"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
Cedric Diggory could tell that the man speaking those words was quivering in fear. It did not overly bother him, however, as the man was probably the one who stunned him in the first place.
The ministry officials had said that the trophy would be a portkey, and that the Triwizard Champion would be transported to the entrance of the maze. So the twisting tug of the portkey had not surprised him. Appearing in an old graveyard, however - that was a new one.
He hadn't even seen the stunner that took him. Had it been minutes? Hours? Cedric could not tell. All he knew was that his arms were bound and he was standing against a large stone. Probably a gravestone. And there was a man performing a ritual.
Cedric let his eyes open slightly, just enough to get an idea of his situation. Before him was a large cauldron, a roaring fire beneath it lighting the clearing. A shaking man in ragged and tattered robes stood over the roiling liquid, his arm outstretched. In his other hand, he held a wicked looking knife.
"F-f-flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master…" And with a gasp, the man cut off his own hand. It splashed into the cauldron, which began boiling even more violently.
Cedric fought off the urge to wretch.
The man approached him, now. Cedric did not even attempt to pretend that he was still stunned, but it didn't matter. On the man's knife arm, the skull and snake mark of the Death Eaters was clearly visible.
A calm voice reached through the fear, speaking to Cedric. Trust me and live. When the knife bites you, speak these words… So it was a ritual. Cedric had heard of rituals where the magic forced you to speak the correct phrases, but this was different. It felt like a gentle whisper in his mind, and the words he was to speak did not match the death eater's incantations so far.
Perhaps that was the point.
The knife cut into Cedric's arm, and the blood flowed freely. A conjured vial appeared beneath his arm, collecting the blood. As the death eater watched intently. Cedric spoke the words quietly.
"Blood of the champion," he whispered, "Willingly given. You shall free the prisoner."
The blood was poured into the cauldron, which took a bright green tint. Cedric again fought against his reflex, for the color was the sickly green of the killing curse. He didn't even hear what the correct incantation had been, so focused was he on the boiling liquid.
"M-My Lord!" shouted the death eater, before his cowardice took over and forced him to step back. Cedric could not back away, and had to settle for closing his eyes - for the light from the cauldron was overpowering, now. Then he heard the explosion, and felt the blast of force against him.
When Cedric opened his eyes, he saw that the cauldron had ruptured and doused the flames. In the darkness, he could see only that a man now stood before him. He faced away, but Cedric could see the man staring at his hands, working the fingers and wrists, almost in wonder. The man reached out a hand, tentatively, cautiously, and wandlessly summoned a bluebell flame. The cool light washed over them, and Cedric could see the smile on the man's face.
A light chuckle came from the man. "It worked... " He said, almost to himself. He looked down and saw his nakedness, and appeared unbothered. After a moment, he transfigured a small stone into a robe, before wrapping it around himself. Another stone became a pair of comfortable-looking shoes, which the man stepped into easily.
Cedric saw the man turn toward him, and in the blue glow of the flames he got his first look at the stranger. The man's features seemed… well, honestly, Cedric found them ordinary. This man did not have the appearance of a monster one might find at the end of a dark ritual. His black hair was unruly, also unexpected. The only two features that might hint at the man's origin were the piercing red of his eyes and the curving serpentine scar on his forehead.
"Master!" The death eater seemed to have recovered himself. If a death eater calls this one master, then…
Cedric could not contain his disgust. "Voldemort." He said, bitterly. So much for trusting the voice. What had he done? Merlin, had he voluntarily helped resurrect the Dark Lord?
As if he could hear the thought, the man caught Cedric's gaze, and winked. "Come, Wormtail." The man said, in a calm, sure voice.
Wormtail approached, cradling his maimed arm, quivering in fear. The Dark Lord reached out a hand, wandlessly summoning a long pale wand from Wormtail's robes. "Your arm, Peter." Wormtail extended his bloodied stump, and the Dark Lord considered it for a moment. "You have done so much in my name, Peter Pettigrew. Of all my servants, you were the one who found us." The wand touched the stump, and Cedric watched as the wound shimmered. Stasis?
"I want to take the time, when this night is done, to make sure you receive a reward worthy of your service, Wormtail." The Dark Lord smiled, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "When this is over, we will give you a real hand of flesh, with some of my power to go with it. You will be first among my followers. How does that sound, Wormtail?"
"There is n-no higher honor, my lord…" The bleeding stopped, Wormtail seemed to calm somewhat. With another wave of the Dark Lord's wand, Wormtail seemed to steady himself instantly. Since when does the Dark Lord know battlefield medical charms?
"Now, let us summon our comrades, shall we?" Wormtail offered his other arm, and displayed the pale Dark Mark. Even in the blue light, Cedric could barely see the evil looking tattoo. Voldemort had no trouble, however, and with a smile he pressed his wand to the skull.
Wormtail reacted almost in wonder. "It does not burn, My Lord…"
"No, not yet at least." The Dark Lord was still smiling, turning his gaze to the stars in the clear sky above. "I have spent these years thinking about this moment. Planning for this moment. One might say I have done nothing but prepare." The Dark Lord chuckled. "There will be pain enough in the days to come. For the moment, I plan to enjoy this."
What a remarkably well-adjusted Dark Lord, thought Cedric bitterly.
"Yes, My Lord," Wormtail replied with a bow. Cedric could hear the adoration in the man's voice.
"Go, prepare torches. I would look my followers in the eyes." Wormtail bowed, and went to light the clearing. Voldemort walked calmly over to Cedric, who found himself pulling against the ropes on his arms.
"Relax, Mister Diggory," said the Dark Lord. Cedric looked up, preparing his defiance - and stopped. There was no anger, no malice in those cold red eyes. And now that there was quiet, Cedric realized with horror that the voice he had heard in his mind was Voldemort's.
The Dark Lord saw his confusion. "I swear it, Cedric Diggory, you will return to Hogwarts this night. So long as you remain quiet, of course." Cedric could do nothing more than stare at the Dark Lord, so different than what he had imagined. "All I ask in return is that you watch and listen."
Cedric's face must have betrayed his confusion, for the Dark Lord smiled. "Bear Witness, Mister Diggory. That is all I am asking you to do. No dark mark, no sacrifice. Well, no more sacrifice, anyway." With a quick motion, Voldemort waved his wand at the cut on Cedric's arm, and the wound healed.
Before Cedric could speak, the telltale pop of apparation announced the arrival of the first death eater. Black Robes and masks began to fill the clearing. Cedric counted fourteen death eaters, plus Wormtail. The Dark Lord turned, his hands clasped behind his back as if reviewing troops.
"Look at me, my death eaters, my most loyal. Look what they did to me."
None of the death eaters moved. They knew he had to be the Dark Lord, for how else could he have summoned them? They knew it had been his wand, none other could wield it. But the young dark-haired man before them was not who they expected.
"The ritual was a success, of course, and I am filled with power." Again he summoned a blue flame, wandlessly and wordlessly, before allowing it to float before the stunned faces of the death eaters. "Perhaps the blood of a champion was just what I needed."
One death eater stepped forward. His mask was firmly in place, but Cedric could see the long blond hair of Draco Malfoy's father. "My Lord…" he began, before the Dark Lord's shout silenced him.
"Four Thousand Nine Hundred and Eighty Four days, Lucius!" For the first time, Cedric heard the anger and rage behind the Dark Lord's words. "While you sat fattening yourself on the scraps from the ministry, my spirit wandered the dark places. Forced to subsist as a parasite, I moved as fate took me, seeking what sustenance I could find from whatever unfortunate crossed my path."
"And then," Voldemort walked along the circle of his Death Eaters, slowly removing their masks, looking closely at them. Malfoy was quivering in fear, but stood his ground. As the first mask was removed, the Dark Lord cast a meaningful glance at Cedric. "And then I was found. Do you know who found me, Executioner Walden MacNair?"
The mask removed, Cedric recognized a ministry official - Mister MacNair, the man who tried to execute the Hippogriff last year. He heard the man's growled "No, My Lord."
Voldemort stabbed a finger at Wormtail. "Peter. Bloody. Pettigrew!" The anger rose in the Dark Lord's voice as he completed his circuit. "It took a rat to hunt me down. A cowardly rat with no resources and half the magical power of my left toe, but FIND ME HE DID!" The death eaters took a step back at this, almost as a group. Cedric could see the fear now, and the sideways glances between them.
"Surely, with your resources, and half a loaf of courage, you could have found me, Mister Mulciber. Mister Parkinson. Mister Crabbe." Voldemort lectured them like children, and though his anger was still present, Cedric could almost see method in the speech. As if it were a performance.
The Dark Lord turned away, before shouting at them again, the bitter words hanging in the air. "Four Thousand Nine Hundred and Eighty Four days!" He turned to the empty end of the circle, next to Malfoy, and gestured at the bare ground.
"My most loyal subjects await me in Azkaban, having never foreswore my name. Karkaroff, on the other hand, fled at the mere mention of my name. Chasing him will be a welcome adventure."
"What of Snape, my lord?" one of the death eaters asked.
"Mister Avery," Voldemort replied, spitting the words. "Severus Snape serves two masters, and stands his post at my order. When the time comes, his true allegiance will be known by all." A dry chuckle. "You know, it was Severus who started this in the first place, of course."
"My Lord?"
A smile played across the Dark Lord's features. "I wonder if Hogwarts tells your son the story, Mister Nott. You see, there was a prophecy. A seer gave it to Dumbledore, quite by accident I'm told. Let me see. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… Severus heard the message and raced to my side, hoping to curry my favor."
Cedric could not tear his eyes away from the Dark Lord. There was emotion behind the words, Cedric could not nail it down. But the man's voice was mesmerizing, and no one spoke.
"There were two children born that year. Of them, the stronger magically was young Harry Potter. Clearly, he had to die." And then that cold smile crossed the Dark Lord's face. "But why waste that power?"
"When I went to Godric's Hollow that night, that cold Halloween night, I prepared a ritual. It would help me remain immortal, while at the same time siphoning the boy's power." A sad chuckle. "Of course, I was not the only one to prepare a ritual that night. The boy's mother prepared a surprise of her own."
Voldemort's voice was barely a whisper now, but the death eaters were hanging on every word. Cedric found that he could hear perfectly, despite the distance, and realized that the Dark Lord had charmed his voice to carry to his ears.
"She died to protect the boy, and when I killed him, the magic of that sacrifice killed me as well."
"Yet you live, My Lord! The boy died and you stand before us, triumphant!" shouted Malfoy, the fear in his voice undermining his attempt to take control of the situation.
"Of course I live. And no one living knows the secret of how that came to pass." Voldemort grinned at them. "Come, Lucius, do you expect me to give one of you the tools to take my place? I think not. Even the most loyal of you can fall to the Imperius, is that not so Mister Malfoy?"
Cedric caught another glance from the Dark Lord. "Of course, can you take the Dark Mark while under the imperius, Mister Rookwood?"
"No, my lord." This, from the other end of the circle.
"And how do you prove your worth, Miss Carrow? How do you show me that you deserve my mark?"
The lone woman, in the center of the group, looked confused. "You rape and murder a muggle, my lord."
"Indeed. As I recall, your brother here liked them rather young, didn't you Amycus?"
The man next to his sister nodded. "She was ten, my lord."
Voldemort nodded, looking to Cedric again. Cedric, for his part, felt the need to throw up again.
"And here, friends, is the founder of the feast. The Triwizard Champion. Mister Diggory," Voldemort walked closer, his red eyes glowing with emotion. "I would not be standing here if it were not for this boy's courage. Look upon him, my death eaters. Look well." And with that, Voldemort disapparated in a cloud of black mist.
The death eaters looked at Cedric, wondering which of them would get to murder him this night. When they realized their lord had moved, they looked at each other, wondering what would happen next.
Not one of them noticed the glowing tongue of fire sweeping around their line. Before any of them could react, the flame whip neatly cut their necks, and fourteen death eaters were quietly and cleanly decapitated.
Cedric watched the bodies fall, saw the heads roll away. There was no blood, the flames had seen to that, and the confessions he had just heard left him with no remorse over their deaths. He saw the Dark Lord standing on the hill behind the corpses, glowing softly in the light of the flame whip. Once the flames disappeared, the Dark Lord himself vanished once more.
It was then that Cedric realized what had truly happened. This was not a performance. This had been a trial.
The Dark Lord's voice came from his left, where Cedric saw the stunned Wormtail. Voldemort looked up at him and smiled. "Are you alright, Mister Diggory?" The voice was almost kind - not what Cedric expected from someone who had just murdered fourteen of his own followers.
"Been better," was the only reply he could give.
"Can you perform the Patronus charm, Cedric?" What the hell was this, was the Dark Lord going to apply for a job as a professor? He shook his head.
"No matter, then," said the Dark Lord. Then he laughed. "Mind you, I've never tried it before. Shall we see what happens?" With that, Voldemort stood and waved his wand. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A fine white mist emerged from the Dark Lord's wand. As Cedric watched, fascinated, the mist formed itself into a phoenix. Its wings must have spanned ten feet, easily, and it produced a song. Even the false phoenix seemed to warm Cedric's heart and calm his fears.
In the back of his mind, Cedric wondered how the hell Lord Voldemort could produce a corporeal patronus at all, let alone a bloody phoenix.
"Find Albus Dumbledore. Inform him that Cedric will return as soon as he retrieves the portkey. He was kidnapped by death eaters, but is safe and unharmed." The phoenix cried out in response, before disappearing. Voldemort chuckled. "I'll bet that gives the old man a heart attack!"
Cedric finally gathered himself. "Who are you, exactly?"
Voldemort ignored him. "When I untie you, I want you to place your hand on this man's arm, and then summon the Triwizard Cup. It will act as a portkey and return you home. When you get there, demand to speak to Amelia Bones. You know who she is, yes?"
Cedric nodded. "My father knows her. She is in charge of the DMLE."
The Dark Lord smiled. "Ten points for Hufflepuff, Mister Diggory. It is critical that she interview this man under veritaserum, and that she ask him about Voldemort's supporters, marked and unmarked. If the Minister has his way, this man will receive the Kiss before we can settle accounts." The Dark Lord looked thoughtful. "If they have not already caught him, you will need to have Professor Moody arrested as well. He is an impostor."
"Alright," Cedric replied, still unsure. He nodded to the remaining death eater. "Who is he?" Cedric had caught the name, but did not know the story.
"This, Mister Diggory, is the Potters' secret keeper. He betrayed them on that Halloween night so long ago. Sirius Black went to Azkaban for this man's crime."
Cedric nodded. "Then what happens?"
"Then, you must show your memories of this evening to Madam Bones and Headmaster Dumbledore. Show them everything from when you woke up during the ritual until you return."
Exhaustion was starting to catch up to him, but one question remained. "How do I explain you?"
The Dark Lord smiled at him, and his expression was kind. His eyes shifted from red to a deep green, and then back. "Tell them this. Voldemort fractured his soul into horcruxes. He wanted to use the death of the boy that night to fuel the creation of another one, which was to be his seventh. He got greedy, however, and tried to fuel a second ritual as well. Meanwhile, the boy's mother prepared him with an ancient blood ritual, and the fuel for that was her willing sacrifice."
The man waved his hand at the remains of the cauldron. "Sacrifices are powerful, as you learned tonight. But they are funny things. Especially when you are foolish enough to perform a ritual in a language your victim understands." He brushed his hand through his black hair. "The bones of the father gave me the most trouble, but once I snuck in an imperius, Wormtail had no trouble retrieving them. He never even asked me why we needed the bones of James Potter."
Cedric's eyes grew wide.
"And your blood, willingly given, turned the ritual into a restorative one. Taking an intact soul to restore its form, rather than a broken soul and creating a false body to house it." The man nodded to Cedric. "You helped set the stage for a battle between the remnant of Voldemort's soul, and the intact soul of the boy he tried to kill. The soul protected by his mother's love, even as it latched onto a dying Dark Lord. A soul that watched, and waited, and listened, and learned."
The Dark Lord cut the ropes, and watched as Cedric flexed his now numbed hands. A wave of his wand, and Cedric felt the pain leave him.
"Wormtail has your wand. Are you ready?"
Cedric nodded, reaching down to retrieve the wand. "Thank you."
"No, Cedric Diggory. Thank you."
Kneeling beside the death eater, he looked up one last time. The Dark Lord smiled once more.
"Tell them, Cedric. I have his knowledge, his skill. I know his secrets, his methods. Tell them they have an ally. I will find the rest of the Horcruxes. I will hunt the death eaters. Tell the Headmaster and Madam Bones that I swear on my magic, it will be done."
Cedric laughed through his fatigue. "Even with my memories, how can I convince them that Lord Voldemort just joined the fight against Lord Voldemort?"
The Dark Lord chuckled as well. "Tell them to come to the cemetery near Little Hangleton, just south of Riddle Manor. Tell them to see to the bodies." Cedric watched as the man reached out, and the trophy began to fly toward them.
"And tell them that Harry Potter sent you." Then Cedric felt the cup hit his hand, and he was gone.
A/N: This story has been updated to change the number of Voldemort's horcruxes to six. Harry's death would have created the seventh. This is mentioned in The Prisoners' Tale, a follow-up to this story that you should all read immediately.
Thank you for your reviews and feedback. (Updated 30 Oct 2018)