As always a huge thank you to Ambush99 for betaing this fiction.

Chapter 15

Sirius looked around trying to gauge his surroundings but, before he could, the slam of what he could only guess was a stunning spell sent him crashing to the ground, his wand clattering out of sight.

"Bind him," a cold, high voice demanded.

"Yes, my lord," a familiar wheezing voice replied. "Mobilicorpus."

His senses still dulled by the stunning spell, Sirius could do little to prevent himself being lifted into the air and slammed heavily against a statue. Ropes were conjured from mid-air, binding him tightly to the statue. He blinked his eyes several times as he tried to clear his vision. "Wormy?" he hesitated. He watched his former friend look down and away from him. He frowned as he looked down at the small bundle Pettigrew was carefully carrying. What the hell was it? How the hell was Pettigrew here? The last he had been told, he was serving a lifetime's sentence in Azkaban. How the hell had he escaped?

He watched his former friend shuffle back, using his body to guard the delicate package. Who or what the hell it was, he did not know. "Wormy," he tried, knowing his efforts would be fruitless. "Mate," he pleaded. "You don't have to do this! I can, we can help you. I swear to god I will help you. I'd never allow one of my friends to be alone, no matter how far they had fallen. Wormy, I can protect you. Just come back, come back to the light. We will fight for you, I will protect you," Sirius reassured desperately. He watched as his former friend stumbled, as though he were in a trance. He found himself frowning again, as Pettigrew dragged a large cauldron towards the fire. It had to be at least twice the size of any cauldron he had ever seen. It was full of a colourless liquid which seemed to emit its own sparks rather than the actual fire itself.

"Fuck," Sirius swore as Pettigrew pulled back the blanket to reveal a small, child-sized, misshapen creature. The creature was hairless, scaly-looking, a dark raw red with spindly looking limbs. The face, the face was like something he'd never seen before. It was flat and snake-like, with gleaming red eyes. Pettigrew carefully picked up the creature and cautiously lowered it into the cauldron. The liquid emitted a shower of dark red sparks as the creature sank beneath the surface.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given. You will renew your son," Pettigrew said in a shaky voice as he pointed his wand to a grave. The ground shook as a fine dust flew up into the air and, as directed by Pettigrew, dropped into the cauldron. The liquid hissed and sent blue sparks in every direction. Pettigrew's fear seemed to grow tenfold as he drew a small, silver dagger from his robes. His voice broke into a petrified whisper. "Flesh of the servant, w-willingly given. You will revive your master."

Realising a second before it would happen, Sirius yelled out, "NO! No Wormy, don't do it! You're not anyone's servant! You don't have to do anything. Just…!" His words were drowned out by Pettigrew's scream. Sirius closed his eyes, unable to watch. He struggled against the tight bonds, but to no avail. He hoped he was wrong, he hoped this was not one of those ancient resurrection rituals Moody had mentioned. They were just mythical, right? He slowly opened his eyes again, clenching his jaw as he prepared himself for the horrors he imagined now lay before him. He watched Pettigrew drop something into the cauldron before collapsing to the ground. The potion had now changed to a burning red, so bright it was almost blinding. He heard Pettigrew gasping and moaning in agony as he struggled towards him. "Wormy, mate, whatever it is, you don't have to do it. It's just you and I here; we can kick over the cauldron and get out of here."

"N-No," Pettigrew said in a voice close to tears. "I have to do it. He knows. He knows."

"You don't have to do anything," Sirius pleaded. "The only person who knows is me and I won't say anything."

"He will know," Pettigrew whispered as tears began to slip down his face. "I'm sorry Sirius, but I don't have a choice. I have to do this."

"Wormy," Sirius pleaded. "Whatever you are doing, you don't have to. You don't have to do anything you don't want to." He glanced at the bubbling, steaming cauldron. He had a horrible feeling he knew what, or more accurately who, was in that cauldron. "He is not your master Wormy. You can be free again. Can you remember when we were at school? The Marauders? I felt free there as well. Come on Wormy, don't do this."

"I'm so sorry Sirius, but I don't have a choice. I can't go back, I'm so sorry," Pettigrew whispered, tears streaking down his face. Holding the bloodied dagger in his right hand, he slowly stabbed it into Sirius' forearm, dragging it towards his wrist. Awkwardly, he fumbled one-handedly with a small vial, catching the blood which was now streaming down his friend's arm.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. You will… resurrect your foe."

Sirius bit back a gasp as he felt the dagger cut through his flesh. "Please Wormy. You don't have to do this," he pleaded again through gritted teeth. "Just think about what you're doing. Untie me and then run. I'll say I never saw you. Just don't do it. Don't bring him back. He'll kill you."

"I don't have a choice!" Pettigrew wheezed as he shuffled back towards the cauldron and poured Sirius' blood into it. The liquid instantly turned a blinding white. With his job done, he slumped to the side, clutching the bleeding slump of his arm.

The cauldron was now sending off diamond sparks in all directions, but nothing was happening. Maybe it has drowned, Sirius thought hopefully. Maybe Pettigrew had got it wrong, after all he'd never been the most academic. Then suddenly, almost without warning, the sparks from the cauldron were extinguished and a surge of white steam was emitted, blocking everything from view. Peter was always crap at potions Sirius thought; this will just be another failed one, he thought hopefully. But, then, through the steam, he saw the figure of a man rise. He felt as though the blood had been drained from his body. He didn't want to see the figure emerge from the mist, he knew who it was.

"Robe me," a cold, high voice said from behind the steam. Pettigrew staggered up, swaying slightly as he handed the figure a set of robes.

The figure stepped from the cauldron and stared coldly at Sirius. Sirius returned the glare. Nearly fourteen years had passed but he knew that face. It woke him from his sleep, it haunted his dreams. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was as flat as a snake's, with slits for nostrils.

Voldemort had risen again.