The Goblet of Fire - Harry Potter Male Reader Insert

32: Vocat umbras Ignis

" - Kedavra!"

" - Kedavra!"

" - Kedavra!"

" - Kedavra!"

Y/N's limp body convulsed as he was hit by the Killing Curse for the fifth time. He lay, a broken heap on the grass as Voldemort continuously threw the familiar jet of green light at his defenseless body.

Blood was smeared around Y/N's mouth, his eyes were vacant and expressionless, and with every streak of death that hit him, more blood came splattering from his mouth.

Voldemort finally lowered his wand, and reached out those long, spidery hands to grab him by a tuft of H/C hair atop his head. His fist curled around Y/N's long locks, Voldemort viciously lifted his head up to meet his crimson eyes.

"Unforgiveable." he spat, his face contorted with rage. "You dare to lay a hand on me? You, the son of a Muggle, gifted with magic you do not deserve, abandon your place as a wizard, and attack me like a common Muggle?"

Y/N's blank eyes stared into Voldemort's for half a second, then - a mouthful of blood-mixed saliva was spat into Voldemort's face.

Far too enraged to shape his anger into words, Voldemort simply slammed Y/N's head back into the ground and hit him with another Killing Curse.

Harry, who was untied, and watching this unfold, was too overwhelmed that Y/N was not dead yet to do anything. Both of his parents had died to the Killing Curse, not even having the luxury of having any last words. The life had just been - ripped from them.

And yet, when he thought his friend would suffer the same fate, when he was more frightened than he had ever been before that the cousin of his father would leave this world forever, he didn't.

It was a little too much to take.

Y/N, unable to get to his feet due to the pain, trembled as gasped as he lay at Voldemort's feet, helpless. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his teeth were gritted as he held back his groans of pain.

"I suppose your threat was simply talk, then." Voldemort hissed, glaring down at him like predator on prey. "You should be aware, your mother was subjected to this, too."

Y/N's eyes snapped open at the mention of his mother. Voldemort was delighted to see that the whites of Y/N's eyes were now stained a deep red, and crimson blood was rolling from them down his cheeks.

"She was only elated at the chance to serve me for the sake of research. She felt she had failed me, and who could blame her? She was born with the one thing I had worked tirelessly all my life to achieve, the gift of immortality..."

As he spoke, he continued to throw Killing Curses at Y/N's body.

Y/N, even in his state, noticed a very big difference in the way Voldemort spoke about Mandeville than when his Diary-Riddle counterpart had done so back in the Chamber of Secrets. The younger version of Tom Riddle had at least a hint of affection in his tone when he spoke about her. This present Voldemort, however, had none of that. He spoke about Harriet Mandeville as though she had been simply another one of his many replaceable followers.

I see, so Dumbledore was right. said the voice in Y/N's head. Somewhere along the way of Voldemort's quest for immortality, he lost the ability to love.

"It was exhilarating, throwing Killing Curse after Killing Curse at her as she screamed in agony." Voldemort continued with a dreamy smile. "The Curse that I had used countless times to snuff the lives of many of my enemies, simply did not work."