Okay, guys! My official third fanfic on the chronicles of Circe Louvenia Riddle! If you haven't read the 'Finding 10538', read it first for better understanding. If you haven't read that yet, then read 'Finding Faith' for better understanding. I know I'm a particulare slow updater and even though I do have perfect excuses, I will try my best again to update quicker. Be patient because I too have a real life to lead. Anyway, Circe is now in her fourth year and we'll see what kind of trouble she's trying to get. And don't worry, Snape WILL eventually make up with her. Thanks for all your support for the previous story! You know I needed them so much :)

She felt her feet slammed into the ground and she opened her eyes to find herself prostrate on a muddy ground. Her body began to ache slowly. She quickly got up and drew out her wand. It took her awhile for her eyes to adjust to the darkness until everything was quite visible. She looked around and realised she was somewhere else, somewhere obviously far away since the mountains and castle were gone. Instead, there were tombstones and large statues of moss-covered angels and a Grim Ripper. She was in a cemetery.

There was a sound of someone grunting and Circe swung behind and saw Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory both getting up, looking equally confused. Near them was a large silver cup only a giant would use.

"Did anyone tell you the Cup was a Portkey?" Cedric asked as he looked down at the cup.

"Nope." Harry shook his head. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

Circe did not understand what task were they talking about but she wasn't bothered instead she began to study the eerie place. There was something not right, she had been to cemeteries before to attend countless funerals from her mother side but this one was different. Suddenly, she heard something else, the sound of muffled footsteps. A short figure approached from the darkness, carrying a bundle of cloth. By then, Harry and Cedric too have noticed the man with a hood, obscuring his face.

It stopped beside a towering headstone, merely six feet away from them and suddenly, Harry screamed in pain and his hands went to his scar on his forehead. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

"Harry!" Cedric called out and went for him. "What's wrong?"

Then, a high-pitch, raspy voice said, "Kill the spare."

For a moment, Circe froze and thought that she was about to be attacked and in her mind a counter-curse was already ready. But there was a swishing sound and a voice screeched into to the night air, "Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light blazed out from the darkness and a heavy object thumped to the ground. When darkness resumed, Cedric Diggory lay dead beside a bush. His eyes wide open but there was no life. Harry stared at the body and staggered with shock. But before he could do anything further, the hooded man pulled him up and dragged him towards the marble headstone.

Circe felt panic and also strange for nobody noticed her as though she was invisible. After Cedric, she had expected to be the next however, the voice only state one spare. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she did not remember how she got here or where she was before coming here. Was this a dream? An imagination?

Then, there was something slithering on the ground and Circe saw the biggest snake ever. In front on the headstone where Harry was tied to, the man unhooded and she realised it was the man she freed, Peter Pettigrew! Chill took over her. If Pettigrew was here then her father couldn't be far off. He was now pushing a large stone cauldron, enough for a full grown man to bath in it, to the front of Harry, who was constantly squirming, writhing in pain.

Circe jumped when a burst of flames were ignited and the cauldron was beginning to boil. The surface started to bubble and fiery red sparks appeared. Circe was transfixed.

"Hurry!" a cold, urgent, raspy voice said from the bundle and only Circe realised it was a tiny human wrapped in cloth.

"It is ready, my Lord." Said Pettigrew and he carried the bundle from the ground and loosen it.

Circe's heart by now was beating so hard and fast like never before. She knew what was inside the bundle and she knew what was going to happened. She has been waiting for this moment for a very very long time. She watched with anticipation as Pettigrew unwrap the little creature. Something tightened inside her when she saw an ugly, slimy, disfigured thing. It was greyish and small. It was a human child; a horribly-looking thing, its skin was dry and scaly, its limbs were feebly and stunted and its face-flat and snake-liked with gleaming red eyes.

Circe's clenched her fist until the nails dug into her palm and drew blood but she felt no pain but a silent terror. She wanted to run but she couldn't feel her legs; she wanted to scream but her tongue was tied to knots.

Revulsion was all over Pettigrew's face as he carried his master to the rim of the boiling cauldron. He gently slipped it into the bubbling black fluid and there was a loud hiss.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" Pettigrew's timid voice pronounced loudly and there was a crack on the surface of the grave at Harry's feet. Circe's eyes widened as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at his command and fell softly into the cauldron. There was a loud explosion along with a bright sparks. The black, thick fluid turned to venomous-blue.

Then Pettigrew started to whimper as though he has come to a part he dreaded the most. From his cloak, he produced a crooked dagger and his voice broke into pleading sobs. "Flesh – of the servant – w-willingly given – you will – revive – your master!" he stretched out an arm, the one with a missing finger and lifted the dagger high in the air. A voice inside Circe told her to keep her eyes open and face the violence. So she watched quietly as Pettigrew swung down the dagger. It took more than two blows to completely severe the arm off. It fall into the cauldron with a sickening splash and Pettigrew who had been screaming with agony, reduced to an anguish panting as he crouched lowly.

The cauldron changed into a fiery red colour with even more sparks this time. But it was not over yet.

Pettigrew was now slowly making his way towards Harry, whose eyes were wide with fear as he kept writhing from his bonds. "B-blood of the enemy – forcibly taken – you will resurrect your foe."

With the same bloodied dagger, Pettigrew grabbed Harry's struggling arm and blood seeped out into a phial. When there was enough, Pettigrew let go of Harry and hurried to the cauldron. With his trembling hands, he poured out the contents into the cauldron. There was an enormous loud crack and the cauldron simmered with white sparks like diamonds.

Circe smiled. It was so beautiful, this unknown magic, it was so pure and absolutely divine. It was bringing her father back and she could see him in flesh now.

The fire died and the sparks were all gone. The simmering noise died and white steam flooded out from the cauldron. Everything quietened down; even Harry was frozen with terror. Silence blanketed the cemetery once more. Then, through the mist in front of her, there was an outline of a man; tall and thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me." He said with the coldest voice Circe has ever heard. Pettigrew, cradling his mutilated arm, rushed to the man and covered his master with a black robe. As the man stepped out of the cauldron and Pettigrew backed away, bowing low, sobbing away. Harry pulled and struggled with his bonds again but his eyes could not tear away from the man with raging red eyes, nose like a snake's and slits for nostrils.

Circe couldn't help it anymore. This was it. This was the moment. And she broke into a run. "Dad! Dad! It's me! I'm your daughter!"

But the faster she ran, the further she was away from him. Her voice; no matter how hard and loud she screamed for him, it was fading into a deafening silence. And then, everything was so far away and starting to blacken. The earth was swallowing her whole into its void. Tried as she could, Circe was only being dragged, pulled and at last, she was falling into a plunging darkness. Only when she was falling, she could finally hear her screams again. But it was too late. She could hear the loud wind by her ears and she kept falling. Her head was splitting, her throat a stinging pain, her body fragile and helpless. And she kept falling...

Circe gasped as she opened her eyes with a piercing scream. Her body covered with cold sweat. At the foot of her bed, Elphias Doge's grey owl was hooting away. She got out of bed, brushed her hair and sat down. Her shaky hands were rummaging through her satchel as she brought out a parchment and began writing as she pant.

Since the hammer is unobtainable now and I understand the seriousness of this business I will face soon, reveal to me the location of the gauntlets and the belt. I have decided to pursue these weapons for the purpose of eliminating him as we have discussed before. Do not forget any other vital information that I need to know to obtain them.

I have also read up on the Triwizard Tournament. Seems exciting.

She rolled it up and stuffed it into a tiny compartment of the grey owl. "Go now!" she said and watched as it flew off the window and disappear behind a cloud. The night was calm and cool but Circe couldn't shake off the agonizing terror.

It was coming and somehow, the Triwizard Tournament was the key for there was the Triwizard Cup, a Portkey. There was no time so sleep now; she needed to know a single knowledge, the final magic to kill her father. He had his Horcruxes; she must learn something similar too. Putting on her robes, she grabbed an oil lamp and rushed to the library, all the time praying for the sake of Filch's life that he will not disturb her this time.

Hope you find this good. Do drop a review and tell me how you feel about it. Oh, yea, if you noticed I stated that there'll be romance because Circe's gonna fall in love! ;)

lOVE, Wildreams