He knew from a conversation ages ago with the 16-year-old self of Lord Voldemort that he was named after his Muggle father.

On seeing this, he took an involuntary step back.

'Harry, what is it?' asked Cedric.

'We should not be here. This is Voldemort's father's grave. Let's go,' whispered Harry.

'You-Know-Who's dad's grave?' asked Cedric.

'Yes, Cedric. Now is not the time to think. You have got your Apparation license, right? You can Apparate us out and back to school?' Harry asked hopefully.

'Yes, I can. Hold on to my upper arm. It will be uncomfortable for you though if it's your first time,' said Cedric.

'Okay,' said Harry holding his hand and waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

'Damn it. They have set up Anti-Apparation wards' swore Cedric which was soon replaced by nervousness. 'I can't get us out, Harry. We should probably keep our wands out and start looking for a way out.'

'Ye-,' Harry cut off mid-sentence when he heard the crunch of pebbles under someone's feet coming from a distance. Cedric too had heard it, for he was pointing his wand in that direction.

They waited in tense silence as the figure approached. It was walking as if it was carrying a baby in its arms. The two boys looked at each other bemused.

As the mysterious figure drew nearer, Harry's scar suddenly flared with such pain as he had never felt during all the times that it had hurt. He dropped to his knees clutching his scar and almost did not hear the high cold voice which sometimes haunted him in his dreams, say 'Kill the older boy. We have no need of him.'

It was the voice of Lord Voldemort.

Cedric, on hearing this, had whirled around from bending to have a look at Harry. The half-formed words of a curse on his lips died as another voice, familar to Harry, screeched 'AVADA KEDAVRA'. That was the voice of the traitor, Peter Pettigrew aka Wormtail.

There was a swishing noise of a wand and a blinding flash of green light, followed by the sound of something vast rushing through the air. There was a thud which told Harry who had shut his eyes from the pain, that Cedric had been murdered right in front of him. He opened his eyes almost unwillingly to look at the figure of Cedric lying dead next to the forgotten Triwizard Cup, a last look of defiance, permanently etched on his face.

He could not take his eyes off him, being in a state of shock and did not even notice when Wormtail started dragging him towards the gravestone, eyes fixated on Cedric. It was until he felt something about to be forced into his mouth that he came back to his senses that he found himself tightly bound, unable to move even an inch.

'You, I am gonna make you pay,' Harry promised Wormtail, 'You will suffer as much as other victims.'

The look in Harry's eyes was murderous. Wormtail stared into Harry's eyes, eyes which so hauntingly reminded him of Lily, Harry's mother. He took and involuntary step back. She was not one to be messed with when angered. For a second, Wormtail felt like he was looking at Lily herself.

'Hurry,' came Voldemort's voice from the bundle he had placed, shaking Wormtail out of his thoughts.

'Yes, My Lord,' said he.

Soon, Harry was a witness to a sickening dark ritual, which involved brewing a dark potion in a cauldron big enough to hide a man. The potion could only be dark because it involved pouring some blood of the enemy (that being Harry), a bone of Tom Riddle Sr and flesh willingly given by the servant. Harry was averted his eyes when Wormtail severed his own hand from the wrist down and poured it as well into the cauldron. He foolowed it with the baby from the bundle of clothes which he dropped too.

It seemed that Voldemort had been possessing a human baby. The possession had decayed the baby's skin, making it lok raw but the eyes, they were just the same as ever. A vivid red. Harry could never forget the first time he had looked at them, in his first year.

The potion frothed and flared throwing sparks everywhere and then turned silent. Soon, a tall, naked figure rose out of it.

Lord Voldemort had risen once again.