Chapter Ten: The Return, part 2
"Avada Kedavra!"
The assembled Death Eaters all saw the Boy Who Lived shudder as the green bolt hit him, then slump on the ropes that held him to the headstone. Voldemort, who had indeed given this moment a great deal of thought in advance, stared intently at Harry Potter's slack face as he raised his wand once more.
"Crucio!"
The boy, or rather the body, never even twitched. Satisfied, Voldemort flicked his wand at the ropes and they fell away. The inert body of the Boy Who Lived fell in a sprawled heap on the ground, and lay still. Voldemort, ebullient now, flourished his wand at the crumpled heap at his feet.
"Crucio!"
Again, not a hint of a response. As if that had been a signal, suddenly figures all around the circle were copying their master.
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!"
And so it went. The fallen form of Harry Potter had now absorbed several dozen Cruciatus curses, and still it lay unresponsive. The Death Eaters became bored, and the spells ceased. Voldemort smiled as he turned away from the boy to address his servants.
"Now, I know that many of you - I'm looking at you Lucius - have maintained a respectable appearance in my absence. This will be useful to us, and I will not lightly throw it away. You have disappeared abruptly from your daily lives, and you must now return before your true allegiance is discovered by any who cannot be trusted. I will deal with each of you personally, later. Go!"
With a flurry of sharp detonations, the circle disappeared. Only Voldemort and Pettigrew remained, and the body of Harry Potter. The two men turned to the cauldron; what remained inside was a potion which would ultimately build Voldemort's new body to full strength.
Harry awoke suddenly to find himself lying naked on a bright white surface which somehow felt neither warm nor cold, hard nor soft. He noticed that his shoulder didn't hurt, and when he looked he saw unblemished skin as if Pettigrew had never stabbed him. He shook his head, then registered more fully that he was naked. A small mental effort, and he was wearing his usual robes. He stood up gingerly, surprised to feel perfectly healthy. As he cast his eyes around in increasing bewilderment, he saw two figures approaching swiftly from the indefinite distance. Staring at them as they drew near, he finally recognised the serene young couple - her warm red-brown hair and brilliant green eyes, his messy black hair and not-quite-cool spectacles. Harry ran forward and threw himself into their collective embrace, tears streaming freely down his cheeks as he finally felt the loving arms he had always dreamed of.
At length they drew apart, and Harry finally asked the obvious question.
"Um... Where am I? I mean, am I dead?"
James Potter smiled. "Not quite, son, not quite. Voldemort did just hit you with the Killing Curse, again, but the rules work a bit differently for you. You see, the first time around you were saved by some high-end magical protections your mother had arranged. It was all far beyond me, of course - Lily always was the smart one, in our relationship and in the whole school. Anyway, part of that was that a piece of Voldemort's soul ended up trapped behind your scar. That's why you have that connection with him, it's why you're a Parselmouth, and it's also why you're not exactly dead right now."
Harry stared at his unreasonably-young father. "Um... That's... good, I suppose?"
James grinned. "I think so, yes."
He waved at Lily, and she took over.
"Because you had two different souls in you - your own and a piece of Voldemort's - you have the option now of sending Voldemort's soul fragment on while you go back. Time has been passing more or less normally all this while, which is just as well - I've been watching your body, and you definitely didn't want to be there for all those Cruciatus curses. Death Eaters are so unimaginative, and so crude."
Harry blinked at her.
"So when I go back, what should I do?"
She smiled, and pulled him into another hug.
"Whatever you feel is right, Harry, whatever you feel is right. In the end it's all up to you - it always has been, really, but never more so than right now. Just know that I'm proud of you, we're proud of you, and we know you'll do what's right."
Harry smiled a little tearily as he stepped back.
"OK, when do I go?"
James chuckled. "That's my son, alright. They seem to have finished with the Crucios, so now's as good at time as any. Listen for the Apparation cracks, and try to wait until Voldemort and stinking Wormtail are facing away from you before you even twitch. Oh, and your body is lying on top of your wand. You may find that helpful."
Harry grinned and hugged both his parents once more, and then they literally picked him up and somehow threw him in a direction that he couldn't quite pin down.
Harry found himself lying on the ground once more, but this time it definitely hurt. His entire body was twisted and stiff, his shoulder ached appallingly (though it had at least stopped bleeding for now), and he was cold and wet as he sprawled on the short grass. With some effort, he resisted the urge to shift to a less uncomfortable position.
A few seconds later, he heard what sounded like a volley of gunshots - the Death Eaters were gone, he thought. He heard two pairs of feet shuffle away from him, and took a chance on opening his eyes and moving his head slightly so that he could see.
Voldemort and Wormtail were standing about three metres away, doing something to the cauldron from before. Harry scrabbled discreetly underneath himself and grabbed his wand, then paused for a moment to consider his options. Reaching a decision, he staggered to his feet as quietly as he could - Voldemort and Wormtail were facing away and talking, paying no attention at all to him, and he expected he would need his body to work at least a little as soon as he did anything to attract Voldemort's attention. He wasn't exactly willing to do jumping jacks to get his body moving, but he did try to shake out the stiffness a little while he could. On reflection he ducked behind the headstone, then peered over the top of it and sighted very carefully on the based of Voldemort's hood as he consciously drew up all the magic he could access - this was already an absurdly lucky second chance that he was getting, and there would be no third chance. When he felt his body practically humming with power, far more than he had ever felt before, he twitched his wand sideways slightly.
"Lacero!"
His aim was true, and his spell a lot more powerful than he expected - the invisible blade of magic went straight through Voldemort's hood, neck and all. The Dark Lord's body began to crumple, and Wormtail spun around surprisingly quickly. Harry was quicker still, however - he had fired off an overpowered Stunner almost before his Cutting curse hit its target, and Peter Pettigrew dropped without ever seeing the curse that hit him. Breathing heavily, Harry leaned on the headstone and glanced around for further threats. Straining to hear, he could just make out an oddly sibilant voice.
"§Kill my masster, I kill you. Kill my masster, I kill you...§"
Looking in the direction of the sound, Harry saw an enormous snake, Nagini, surprisingly inconspicuous as she slithered rapidly through the grass towards him. He consciously drew in magic again, then channeled it all into her open mouth as she reared up to strike.
"Reducto!"
Again Harry had underestimated the power he was channeling - Nagini's head disappeared entirely in a tremendous pulse of inky blackness, and Harry sank grey-faced to the ground in exhaustion.
Albus Dumbledore, meanwhile, was dealing with the thoroughly panicked duo of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. When they finally got past Professors Snape and McGonagall and into his office to see him, they wasted no time in insisting to him that Harry Potter had disappeared on the way back from Herbology. The Headmaster, in stark contrast to his Heads of House, greeted this news with deadly seriousness. He queried the wards of Hogwarts, and established that Harry was not on the grounds. A thought entered his mind and he checked for the presence of the Triwizard Cup, the sole exception to Hogwarts' blocking of Portkeys in or out or even internally at all. Unsurprisingly, it too was absent from the castle and grounds. That meant his Defence Professor must be an imposter - no one could have taken the Triwizard Cup from Alastor Moody and the real Mad-Eye would never have given it up willingly - but right now there were more pressing concerns. No time to call for reinforcements, either - he would have to rescue the boy alone somehow. He turned to Hermione and Ron.
"Ron, go to the Ministry - use my fireplace, and go straight to Amelia Bones' office. Tell her I said I need a dozen of her best Aurors, and Amelia herself, in my office here when I return in a few minutes' time. Tell her the fate of Magical Britain hangs in the balance."
The old man turned to Hermione.
"Hermione, go fetch these professors: Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout. I know you don't trust Professor Snape, but I do and we need him - fetch him. Avoid Professor Moody at all costs, however - I believe he is not the man we think him to be, and we cannot take chances at present. Do you understand?"
Hermione nodded, practically bouncing on her toes in nervous excitement. "Yes, Headmaster!"
Dumbledore smiled briefly. "Good. Go, both of you! I'll be back as soon as I can."
He disappeared with a quiet sound, barely more than a click, and Ron and Hermione ran to follow his orders - Ron through the fireplace, and Hermione into the school proper.
Dumbledore appeared a hundred metres from where the Cup lay, and wondered briefly why the place seemed deserted. Where was Harry? Where were the Death Eaters? For that matter, where was Voldemort himself if this was a resurrection as he feared? The old man silently Disillusioned himself, then crept forward to investigate.
He saw an enormous stone cauldron, large enough to hold a man - resurrection ritual indeed, then. Beside the cauldron he saw two piles of black robes, and noted that the grass was covered with blood. Still on high alert, he pointed his invisible wand at the piles of robes.
"Homenum Revelio," he murmured. One of the piles glowed faintly golden to his sight, while the other gave no response. He moved closer, still watching carefully all around himself for threats, and levitated the robes which apparently contained a live human. His eyebrows rose a little as a fold of fabric fell away to reveal the slack face of Peter Pettigrew. Alas for the choices that poor boy had made, but the course was well and truly set by now - there was nothing more anyone could do to save young Peter from himself. With a wave of his wand, Albus lowered the unconscious traitor to the ground once more. Another wave of his wand, and the second bundle of robes rose in the air. Well, that was the intention - in fact Albus' silent Levitation charm lifted only a severed hood. He saw the unmistakeable misshapen face of the monster which had once been Tom Riddle, and stood and stared. Who in Merlin's name had the power to simply behead the Dark Lord? Dumbledore didn't know whether to feel frightened that such a power existed, or reassured that it seemed to be his ally. He looked further in the foggy graveyard, and saw a figure sitting propped against a nearby headstone. Moving closer, he recognised the figure as Harry Potter.
"Harry?" Dumbledore asked nervously, "are you alright?"
Harry didn't even twitch.
"Homenum Revelio!"
Whether because Dumbledore had overpowered the spell or because of the tremendous power that had flowed through Harry so recently, the graveyard was suddenly brightly lit by a glowing nimbus around the boy. Dumbledore's mouth fell open, and he took an involuntary half-step backwards. He sank gently to the ground, and concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly for a time. When he was calm once more, he cast a flurry of diagnostic charms - Harry was mostly healthy apart from magical exhaustion and a deep stab wound in his left shoulder, and somehow, incredibly, the Horcrux behind his scar was simply gone.