Harry Potter and the Rise of the Dark Lord
By: LogicalRaven

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Hey guys, sorry I'm not updating as quickly as I have in the past, but I've been super busy lately. I'm working hard to finish this story soon. This chapter is the milestone, it should be all down hill from here, even if Harry disagrees with me.

I hope you guys aren't getting tired, I know this story had persisted a long time, be patient the end is coming….

Read and review
Nothing is my own

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A Traitor's Tale



Harry stayed close on Remus heels as they walked past the guards. Harry glanced up at them. They reminded him of the Dementors that once guarded these stone walls. They remained motionless. Remus Lupin didn't let his eyes meet theirs, he knew what they thought of him. If most of them had their choice, his soul would rot behind the walls of Azkaban as well.

December O'Riley motioned her arm to let them through and the great silver doors of the prison opened. Every description that Harry had ever heard of this desolate place did not give it justice. The stone walls were cover in a green fungus that gave it a pale green glow. The stench that hit him was a mixture of puke and bile.

Harry eyes grew wide as he continued to follow December O'Riley and Remus Lupin. Harry shook his head in amazement, how could this place be any worse. Even without the Dementors Harry could feel the walls feeding on his very soul, destroying whatever happiness remained in him.

One of the guards drew his wand as he examined he trio of visitors. He slowly removed his hood revealing what Harry could describe as the face of a demon.

"What are those thing?" Harry asked looking very confused.

December O'Riley replied flatly, "River Trolls, they're the only ones who would take the position."

The warty looking creatures didn't seem to hear the conversation behind him, and if he did he showed no sign of being insulted.
"Thirty minutes not a moment more," he said in a harsh scaly voice.

"If you need us, just tell the guard inside," December said sternly as she and Remus stopped short of the door.

Harry nodded letting his feet carry him towards the middle of the dark room. One single candle lit the dark room. A steel table remained in the middle, giving the prison an even colder appearance if it were possible.

Harry's eyes rested on the man who sat bounded by magical ropes that drifted off into nowhere. His eyes were blank and his skin was translucent. What little hair he had left the last time Harry had seen him was gone, and he was only about half his previous size. His sliver hand glimmered in the candle as Harry's eyes lingered on it for a moment.

"You've come," Peter Pettigrew said staring wildly into the darkness that concealed Harry's face. Peter's voice quivered as it spoke, causing a shiver to shot down Harry's spine.

"I didn't come for you," Harry said in an amazing amount of restraint.

Pettigrew shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the ropes around his wrist and ankles tightened.

"You own me something," Harry continued controlling his own anger as it slipped into his voice.

Peter shook, "I own you nothing, my debt is repaid."

"You think you righted your wrongs? You think you saved your damned soul?" Harry said feeling hate rise up through his head and cloud his mind.

Peter shuttered as the name of his old master slipped so elegantly off Harry's tongue.

"Surely you of all people know the power of the Dark Lord, what good would it do to resist him?" Pettigrew wept dropping his head into his pale hands.

"Why did you turn? Why did you betray them, all of them?" Harry demanded.

"I don't expect you to understand. I needed them, they protected me. Then they became selfish. They deserted me to fulfill their own lust. They had not loyalty, so why should I?" Wormtail cracked his fingers in a nervous pattern, his voice never louder than a soft whisper.

"They were your friends," Harry spat.

"Friend? Is that what they called me? They'd never understand what I went through to protect them, to protect you."

"You killed them!" Harry screamed slamming his fist down on the steel table.

Peter Pettigrew shook at Harry's words closing his eyes as if he were afraid Harry would lash out and take his life, "I would have never turned, I didn't want to turn. What was I suppose to do, they left me to defend myself and I was too weak. They left me at the mercy of her and her Dark Lord. It was all Remus fault, the werewolf knew he was sending me into the lion's den. He knew she'd toy with my mind, my lust to be something greater than I was. How could I refuse, what good would it have done?"

"THEY'D STILL BE ALIVE!" Harry said now completely losing his head.

A small grin appeared on Peter's ghoulish face, "No, they'd still be dead, and I would be rotting in the ground beside them."

"You deserve to rot," Harry said narrowing his eyes.

"Do you think I'm proud of what I've done? I cry every night over what has happened. My tears have made me weak, and the scars from his curses prove he thought nothing of me," Peter continued in his insane whisper.

"Beth, I loved Beth. She was a beautiful angel, but if I hadn't lifted my wand against her she would have be tortured. If I hadn't told him where to find James and Lily I would have been tortured too. I am tortured," Peter wept.

"How did it happen?" Harry said finding his anger lifting slightly.

Peter shrugged, "I don't really remember. I think it happened that night I went to the dance with Dreamy. I remember her tapping every so lightly with the tip of her wand. Yes, that was the first time I ever heard his voice."

"His voice? Voldemort?" Harry pushed feeling his heart pound harder in his chest.

Peter shuttered again at the mention of his master, "He told me that I would be alone if I didn't join him. He told me nobody could ever love a miserable weakling like me. He told me my friends would grow apart and forget. I couldn't survive without someone watching over me, I'm too weak."

Harry started to speak when Peter voice grew loud, "I'M DYING IN HERE! I HAVE NOTHING!!!"

"They didn't grow apart, you knew they'd always be there for you," Harry said quietly suddenly feeling an emotion similar to pity, mingled with hatred for the broken man before him.

"It was too late by then. I refused at first. I thought that nothing would ever divide me and my brothers then I saw the truth. A simple girl came between us and nearly tore us apart. Padfoot and Moony couldn't see that the whore wasn't worth it. After she placed them under her wicked spell things were never the same," Peter whispered.

"It still gave right to do what you did, and now you sit in front me with excuses," Harry said lowering his head so Pettigrew wouldn't see the tears brimming in his eyes.

The barren walls closed in on Harry as the name 'Padfoot' raced through his mind. He had forced himself not to think of his Godfather while he was in this hell known as Azkaban, but he couldn't get the ringing left by the name out of his mind.

Peter suddenly looked at Harry quizzically, "What do you want? What answers could I possible provide you?"

"What did it feel like?" Harry didn't recognize his own voice as he spoke.

"Alone. I didn't want to be around anyone at first. Then the dreams came, horrid dreams of me doing unimaginable things. I hated them at first, then began to enjoy them, I enjoyed being the one with the power to decide. Finally the eyes, I could see him through me, he had shared his gift, and I took his dark mark," Peter said with a glimmer of a fond memory in his eyes.

Harry froze unable to speak, unable to breath, "What do you mean you took his dark mark?"

Peter tried to touch his forearm against the restrains of the ropes, "It just appeared. It was then I knew I had accepted the Dark Lord, and joined his ranks, his soldiers."

Harry subconsciously touched his own forearm with a suddenly movement.

"Fight it, the power is an allusion. You are powerless in the Dark Lord's ranks," Pettigrew warned.

Harry shook his head as he came back into reality, "What about those who don't turn, what about the ones under the Imperius Curse?"

Pettigrew quivered, "The most horrid assignments are reserved for those who did not turn on their own free will, but eventually they all turn."

"What do you mean?" Harry said sharply.

"You can only deny the Dark Lord for a time, eventually he will poison your mind so that you are unaware of what is right or wrong. There is no good or evil, there is only power and those to weak to seek it."

Harry swallowed hard and rose from his seat, "The sad thing is I pity you. You could have had it all, but you threw it all away. May your soul rot in hell."

Peter shivered as Harry turned to leave the room.

"You sound just like James," he muttered as Harry closed the door behind him.

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Later that night Harry sat on his bed staring at the sleeve that covered his forearm. Moody was right after all, he was turning. He was selling his sole to the devil. He swallowed hard rolling his cuff up with painful motions.

He glanced down at his bare skin and his breath caught in his throat. A small indention was beginning. It had no shape, less than a inch in size, but Harry froze. The Dark Mark was taking him. He tore his eyes away with fury.

"I'm not going to let you take me! I'm not yours yet!" Harry said hatefully into the air around him as if he were expecting Voldemort to pop right in.

He pulled the sleeve of his shirt back down concealing the secret he wasn't ready to forget. His heart felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on him. Why was this happening? He was the one who was suppose to destroy the Dark Lord. How could he destroy the Dark Lord if he joined him.

Suddenly a thought crossed Harry mind that made him sick. What if he was fated to be the one who took Voldemort's place. Their paths were so similar, it made complete sense. He wanted to close his eyes and wake up locked in the cupboard beneath the Dursley's stairs again. Everything had been in vain. Everyone who had died had been wrong, he wasn't worth their lives. He was no better than Voldemort.

He thudded his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Voldemort wishes to believe how he believes because he doesn't want the burden of the consequences of his actions on his conscience. His most prized quality will be his undoing."