take James to his room and have food brought. I am certain he is quite hungry."
Peter nodded, as Voldemort stood shakily and left the room. He looked back at James, breath catching in his throat. //but he's not really James...Voldemort will be able to use his power.//
"What happened to me?" James asked.
"It's a long story." Peter said. "Do you...do you remember anything?"
"Nope." James shrugged. Do I have amnesia?"
"Yes." Peter nodded. "You don't remember any of it...Sirius, Remus, Lily, Harry..."
"Harry?" James frowned. "Why is that familiar?"
"Your son!" Peter said, latching onto that. "Harry is your son."
"I have a son?"
"Yes!" Peter continued. "With Lily, your wife. He looks just like you..."
"Oh. Where is he?" James asked. "And...why don't I have any clothes?"
"Um...I don't know." Peter said. "Here." He took off his robes, offering them to James. "They're a little short, but they'll cover you up."
"Thanks." James put them on. "So...I am really hungry..."
"Of course!" Peter nodded. "Come on."
He led James to the room that had been prepared, mulling things over in his mind. Voldemort wanted James' power. James had amnesia. Voldemort would be able to control James, unless Peter was able to bring his memories back. Which he would try to do. As long as Voldemort didn't find out...
"So who am I?" James asked, once he had food in front of him.
"You're James Alexander Potter." Peter said. "Your wife was Lily Evans-Potter. Your son is Harry James Potter."
"Wife was?" James asked.
"She's...she's dead." Peter said, choking out the words.
"Oh." James didn't seem too concerned. "Okay."
"She was killed by Voldemort." Peter continued.
"Why?" James asked. "I thought he was my lord?"
"No." Peter shook his head. "Look, you can't tell anyone I'm telling you all this! Especially Voldemort." When James nodded, Peter continued. "Voldemort is evil. He's a Dark Lord. He wants to kill everyone who isn't a pureblood. You stood against him. He...he killed you and your wife. And he tried to kill your son, but he couldn't, and he fell. But he came back, and now he's really strong again, and he brought you back to life to use you." Peter said it all quickly, in case they were interrupted.
"What?" James frowned.
"He wants to use your power. And...and I think he wants you to be some sort of trump card. That he can pull out when he really needs it.' Peter frowned, and decided to tell him everything.
"I...I was the one who let him kill you." Peter said, hanging his head. "You trusted me, and I turned you in. I'm sorry!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down." James said. "Start from the beginning."
"Voldemort was after you. I was your Secret Keeper. I...I turned you over to him. He killed you. But...he needs you now. So he brought you back. It's never been done before, but he did it." Peter swallowed hard.
"None of this makes sense." James said.
"Try and remember! Remember Harry, and Sirius! Sirius was your best friend..." Peter urged. The longer James stayed, the worse things would be.
"I think you're insane." James said finally. "Maybe...maybe if I remember more, some of this will make sense."
"But it's the truth!" Peter said, desperately. "Please..." James had to believe him. He had to, because he had to get out. He could go to Dumbledore. And Harry...harry would have his father.
"Give me some time, okay?" James said. "I mean...some of it...I know those people, the ones you named. I don't know how though."
"We are friends, in school."
"Hogwarts." James said, nodding. "I remember Hogwarts..."
"Keep remembering!" Peter felt a pain in his left arm, and winced. "I....I have to go. Lord Voldemort needs me..." He stood up, biting his lower lip. "Just try and remember, okay?"
"I will." James nodded, and Peter left him, feeling even worse now then before.
~~~~~~