Harry Potter Dark Disaster

A cold wind swept through the graveyard, carrying with it the scent of decaying leaves and the faint whisper of ancient magic. Voldemort stood poised at a crossroads, the weight of centuries of darkness pressing down on him, balanced against the fragile seed of hope the Guardian had planted. He looked at Harry, still bound to the statue, his face pale and serene in his unconsciousness. The boy's fate, and perhaps his own, hung precariously in the balance.He could feel the pull of his old life, the seductive whisper of power, the intoxicating allure of absolute control. The path of darkness was familiar, well-trodden, a route paved with fear and domination. He could unleash his fury, obliterate the boy, and solidify his reign of terror. The snake at his side hissed, a low, guttural urging that resonated with the dark magic surging within him. Wormtail, ever the fawning servant, whimpered, anticipating his master's command. But then, he remembered the Guardian's words, the wisdom etched into the ancient face, the profound sadness in the knowing eyes. Redemption. The word echoed in his mind, a foreign concept, yet strangely appealing. It was a path less traveled, fraught with peril, uncertain and unknown. It demanded a confrontation with his past, a reckoning with the darkness that had consumed him for so long.He looked at his hands, the skeletal fingers, the pale skin – stark reminders of his transformation. He could feel the power still thrumming beneath his skin, the raw, untamed energy that was both intoxicating and terrifying. It was a power that could crush worlds, and yet, it felt…empty. He closed his eyes, a silent prayer escaping his lips – a prayer not to a god or a demon, but to the elusive, unfamiliar sensation of something akin to hope. He focused, drawing strength not from the dark magic within him, but from the faint flicker of a new understanding, a desperate yearning for a life beyond the shadows.He slowly raised his wand, not towards Harry, but towards the ground, the ancient earth of the graveyard. He began to speak, the incantation strange and unfamiliar even to him, the words a desperate plea for a chance at something other than annihilation.Suddenly, a searing pain shot through him, far greater than anything he'd ever experienced. It wasn't the pain of a physical wound, but a deep, gut-wrenching agony that tore at his very soul. He cried out, a guttural scream that echoed through the graveyard, as a blinding light enveloped him, a light far brighter and more terrifying than the one that had brought him into this world. The world around him dissolved into chaos, the image of Harry fading, Wormtail screaming, the Guardian's ancient eyes watching him with an expression that was impossible to decipher. And then...darkness. Only darkness.