"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid poisonous-looking blue.
And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his clock. His voice broke into petrified sobs. "Flesh-of the servant-w-willingly given-you will-revive-your master."
He stretched his right hand out in front of him-the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it forward.
Harry realised what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened-he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but he could not block the scream that pierced the night, that went through Harry as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail's anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Harry couldn't stand to look...but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through Harry's closed eyelids…
Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony Not until Harry felt Wormtail's anguished breath on his face did he realise that Wormtail was right in front of him.
"B-blood of the enemy..."
Harry's eyes snapped open in shock, his blood chilling. Voldemort wanted his blood? Fine, have it, he thought, resigned. He was probably going to die one way or another, based on four of Voldemort's attempts to murder him.
"forcibly taken...you will...resurrect your foe." Wormtail's left hand shook as the silver dagger poked Harry's right arm. The Animagus took a glass vial and collected a few drops of blood, then stumbled back to the cauldron. He poured it inside.
The colour of the potion turned...pink? Harry only had a split second's time to be amused before a loud bang caused pieces of stone to fly everywhere and coils of smoke to rise from the disaster. He ducked as several of them flew toward him and missed narrowly, bouncing on the damp soil behind him.
Wormtail trembled, stuck to the spot. Then-probably horrified that he did something wrong, he fell over, unconscious. The ropes that bound Harry disappeared, and he dropped to his knees in front of Tom Riddle Sr.'s tombstone.
After a while, the smoke dissipated, leaving a shadowy figure that didn't quite look like he fit in the physical world hovering over the debris in what must have been silent shock. Harry stared at the spirit, who caught sight of Harry, free from the bonds, screamed in pure fury, and faded from sight.
A few minutes later, Harry was still standing dumbly in the middle the debris. "Erm…" he said, unsure. He looked around before walking carefully forward, picking up his wand, which was lying dangerously close to Wormtail's silver dagger. Then he surveyed the wreckage once more. "Well, that was easy."