The Goblet Of Fire - Hermione Granger x OC

A Fight To The Death

"My wand, Wormtail," Voldemort whispered coldly as he approached Pettigrew.

Pettigrew obediently retrieved Voldemort's wand and presented it to him, bowing his head in submission.

"Hold out your arm," Voldemort ordered, his voice laced with menace, as he reached out to take the wand.

"Thank you, master," Pettigrew began to cry as he extended his recently severed arm.

"The other arm, Wormtail!" Voldemort barked impatiently, frustration evident in his tone.

Pettigrew trembled and held out his remaining arm, his resolve to please his master wavering. Voldemort swiftly flicked his wand, casting a spell that caused a chill to run down Pettigrew's spine.

Black smoke billowed in the sky, coalescing and descending to the ground like a malignant fog. Emerging from the smoke were shadowy figures, cloaked in dark robes and adorned with skull masks. Oliver's heart sank as recognition dawned - these were the same people who had attacked him at the Quidditch World Cup, harbingers of Voldemort's malevolent followers.

"Welcome, Death Eaters!" Voldemort said, his voice laced with a chilling cheerfulness. "Thirteen years it has been, and yet here you stand before me, as though it were only yesterday."

A smile played on his lips before his expression swiftly transformed into one of annoyance. "I confess myself.... disappointed," he stated, his displeasure evident.

"Not one of you made an effort to find me," he continued, his anger growing. He proceeded to remove the masks of his followers, causing them to fall to the floor, unconscious.

His gaze landed on one figure who seemed particularly affected, and Voldemort's voice softened, though tinged with hurt. "Not even you, Lucius," he murmured, before forcefully removing the mask from Lucius Malfoy's face.

Lucius collapsed to his knees, his voice filled with desperation. "My lord, had I detected any sign or whisper of your whereabouts..."

Voldemort cut him off, his tone dripping with disdain. "There were plenty of signs, my slippery friend, and more than whispers."

"I returned!" Pettigrew chimed in.

Voldemort walked over, closing the distance between them, causing Pettigrew to cower in terror.

"Out of fear, not loyalty," Voldemort snapped.

Suddenly, Voldemort's demeanor shifted, surprising Pettigrew as the Dark Lord's hand came to rest on his back in a seemingly comforting gesture. "Still, you have proven to be quite useful these last few months, Wormtail."

With a flick of his wand, Voldemort cast a spell that caused Pettigrew's severed arm to regenerate, conjuring a replica of a human hand in its place.

Pettigrew's eyes widened, and he began to cry anew, overcome with a mix of gratitude and overwhelming emotion. "My lord... It's beautiful. Thank you!" he stammered through his tears.

Voldemort then walked over to Henry's lifeless body, his eyes filled with malice. "Ah, what a shame," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Such a handsome boy, wasted."

"Don't touch him!" Oliver snapped, his voice filled with a mixture of grief and anger.

Voldemort turned his attention towards Oliver, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Ah, Oliver, I had almost forgotten you were here," he sneered.

"I would introduce you, but word is, you're as famous as me these days," Voldemort continued. He reached out and placed a hand on Oliver's cheek, his touch a mixture of cruel familiarity and taunting. "You are looking better than you did in our last encounter."