24 June, 1995

Voldemort moved slowly to face Harry. He raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end. . . to black out. . . to die. . .

And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of Death Eaters' laughter.

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him."

Harry's muscles flexed weakly against the ropes tying him down, his fingers desperately grasping for his wand in his pocket but to no avail; there was no escaping the ties that bound him in place. Harry glanced around the graveyard desperately. Cedric's lifeless body lay limp, cast aside as if he were as worthless as a maggot. A group of Death Eaters, cloaked in black but their faces bright with amused malice, stood proudly in formation behind Voldemort. This was it – there was no escape this time. The warm, night air kissed Harry's face gently, blowing the hair from his forehead and revealing the brand on his forehead. Breathing heavily, Harry confidently raised his eyes to meet Voldemort's.

Voldemort's lips slowly curled into a smile.

"Harry Potter, the boy who lived," his hissed, taking small steps closer to Harry. "Come to die."

Voldemort raised his wand once more, aiming purposefully at the famous lightening bolt scar on the boy's forehead. Harry opened his mouth, surely to spit a retort in Voldemort's face, but before the breath could reach his lungs the graveyard was illuminated in green, and then Harry's world was black and cold.

Existence left in a clean, painless second; as easy as falling asleep. What once was torture to his body, a pain so deep it felt as if his very soul was tearing in two, closed finally. Pure, serene, clarity filled Harry's spirit, and a world full of darkness vanished.

"Harry," a soft, soothing voice whispered. "Love, we're here."

"It's okay, son," a deeper voice beckoned.

Harry's eyes fluttered momentarily before focusing, and for a brief moment he seemed to be looking at his own reflection. As his sight cleared, he quickly realized the eyes that he thought were his, that so closely matched in every fleck of the iris, did not belong to him; in fact, they belonged to a woman. Red of hair, a soft expression, but deep green eyes that matched his perfectly. His mother.

"Harry," she whispered softly. "You brave boy. We are so proud."

His heart swelled at the sound of her voice. The pieces of him that he craved to find for so long seemed to be filled just by the whisper of his name on his mother's lips. His gaze shifted and he saw himself again, but this time in his father. It was as if Harry was seeing himself for the first time through the two people he had been so desperate to reach his entire life. His eyes stung and he blinked rapidly, the memories of Voldemort flooding back momentarily. Lily touched his face gently, warming his cheek where her hand fell, her expression deeply loving.

"My love, you have been wonderful. You can be at peace," she whispered softly, beckoning him forward.

Struck by an overwhelming feeling of both love and relief, his gaze shifted to his father who smiled at him. James reached forward and brushed Harry's hair from his forehead.

"This is it?" Harry whispered, his voice nearly catching in his throat, unbelieving.

He felt a hitch in his chest as realized what was happening; he was leaving them behind. Everyone from Hermione, Ron, the students and professors at Hogwarts to all of the muggle born children; abandoning them. This moment, in the presence of the two individuals he desperately wanted more than anyone, meant letting go of everyone else in his life. Did he have a choice? Harry closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts. His heart was breaking. He failed them all. How could he leave them? What would happen to his friends? So many innocent people would die.

Soft fingertips ran through his hair, urging his attention from his thoughts back to his parents. James and Lily regarded him carefully, but their expressions were consoling and caring. They seemed to feel every tendril of emotion Harry felt: betrayal, remorse, guilt, but also love, warmth, and peace – all at once.

James moved to Harry, pulling his son in close, "Harry, you've done more than enough. You've been extraordinary. Your time is done, son. You can come home."

Lily stepped to the opposite side of Harry, enveloping him completely and wrapping her arms lovingly around him, "Harry; my sweet Harry. Don't cry. They are able. It's okay, they are capable, and you can let go."

This moment was all he truly longed for. He needed his parents more than he needed to be a hero. Possibly, he was never destined to fight. Maybe, somehow, he was always, truly, only meant to be a boy; not the boy who lived. Only the boy, happy, and surrounded by his family. Harry, accepting what he knew to be true, relaxed and embraced his surroundings.

His eyes stung and he closed them tightly, exhaling and feeling only the love and warmth of his parents. He reached forward, one hand finding his father and the opposite finding his mother, and with a relieved sigh his world went perfectly white and Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was at peace.

The Gryffindors screamed, cheered loudly, but only for a moment. It took a single breath before the air seemed thick with Dark Magic, and the Triwizard tournament crowd froze, every student, in their very seats. Pale, horrified faces gazed forward as everyone quickly realized the champion they were expecting to see was no hero at all. Voldemort stood proudly, smiling at the onlooking crowd of Hogwarts students and professors. He gave a slow bow and spread his arms out wide, gesturing for everyone to acknowledge the Death Eaters that stood proudly behind him. Lucius Malfoy stepped forward to Voldemort's side and carelessly dropped the limp, cold body of Harry Potter face down onto the damp grass. The crowd of students sharply gasped, and then only the soft sound of heartbeats could be heard in the among them. Bellatrix, standing nobly to Voldemort's left side, clapped her hands together and elicited a chilling, throaty laugh. Immediately, the ears of the students of Hogwarts was filled with the clapping and laughing, cheers and shouts, from the Death Eaters.

Dumbledore stepped forward, pale faced but steady and swiftly reaching for the wand tucked carefully away in his robes, but before he could even mutter an incantation, Voldemort raised his own wand. Instantaneously, ribbons of green and bright sparks flew from the tip, illuminating the sky, engulfing the students, and both silencing his Death Eaters and securing the students in front of him. Above them, deep in the dark clouds, rose the dark mark and hovered ominously overhead. The crowd dared not to breath too loudly, petrified, as Voldemort stood before them. Quickly, Death Eaters by the dozen were summoned confidently behind him.

"Harry Potter is dead," Voldemort spoke, grinning eerily at the lifeless body laid before his feet. "You, the children of Hogwarts, have a choice. My new world order is among you; accept and embrace, or suffer the same fate."

Dumbledore raised his wand, followed immediately by the dedicated professors of Hogwarts, but before their spells could fire, before they could even breathe, Voldemort and his followers were gone; his offer, warning, left lingering in the air.

25 June, 1995

The Daily Prophet

The Return of You-Know-Who

"On the night of the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we can confirm, You-Know-Who was sighted in the flesh. Reported directly by the Minister of Magic himself, You-Know-Who made his appearance and, with him, returned the body of none other than Harry Potter. Mr. Potter was pronounced dead on the scene by Albus Dumbledore. All students have been seen safely home, under direct and constant observation of Professors of Hogwarts and Aurors alike. A vigil will be held for Mr. Potter at Hogwarts on the night of June 27th, under the protection of The Ministry and Order of The Phoenix. Anyone wishing to attend must send notice by owl to The Ministry no later than the evening of the 26th, as careful arrangements will be made for entry onto the grounds of Hogwarts. Aurors and other members of The Ministry will be on site for protection. As always, in these dark times, the most extreme precautions are necessary. Anyone wishing to attend, but under the age of 18, will need a signed notice from a legal guardian. Safety, in these times, is of the most importance.

The whereabouts of You-Know-Who are currently unknown, as are that of his dedicated followers. In this dangerous time, we urge all witches and wizards to take extreme precaution. The Ministry of Magic is working tirelessly to apprehend those believed to be associated with You-Know-Who, and he as well. If you have any information regarding their whereabouts, or suspect suspicious activity, contact The Ministry immediately.

Your Ministry and The Order remain vigilant and strong in these trying times."