Into the Darkness
bluemoon
Hi, this is my first serious HP fic, and so I would appreciate it if you would give me some feedback on anything-if you think that I could do something to make it better, then please suggest it. I'm not saying that I will use it, but I might and, regardless, it will help!
Prelude
In Britain, a tousle-haired boy awakens abruptly as a sharp pain strikes through the thin, faint, lightning-bolt shaped scar upon his forehead. Harry Potter brushed the dark, damp fringe of bangs from his eyes and held his forehead as he gasped, waiting for the pain to stop, while feeling oddly triumphant.
He knew that it was because Lord Voldemort, the most feared and hated Dark Wizard, was feeling the same pain.
Harry didn't care about that, however. He was trying to keep himself from the memories of his darkened past, thus welcoming any distraction, including pain.
He had been having the nightmares again.
Cedric was begging him to rescue him, not to let Voldemort kill him, while Sirius was trapped in a furious battle with his own sinister cousin. He was edging closer and closer to the swinging tattered black curtain.
Only Harry, it seemed, knew what lay beyond that curtain and Sirius would not pay any attention to his godson, who was telling him, begging him, commanding him, pleading with him to stop.
He could only save one of them, and in the end, both died while he stood there, helpless.
And then he heard the scream of his parents.
It came almost every night, this dream. Tears began to soak his cheeks as he sat in his bed, the awful memories surging through him. Why him? Why always him? Why was he the one that always had to save the day? Why couldn't it be different?
"Petrificus Totallus," came a soft voice. He felt himself instantly freeze, unable to move in any way as the full body bind came into effect.
Suddenly, a man was standing by his bed, with dull, beady eyes, a twitchy nose, a gaunt and unhealthy-looking face, and a hand that seemed to be made of pure silver. It was Peter Pettigrew, the man who had murdered Cedric and also, in essence, his parents. Wormtail, the servant of Lord Voldemort.
Harry felt rage rise like a living beast within him. This was a man who he could easily use his rage and sorrow and frustration and hurt on, this was one who should be doomed to a horrible fate, this was one who deserved to die, and why shouldn't Harry kill him?
Harry, however, was paralyzed, unable to lift his wand to do anything, but some small corner of his mind reminded him that even if he was free, he wouldn't do anything.
`Why shouldn't I?' he demanded furiously of the doubting corner. The last time he had seen this man, he had used Harry in order to bring his master back to life.
That had also been when he had lost his hand.
`Because it would be wrong,' said that utterly annoying voice. But hadn't it been wrong when this thin, sniveling, rat-faced man had betrayed his own parents to Voldemort? Hadn't it been wrong when he had raised his wand and used the killing spell on Cedric, even through he had been helpless?
Harry glared murderously at the man.
Death was too good for him.
"Hello, Harry," he said in a thin, nasal voice. "I'm not here to kill you, but to make you an offer on behalf of my master."
Harry continued glaring up at him, and snorted sarcastically. Voldemort did not make offers-at least not any that were to the benefit of the receiving end.
"You've grown troublesome, Harry Potter," said the man, and Harry snorted derisively once again. It seemed to be the only way of expressing his feelings at the moment. Troublesome, he called it? "And my master wishes to be rid of you. Unfortunately, you've proven exceptionally hard to kill, and so he has decided to let you make a choice.
"I'm here to tell you that choice, Harry. You can stay here, as you are, and be killed by Lord Voldemort, or else he will invoke a spell that he has found in his research. It will allow you to slip into another world, a world just touching ours, where everything would be different."
Harry wanted to tell him just where he and his master could go, but his mouth was still frozen. Lacking any other alternative, he continued to glare at Wormtail as hatefully as he could.
"Your parents would be alive, Harry," said Wormtail.
Harry froze.
His parents….
How?
"So would Cedric and Sirius. You wouldn't remember anything that happened here.
"All the nightmares, gone."
Harry hardly breathed.
His parents? Cedric? Sirius??? All of the dreams that haunted him, gone? Just like that?
`This is Voldemort we're talking about', he thought to himself, `This can't turn out well'.
But his parents.
He wanted to say no.
He wanted to say no.
He wanted to say no.
He wanted…
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Once again, please review!
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