CHAPTER FOUR
Harry ran deeper into the forest at first, then changed his mind and headed for the edge of the forest. He didn't want to get lost. He made sure to take a route that didn't take him anywhere near Wormtail.
When Harry was certain that he had left Wormtail behind, he slowed down, panting. By then the Riddle house was visible through the trees. He leaned against a tree trunk until he caught his breath, then he stepped out of the forest. He had entered it from the right side of the Riddle house, where he killed Nagini; he emerged into the overgrown backyard of the Riddle House.
Harry was so distracted by the scene with Wormtail that he didn't notice the faint glow coming from an upper window of the house, didn't consider the awful implications of such a glow. The master of the house was back…
Voldemort apparated in front of Harry.
Harry let out an involuntary sound of surprise and staggered backwards. He stumbled, and quickly righted himself.
Voldemort stared at him. "Welcome, Harry Potter."
Harry raised his wand, but his mind was blank with terror.
"Expelliarmus!" Voldemort roared, and before Harry had time to react, his wand had shot out of his hand. He made a grab for it, but he missed.
Voldemort pocketed Harry's wand. "I have been searching for you. It was you destroying my Horcruxes, was it not? Dumbledore must have known. He told you before he died."
"Yeah. Took you long enough to find me." Harry's mouth was dry, and he wondered where he found the courage to answer back. Without his wand, he was dead, and he knew it. He had failed Ron and Hermione and Lupin and Dumbledore and Sirius and his parents—
Voldemort saw his despair, and a cold light, perhaps of pleasure, entered his red eyes. He kept his own wand trained on Harry as he said casually, "Since you are about to die, Potter, I may as well tell you: you are a Horcrux."
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"That was when he told you about your being a Horcrux? And all that stuff about corrupting his soul?"
"Yeah," said Harry. In spite of everything, he allowed himself a small smile. In hindsight, it sounded like a grand adventure, and Ron and Hermione were hanging on to his every word, spellbound, their mouths slightly open. Their eyes were wide and alive with a mixture of horror and curiosity and interest and fear and excitement.
"So what happened after you told him Nagini was dead?"
"Well…" Harry frowned. "He wasn't too pleased."
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"Nagini is dead!" Harry yelled.
Voldemort went very still. Deathly still.
Afraid now, more than he had ever been in his life, Harry waited. He considered running away, into the forest, then discarded the option. Voldemort could hit him in the back with a spell, and even if he missed, who knew how many Death Eaters were roaming the forest, Wormtail included. They probably all knew that Voldemort was returning tonight. They wouldn't hesitate to kill Harry Potter.
"Nagini is dead?" asked Voldemort. Almost gently.
"I killed her myself." Inwardly, Harry marveled at his own nerve.
"Where is her body?"
Harry's look said it all: he wasn't going to tell him.
"Crucio!" And finally, Voldemort allowed his fury to show.
Harry crumpled to the floor, screaming. Pain coursed through him, black pain, red-hot pain, white pain, searing agonizing hellish pain… for minutes, for an eternity, Voldemort watched Harry writhing on the ground. Finally, he lifted the spell.
"Where is Nagini's body?" Voldemort shouted again.
Harry, sweat-slicked and panting, did not answer.
"Where is it?" Voldemort's voice rose, his red eyes were narrowed into slits.
It took all the reserves of courage within Harry to raise his finger and give Voldemort the dirty finger. He was still gasping for breath, unable to speak, but some insults were universal. Voldemort's pale skin became blotchy with rage.
"Crucio!"
Harry screamed again. His screams were so loud, neither he nor Voldemort noticed a familiar figure skulking in the trees behind the Dark Wizard. His eyes, trained on Harry, were filled with pity and horror. Hishands, one normal, one silver-white,were clenched very tightly. But whether in pain, or anger, or some other emotion, perhaps, it wasn't clear.
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"I knew it!" Hermione crowed. "I knew Wormtail was going to play a part in this!"
"How?" Ron asked.
"Harry's face," she explained. "When I was defending Wormtail, his face had wait-and-see written all over it."
"It did?" Harry asked. He had never considered his face expressive before.
"Go on," said Ron. "Question five — or is it six? — what happened next?"
Harry resumed his tale.
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When Voldemort finally lifted the Cruciatus Curse, Harry's palm was bleeding where his nails dug into his skin, and his nails were caked with dirt from where he had clawed at the ground. He felt wetness on his cheeks; he had been crying.
When he saw Peter, he thought, in his pain-induced haze, that he was imagining him.
"Where is Nagini?"
Harry didn't have enough breath to answer. His chest heaving, he stole a quick glance at the spot in the trees behind Voldemort where he thought he had seen Peter — yep, it was him, all right. Peter Pettigrew, in the flesh.
The Marauder-turned-Death-Eater was staring at the ground. Harry wondered if he should call out to him. Then he made a quick decision: he wouldn't reveal Peter. He glanced quickly at Voldemort.
If the Dark Wizard was aware of Peter's presence, he hid it well.
Help me, Harry thought, attempting telepathy in his desperation. He concentrated on Wormtail in his mind, not as he was now, but as he had been in the picture of the Marauders: a bit overweight, clean, smiling. Not a traitor.
"Where is Nagini?" Voldemort's voice cracked like a whip across the night, and Harry closed his eyes. Help me, he thought, despairing.
To Voldemort he said, his voice hoarse from his screams, "Give me my wand. Let's duel, one on one. If you beat me, I'll tell you before you kill me, I swear it."
Voldemort's stare was pitiless. "I can make you tell me without the trouble of a duel."
"Are you scared?" Harry challenged. His heartbeat was so loud, he was certain Voldemort could hear it. Don't cast the Cruciatus again, please don't, please don't—
But he had said the magic words. Voldemort's face darkened. "Scared? As you wish then, Harry Potter. Prepare to die."
He tossed Harry's wand to him. Harry barely caught it; his reflexes were off, his entire body still trembling faintly with the memory of tortuous pain. He forced himself not to glance at Peter Pettigrew. The fact that the Death Eater hadn't revealed his presence yet gave Harry great hope, though he was afraid to give in to it. If Peter was on Voldemort's side, he would surely have spoken before now… and if he wasn't on Voldemort's side, then…
"Get up."
Harry got up. His knees were unsteady.
"Let us duel," said Voldemort. Already the light of victory was glimmering in his eyes. "This time you will not be saved by the Priori Incantatem. I am using a different wand. The one that belonged to Sirius Black, I believe. Bellatrix Lestrange gave it to me, when she heard that I was searching for you. She did not want a repeat of your escape at the graveyard, the night I was resurrected."
Harry had considered that option, too, but now it was gone. Defeated by Sirius' wand, he thought grimly to himself. He set his jaw. "Start the fight, then!"
Voldemort took him literally. Without preamble, he shouted, "Crucio!"
But Harry had expected that. He dodged. Unfortunately, Voldemort had also been anticipating him. He had aimed his spell to the right, where Harry dodged, and the spell caught him in the shoulder.
Pain exploded in his head, but he had his wand. As he fell, he shouted out a counterattack, his wand aimed at Voldemort. In his agony, he wasn't aware of the spell he had used, but it must have hit its mark. The Cruciatus Curse abruptly lifted, and Harry scrambled up, panting. Opposite, Voldemort was also struggling to stand, apparently having been hit by a Leg-Binding Charm.
"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted again, just as Harry bellowed, "Sectumsempra!"
That was when Peter Pettigrew made his move.
To be continued...