Chapter Text
Willa stared in shock at the sight before her. The large cauldron, steam rising from it. Peter Pettigrew, knife in hand as he dripped her blood into the cauldron. What in the fuck had happened, and why did it have to happen to her?
She closed her eyes for the next bit, not wanting to see a naked Voldemort. How did she know he would come out naked, you may ask? Baby Voldemort was dropped in the cauldron naked, what’s to say he wouldn't come out naked.
She heard him let out a sequence of hisses, though, they were not parseltongue but actual words, now coming out with a lisp. Willa’s eyes slowly crept open, watching through her lashes and Voldemort, now in a new body, barefoot and bald, paraded around the graveyard, a victorious smile on his serpentine face.
Willa watched as Wormtail backed away slightly, head dipped in a bow as Voldemort turned to face him, extending his arm. “Your arm, Wormtail.”
Wormtail lifted his head, hope mixed with pain swelling in his eyes. He lifted his injured arm, the one he used to bring his lord back, and stuttered out an apology. But Voldemort just swatted the arm away, a whimper leaving Wormtail’s throat as he clutched the arm to his chest.
“Your other arm!” Voldemort demanded, holding his hand out expectantly. Wormtail obediently raised his left arm, flipping it over to reveal his now fully black Dark Mark. Voldemort raised his hand and did some weird magicy-thingy, as a moment later, his followers started apperating in one by one, dropping to a bow when they caught sight of their lord.
Willa watched with fearful eyes as Voldemort started talking to his followers, holding in a panicked laugh when she watched one of them get a kick to the head. No, focus Willa, your life is in danger! She berated herself.
Willa started to wiggle in the spot, trying to push against the stone bindings she had been trapped in. Accidentally, she let out a small grunt from the effort, drawing everyone in the graveyards attention to her.
Well, that’s just great, she thought, giving up. There was no point now that she couldn't sneak away, not when she would just be killed on the spot. Though, she didn't know if that was better than having it dragged out.
Voldemort walked up to her with surprising grace, his robes billowing behind her. He started to monologue, just like all the classic villains do, but Willa tuned him out. Seriously, did every villain have to do this? She didn't know, but it sure was annoying. She could be sleeping right now, ignoring life threatening tasks and living the life. But no, she just had to be cursed when she was a toddler and live a life full of misery.
To be honest, Willa Potter had had enough.
Before Willa knew what was happening, having tuned the snake-man out, his elongated finger pressed into her forehead, sending what felt like molten lava through her veins. She let out a scream of pain, her fingers digging into the stone scythe that held her captive.
Voldemort let out a maniacal laugh, clearly enjoying her pain, before stepping back, taking the pain away. “Strange, what a few drops of blood can do.”
A few drops? Wormtail had practically taken a glassful from her. Voldemort looks thoughtful for a moment, but it’s away in the blink of an eye. “Give Miss Potter her wand, Wormtail.”
What?
Wormtail looked between Willa and his master for a moment before following his command and handing Willa her wand, scurrying back to the rest of the followers after doing so.
Willa stood on shaky legs, the after effects of the cruciatus from earlier still coursing through her. Her wand was clutched in her hand, though her grip was maybe a tad too tight as she could feel her nails leaving cuts in her palm.
“You’ve been taught how to duel, I presume?”
Willa said nothing. What else could she say? Yeah, by a pompous knock-off prick who didn't have a scooby?
Voldemort carried on, though, not caring about her silence, yet. “First, we bow to each other.” He bends slightly, but Willa kept upright, not wanting to bow to the man that killed her parents. Voldemort tutted then, a slight frown on his serpentine face. “Come now, Willow. The niceties must be observed. Dumbledore wouldn't want you to forget your manners.” His voice took a deeper note, more dangerous, more violent. “I said bow.”
Willa winced as she felt the bones in her back bend, forcing her into a bow. She didn't hear what Voldemort had said next, all she knew was the pain of what felt like thousands of knives, piercing her skin and stripping it raw.
The cruciatus curse.
She twisted and squirmed in pain, though try as she did, she couldn't get away from it. It was unrelenting. Willa didn't know how long she was held under the curse, but she didn't know that she didn't feel completely herself. It felt as though she was watching herself as an outside party, as though she wasn't really in her own body.
But that would be absurd, right?
Willa didn't want to get back up, she wanted to crawl into a hole and slowly waste away instead of fighting back, but maybe that was just growing up with the Dursley’s talking?
Willa twisted around after catching her breath, knowing that evening though she didn't want to get back up, she had to. Her knuckles slammed into the ground, using them as her boost to stand up.
She could hear the followers laughing at her, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Willa looked Voldemort in the eye, her jaw clenched. If there was one thing she was going to do today, it was make it out this fucking graveyard alive.
“Atta girl, Willow. Your parents would be proud, especially your filthy muggle mother-” Temper rising, Willa cut him off, firing a blasting curse at him, though her temper flared even more when the snake-man just waved it off like it was nothing. How dare that man, not even a man, a snake-man, insult her mother, and to her face no less!
Voldemort waves his wand towards her, and Willa is sent flying back, the back of her head smacking off a tombstone. Before she knew it, the cruciatus was back, though it didn't seem as bad this time, but maybe that was due to being subject to it a few times within an hour?
He went back to monologing, but Willa didn't care, she ran. Though she knew she wouldn't get far, she could at least hide from whatever spells he sent her way.
Gods, if any of you are real, please save me, Willa pleaded in her mind, but she knew it was fruitless. She knew the gods weren't real, just Greek Mythology. There were no Demi-gods, no Underworlds, No Tartarus, no famous Labyrinths, no nothing.
It was all fake.
But that didn't mean she still couldn't believe in it.
“Don't you turn your back on me!” She could hear him yell, could hear the thinly veiled fury in his voice. “I want you to look at me when I kill you, Willow Potter! I want to see the light leave your eyes!”
Was she going to be a coward? Fight back and potentially lose her life? Stand up for all that she had been taught in her last four years of being a witch? Run away while she could, sneak out the graveyard and run for the hills?
Willa’s ‘hero-complex’ took over her. She couldn't leave the whole of Wizarding Britain at his fingertips, couldn't leave them to suffer on the off chance that she could actually win this stupid duel.
With that, Willa stepped out from behind the large tombstone she was hiding behind with a bated breath, her wand buzzing beneath her fingertips. Before she could stop herself, words came out of her mouth. “Have it your way then, Tom.”
Oh, Gods, did I just deadname him in front of all his followers?
The two wands rose in unison, one firing a jet of green light, the killing curse, while the other fired a red light, the torture curse.
Willa strained under the pressure, her joints seizing up as she focused all her strength into not getting killed by the psychopath in front of her.
You can do this Willa, just breathe, focus, you got this!
Her hyping up got cut short as she saw in her peripheral vision that the small group of followers had raised their wands, planning to take her out themselves.
Oh Gods, fuck, eh- okay, focus Willa, focus on the snake-man in font of you, not the dozen madmen running towards you with their wands raised, and not their bodily wands, but actual wands, wands that will kill you.
“No!” Voldemort shouted when he, too, noticed his minions running to his defence. “She’s mine to finish!”
Possessive much?
What happened next, no one had expected.
The wind picked up, water droplets flowed from all around – the ground, the air, the condensation from the cauldron. They all swirled around Willa, fogging her brain up before she passed out.
A power surge emitted from her, knocking everyone over. But when they stood up, looking around the graveyard, they noticed one thing in particular. Not the dead body, not the Tri-Wizard Tournament Cup.
But where Willa Potter was lying on the ground, now revealed an empty patch of grass.