"god... it's brutal out here."
[fred weasley x female! oc]
[canon divergent]
[goblet of fire - ?]
(The Harry Potter series is property of J.K. Rowling. I do not own any scenes or characters from the books or the films. Aurora Riddle is my characte...
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Aurelia can't find it in her to reply. Her voice is stuck, she is rendered speechless. Her stomach has turned to lead and her courage has abandoned her. With her lack of answer, he looks away from her and begins to examine himself. His pale, long fingers run across his face, his arms, his chest. His eyes gleam further and Aurelia's nausea returns. In front of her, somewhat alive and definitely competent, stands her father. Her very own monster under the bed, the very person she's been running from her entire life, even if she never admitted it.
His fingers flex in front of him. He doesn't take any notice of anything or anyone else for a moment.
"It is not perfect," he admits. "Only your contribution to the potion would have done that. But there was a chance that we couldn't find you, so I made the proper provisions." She can feel the abject horror on her face, but makes no move to change it. He pulls out a wand and, with a wordless wave, he throws Wormtail into the grave by Harry's feet. He laughs— cold, merciless, utterly haunting. Aurelia represses a shudder. The shine of blood on Wormtail's robes makes the sickness increase tenfold.
"My Lord..." he chokes pitifully. "My Lord, you promised... you did promise..."
He looks at him lazily. "Hold out your arm."
"Oh, Master... thank you, Master." He extends the bloodied stump but Voldemort laughs again.
"The other arm, Wormtail."
"Master, please... please," he begs. Voldemort ignores him and pulls out Wormtail's left arm. He pulls the robes up past his elbow and Aurelia's eyes find the mark that has been used so often in relation to her father, the one that had appeared in the sky above the Quidditch World Cup that summer. The Dark Mark, branded and red on Wormtail's skin, is examined by Voldemort's red eyes.
"It is back," he says softly, heard over Wormtail's sobs. "They will all have noticed it... and now, we shall see... now, we shall know..." He presses his finger to the mark, ignoring Wormtail's howl of pain. It turns jet black under his finger, each part of the brand becoming more pronounced with the colour change. "How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
The threat of other people arriving snaps Aurelia out of her horror. She spots her wands on the ground near the cauldron. Harry's wand is heavy in her hand and she'd feel much more confident with the familiar thinness and light weight of her own. As Voldemort begins to pace, turning his back on them momentarily, she waves Harry's wand wordlessly and her wand returns to her. She pushes it into the pocket of her jeans, throwing Harry's close to him and hoping for an opportune moment for the boy to regain his weapon.
He turns back to Harry with a cruel smile. "You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hisses. "A Muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child and I killed my father. And see, how useful he has proved himself, in death." He laughs again before taking up pacing again.
