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Walk the Deathly Edge	By : RestraintAbandoned Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 5851 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Harry Potter word, nor the Harry Potter Characters. No money is being made from the fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Walk the Deathly Edge
- 2-Chapter 1
- 1
- 2
Prologue

“Are you afraid, Harry Potter?”

Yes. Yes, Harry was afraid. Cold terror grasped Harry’s heart. Breath came in unsteady gasps as he breathed in the frigid graveyard air. Tremors shook the young wizard’s slight body. The hopelessness of the predicament Harry found himself in was suffocating, smothering the boy‘s confidence and hope. He wasn’t prepared for this. But who would be?

The source of his terror stood not ten feet away. The figure; pale and tall, hairless and snakelike, with eyes of crimson, was the Dark Lord Voldemort. The dark wizard didn’t look human. A flat nose with slit nostrils, a lipless mouth, pupils of vertical slits. Any sane being would find the Dark Lord monstrous and ugly. Harry didn’t find him ugly. No, he found Voldemort to be very striking, strangely attractive. He had an unforgettable and frightening appearance.

But what really scared Harry was the sheer amount of power this man had. The boy had never seen so much magic within one being before. And Harry had certainly never seen magic so dark. Dark, dark, black magic whipped and raged around the tall wizard, filled with murderous intent. The very atmosphere seemed to chill and darken in Lord Voldemort’s presence. A seductive, albeit still dangerous, sight in better circumstances.

In contrast to his magic, Voldemort appeared calm, lazy even, as he tilted his head and took in the sight of the small boy. Slit pupil eyes roamed hungrily over Harry’s body, moved up to his face to trace the curve of the boy’s jaw, the arch of the cheekbones, pausing briefly upon the scar. Every detail of Harry was taken in by red eyes. Slowly, those unnatural eyes came to meet the boy’s eyes. The elder wizard basked in the fear he saw there, eyes dilating in dark pleasure. Breathless laughter flowed from the lipless mouth. The laughter was quiet, yet it managed to carry over the jeering of the surrounding deatheaters effortlessly. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end. Voldemort Laughing? That couldn’t be good….

“You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?”¹ asked Voldemort softly, cruel amusement evident in his eyes.

And why shouldn’t Voldemort be amused? Harry thought despairingly. The only thing Harry learned from the dueling club was the Disarming Spell and Stunning Spell. The boy was not foolish enough to think that an expelliarmus would help him. Not against this dark wizard. He was only a fourteen year old boy, with little experience and knowledge of magic. In face of the wrath of Lord Voldemort, Harry was helpless, and they both knew it.

“Does fear hold your tongue? “ Voldemort quietly asked. The man’s snake like nostrils flared, and he breathed in deeply through his nose. Harry briefly wondered if the man could smell fear. “Come now, where is that Gryffindor courage, Harry?” another hissing chuckle was issued.

Harry remained silent as the death eaters roared in laughter.

“Very well. We bow to each other, Harry Potter.”² The Dark Lord gave a slight bow; his face remained trained on Harry, a slow smile twisting across the serpentine face. Dark magic spiked excitedly.

A spark of defiance lit within Harry. He wouldn’t bow. Not to this wizard. Not to the murderer of his parents. The man who was directly and indirectly responsible for all the pain he had suffered in his young life. If he was to die he wouldn’t allow Voldemort to humiliate and play with him. Straightening his back, Harry tried to swallow his fear and shot a defiant glare at Voldemort. It came off as rather weak…..he was still so terrified of the monster before him.

Blood red eyes lit up as they took in the boy’s defiance. That horrible grin widened. “Now Harry, niceties must be observed…Dumbledore would like you to show manners…Bow to death, Harry…..”³

Harry did not bow.

“I said, bow,”⁴ Voldemort said as he raised his wand to point at Harry. The boy felt an invisible force push his back down into a bow. Humiliation and shame swept through Harry, as unhinged laughter echoed across the grave yard, the deatheaters delighted in the sight of the Boy Who Lived bowing to their lord.

Harry lifted his head, bright green eyes clashing with malignant red. The boy could clearly see a promise of death in them.

“And now, we duel,”⁵ Voldemort gleefully rasped. In one quick movement, a curse was speeding towards Harry. The boy hadn’t seen it coming.

It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever felt, beyond even imagining. The young wizard forgot where he was, who he was. It was an all consuming nightmare. Nerve ending burst into flame. Harry was vaguely aware of screaming. His screaming.

Slitted nostrils dilated in excitement as Voldemort raptly took in the sight of the lithe form writhing and twisting in the mud. Pretty green eyes watered and scrunched in pain. Ebony hair became coated in mud. Youthful screams filled his ears. ‘A few moments longer,’ he thought.

When the pain faded, Harry gradually became aware of where he was. He knew exactly what curse had been used on him. The Cruciatus curse. How could he even dream of being able to compete with spells like that? As he laid gasping and shaking on the cold ground, his thoughts raced quickly. ‘No, no, no,’ Harry’s mind screamed at him. He couldn’t die like this, so pathetically, waiting for death. He had barely even begun to live….How he hated this helplessness. Why was he always helpless? Always trapped. This emotion, this situation was almost a parallel of his life, his years of abuse at the hands of his relatives, the duplicity of the wizarding world. The boy wanted to be free, to live. Harry forcefully pushed down the terror, and grabbed hold of the one emotion that was always with him.

Rage.

Hot, hot, boiling, burning rage. Anger scorched through his veins, focusing his mind, and exciting his magic. Harry allowed the dark emotion to consume him. Fear had never helped him as anger had.

He spotted the Twizard cup a ways outside the circle of deatheaters, forgotten. Crabbe and Goyle were in the way of the portkey. With any luck they would be as dull and pathetic as their offspring. He quickly averted his eyes, not wanting anyone catch onto his plan. How to reach it?

“Will you die lying on the ground, Harry?” Voldemort hissed quietly. “Perhaps the pain was too much for you? Crawl to me, Harry….and beg my forgiveness,” crooned Voldemort, face filled with pleasure. “Do that and I will be merciful, a quick death, you would not be made to suffer anymore.”

Harry jerkily rose to his feet. Breathless no longer from fear and pain, but from the hatred he felt for this man. He knew just the spell to distract Voldemort and his deatheaters long enough to reach the cup. A dangerous, desperate spell for a dangerous, desperate situation. They wouldn’t be able to stop it….but then neither would Harry. The young wizard spitefully hoped it maimed, if not kill, the bloody bastards. Now to see if he could successfully cast the spell.

His gaze connected with Voldemort’s. The very thought of begging this man for anything was revolting and infuriating. Harry hissed with rage, uncharacteristically snake like.

Interest entered the Dark Lord’s eyes, though it left quickly, leaving only that cold malice behind.

“I will never beg you for anything,” hissed Harry furiously, unknowingly slipping into parsletounge in his ire.

Shocked silence followed. The death eaters were no longer laughing, all eyes were uneasy as they stared at the Boy Who Live. The sound of wind playing with dead grass was the only thing to be heard in the dark graveyard.

Lord Voldemort was silent as well, eyes intense as they searched Harry’s. “No, I don’t expect you would beg me. You are surprising…such anger Harry, how beautifully your magic reacts to it,” Voldemort smoothly hissed to Harry. “A parseltongue as well? How unexpected….It irks me to think Dumbledore has had you, a speaker, in his grasp.”

The Deatheaters, hearing their master speaking the language of the snakes, began to shift uncomfortably, fear evident. Harry thought it was odd that death eaters were as irrationally afraid of parseltongue as his friends and schoolmates were.

Dark magic caressed Harry’s face, crackling across his skin, given rise to goose bumps. The boy inhaled unsteadily at the strange, but not unpleasant, sensation.

Harry’s reaction didn’t escape the Dark Lord’s notice Voldemort’s thin mouth quirked into a small smile. “No matter, I intend to rectify that now. Such a pity.” The dark wizard took a purposeful step towards the boy; long fingered hands slowly lifted the yew wand to Harry.

'Now,’ Harry thought, ‘it’s now or never.’

“Adv-”

Harry gathered all his strength, all his magic, fueled by anger and hate, lifted his wand and yelled out-

“FIENDFYRE”

Crimson eyes widened with shock. Snakes, basilisks, grims, three headed cerberus, and strange winged horses of fire sped towards Voldemort, spreading outward the closer it came to the Dark lord. Deatheathers cried out in surprise, scurrying to avoid flames. But nobody was more surprised then Harry. The boy watched his spell in pleased, wide-eyed awe. He really had not expected it to work. Harry ecstatically willed it to spread, to be even more uncontrollable. Dark pleasure coursed through him at the pained screams of an unlucky deatheather. ’Serves them right.’ It really was too bad he would not be able to watch the fiendfyre any longer. It was a magnificent sight, though Harry had thought his fire would have featured lions, phoenix, or even deer….

Of course the Dark Lord managed to escape the flames unscathed. Harry never intended for it to hit Voldemort. A large, quick spreading wall of fiery striking serpents, snarling canines, bucking horses stood between Harry and Voldemort. Luck was on Harry’s side; most of the Death eaters were separated from Harry as well.

Eyes connected briefly with angry crimson across the fire, Harry spun around, firing two stunners in rapid succession. A grunt signaled Goyle’s fall. The second stunner shot an inch over Crabbe‘s box like head. Harry couldn’t afford time to stand still, so he ran full speed, straight for Crabbe. The troll of a man just stood there dumbly, seemingly confused by Harry racing toward him, and not away.

An angry hiss told Harry that Voldemort had figured out Harry‘s plan of escape.

Now very close to the death eater, the boy aimed his wand at the over sized forehead and whispered, “Stupefy.” Harry jumped over the falling body. Only Nott was left.

Harry heard laughter as his feet hit the ground. Surprisingly it was his laughter. His magic was like electricity in his veins, sparking inside him, giddy at being used. It was a feeling of pleasure Harry had never felt before.

“STUN HIM,”⁶ a cold voice hissed furiously.

The boy was already running fast, using his quick reflexes to duck and dodge Nott’s spells. Harry aimed a stunner behind him, and cursed as it missed. And cursed once again as he noticed Voldemort quickly and gracefully making his way around the inferno.

A tombstone shattered on his left and Harry whipped his head back to the direction of the cup. The cup was less then twenty feet away….

Pain exploded in Harry’s legs, the boy dropped hard onto the ground. Harry seethed as he took in the sight of his mangled legs. The leg breaking curse. Those thin limbs were completely useless to him now. The boy gritted his teeth and bore the pain. This would not stop him. The fool should have used a stunner. Harry still had his magic.

Very close to Harry, a stunner exploded the ground. Of course now the sadistic arsehole will try to stun me. Harry sent an unsuccessful stunner of his own at Nott; the death eater easily blocked it. A smug smirk settled on the mans face, rubbing Harry in all the wrong ways.

Harry angrily gave the man a forced, pained smile. Lets see how he likes this. Pointing his wand at the advancing wizard, adrenaline rushed through the boy’s body, his heart pounding. Harry bluffed.

“Fiendfyre!”

The boy unsteadily cackled as Nott let out a strangled scream, and threw his body to dodge…nothing. Satisfaction filled Harry as he shakily whispered “Stupefy.” Harry’s slender, twitching hands held the holly wand to where Nott‘s body would fall. Realization dawned upon Nott’s face, but it was too late. Harry’s spell slammed into Nott, knocking the deatheater unconscious.

Harry was unable to move any closer towards the portkey. He could always make it come to him. The young wizard pointed his wand at the Twizard cup, and exhaustedly muttered “Accio.” As the cup hurdled toward Harry, the boy looked towards the fire. His gaze landed on Voldemort. The Dark lord was too far away, too late, to prevent Harry’s escape. The elder wizard seemed to realize this as well for he made no move to stop Harry.

Surprisingly the man was not angry that Harry Potter would escape him. Voldemort seemed very calm. The man’s dark magic was circling him lazily. Voldemort thoughtfully observed Harry, eyes half lidded, head slightly tilted.

That calm expression rapidly changed as the portkey collided with Harry. The boy hardly noticed the cup, those intense blood red eyes had him trapped and overwhelmed, never wavering from his own killing curse green glower. A smirk was worn on the pale face.

“You and I will be seeing each other very soon, Harry,” Voldemort promised quietly.

Not if Harry could help it. “No we won’t,” the boy defiantly replied. He felt the familiar tug of the portkey at his naval.

Darkly amused laughter followed him to Hogwarts.

Harry was left feeling uncomfortably paranoid.

^{1 ,2,3,4,5,6}Are lines taken directly from Harry Potter and 'The Goblet of Fire' (C) J K Rowling. This entire chapter is an event taken out 'The Goblet of Fire,' Just rewritten, with a couple things added

.AN: Did I cite that right? There's bound to be typos and grammar errors. Eventually I will have time to edit. Or get a beta.

I realize the incantation for fiendfyre is probably not fiendfyre. But it will be in this story; if I had to make up an incantation it would sound ridiculous.
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Walk the Deathly Edge