Introduction: This HP story was inspired by a post I saw on Tumblr. What if Cedric wasn't killed in the fourth book? What if he lived? What if the four Tri-wizard tournament champions formed an alliance? This fic will attempt to answer that question. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Three's a Crowd, Four's an Army.
Chapter One
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER FRANCHISE.
A/N: I take no responsibility for any phrases lifted from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in this chapter.
The whirl of colors abruptly stopped, and Harry crashed into the ground, grimacing as pain shot through his injured leg. He raised his head and looked around. The portkey had taken them to a dark graveyard. To their right was a large grove of trees. On the left was a road leading away and up a hill, and in the distance, Harry could just make out a manor. They were nowhere near Hogwarts, that was for sure. The landscape was completely unfamiliar.
"Where are we?" Harry asked.
Cedric shrugged. "I have no idea," he said. After a second, he added, "Wands out, maybe?"
Harry took out his wand as Cedric helped him to his feet, and the two of them stood back-to-back, scanning the area. There was a feeling of malevolence in the air, as if a being of great evil was nearby. Harry had a sudden eerie feeling that he was being watched.
"Someone's coming," he said impulsively. As if on cue, a cloaked, hunched figure came slowly out of the darkness of the graveyard. He felt Cedric tense against his back.
The unknown person approached Harry and Cedric, cradling what looked like a bundle of rags.
"Who are you?" Cedric asked fiercely. When no answer came, he raised his wand. "What do you want with us?"
Harry briefly looked down at the bundle of rags, and suddenly a violent pain exploded in his scar, worse than anything he had ever felt before. He sank to the ground in a daze of pain, his wand slipping from his hand.
Then, from the bundle of rags, came a rasping voice.
"Kill the spare."
"Avada Kedavra!" This voice was high and squeaky, and must have come from the cloaked figure, as Harry saw a wand slash through the air. He had heard that voice somewhere before.
Through eyes squinted with pain, Harry saw a green flash of light, and next to him, a gasp followed by the sound of robes billowing out, and a body hitting the ground.
"No…"
The pain in Harry's scar reached new levels, and for a moment, all he could do was retch helplessly. When the pain finally diminished somewhat, he opened his eyes, fearing what he would see. Cedric was lying prostrate on the ground, his robes thrown over his body and obstructing his face. But the lack of movement told Harry all he needed to know.
Cedric was dead.
Harry stared dumbfoundedly at Cedric's body, refusing to believe the evidence before him. Then he was being pulled up by Cedric's killer and dragged towards the graveyard. With a thud, Harry was thrown roughly against a marble headstone. Twisting his head, Harry made out a name on the gravestone.
TOM RIDDLE
Now the cloaked figure was conjuring ropes and tying Harry to the grave with them. Harry struggled, shoving his head into the figure's chest. His hood fell, revealing a familiar ratlike face.
Wormtail.
"You!" Harry gasped, struggling violently against the ropes, but to no avail. Wormtail didn't reply, instead conjuring more ropes around Harry. When the ropes were so tightly bound around Harry that he couldn't move, Wormtail stuffed a black cloth in Harry's mouth and hurried off into the darkness. Harry took the opportunity to look around. The bundle of rags was lying nearby on the ground- except that it wasn't a bundle of rags. There was something stirring inside them, and whatever that thing was, it was causing the pain in his scar to flare up again. Harry looked away. Further behind the bundle of rags was the Triwizard cup that had brought them there, and Cedric's sprawled body. Wormtail was coming back now, dragging a huge stone cauldron with him. He set the cauldron down next to the grave and waved his wand, filling the cauldron with what seemed to be water. Next, Wormtail lit a fire under the cauldron. The liquid bubbled and then boiled, sending sparks shooting out of the cauldron.
That wasn't ordinary water, Harry decided.
Then Wormtail moved to pick up the thing on the ground, pulling away the rags as he did so. What Harry saw terrified him. It looked vaguely like a human baby, but no human baby had dark, reddish skin, tiny, sticklike limbs, a snakelike face, or gleaming red eyes. It seemed like an alien. Fear flooded Harry's body in a torrent, electrifying him. He pulled against the ropes as hard as he could, but there was no give in them. Wormtail lifted the creature up with a look of utter revulsion on his face, carried it to the cauldron, and dumped it in.
Please let it drown, Harry thought. Drown..please drown… The pain in his scar was once again building to new heights of agony.
Wormtail closed his eyes and spoke shakily, raising his wand. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The ground at the foot of the grave cracked, and a fine cloud of dust trickled out of it, and at Wormtail's direction, fell into the cauldron. The liquid hissed ferociously, sending out a storm of sparks and turning a nauseous shade of blue. Whimpering, Wormtail drew a dagger out of his cloak.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you w-will revive your m-master," he intoned haltingly.
He laid his right hand out and raised the knife with his left hand.
As Wormtail closed his eyes, Harry realized what was about to happen and squeezed his eyes shut. But lack of sight could not block out Wormtail's raw, ear-piercing scream, or the sound of something falling to the ground. Then there was a splash, as if something had been dropped into the cauldron. When Harry opened his eyes again, the cauldron's contents were now shimmering an evil red. Now Wormtail was approaching him, gasping in agony and clutching the silver dagger.
"Bl-blood of t-the enemy- forcibly taken- y-you w-will resurrect your foe," he whispered.
As Wormtail grabbed Harry's arm, it dawned on Harry exactly what was about to happen. But he could do nothing, nothing at all. The ropes allowed no movement, no struggle. He gritted his teeth as the dagger pierced his skin, making a long, thin cut. As blood seeped out, Wormtail fumbled with his pockets, pulling out a small glass vial to catch the blood as it dripped out. When he had a sufficient amount, he stood up and staggered back to the cauldron, dumping the blood inside. Then he collapsed to the ground, sobbing quietly. Harry could only watch in fear as the cauldron simmered, tossing fierce sparks outward and lighting up the night with a brilliant light. Suddenly, the sparks stopped, and a massive column of steam rose out, obscuring every part of the graveyard, and hiding Cedric and Wormtail and the cauldron, so all that Harry could see was the swirling white vapor in front of him.
Did it go wrong? He wondered, squinting into the mist. But it had not gone wrong. That became clear as the dark outline of a man, tall and thin, rose slowly out of the mouth of the cauldron.
"Robe me," the figure said, in a high, cold voice.
Wormtail, still moaning and sobbing, grabbed the black robes from the floor and pulled them over the head of the man in the cauldron. The now black-robed man stepped out of the cauldron, looking carefully at Harry. Harry looked back at the reptilian face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. The face was smoother than polished marble and whiter than snow, with two slits for nostrils where his nose would have been, and livid crimson eyes.
Lord Voldemort had returned.
Now he turned away from Harry, scrutinizing his own body. He ran his pale, spidery hands over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, and his face, feeling every inch of his skin. Wormtail, lying nearby, crying and cradling his bleeding stump of an arm, and the giant snake, which had returned and was circling Harry again, and Harry himself, seemed to be of no matter to Voldemort at the moment. For now, he was preoccupied with his new body. He reached into a pocket of his robes and drew out a wand, and held it with the same reverence that he had when he had explored his new body. Then he raised the wand and pointed it at Wormtail, who was jerked into the air and thrown into the headstone that Harry was bound to, and lay there, sobbing and twitching. Lord Voldemort threw his head back and laughed- an unnatural, cold, and humorless laugh, a murderer's laugh.
"My Lord," Wormtail gasped, "Please… you promised…"
"Hold out your arm," Voldemort said carelessly.
"Oh, master.., thank you…" Wormtail held out the bleeding stump, but Voldemort shook his head.
"The other, Wormtail." He bent down and pulled on Wormtail's other arm, dragging the sleeve up, revealing a magical tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth- the image that had appeared during the Quidditch World Cup. The Dark Mark. Voldemort pressed it with his forefinger, and Harry's scar seared with fresh pain, as Wormtail doubled over, crying even harder. Voldemort straightened up and surveyed the graveyard.
"How many will come when they feel it?" he mused. "And how many fools will ignore it and seal their deaths?"
Thunder rumbled faintly, followed by a distant lightning flash. A storm was gathering on the horizon. Voldemort paid no attention to it as he paced the graveyard for a minute, saying nothing. The only noise came from Wormtail, as he clutched his wound and whimpered. Eventually, Voldemort stopped pacing. His eyes fell on Harry.
"Harry Potter. You are upon the remains of my late father. A muggle fool. But his bones gave me new life… so he was not without his uses." He gestured to the manor in the distance. "You see that house, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a pureblooded witch, fell in love with her, but my father abandoned her when he heard what she was. He didn't like witches, my father."
Voldemort trailed off and started pacing slowly again. "Listen to me, reliving family history. Why, I am becoming sentimental. But look, Harry Potter. My real family approaches."
All around the graveyard, the air came alive with the sound of swishing cloaks as hooded, masked wizards apparated in. They approached cautiously, as if not believing the sight in front of them. Voldemort stood regally in the middle of the graveyard, awaiting their action. Then one of them rushed forward, fell to his knees, crawled to Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his robes.
"Master… Master…" he murmured, backing away.
The rest of the Death Eaters followed suit, each kissing Voldemort's robes before backing away and standing up, forming a circle, albeit with some gaps.
Voldemort looked around. "Welcome, Death Eaters," he said quietly. "It has been thirteen years since we have last met. And yet we are still together under the Dark Mark. Or are we?" He sniffed the air. "I smell guilt. A stench of guilt." He took a step towards several Death Eaters, all of whom flinched. "I see healthy, respectable wizards, who immediately answered my call. I ask you, why did you not come to my aid earlier?"
No one spoke.
"Perhaps," Voldemort began, "They thought me truly dead. They thought that I was gone; so they returned to my enemies, pleading ignorance and bewitchment. And I ask, how did they think that I, Lord Voldemort, one so powerful who has taken so many steps towards immortality, could possibly think that I was dead?" He held out his hands, as if beseeching an answer. No one came forward.
"I think," Voldemort whispered dangerously, "That I am disappointed… Very disappointed."
Thunder rumbled again, much closer this time. Some Death Eaters stirred, but Voldemort did not bat an eye.
"The weather shares my disappointment in you, I see," he remarked lazily. "You will ask for forgiveness, I am sure of it. But Lord Voldemort does not forgive. He does not forget. You must repay your debts. Wormtail here has already repaid some, has he not?" Voldemort looked down at Wormtail's sobbing form. "You returned not out of loyalty, but fear, Wormtail. You deserve this pain, do you not?"
"Yes, Master… of course I do… please… please…"
"But you helped me, Wormtail. You returned me to a body, and worthless as you are, Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers." Voldemort raised his wand and twirled it. A streak of molten silver came pouring out of the tip, and formed itself into a hand, which flew down and merged seamlessly with Wormtail's bleeding stump. Wormtail's crying stopped as he looked in wonder at the silvery hand attached to him. He flexed it in wonder.
"Thank you, My Lord… It is truly wonderful."
"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," Voldemort said in a low tone, as Wormtail kissed his robes and scrambled over to the circle. Voldemort approached the man on Wormtail's right. "Lucius, my friend… The Imperius curse, you said. A respectable face you show, but the word is that you still follow the old ways."
Lucius said nothing, but nodded stiffly.
"Do try to be more faithful in my service, Lucius. It will benefit your wellbeing."
"Yes, My Lord," Lucius replied stiffly.
Voldemort moved on to the gap between Lucius Malfoy and the next Death Eater. "Here the Lestranges should be, but they are in Azkaban. When we break out, they will be honored for their refusal to renounce me… unlike some others.." As he said this, he stopped in front of a Death Eater, who flinched. "Avery, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott… All of you have renounced me a little bit too energetically. I expect much better in the future."
The Death Eaters that he had spoken to nodded. Voldemort came to a stop in front of a large gap.
"And here… six missing Death Eaters. Of which, three are dead, one is too cowardly to return, and one who I believe has left me forever… he will die of course, and one who is my most faithful servant and is already back in my service at Hogwarts. He, in fact, is the one who brought me Harry Potter tonight."
The Death Eaters took notice of Harry for the first time, and a murmur swept through the crowd.
"Yes, Harry Potter is among us tonight," Voldemort said, malicious humor creeping into his voice. "Away from Dumbledore and his wand, the boy-who-lived is completely powerless. I am here to kill him tonight, to prove my power over him once and for all."
Another murmur swept through the crowd, which was cut off abruptly when Voldemort raised his wand. "Now, Harry Potter, you will-"
BRRRROOOOMMMMMM!
A massive blast of thunder echoed through the valley, followed by a blinding flash and a scream as a Death Eater was brought down by a bolt of lightning. A large, menacing black thundercloud hung directly above the graveyard now. Sheets of rain poured down from as another clap of thunder shook Harry's ears. He watched in shock as another blast of lightning brought down another Death Eater.
"What is this? What is this?" Voldemort screamed, raising his wand. "WHAT IS THIS!?"
Before he could make a movement of any kind, a beam of red light smashed into the back of his head with a small explosion, knocking him facedown into the ground, where he laid unmoving, bleeding from a deep cut in the back of his head. The Death Eaters were thrown into chaos, firing curses at random and running wildly for cover. Out of nowhere, Harry felt a well-placed cutting curse scythe through his ropes, freeing him. He gingerly stretched his sore arms and crawled behind the gravestone, ducking out of the way of a lethal-looking black curse. The rain was pounding the graveyard now, coming down so hard that Harry could only see the blurry shapes of the Death Eaters as they scrambled around in a blind panic. Then, from the left, he saw a figure running straight towards him- a figure wearing familiar-looking yellow and black robes.
Cedric Diggory appeared out of the rain, clutching two wands and panting, and slid to a halt in front of him. "Harry!" He gasped. "We have to run! I don't know how long I can keep up this storm!"
Harry goggled at Cedric. "What- how- you're alive-"
"No time for questions!" Cedric hissed. He tossed Harry a wand. "Take this. Shoot at anything that moves. Now follow me!" He jumped up and ran into the rain, firing a string of curses as he went. The rain was letting up now, and the thunder and lightning had stopped.
Without hesitation, Harry followed in his path, firing impedimenta's and stunners indiscriminately, and more than once, was rewarded with the sound of a yell and a thump of a body hitting the ground.
Then, from behind them, came a voice that struck terror in Harry's heart:
"STOP THEM! THEY ARE MINE!"
Voldemort was conscious again. Cedric ducked behind a gravestone, and Harry followed suit as a volley of deadly green curses hummed over them, missing only by inches.
"NO! DO NOT KILL POTTER! HE IS MINE!" Voldemort bellowed.
Harry peeked out from behind the gravestone and saw Voldemort's blurred form stalking through the rain towards them, his wand raised, and cool evil radiating from his form.
"Grab my hand!" Cedric yelled, raising his wand. As soon as Harry took it, Cedric pointed his wand at the Triwizard cup and roared "ACCIO!"
The cup came flying through the air towards them as Voldemort appeared in front of them, and the last thing that Harry heard before the portkey activated was Voldemort's scream of pure rage.
Then the world was a swirling mass of colors as he and Cedric returned to Hogwarts.