The Heaviest Burden of All

This is a story I started writing almost a year ago. Ever since that a lot of things have happened, but lately I got fresh ideas for it, so I’m posting the first two chapters here to see what others think of it. Please review as I need to know if I should continue with it or not and if you like it. Thx and enjoy!

Oh, and the story takes place in the fourth HP during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. I don’t know yet where it’ll go to, though…

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Voldemort’s voice broke through the dusty graveyard as he released an almost mirthful laugh. The other Death Eaters frowned beneath their masks, save for those few who had been unmasked by their Lord or had chosen to do so freely, like Lucius Malfoy. A strange feeling took place in their midst, and even Harry sensed that something was about to change, if not to arrive.

With a lovely gesture, Voldemort raised his wand and cast a spell into the gray heaven. There was tensed silence around him, a few worried gazes, and then nothing but the waiting for the unexpected which came exactly four seconds later. Harry sucked in a breath as he recognized the Gryffindor’s coat of arms of the figure’s cloak that had just landed in front of the dark Lord.

The first sight that greeted Sheryl at her arrival, however, were Cedric’s eyes that stared wide open into the sky, a blank expression of disbelief and eternal peace on his face. A moment ago she had still been sitting next to other students from Hogwarts with Snape glaring at them because they had dared talking to each other, and now all she could actually feel was a progressing headache and a cold hand that helped her up. Her gaze stuck on Cedric for a little longer until her mind agreed to accept the boy’s death. A creepy voice made its way into her head, chasing away the silent sadness and disbelief, and forcing her eyes to follow the skeleton-like hand on her upper arm. It led straight to a wide, black coat and a snaky face that belonged to a bald head. One single look into those greenish-red eyes was sufficient to make her stomach go mad and want to release its content through the wrong exit. She had never seen any pictures or drawings of Lord Voldemort, but he seemed to be someone whose sheer appearance left no doubts behind. Her disbelieving look forced an amused laughter from said person, and the voice that followed the eerie tone sounded almost creepier.

"Sheryl", she never hated her name as much as the moment she heard it rolling off of his tongue, "Welcome, my darling… welcome back to the family."