SuperPotterLock- The Goblet of Fire

The Death Eaters

John took one look at Voldemort and fell away. His head pounded, his arm was still numb, and when he came back to the maze, he pulled his hand away from his face and found it covered in blood.

Sherlock held him up by his shoulders, pure terror on his face. 'John, tell me that wasn't...'

'He's back,' John mumbled thickly through his bloody nose. His lip trembled to match the rest of his body. 'I can't do this... don't make me go back... I can't...'

'I'm sorry, John, but we need to know,' Sherlock said, his voice wavering. 'If we're going to stand any chance of stopping him, we need to know what happens here tonight.' He wiped John's face with his robes. 'I know you can do it.'

'I don't want to,' John groaned, 'please... Sherlock...'

Neither of them could control their tears, but Sherlock squared his shoulders and made John sit up straight. 'I know it hurts,' he said. 'I know.' He held up John's head. 'But we have to do this. You know I'm right.'

'You're always right.'

'I am,' Sherlock said firmly.

John could feel that Sherlock was just as terrified as he was, but he could also feel his surety. John used it as a platform to shove himself off.

It took a moment, but Harry reappeared before him, still bound to the marble headstone. Wormtail knelt on the ground, his robes now shining with blood.

Voldemort was now holding his wand with his white, unnaturally long fingers.

'My Lord...' Wormtail choked,' my Lord... you promised... you did promise...'

'Hold out your arm,' Voldemort said lazily.

'Oh, master ... thank you, master...'

He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed. 'The other arm, Wormtail.'

'Master, please... please...'

Voldemort bent down, pulled out Wormtail's left arm and forced the sleeve of his robes up past his elbow.

John fought his fear and disgust, and moved closer to Wormtail to look at the vivid red tattoo on his arm. It was a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth - exactly like the Dark Mark that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup.

'It is back,' Voldemort said softly, 'they will all have noticed it... and now we shall see... now we shall know...' He pressed his long forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.

John's arm burned, and he grabbed it with his still-numb hand. Pain pierced his head, combined with all twenty-six other brands that burned at once. His vision went grey for a moment, until he could pull himself together. Everything was blurry now, but John could see that the red Dark Mark on Wormtail's arm had turned jet black.

'How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?' Voldemort whispered, straightening up. 'How many will be foolish enough to stay away?'

John's vision flickered, and once again faded back to the maze. He groaned and retched, holding his head in his hands. 'I can't..' he breathed. His ears felt wet.

'Lie down,' Sherlock said. 'Take a break, but we don't have long.'

'Why not?' John mumbled, staring up at the sky. 'I can see it another time.' His eyelids were heavy.

'John, listen to me. We need information and the sooner we get it, the sooner we can tell Dumbledore so he can put in place whatever countermeasures he has planned. Every moment counts, do you understand?'