The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; he struggled, and the man struck him in the face— struck him with a hand that had a finger missing. And Harry realized who was under the hood. It was Peter Pettigrew.
"You!" he gasped.
But Pettigrew, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply. He was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, Pettigrew drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry could hardly make a sound, nor could he see where Pettigrew had gone. He couldn't turn his head to see beyond the headstone, and he could only see what was directly in front of him.
Cedric's body was lying some twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. Harry's wand was on the ground at Cedric's feet. The bundle of robes, that Harry had thought a baby might be cradled in, was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. Harry watched it, and his scar seared with pain again. Suddenly, he knew that he didn't want to see what was in those robes… He didn't want that bundle opened…
He could hear something else now, right at his feet. He looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. He had to try. He had to try... "~What's going on? Can you help me?~" Harry hissed at the snake- his voice may have been muffled by the wad of material stuffed in his mouth, but thankfully, his throat and the base of his tongue were still unencumbered, so he could still speak Parseltongue well enough. The snake froze- whipped around to face him, fixing his eyes with its own.
Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within Harry's range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water — Harry could hear it slopping around — and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.
The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. The large snake slithered closer, rearing up until its forked tongue was almost close enough to flick his face. Even so, its hissed reply was so quiet that it was barely audible.
"~You are a speaker as well? I thought that Master was the only one…?~" It- or rather, she, since the snake's voice was undoubtedly that of a young woman, perhaps even a girl- seemed genuinely surprised, almost shocked by the revelation.
"~Master?~" Harry whispered, confused. "~But- Wormtail isn't…?~"
"~Pff!~" The snake flared her nostrils, snorting in derision, before catching herself, whispering again so that only Harry could hear her. "~That pathetic rat is not my master. I hate him, so much… It isn't fair. That, 'Wormtail', is beneath me- he should be my prey. I want to eat him, so very badly… But master won't let me. It's just not fair…~"
Her voice dripping with bitterness and resentment, the snake pulled away from Harry's face, sulking as it coiled itself up at his feet. There were crackling flames beneath the cauldron now. The liquid in it seemed to heat very fast- the surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And Harry heard the high, cold voice again.
"Hurry!"
"~That is Master. See how he's only talking to Wormtail? Ignoring me completely, treating me like I don't exist? Honestly…~"
The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It looked as though it was encrusted with diamonds. Wormtail turned back towards the bundle of robes on the ground, prostrating himself before it. "It is ready, Master."
"Now…" said the cold voice.
"~After all I've had to put up with, once that rat man's finally served his purpose and created Master's new body, I'd better get him tossed to me on a platter as a treat…!~"
"~…NAGINI!~" The high, cold voice hissed this time, and the pain in Harry's scar flared up again. "~What did I tell you to do? Leave Harry Potter- he is mine! Do as I demanded of you, NOW- keep guard, watch over the cemetery! You must protect Pettigrew as he carries out the ritual! Do you understand?~"
"~Perfectly, my Lord.~" the snake- Nagini- replied, the venom in her voice clearly audible. Shaking her head, she uncoiled herself, slithering off into the grass and out of sight, still muttering to herself as she went. "~We wouldn't want our precious Peter Pettigrew to get hurt, would we? No, he must be protected! Lord Voldemort commands it…!~"
LORD VOLDEMORT?! Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth.
It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind- but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Harry had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face- no child alive ever had a face like that- flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. And Harry knew, then, what it was. Who it was. Lord Voldemort- that's Lord Voldemort...
In his current form though, Voldemort seemed almost helpless; he raised his thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted him. As Wormtail did so, his hood fell back, and Harry saw the look of revulsion on Peter Pettigrew's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, Harry saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Harry heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.
Let it drown, Harry thought, his scar burning almost past endurance. Please… Let it drown…
Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.
And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.
"Flesh- of the servant- w-willingly given- you will- revive- your master."
He stretched his right hand out in front of him- the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.
Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened — transfixed with horror, unable to look away, he watched as Peter Pettigrew sliced off his own hand at the wrist, letting loose a scream that pierced the night. He saw Wormtail's severed hand plummet to the ground- heard Pettigrew's anguished panting, as he fell to his knees and plucked it up out of the pool of his own blood, then the sickening splash as Pettigrew dropped it into the cauldron, sending resonating ripples across its surface and turning the potion a burning, blinding red.
Gasping with exertion, moaning with agony, Wormtail turned away from the cauldron- turned towards Harry, and started shuffling towards him. No. NO! He wasn't going to let this happen! Harry fought to free himself, struggled hopelessly against the ropes that bound him, but they were tied too tightly, and they were too strong... Then Harry felt Wormtail's anguished breath on his face, and realized that Wormtail already right in front of him.
"B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe."
Try as he might, Harry could do nothing to prevent it. Squinting down, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail's remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm, and felt his blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Pettigrew, still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it. No, there had to be something, something he could do to stop this…
Harry watched, quivering with anger and rage, as he watched Wormtail slowly staggering back towards the cauldron with the vial of his blood. Turned his gaze for a moment, looking past the cauldron to set his eyes on Cedric's corpse- and the wand, his own wand, which lay at Cedric's feet. He'd never tried doing this spell non-verbally, let alone without a wand- but he didn't have any other options left, and this was their last chance. Harry summoned all his mental resolve, focused on his fallen wand as hard as he could, and summoned every ounce of will he possessed. ACCIO WAND!
Harry's wand leapt into the air, soaring past Wormtail- Wormtail stopped in mid-step, his eyes widening with shock and fear as he turned back around to follow the wand's path through the air- and into his hand. Wormtail scrambled for his wand, struggling to use his remaining hand to reach across and pull it out of his right pocket, barely managing to keep the vial of Harry's blood from slipping out of his fingers- but it was no use. Harry's non-verbal slicing hex was weak, but it still did enough to weaken the ropes which bound him to the tombstone; casting it again, a few of the ropes snapped, and the rest were weakened enough for Harry to finally manage to pull himself free.
Aghast, still unable to get his own wand out of his robes with his frantically shaking left hand, Pettigrew screamed at the top of his voice, sobbing with fear and frustration. "No! This wasn't supposed to happen! You can't… Nagini! NAGINI! Help m…"
Casting off the last of the ropes he'd been bound with, yanking the wad of black cloth out of his mouth, Harry strode forward, wand in hand. Bathed in the vermillion glow of the contents of the cauldron him, Wormtail recoiled, backing up into the cauldron with a clang- standing there cowering, looking this way and that, his eyes scrambling every which way except at him. It wasn't just the back-lighting of the intensely bright, all-permeating red glow coming from the cauldron behind him. Harry cast his eyes over this pitiful rodent of a man, the treacherous git who'd betrayed his parents and framed his godfather- and the murderer, who'd killed Cedric himself only a few minutes ago- and he saw red. He didn't just want to stun Wormtail- he wanted to tear him limb from limb… "Lacero! Lacero! LACERO!"
Wormtail squealed with terror as the intersecting arcs of magic sliced through the air, racing towards him. He couldn't shield himself without his wand, and he couldn't hope to evade them, not in this state- not in this form. Tossing the contents of the vial, Harry's blood, up into the air above the cauldron, off into the cauldron, he shifted into his animagus form, transforming into a rat just in time to escape dissection, and darted off into the cover of the tall grass.
Swearing loudly, Harry raced forward, trying to get a bead on Wormtail- but stopped in his tracks as his own blood completed its arc through the air and splattered down into the cauldron. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white- and Harry's heart sank to the pit of his stomach, as he realized that Wormtail had done his job after all. The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness, giving Wormtail the perfect cover to complete his escape. Nothing happened…
Let it have drowned, Harry thought, let it have gone wrong…
And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn't see anything but vapor hanging in the air. It's gone wrong, he thought… it's drowned… please… please let it be dead…
But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of something, skeletally thin, rising slowly inside the cauldron. It scrambled out of the cauldron, staring at Harry with unabated fury, and Harry stared back into a face that would haunt anyone's nightmares. Whiter than a skull, scaly and completely hairless, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's, with slits for nostrils…
It was by far the biggest, pug-ugliest, most abhorrent excuse for a rat he'd ever seen in his life.