As the flames licked the already frayed bottom of the hooded figures cloak, a cackle from another entity resonated through the graveyard and made its way through the darkness of the night. The figure in question was being suspended in the air by a gravestone, the name engraved: Tom Riddle. Unfortunately for the hooded figure however, it was the gravestone of the elder Tom Riddle, not the more malevolent younger Tom Riddle. No, the more youthful (an adjective betrayed by his looks) Tom Riddle was standing opposite the trapped hooded figure, after having just been revived from his prior spirit form. Voldemort was back and more hateful and bloodthirsty than ever – and that was saying something.

It was fair to say that things were not going exactly as one Harry James Potter had hoped they would be as the end of his fourth year had been drawing to a close, but he couldn't say he hadn't expected this unfortunate turn of events. It was after all as one of his dreams in the year had foretold. There was a difference between things turning out different to one's hopes and things turning out horribly and this time, Harry was more prepared for Voldemort's attack. Under the shadow of Harry's hood, a smirk spread across his face. He was quick to hide it however, in case it was witnessed by his most fearful foe – whilst Harry was confident in surviving, he was not certain of his ability at the moment to vanquish the one whom so many still quivered at the mention of his name.

Harry watched as the situation was made worse with the calling of the death eaters. He saw the interactions between Slytherin's heir and his followers; the ones who had not been foolish enough to try and ignore their master's calling. It was clear that they were all afraid. That was, after all, the way Voldemort had gained the support of these men. They were inspired and drawn to power but also feared it, and with good reason for it would not have been uncharacteristic of Voldemort to torture or even kill his followers. It was the power that they had been drawn to, but it was the same power that kept them in his clutches. Powerful wizards as they were, Voldemort's experience and magical prowess still outshone all of them combined.

Harry snapped out of his mesmerisation of his enemy's control that he held over his followers. He needed a plan, and it needed to be a good one. Thinking on his feet, or rather, off of them, he squirmed. This brought Voldemort's attention to him. "Ahh, how rude of me to almost forget our most honoured guest", spat Voldemort, "that would not do." The murmured agreements and chuckling of the death eaters showed that they understood who the cloaked figure was. "Although, I must say, his sense in fashion is somewhat different to what I imagined it would be. Perhaps he wishes to join us?" Voldemort questioned which received even more laughter from his followers. "Well Harry, there's no point in hanging around" and with a casual wave of his wand, Harry's binding was released and he dropped to the floor, his cut stinging. The pain which flashed across Harry's face brought a smile to Voldemort's. This was what he had longed for after all these years and he wasn't going to rush this opportunity to humiliate this boy, who had caused him so much suffering and delayed his plans by years. Oh no, The Dark Lord was going to relish this.

"Good afternoon, Tom", Harry whispered which was met with a hiss. "How dare you call me that name? That name which belonged to my filthy muggle father!" Voldemort loathed the name that was given to him at birth and Harry was going to use that to his advantage, anger clouds one's mind, and if he could infuriate Voldemort, his chances of escape would be much higher. "You should be careful what you say Tom. I hear that filth is hereditary" said Harry confidently. "You insolent dirty scum of a wizard" shouted one of the death eaters, whose voice Harry recognised as that of McNair. He stepped forward and looked as if he were about to kill the child before Voldemort pushed his hand out towards the death eater flinging him backwards. "NO!" he exclaimed, "The boy is mine and mine alone. If any of you interfere, young Harry will not be the only one who dies tonight." The death eaters all stepped back, in fear of their lord, but he knew they would do as he wished lest they had a longing for their own demise. "Boy, I trust the old fool has taught you how to duel properly?" Voldemort asked to which Harry replied "Of course. That as well as winning". He really was trying his utmost hardest to anger Voldemort and it seemed to be paying off as he was hit with an imperious curse. The effects were shrugged off easily by Harry but he decided that he would still obey Voldemort's wishes in order to lower his guard. "Lower your hood and bow, boy" Voldemort demanded and Harry did so. That was Voldemort's first mistake.

Harry punched the floor hard and as he did, a shockwave of Earth rolled out from every angle around Harry. This took all of the death eaters and Voldemort by surprise as they were all flung backwards. Voldemort soon recovered and was back on his feet firing curse after curse at Harry who was running in the direction of Cedric's limp and lifeless body – a shield erected behind him deflecting the curses. Voldemort charged a powerful exploding curse and launched it at Harry. The shield shattered instantly at the raw power of the curse. Harry turned around, aware of his lack of defences now. He withdrew his wand and started launching spells of his own – not caring about aim. Hex after hex, curse after curse was being fired at a rate that most ordinary wizards could only dream of imagining and imagine dreaming. The sheer power and ferocity with which the two duelled was shocking – especially as Harry was a mere teenager. Yet he was still managing to hold his own against someone with more than four decades of experience on him, a feat rarely achieved. Both were being forced to duck and dive to avoid each other's offensive spells. Voldemort was only becoming more angered when one of his spells struck home. A dark spell that created a poisoned gash where it hit struck Harry on his left shoulder and as he cried out in pain, he was rocketed backwards and landed next to the body of Cedric Diggory. Without a moment's hesitation, he erected a wall of earth using his right hand, which still clung firmly to his wand. "Accio cup", he shouted and the portkey flew into his outstretched hand, firing the boy and his dead companion back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

For the second time that night, a shriek pierced through the graveyard and continued to echo through the depths of the night.