I do not own Harry Potter. Direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire are in bold. Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful J.K Rowling.
The Return of Lord Voldemort
Landing with a grunt, Charlie and Angelina were too dazed to move for a moment. Trying to gain her bearings, Charlie stumbled to her feet. "We need to get out of here!"
Angelina pushed herself up by her elbows and peered around. They were in a dark graveyard, the gravestones nearly hidden by the tall, twisting weeds. A church was visible beyond a large yew tree and a hill loomed above them on their left. There was an old, run-down house resting on the hillside.
"So, what? Is this another part of the task?" Angelina asked, climbing to her feet.
"Look, I'll explain everything later, but right now we need to grab the Cup and-"
She could speak no more words, as an intense and horrible pain erupted in her scar. She dropped back to the ground, screaming and clutching her forehead. Angelina hastily crouched beside the girl, eyes lit with concern. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"
The Gryffindor girl was so focussed on Charlie that she failed to notice a short figure with a bundle in their arms stepping out from behind a large marble headstone six feet away. Charlie tried to warn her, but the sharp increase of pain she was currently experiencing made it difficult to do anything but writhe about in the dirt and yell in agony.
"Get rid of the extra."
The high, cold voice caused Charlie's guts to freeze and Angelina to whip around, mouth parted in surprise. The short figure raised their wand and a flash of green blinded Charlie briefly. She watched in horror and devastation as Angelina crumpled beside her, brown eyes reflecting the starry night above.
Charlie wanted to sob, she wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could but grit her teeth against the pain and try to keep her tears at bay. She would not give Pettigrew or Voldemort the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Even though the figure was hooded, she knew it was Peter Pettigrew. Which meant that the small, kicking bundle in his arms was Voldemort, or at least a weaker version.
Placing the bundle down, Pettigrew strode over and roughly pulled the girl from the ground. He dragged her, kicking and screaming, over to the large marble headstone, which read Tom Riddle. Conjuring cords with his wand, he ensured that she was secured tightly against the hard object. He then stuffed a black rag in her mouth, muffling her shouts. His hands were trembling, and the hood slid down, revealing a white face. He seemed to be just of afraid of what was to occur as she was.
A large snake slithered by her feet, hissing menacingly. Charlie stared at it as it slipped past her, around Pettigrew and into the thick weeds, vanishing from sight. Her gaze drifted to where Angelina's body lay, a few feet away from the sparkling Triwizard Cup. Her wand had been dislodged her struggle to get away from Pettigrew and it rested by her feet.
Heavy panting caught her attention and she managed to turn her head enough to see Pettigrew pulling a giant stone cauldron towards her. Something was slopping around inside, so she assumed it was filled with water. The cauldron was set at the foot of the grave and he lit the bottom. The water began to heat instantly, sparks crackling along the surface so rapidly it appeared like the cauldron was filled with bright jewels.
"Faster!"
Charlie could only watch helplessly as Pettigrew went over to the bundle and removed the robes. A hairless, scaly, raw infant was revealed, its face flat and snake-like with gleaming red eyes.
Pettigrew's face was twisted with revulsion as he picked the infant Voldemort up. Heart thudding violently in her chest, she watched as the short man placed the inhumane creature into the cauldron. The water hissed and a thin veil of steam rose into the air. The body hit the bottom of the cauldron, and Pettigrew raised his wand and spoke in a trembling voice.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
Stomach lurching, Charlie stared at the bone he dropped into the cauldron. The ground beneath the cauldron cracked and the water turned a vivid blue. Oh, Merlin no…
Pettigrew removed a thin dagger from his robes, his face milk white now. He hovered the knife above his hand, the one missing a finger. "Flesh-of the servant-willingly given-you will revive your master."
Charlie screwed her eyes shut, but nothing she did could prevent her from hearing Pettigrew's tortured screams as he chopped off his own hand. The dismembered limb fell into the cauldron with a thud, and it was the gag in her mouth that prevented her from retching. The potion turned a brilliant red.
Sobbing now, Pettigrew cradled his bleeding stump and dragged himself over to her. For a brief a moment, their eyes met, Pettigrew's filled with angony and hers with fear. "Blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will…resurrect your foe."
He tore his gaze away from hers and raised the dagger, the stump now hanging limply at his side. The tip of the dagger pierced her skin and Charlie jolted in pain. She could feel the warm blood trickling down her torn sleeve. Pettigrew removed a glass phial and held it up to the gash on her arm. Red drops spilled into it, and he stumbled over to the cauldron and tipped her blood into the contents.
Nooooooooo!
The man dropped down beside the cauldron, his breathing laboured and tears running down his face as he cradled his mangled arm. Charlie stared, emerald eyes wide with terror, as sparks flew in all directions as the potion turned a blinding white. Thick steam billowed out and filled the area, making it difficult to see clearly.
Then the potion settled.
Slowly, a thin figure rose from the cauldron. Unable to take her eyes away, Charlie watched as he climbed out, sent a disgusted look at his servant, and slipped on his robes. He then turned around, his face thrown into clarity by the starlight.
A white face with a flat nose, with slits for nostrils and triumphant red eyes, glowered at her. The nightmare of the wizarding world, and her worst enemy, had returned.
"It's been too long," he said softly, flexing his long-fingered hands. "Much too long…"
Not long enough, she thought desperately.
He removed his wand from his robes and twirled it between his spidery fingers, and a malicious smile spread across his face. He went over to Pettigrew and said coldly, "Arm out."
"Oh, thank you," sobbed Pettigrew, and he held out his stump.
"Other arm," dismissed Voldemort.
With a whimper, he obeyed, holding out his left arm. Voldemort pushed up the sleeve and Charlie stared at what looked to be a tattoo-a red skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. It was the same as the mark that had been fired at the Quidditch World Cup.
The Dark Mark.
"It's darker," Voldemort whispered. "They will surely have noticed. Let's see who is courageous enough to come back."
He pressed his forefinger against the mark and it turned black. Charlie's scar seared with a new kind of pain and Pettigrew let out a howl. Voldemort stood, surveyed the graveyard for a moment, and turned back to the raven-haired girl.
"You are currently standing on what is left of my filthy father, who died by my hand. He was a Muggle, lived in that old house." He gestured at the home that rested on the hillside. "He had no uses for me alive, but look what he provided for me in death. My mother fell in love with him, they grew up in the same village.
"But he didn't like magic, and so abandoned her when she confessed to him what she was. She died giving birth to me, and I was institutionalized in a dreadful Muggle orphanage. I promised myself I would have my revenge, revenge against the man whose name I had bear for too long…Tom Riddle."
His gaze returned to the graveyard and a twisted smile curled across his demonic face. "But enough of my past."
The graveyard was soon filled with hooded figures, all of them wearing masks. They ventured forwards hesitantly, as if not believing what they were seeing. "Master," a Death Eater breathed. He got down to his knees, crawled across the grass and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. The others copied his actions, until everyone had greeted the Dark Lord. They gathered in a circle around Voldemort, Charlie Pettigrew, and there were a few gaps where it seemed others should be.
"Thirteen years," Voldemort whispered, his red eyes scanning those gathered. "Thirteen long years…yet you still answer my summons as if nothing had happened. But it did. For thirteen long years, none of you bothered to search me."
A guilty silence reigned, the only sound being Pettigrew's sobs.
"Surely you could not have thought I would have fallen so easily. That a mere infant would have been able to erase my existence. When you knew the measures I had taken to ensure my victory against mortal death. When you knew I was the most powerful wizard at the time. Yet, you all abandoned me, fell into ranks with my enemies, and perhaps sought good favour with the Muggle-loving fool, Albus Dumbledore."
Vicious head shakes came at this, and one Death Eater flung to the ground. "Please forgive us for our foolishness, master!"
A horrible smile crossed Voldemort's face. He raised his wand and said, "Crucio!"
Screams of agony tore from the Death Eater as he writhed about on the ground. After a moment he lay still, panting heavily.
"Get back into ranks, Avery," whispered Voldemort. "You wish me to forgive? I do not forgive, nor do I forget. You will service me for thirteen more years before I even consider forgiveness. Wormtail here has already begun paying back his debt."
Pettigrew glanced up at Voldemort, tears staining his cheeks and blood dripping down his robes.
"Though it wasn't out of loyalty. It was out of fear of what his old friends would do to him. So this pain is deserved."
"Please," begged Pettigrew. "Master, please help me."
"But you did me a great service tonight," continued Voldemort. "You returned me to my body. For that, you will be rewarded."
He raised his wand and a silver, molten substance trickled from the end. It drifted over to Pettigrew and formed into the shape of a hand. It fastened itself to the end of Pettigrew's stump and the bleeding instantly stopped, as did his sobs. Eyes wide, he stared at his new hand, experimentally flexing his fingers.
"Thank you! Oh thank you, master!"
Voldemort turned to the rest of his Death Eaters as the short man took his place in the circle, silver hand glinting in the starlight. "Lucius, I must say I am disappointed that you never attempted to find me."
"I was always on the lookout," was the Malfoy senior's prompt reply. "If even a whisper of your whereabouts had reached me, I would have come to your aid."
"And yet, you ran from my Mark when it was cast by a faithful servant last summer." Voldemort stared at Lucius lazily. "I expect stronger loyalty from you this time."
"Of course, master, you are merciful…thank you."
Voldemort reached a gap and stared. "This is where the Lestranges should be. But they are in Azkaban, sentenced for the crimes they proudly claimed responsibility for. They will be rewarded heavily, once they are released. We will reclaim the banished giants and lure the Dementors to our side. Yes, all my servants will return to me…except for six."
Voldemort paused in the middle of the circle and slowly surveyed his Death Eaters. "Three died in my service. One is too cowardly to return, one has left me forever, and for that, he shall be killed."
Karkaroff. A heavy weight settled in Charlie's stomach as she thought of Durmstrang's Headmaster, who had no doubt fled when he discovered his active Dark Mark. While she didn't like the man, she didn't want him dead, and she prayed him Godspeed.
"And one," continued Voldemort. "Who is in place in Hogwarts, following the orders I have given him. It is because of him that we have our guest of honour tonight."
All eyes strayed towards her. Voldemort's lips curled up into a sadistic smirk. "It was of the utmost importance that Charlotte Potter join us for my rebirth."
"Master, would you please tell us how you returned to us tonight?" Lucius requested.
"You are all aware, I'm sure, of what happened that fateful Halloween night thirteen years ago?" Voldemort turned to stare at Charlie with burning red eyes and fresh agony tore through her scar. "Her mother died to protect her, and that provided her with a magical protection that even I could not break. I was struck with my own curse. It was a pain I had never before experienced, torn from my body, not a spirit, not a ghost, but still alive. It seemed that one of my many experiments to conquer death worked.
"But I was powerless. I could do nothing but exist, so I settled in a faraway place and waited patiently for my loyal followers to come to my aid. But no one came. I relied on my one power, possession, to get me through. I could not inhabit humans, as Aurors were still searching for me. I used snakes and other animals, but their bodies did not last long, and were not fit for magic anyway.
"Four years ago, a young wizard stumbled upon me. He was innocent and gullible, and it took nothing for me to convince him to assist in my endeavours. He brought over to this country and into Hogwarts, where he was a professor. It was a dream come true."
Quirrell, recalled Charlie. It was a name she knew she would never forget.
"I took possession of his body after some time and watched as he carried out my orders. But what was my master plan at the time failed. I was foiled once more by Charlotte Potter. The Philosopher's Stone would not be mine. I left the wizard for dead, as he was of no use to me now. I was weaker than before, and losing hope. I returned to my hideaway, wondering if I would ever be restored to my old powers again.
"To my surprise, it was not even a year ago that Wormtail found me, led by the rats that frequented the forest and heard rumours of a dark creature taking over small animals. He stopped at an inn during his search and came across Bertha Jorkins, a worker at the Ministry of Magic. In a rare display of intelligence, Wormtail convinced her to take a walk with him and overpowered her. He brought her to me, and it was with my…persuasion that she told me what she knew. She told me about a former Death Eater that would be delighted to help me if I contacted him. She told me about the Triwizard Tournament and how it would take place at Hogwarts. When she had exceeded her usefulness, I disposed of her.
"Wormtail managed to restore me to a weaker form. It was not what I wanted, but I knew I would need to settle for mortality before once again reaching immortality. I could be patient. The potion needed to revive me was Dark Magic, illegal in many wizarding countries. I already had two of the three ingredients. Flesh of a servant and bone of my father, which meant the rebirthing would need to happen in this very graveyard. What I needed was the blood of a foe. Not just any foe would do."
His eyes strayed to hers.
"I wanted the blood of Charlotte Potter. For then I knew I would have her mother's protection lingering in my veins. But how to get her? She was well protected. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, one where I would not be able to touch her when in the care of her relations. And when she was at Hogwarts, she was just as untouchable, with Dumbledore watching over her like a hawk. I considered the Quidditch World Cup, but I was not strong enough to kidnap her in such a public area.
"Then I knew. The Triwizard Tournament. I used my faithful Death Eater to pose at Hogwarts, enter her name in the Goblet of Fire, and ensure that she got to the final task and won. When she touched the Cup, she would be brought here to me. The girl who everyone thought to be my downfall…in my mercy."
He raised his wand, red eyes glittering. "Crucio."
Pain exploded in every fiber of her being. She felt as if she was being ripped in half, fire blazing across her limbs. Just when she felt like she would black out, it stopped, and she hung limp.
"I was a fool," whispered Voldemort, "to think that this child had the strength to defeat me. I now know it was only luck. I will show you that the great Charlotte Potter is not so great after all. She will get the chance to prove herself. I will allow her to fight. But with no Dumbledore to protect her, no mother to die for her, she will be defenseless."
He held Charlie's stare for a moment, her scar burning and her stomach twisting.
"Untie her, Wormtail, and give back her wand. Tonight, right here, will be Charlotte Potter's final resting place."