TITLE:Out of the Abyss

WARNINGS: Light, one-sided homosexuality against a minor.

TIME FRAME:Alternate graveyard scenario. Harry is 14.

RATING:T

I do not own Harry Potteror any of its franchises, but I love to play around with JK Rowling's fantastical alternate dimension.

A/N:The beginning portion of this story is taken directly from the pages of the graveyard scene in JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

...

...

...

Chapter One

"Into the Abyss"

Harry was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.

They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.

"Someone's coming," he said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was tall, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And—several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time—Harry saw that the thing in the person's arms looked like a baby… or was it merely a bundle of robes?

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry and Cedric and the tall figure simply looked at one another.

And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground, and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open.

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare."

A swishing noise and a second voice, which yelled the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished. Terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes.

Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead.

For a split second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised. And then, before Harry's mind had accepted what he was seeing, before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet.

The tall man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry toward the marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before he was forced around and slammed against it.

TOM RIDDLE

The cloaked man gripped the shoulder of Harry's cloak and ripped it, jostling Harry against the headstone as he forcibly removed the boy's outer robe. Harry was disoriented by the gripping pain in his head, and his struggles were feeble.

The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him to the headstone from his shoulders to his hips. Harry could hear fast breathing from beneath the hood of the Death Eater. He gave another weak struggle, and the man hit him; the violent motion caused the hood of his cloak to fall back. White blond hair gleamed in the moonlight, and a pale, pointed face stared at Harry through the darkness.

"You!" Gasped Harry, his eyes widening.

Lucius Malfoy, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply. He was callously checking the tightness of the cords, pulling briskly at them from every side. When he was sure Harry couldn't move an inch, he stood back to admire his work.

Harry seized the opportunity. "You have to let me go, Mr. Malfoy," he said breathlessly. His head was on fire as he tried to search Malfoy's face—all he saw there was unmasked triumph, and it sent a chill down his spine.

Lucius raised his silver-handled wand and placed the wand tip against Harry's chest, smiling gently. "Try not to move, Potter," he sneered. Then, the Death Eater withdrew a knife and small vile from the pocket of his cloak. He gripped Harry's forearm, twisting it so that the inner arm faced upward. Then, he brought up the knife and nicked the inside of Harry's arm just below his elbow.

"Hey—don't!" Harry growled, trying to yank his arm away. Lucius held it firm, now raising the small vile up to the slow trickle of blood now seeping down Harry's arm. He filled the vile with Harry's blood, and then capped it, releasing Harry to the tombstone once more.

"Your worthless blood will now serve a purpose, boy," said Lucius in an undertone. "To think… restored by the blood of Harry Potter…"

Harry stared back at him, his wide eyes flashing. He had no idea what Mr. Malfoy meant… "Did you kill Cedric?"

"Of course. What would the Dark Lord want from him? He wasn't needed."

"Murderer…" Harry whispered. "You filthy murderer!"

Lucius did not acknowledge Harry's accusations. He smiled softly, raising his wand. "Rest well, Potter." Harry did not have time to react. "Stupefy!" Barked Lucius coldly.

Harry slammed backward into the headstone and fell limp against the cords, his head rolling forward.

Still smiling, Lucius moved away from the headstone. With a wave of his wand, he conjured crisp flames beneath the heavy cauldron on the ground.

"Wormtail," he said sharply.

A short, hunched figure stumbled forward, his eyes darting from Lucius to the bundle of robes, to Harry, then back to Lucius. The rat-like man was shaking more and more as he drew nearer and nearer to the squirming bundle.

"Do it now, Wormtail." This voice issued from inside the pile of robes beside the cauldron. It was high pitched and cold.

New tremors coursed through Wormtail's body, but he slowly approached the cauldron. As he passed, Lucius held out the knife he'd used to cut Harry's arm. Wormtail took it with trembling fingers.

His beady eyes were now fixed upon the boiling contents of the cauldron. Slowly, tremulously, he extended both his arms out over the cauldron, his right hand gripping the knife above his left wrist.

He stood poised this way for several seconds, shaking, and seemingly unable to proceed.

"NOW!" Lucius ordered.

With a cry of terror, Wormtail swung the knife up, and plunged it down across his bared wrist. The splash his hand made as it hit the water was drowned out by Wormtail's scream of pain. The man fell to the ground, cradling the stump of his arm, gasping and rolling from side to side.

Lucius ignored his anguished cries, and stepped over Wormtail's shuddering form. He held out the small vile of Harry's blood, and poured it into the froth in the top of the cauldron. As he spoke memorized words in a low tone, the bundle of robes stirred and hissed, and white steam rose into the air.

"Yes," issued a rasping voice from the depths of the bundle. "Yes, I already feel the power… Put me in the cauldron, Lucius..."

...

...

...

Harry awoke slowly. His head pounded fiercely, and at first, he had no recollection of where he was. Then, the memories started flooding back to him in flashing images and sounds.

A dark graveyard surrounded him—Cedric's dead eyes stared up at him—Lucius Malfoy's face loomed so near to him that it blocked out the moon—

Harry gasped and tried to roll over, but he found that he was tightly tied to the ground on his back. His wrists were bound to the floor above his head, and his ankles were bound in identical fashion by leather-like cords on chains. The heavy chains were attached to pegs jutting out from the cold stone floor.

His Hogwarts robes had been removed and were nowhere to be seen. His shoes and socks were also missing, but otherwise he was fully clothed. He was in a spacious, dungeon-like room with no windows or doors. The source of light, dim as it was, came from a barred-off stairwell leading up to what Harry could only assume was the residence of one of his captors. There was no sound, and Harry was grateful. He wanted to be left alone for as long as possible.

Harry's right arm stung and he glanced up at it. Dried blood could be seen through a rip in his white shirt.

He thought of the little child-shaped thing in the bundle of robes…its cruel, high-pitched voice… the pain in his scar…

His heartbeat sped up. He didn't want to think about that creature. It's image in his head sent shivers through his body. He tried instead to think of Dumbledore… there was no doubt Dumbledore was searching for him. Probably aided by Sirius. And if Dumbledore and Sirius were searching for Harry, he felt sure they'd find him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push the pain in his scar to the back of his mind.

One floor above him, Lucius Malfoy sat at the head of a long, wooden table, fingers entwined before him, cold eyes fixed on the chandelier above. A smile remained etched on his marble face as he considered their unbelievable feat. Everything had changed, and it was all coming together. His master had finally returned, and it would mean a long overdue return to the old ways—the way of life that Malfoy had only ever pretended to move on from.

He would finally have his freedom back, and the power to inflict his values upon the entire wizarding community… values that would guarantee the success of pure bloodlines around the globe.

The influence of the Muggle-lovers in international government would finally be abolished, and the wizarding world would at long last be rid of those dirt-blooded imposters grown in the rancid wombs of nonmagic scum.

Best of all, the Boy Who Lived would finally be defeated.

A sneer curled Lucius Malfoy's upper lip as he saw Harry Potter's face in his mind's eye.

...

...

...