Disclaimer: (I can't believe I have to do this….) I am not the owner of Harry Potter

(PS)- Remember, this is a Horcrux not a naked, scaly babyish 'thing'you'll understand once you've read the story.

Chapter1: Return from the Dead—(Albino dude is back? )

Rain was falling slowly outside the window of a lonely shack on a mossy hillside. It creaked and trembled, as if afraid of getting wet. Outside, next to a willow tree, there implanted in the ground, were three tombstones. Three names were carved on the tombstones, of one which "Tom Riddle" was visible. The wind whistled louder than ever, shaking the leaves off of the ancient willow tree, its dried leaves falling neatly into piles. Near by, an owl hooted and soared up into the night sky. An old, crumbled piece of the Daily Prophet was rolling across the graveyard.

The Fall of the Dark Lord

(Battle at Hogwarts)

Harry Potter, "The Chosen One", once again has impressed and surprised us. Last Saturday, at Hogwarts, where Harry was known to be going to school, a bloody battle had taken place. Death eaters, giants, werewolves, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been the main reason for the battle. It took a whole night with the celebration for You-Know-Who's death.

As we've all known, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been in power for decades, and his downfall had been no doubt, once and again been caused by Harry Potter. Now, the remaining death eaters are fleeing the country. Some still claim that they were under the Imperious curse.

"We had no part in it," A captured death eater had claimed. We now are still trying to track down the rest of the death eaters………………

-Kelly Kildings-

Potter's Future

Mr. Harry Potter, once a small lovely boy, now is a handsome graduate from Hogwarts.

"Mr. Potter, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone once and for all, what are you planning to do for your future?"

"Since Voldemort is no longer a threat, I think that I might go and work at the Ministry, an Auror, maybe," Harry had replied, looking temporarily lost in thought.

"Are you and Ms. Ginny Weasly together now? Have you finally found your true love, or is Ms. Hermione Granger a second thought?"

"Well, personally, I'm really happy for Hermione that she paired up with Ron. (No complaints there, congrats) As for Ginny and me, I think we should get along pretty well."

Harry Potter, a boy of only seventeen, has shown, as Dumbledore had said many times before, the true qualities of a Gryffindor. Reporters now are still keen to get more interviews from him.

-Marty Anderson-

As the clouds thickened across the moon-less night sky, the rain fell heavier, soaking the already damp soil on the graves.

Then suddenly, with a loud crack, a figure appeared out of thin air not far from the graves. He wasn't in any of the slightest good condition. His robes that were hooding his face were torn and ragged. He was limping badly with every draw of rasping breath as if he was fighting for air. In his arms, was a bundle of midnight black robes, in which a pointing, thin object was wrapped in. Clutching the robes, as if it was his most precious possession, the figure walked slowly to a patch of clearing nest to the willow tree. He looked around, drawing a thin wand from his own robes, and with a streak of light, conjured up a caldron full of water. The water seemed to boil it self until it was steaming hot. It shone with an unusual tone of raw pink. With care, the man dropped the cloth-wrapped object into the bubbling caldron.

Almost instantaneously, the water turned a light, milky color. The man stumbled backwards, tripping over his robes. Trembling slightly, he drew out a short dagger. The man held the dagger in his left hand and shaking so violently it looked like he was having a seizure, stabbed his right arm. He yelled out in agony as blood gushed out, spilling into the caldron, which turned into a light, electric blue. Twitching and wincing, the man once again took out his wand and with a lazy flick, cracked the grave nearest to him, drew out a bone, and dropped it into the caldron. The last step was done.

The water, without warning turned a black-green color then a green so light it shone in the dark atmosphere. As if someone had turned off an alarm at that moment, the silent of the night was broken. Bats flew out of the willow tree, the full moon came out and shone on the caldron; an abnormal wind seemed to have suddenly swept over the scene. The man suddenly keeled over, clutching his left arm with his bloody right. Abruptly, the caldron exploded, but no water spilled out. Instead, a thick, black fog was gathering where the caldron had been. Revolving slowly, as if worshiping a god that had reborn, the dark fog formed into a shape of a figure. The fog cleared, and in its place stood a man—tall, thin, and skeletal faced (snake-like) with bloodshot red eyes. The newcomer took in his surroundings and laughed a high-pitch laugh that seemed to even make the moon recoil. moon twitches Smiling malevolently, the figure turned to face the other man.

"Oh, master," croaked the first man weakly, "I thought…"

"Why don't you robe me, Crouch? " replied Voldemort, fiddling with his wand, and in such a casual tone, that it sounded as if he enjoyed watching Crouch wincing in pain and misery. Crouch, with shaky hands, one still covered in blood, carefully helped Voldemort with his robes. Voldemort flexed his long, thin spidery fingers, seeming to enjoy himself very much. But when he spoke, his voice was as cold as ever.

"Ten years already Crouch," hissed Voldemort with a hint of impatience, "and yet your loyalty still lies with me?" he added in an undertone.

"Of course, my Lord," uttered Crouch in an almost pleading voice, and crawling on his knees, kissed Voldemorts's robes. Voldemort gazed down at Crouch with disgust and suddenly broke out into speech.

"What were you thinking?!" He yelled, "You failed me, you useless piece of flesh!!" He wiped out his wand, pointed it at the shaking Crouch, and shouted, "Crucio!" Crouch was lifted into the air, writhing in pain. Needles pierced his skin. His body was about to break in two when the pain eased. He was thrown onto the trunk of the willow tree, nearly knocking it over. Crouch landed in a heap on the ground, still twitching uncontrollably. He looked up, dazed and terrified.

"Master, forgive me," Crouch pleaded helplessly.

Voldemort laughed bitterly and said, "Lord Voldemort doesn't forgive that easily. Lord Voldemort doesn't forget that easily. I will expect more from you in the future."

"I swear, my Lord."

Voldemort grinned evilly and faced Crouch again. "But tell me, how did you find me, and how did you know that my wand was a horcrux?"

"Well, you see, my Lord," said Crouch, still breaking out with random spasms, "I do not know why or how it happened, but my dementor had gotten killed. So, I was returned of my soul and my memory. I had once heard you mention something about your wand, so I thought that there might not be a bad chance that it was also a horcrux. After the unfortunate affair at Hogwarts, I sneaked back in under the Invisibility Cloak that my father had once owned. I took your wand and in all of the commotion was able to sneak out under the cloak with the wand without much trouble."

"But why did you not return me to my body immediately?!" cried Voldemort, anger rising in his murderous eyes.

"I needed time, my Lord. I needed the right ingredients. As you've known, the last time Wormtail was your servant, it was almost a year before the potion was ready. And that was with your help, my Lord." Voldemorts's red eyes bored down into Crouch's, who stepped back a few paces as if Voldemort was some dirty thing that had just come out a sewage pipe. Voldemorts's hand went into his robes, evidently wanting to curse Crouch for giving him such a stupid and pathetic answer, but seemed to think better of it.

"I also got caught by the Ministry," added Crouch hastily as if he could read Voldemorts's mind. At this, Voldemort turned and faced Crouch, apparently interested. "When I got most of the ingredients," Crouch continued with great difficulty like he had just temporarily lost his memory, "I was spotted by Aurors. They had not known that I had gotten my soul back because they just stared at me like I was a hallucination and dumped me in Azkaban. The dementors had returned to the Ministry, although most of them were half-hearted (if they had a heart…). They could sense that I was different from everyone else there, that I possessed something powerful, something different. They got the general idea and sent me free secretly." This seemed to satisfy Voldemort, and he turned, walking in the direction of the graves with Crouch striding at his side to keep up.

"This is the second time you've been useful dead, father," Voldemort hissed in the up most revulsion and disgust, his red eyes shining. He faced Crouch again whose face was hopeful. "I shall return to power, Crouch. From the moment you performed the magic to return me to my true body, I became more than just a horcrux. According to Ollivander, from years ago, my wand and Harry Potter's wand have a twin cord connection. This means that now that I have returned from my wand, both of our wands must be destroyed at the same time or neither will survive. However, if I kill the owner before the wand…Oh yes, I will need time and there is a lot of work to be done. You, you will help me. I need a reliable army, one that won't disappoint me. (Like yeah right. Since when have you ever had an army that didn't disappoint you…) Werewolves and dementors are useful, yet I need something better," He brushed his robes, evidently thinking hard. When he spoke again, his voice was full of nothing but pure hatred and murder. "But first-----------I must have---------Harry Potter."