Well, this is the penultimate chapter. One more after this, Enjoy! Hold on to your hats, it's going to be a long one! There will be a sequel eventually but not for a while yet. Thank you so much for all the reviews, faves follows etc.
There is one swear word, and quite a bit of violence.
Disclaimer: For the last time on this story; I do not own Harry Potter.
The Third Task was upon them, while the rest of the school was caught in the grips of exam fever; Harry was feverishly practising spells like his life depended on it. He had one more day to practice his spells and curses before he stepped into the maze. His stomach lurched with nerves as he thought of the maze, he never had been brilliant at directions.
Just last week, Harry had been introduced to the third and final task. A maze! He was rather perturbed because it seemed ridiculously easy, a maze of all things. He'd imagined that he would have to wrestle a troll or a rabid hippogriff. No, this was much better. Of course, being Harry Potter, things never go smoothly. As he'd been walking back to the castle – a rustling in the trees had caught his attention.
Barty Crouch Sr had staggered from the trees, looking utterly mad and talking to himself. It seemed as if he was past coherent thought and speech, something which freaked Harry out quite a lot. He had rushed off to the castle to fetch Dumbledore – but on his return – Crouch had disappeared. They had conducted a search but had come up with nothing – Crouch had disappeared from the face of the earth (or Hogwarts)
Not only that, but he had run into Fudge, the Minister for Magic. He was rather surprised that he was at Hogwarts and even more surprised that he was at Hogwarts to see Harry. Fudge had wanted to talk about his guardianship with Sirius, if he was treating him well. Harry felt rather angry at that, it was like he was trying to catch Sirius out on something.
Of course, Sirius had brushed it under the carpet. He didn't care what the minister thought, Harry was his godson and he was staying in his care. Remus, surprisingly had been the most angry. It had taken all of Sirius' willpower not to let the man to go and hex the bent politician to smithereens. Though it would have been amusing to see how Fudge would cope with an angry werewolf.
His heart skipped a beat and his stomach contracted with nerves as he thought about the task. How on earth was he supposed to remember all the spells? There was about a hundred on that list!
He ran his hands through his sweaty hair and flopped down on the sofa, sighing dramatically. Sirius grinned behind his hands as he handed Harry a cup of tea. Typical teenager.
"How are you feeling about tomorrow? Do you feel prepared?" said Sirius, suddenly serious.
Harry took a deep, shaky breath and nodded.
"As I'll ever be, I just want tomorrow to be over and done with,"
Sirius nodded his understanding. He did too, he just wanted Harry to get out of that maze alive and unscathed. There was an uneasy feeling hovering in the back of the brain, telling him that something would go wrong. He shook away his worry, Harry would be fine. Dumbledore would have ensured that the maze was safe.
"You'll do fine. Remus and I have faith in you. Remember, it doesn't matter if you don't win. If you feel threatened in any way – send up red sparks,"
"I know Sirius, I'll be fine," said Harry, biting his lip nervously.
"I tell you what. When all this is over, we'll go on holiday. You, me and Remus. Would you like that?"
Harry was brought up short. He'd never been on holiday before, he couldn't help the small bubble of childlike excitement that erupted inside of him at Sirius' words. He nodded eagerly.
"That would be great. I've never been on holiday before!"
Sirius scowled but said nothing. A small part of him was glad that the Dursleys were dead. How could anyone treat his godson that way? What was there about Harry to dislike. Of course, the abuse had been spawned from Petunia's jealousy of Lily.
Lily had told him that before coming to Hogwarts – her and Petunia had been close. They had their arguments but they always stuck together. Then, Lily met Severus Snape and that was when the jealousy had started. They had drifted apart and then when Lily had got her Hogwarts letter – Petunia had severed ties altogether. Sirius couldn't help but wonder than if Petunia had gone to Hogwarts as well – things would have been different.
The thought of Harry having a bad childhood made him sick with sadness and guilt. He knew somewhere deep down that it wasn't his fault, Pettigrew had tricked them all, Sirius had been half insane with grief and anger and hadn't been thinking straight. But another part of him; a more pessimistic part, blamed himself wholeheartedly.
Harry's smaller hand on his elbow jerked him out of his cogitation. He looked into the concerned green eyes and immediately felt guilty, Harry must have been trying to get his attention for quite some time.
He smiled weakly at Harry, the muscles in his face stretching with the effort.
"Sorry about that Harry, got lost in thought," said Sirius distractedly.
Harry said nothing, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling as the shadows grew longer and moved across the ceiling as the sun started to set. His stomach gave a nervous lurch as he remembered that the final task was just hours away. Sitting up, he turned to Sirius, who was deep in thought again.
"Er, Sirius?" Harry said slowly, shaking his arm.
Sirius snorted slightly and turned to Harry, fixing a forced smile upon his face.
"Yes, Harry?" he said quietly.
"I, er, I need to go. It's the Third Task tomorrow and I need to get some sleep,"
Sirius nodded. "Of course, get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow. Remember, Harry, I love you no matter what happens in there,"
Sirius watched the door that Harry had just left through for quite some time. He was too agitated and lost in thought to even consider sleep. He felt like a wind up toy, ready to blow at any minute. He was having serious misgivings about Harry competing in the Third Task. Something told him that things were going to go horribly wrong. He didn't know what it was, but it was taking all of his willpower not to march down to Dumbledore's office and demand that Harry be withdrawn. Instead, he settled for praying and hoping that Harry would come out of that maze alive.
The morning of the Third Task dawned bright and early. Too bright, too early. Blazing sunlight attacked Harry's eyelids as he tried to catch an extra hour. He groaned and pulled his covers over his face, he wasn't ready for this. His stomach churned and his heart fluttered with dread. He felt that if he tried to get up – his legs would buckle and he would go crashing to the floor.
When the heat of his covers became too much and Harry felt like he would vomit, he clambered shakily out of bed and began to get dressed, missing the trouser holes several times – such was the extent of his nerves.
In just a few hours time, he would be stepping into the unknown. Despite the many spells that he had learned over the months, Harry felt more unprepared than ever, it was taking all of his strength not to vomit everywhere. He clenched his lips together as he moved down to the common room, sitting in his usual seat, head bent forward as he became lost in thought.
He was brooding too much on the task and he knew it. He knew that he shouldn't worry too much, Sirius and Remus didn't expect him to win, nobody did. He was only fourteen at the end of the day, he was going against people with three years extra training. Cedric had given him plenty of encouragement and advice, for which he was grateful.
Almost on instinct, his mind drifted to Ginny. A small smile spread over his face at her name. She helped him to relax rather a lot. After the disastrous Yule Ball date, Ginny had apologised profusely, close to the point of begging, she had even broken down in tears. Harry consoled her, after all, she was only thirteen, she didn't really know any better.
Harry's feelings for Ginny were completely platonic, he harboured no romantic feelings towards her, however that was not to say that he didn't think she was pretty. Over the weeks, they had got rather close, almost as close as he and Ron and Hermione were.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Or she as the case may be. Ginny had just barreled into the room and engulfed him into a bone breaking hug, her red hair falling onto his shoulder. Harry chuckled in spite of himself and pulled back.
"Hey Gin," he mumbled, laying back and grinning softly at Ginny.
"How're you feeling? You know, about the tournament?" Ginny whispered.
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. In all honesty, he was terrified – he couldn't stop the small tremors that ran through his body or the fine sheen of sweat that had settled itself over his brow, making him feel slightly feverish. He'd never felt this scared before, not even when he'd confronted possessed teachers, gargantuan snakes that could kill with a single stare, werewolves, dementors and convicts that were supposedly after his blood. No, this seemed much more real and frightening.
"You'll be fine you know?" Ginny said gently, when Harry didn't answer.
Harry nodded listlessly. Ginny was probably right, he'd got past dragons, murderous grindylows and merpeople for goodness sake! A maze should be a piece of cake. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped abruptly when Ron came barging into the room, yawning loudly, Hermione snorting under her breath at her boyfriends behaviour.
"Good morning !" Ron called cheerfully.
Harry tilted his head in confusion, what on earth had got to Ron? He turned, frowning to Hermione – who just shook her head exasperatedly and smiled reassuringly at Harry.
"What are you so cheerful about?" Harry asked incredulously.
How could anyone be so cheerful today? When he was going into the maze, which was sure to be exceedingly difficult. He shook himself out of his thoughts, his mind was running round in circles today. Every time he managed to reassure himself, he would cast his mind back to the task and start worrying about it all over again.
"Oh nothing," Ron said blushing, rubbing his neck bashfully.
To his great surprise, Hermione blushed crimson and refused to meet his eyes. A small grin slid over his face, oh this was going to be fun. He followed Ron and Hermione to the Great Hall, the smell of food permeating his senses and making him feel as if he was about to retch.
The smell was almost overwhelming once they entered the hall. It was packed to the rafters today, students were rushing from table to table, chatting excitedly with their friends – only one topic of conversation on his lips.
"Come on, Harry, you have to eat something." said Hermione concernedly, wafting a piece of toast under his nose.
He nodded wordlessly and took the toast, taking slow, deliberate bites. He couldn't remember ever being this nervous, it was as though somebody had released a load of flutterblooms within his lower intestine and they were fighting to get out.
He felt a warm hand upon his shoulder and looked into Hermione's warm, brown eyes. They sparkled with concern and reassurance.
"You'll be fine Harry. I promise," she said gently.
Harry nodded, throat constricting as he saw McGonagall approaching him, looking rather harried.
"Ah, Potter, good, you're up. The champions' families are waiting for them in the chamber. Finish your breakfast and then you can go and see them," said McGonagall, softening her usual brisk tone slightly.
Harry nodded wordlessly, dropping his toast and jumping to his feet. He watched McGonagall go, mouth hanging open slightly.
"Listen, guys. I'll see you later," he said nervously, voice wavering.
"See you Harry, good luck!" Hermione said brightly, standing up and kissing him on the cheek.
Harry found himself blushing as he walked away, feeling the place that Hermione had kissed. He was rather stunned, she'd never shown that level of affection before. Of course, there was the odd bone-breaking hug that could put Mrs Weasley to shame but she was usually rather composed and stoic. She must really be worried.
Harry's footsteps echoed loudly on the cold tiles as he approached the chamber. His stomach was contracting with nerves and his mouth was dry. Shakily, Harry pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.
The room was warm and inviting. In the corner, Fleur chatted away in rapid French to whom Harry only assumed to be her mother and father. His eyes scanned past Viktor and his family, searching for Sirius – or even Remus. He didn't spot them right away but then a loud shriek caught his eye and a pink blur slammed into him.
Chuckling, Harry hugged Tonks back. Her and Remus had really hit it off, one could never be seen without the other. Sirius and Remus approached, grinning widely at Harry's uncomfortable expression.
"Hey there, Harry," Remus grinned, pulling him into a one-armed embrace.
"Hey, Remus." Harry said shyly, leaning into the man's warmth.
"You nervous?" Remus asked, peering critically at Harry's pale complexion.
"Shitting bricks," said Harry, forgetting himself for a moment.
"Language, Harry," Sirius chastised, yanking him into a hug that seemed to cut off his circulation.
"Sorry, but it's the truth," Harry said cheekily.
They spent the rest of the morning wandering about the grounds, talking about the impending task and trying to reassure each other that the task would go well. At lunchtime, Ron and Hermione joined them, carrying a stack of sandwiches. As he talked to Ron, Hermione, Sirius and Remus – Harry felt his worry drain away a little. Indeed, he felt that he would be able to go into the maze with a clear head.
At half-past three, they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry's nerves came back with a vengeance, after dinner – that would be it – the task would be upon him. He swallowed nervously as he sat between Sirius and Remus, hands shaking as he reached for the jug of pumpkin juice
Sirius reached out and took Harry's hand in his, stroking the knuckles gently.
"You'll be fine, Harry," he whispered. "Have faith."
"Yeah, but what if something happens in there, Sirius? What if I can't do it? I don't want to disappoint anyone!"
Sirius' heart broke for Harry. It was as if he had something to prove, that he had to live up to his super-talented-super-hero-always-saves-the-day-reputation. It sickened Sirius to think that Harry was so insecure that he had to be putting his life into danger or completing seemingly impossible tasks to feel good about himself.
"I believe in you. Remus believes in you. It's not about winning, Harry. Please believe me," Sirius begged.
He implored Harry to see, to see that it didn't matter if he didn't win. It didn't matter, as long as he came out of that maze alive and unharmed.
"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just forget sometimes."
"I know you do. But you need to remember," said Sirius, smiling slightly.
Remus, who had been listening to the conversation – smiled. Sirius and Harry were so good for each other. Harry had brought out the mature, responsible side of Sirius and Sirius had brought out the playful, open side of Harry. It was a good combination. Harry felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as McGonagall approached the table, looking rather pale.
"Potter," she said. "It's time.
Harry paced back and forth outside the maze, trying to ignore the cheers and jeers of the Hogwarts students and the jaunty music of the Hogwarts Frog Choir He felt as if he opened his mouth, he would vomit and the situation was already bad enough without adding embarrassing himself to the mix. He was barely listening as the champions were gathered in a circle and told in which order they would enter. It would be Harry first, then Cedric, then Viktor and finally, Fleur.
His heart jumped into his mouth as he was placed at the mouth of the maze. He clutched his wand tightly in his pocket and tried not to tremble to violently, he didn't want people to think that he was weak, he had an image to keep up.
Dumbledore suddenly spoke up, causing Harry to jump out of his skin.
"The task will begin momentarily. However, before I begin. I have a set of rules I wish to notify you of. Please note, that should you find yourself in any danger or unable to complete the task – send up red sparks and somebody will come and get you. Whomever reaches the cup first will be named champion of the Triwizard Tournament. When you touch the cup, you will be transported to the foot of the maze."
Dumbledore paused, ensuring that everybody was listening before continuing.
"Harry, you will enter first,followed by Mr Diggory and then Mr Krum,followed by Miss Delacour. Good luck champions."
A shrill whistle cut through the clearing, jarring Harry's already jangled nerves. Swallowing nervously, he stepped into the maze. The sound of the crowds, the band and the muttering of the teachers was drowned out the moment he entered the maze. His nerves flew away the moment he had stepped inside.
You can do this! You've done two already, come on.
Tentatively, almost cautiously, Harry stepped forwards, wand held high in his hand. There was a junction, he could either choose left or right. Taking a deep, decisive breath, Harry turned right,lighting his wand as he did so.
The lack of obstacles was starting to unnerve Harry, he'd been in the maze for well over an hour and had come across nothing. Shouldn't there be loads of obstacles? It was rather disconcerting. Nonetheless, he was on his toes, ready to defend himself if need be.
A loud crash and a bright flash of light permeated his senses. Heart thumping, he whirled round,wand poised and ready to attack. He lowered his wand when he saw that it was Cedric, emerging from a bush with slightly singed eyebrows and a large gash on his forearms.
"Hagrids Skrewts. They're massive." Cedric offered at Harry's inquisitive gaze.
"Right, well, see you later." said Harry, as they departed once more.
Suddenly, the air became piercingly, bitingly cold. His senses were imbibed with a sense of dread and deep-rooted misery, a faint screaming reached his ears as the ground became hard and icy. Harry's breath caught in his throat. Dementors!
No sooner had the thought left his head, than a tall, hooded figure rounded the corner and headed straight for Harry. Raising his wand, Harry summoned up the memory of the day Sirius adopted him.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A huge, silver stag burst from his wand and charged at the approaching dementor. It faltered and burst into wisps of smoke! Reforming almost instantly. Wait a minute! Dementors don't do that! It was a boggart.
"RIDDIKULUS!"
The dementor exploded with a loud bang that rattled the tall hedges and the ground itself seemed to shake. Wiping his sweaty brow, Harry ploughed on, wand clutched tightly in his clammy hand. He was getting closer, he could feel it.
"Point me,"he whispered, holding his wand flat in the palm of his hand.
It pointed straight into the hedge. Rolling his tongue in frustration, Harry sent a blasting hex at it and clambered through the impossibly small gap. He had to wriggle around a bit but finally he slid through with a rather satisfying pop! He paled when he saw what was in front of him.
Half woman, half lion. The magnificent beast exuded beauty and wisdom, it was a good six feet taller than him and it blocked the entrance to which he needed to get through.
"Can I, um get through please," Harry tried feebly, already knowing the answer.
The sphinx smiled and shook her head.
"No, my dear, you must complete my riddle before you may pass to eternal glory," the sphinx replied in earthy tones.
"What if I don't?"
The sphinx smiled. "If you do not solve the riddle,you may move on. If you solve incorrectly, then I will kill you. If you solve it correctly, you may pass."
Harry nodded, mulling things over. Riddles had always been Hermione's forte. He had always been confused by the cryptic words. Making up his mind, he turned to the sphinx.
"May I hear the riddle?"
The sphinx smiled and bowed her head.
"I have a heart that never beats.
I have a home but never sleep.
I can take a man's house but build another's.
And I love to play with my many brothers.
I am a king among fools,
Who am I?
Harry paused, head bowed in contemplative thought. It has a heart but it doesn't beat, so that must mean something that is inanimate. Now what inanimate object has a heart? I can take a man's house but build another's. Harry swallowed and closed his eyes, thinking hard. Then it came to him, in one glorious moment of realisation.
"Er, the king of hearts?" Harry asked tentatively.
To his great surprise, the sphinx moved aside to let him pass.
"Take heed, young one. Before you, lies danger and depravity. The evil one is growing ever stronger,"
Slightly nonplussed and freaked out, Harry hurried away, wand clutched desperately in his hand. He was getting closer, he could almost smell it. Cedric was running the opposite way! He picked up speed, heart thumping with exertion as he ran towards the silver gleam. They clashed into each other, each simultaneously grabbing a handle of the cup.
He felt a jerk behind his navel and he was whisked away in a blur of colour and sound.
His feet slammed into the ground, his legs buckled and he crumpled into a heap upon the hard earth. Next to him, Cedric regained his balance and was currently staring around their location with a look of complete and utter bewilderment.
"Do you think it's a part of the task?" he asked shakily.
Harry struggled to his feet, wand clutched tightly in his hands. His ankle had twisted when he landed and was currently unbearably stinging and aching.
"Somehow, I don't think so," said Harry, lifting his wand and peering into the surrounding gloom.
They had landed in a graveyard, that was for sure. The light from their wands reflected upon the cold stone of the cracked and rotting gravestones. There was something about the place that just didn't sit right with Harry. His senses were screaming at him to get out, to run, to try to escape.
"Where are we?" Cedric asked, looking frightened.
Harry opened his mouth to answer when an almighty, blinding pain shot through his scar. He yelled in agony and dropped to the floor, clutching his forehead. The pain was unbearable, it felt as if his head was being cleaved in two. Then, a voice so high, cold and venomous shot through the cold night.
"Kill the spare!"
"No!"
Through his haze of pain, Harry managed to push Cedric out of the way of the deadly curse. It hit the gravestone behind them and shattered it, sending the smell of burnt dirt into the air. The voice cursed and Harry heard thudding footsteps behind him as the mystery person chased after him.
"Cedric, run!" Harry roared, ducking just as a silver curse flew over his head, singing his hair.
Cedric didn't need telling twice, he ran in the opposite direction, ducking behind headstones and sending curses at the perpetrators. Heart thumping, Harry ducked behind a large tomb, peering round the edge of it. The person had stopped, staring around the clearing.
They were breathing heavily, breath misting in the frigid air. Through the receding light, Harry could make out the faint outline of a short man, wearing black robes and carrying a bundle in his arms. His heart thumped, he sincerely hoped that Cedric had the sense to hide, to run, to get help.
"Behind the tomb you fool, get him!" hissed the bundle in the figures arms.
Harry contracting rather painfully, Harry ducked out from behind the tomb, sending a cutting hex at the mystery person, it missed, hitting the parched grass and setting it ablaze. He turned tail and ran, feet pumping out a rhythm as he tried to escape his attackers. He had to get out of here, he needed to find Cedric.
Suddenly, Cedric burst from behind a tombstone, wand raised and looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.
"Subdito Plecto!"
The curse was screamed into the night. It went sailing at Cedric at such speed that he no time to move a muscle. It hit him in the chest, lifting him off of his feet. For several moments, there was an ethereal glow around Cedric, he seemed frozen in mid-air, a look of shock upon his face, before crumpling to the ground a like a sack of potatoes, next to the cup.
Harry screamed, grief, pain and anger exploding from him in one potent mix. He retched and vomited all over the grass. Cedric couldn't be dead, he just couldn't. Suddenly, rough hands were around his throat, nails embedding in the soft flesh of his neck. He screamed in agony as he was dragged into a clearing and slammed against a tombstone.
He writhed and flailed as the figure tied him tightly to the headstone, so tight that he could scarcely breathe. Before him, was a massive cauldron, it would easily house seven grown men, sloshing and fizzing with whatever was inside it. Harry's scar was burning beyond endurance, his chest was hurting with the pain of losing Cedric and his vision was blurred with the loss of his glasses.
The person was in front of him, head tilted to the side. The bundle was laid at his feet. Harry struggled against the binds, tears escaping his eyes as he fought valiantly to escape. His glasses were slammed onto his face with such force that his head shot backwards, cricking his neck and cracking his head on the headstone.
He reeled, dazed as the world spun through a haze of pain and dizziness. Several long moments later, the world righted itself and Harry managed to regain his composure. He did the only thing he could think of in the situation, he screamed.
"Help, someone help me!"
SMACK! The smack echoed through the night, echoing off of the gravestones. Harry stopped, stunned by the second blow to his head and tried not to vomit. He gasped when he looked into the eyes of Wormtail. He looked into Harry's eyes with an appraising look, cold and calculating!
"You!" Harry spat, shaking with anger and something else, something he couldn't quite place.
He gagged as a thick wad of material was stuffed in his mouth, effectively gagging him. He watched with mounting horror as Wormtail gently picked up the bundle and dropped it into the cauldron, a look of disgust upon his pudgy face. It was clear, he didn't want to be here any less than Harry did.
There was a gargantuan splash that sent water fifteen feet into the air as the ugliest baby Harry had ever seen went barreling into the cauldron. His stomach twisted in fear as the cauldron began to hiss and sizzle.
Please let it drown. Harry begged silently.
His breath caught, Wormtail was approaching him again, a manic gleam in his piggy eyes. Harry struggled against his bonds again, but it was useless, he was stuck fast.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" Wormtail shakily breathed.
There was a crack at Harry's feet and a fine trickle of dust leaked out, floating towards the cauldron. Harry silently begged for it to go wrong, for the cauldron to explode, anything. His intuition was screaming at him that this couldn't be good, that it would spell disaster.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given. You will revive your master."
Wormtail's breathing was heavy and wheezy as he brought a sharp dagger from his cloak. Harry screwed his eyes shut. He knew what Wormtail was about to do and he couldn't bear to witness it. There was a long, drawn out scream of pain, followed by a sickening thud and splash. Harry was forcibly trembling by this point, the binds creaking and groaning with the strain.
Wormtail was before him now, whimpering and cradling a bleeding stump and as pale as a ghost. Harry could feel his hot, stagnant breath on his cheek. It turned his stomach. Wormtail gripped his arm so hard that he thought it would bruise and yanked it roughly so that it was palm up. Harry tried to whimper at the sudden pain but found that he couldn't, the gag had done its job.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. You will resurrect your foe,"
Harry was trembling so hard that he thought he would vomit. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head with the pain in his scar but fear, cold and hard like death's clammy grip was keeping him conscious. Adrenaline pumped through his system. Wormtail added Harry's blood to the potion.
Instantaneously, the potion turned a blinding white. Harry could feel the almost searing heat emanating from it and had to close his eyes, it was reminiscent to sitting in front of an open fire. The potion hissed and sparked, sending jets or red, gold and green into the atmosphere. Harry's mind briefly entertained the idea that the muggles must think that there was a fireworks display.
A deafening bang shook the surrounding area, birds tittered and flew off in alarm. Harry's insides shrivelled up in horror as a gyrating black mass rose from the cauldron. It had neither form nor solidity, it seemed to mingle with the air itself as it spun in on itself, debating on its form.
Colours of black and grey surrounded the mass of what Harry could only assume was a cloud, intermingling with it as it took its form. With a final burst of light, the mass turned into a relatively person shaped form before solidifying and disappearing within a plume of thick, acrid smoke.
Through the dissipating smoke, red, glowing eyes appeared. Ice cold horror clenched its icy fingers around Harry's heart, creeping into his veins and flooding his body. A man appeared from the gloom, sneering at Harry with a snake-like face.
Lord Voldemort had returned.
"Wormtail, my robe." the man said in a high, cold voice.
Wormtail stood to attention, cradling the bleeding stump that used to be his hand before snatching up the shabby robes and handing them to Voldemort, quailing under the intense stare that Voldemort fixed him with.
Voldemort shrugged the robe upon his pale, skeletal body and fixed a cruel smirk upon Harry's terrified face. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't.
"Wormtail, my wand." Voldemort snapped impatiently, still surveying Harry with cruel amusement.
Harry looked away from those red, cold eyes. Eyes that told of the horrors Voldemort had committed, of the people he had murdered and tortured. His scar was burning with an almost needy intensity, his eyes were rolling back and it took all of his willpower not to vomit. His grief at losing Cedric added to the mix, making for a most potent poison.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort smirked cruelly. "The-Boy-Who-Lived."
Harry arched against the bonds that tied him, fighting and writhing in vain to escape. To flee from the madman that was after his blood.
"You see what I have become Harry Potter? What I have been reduced to? But, no matter. I can touch you now,"
Voldemort flew forwards, as if he was made of air and pressed his finger into Harry's scar. Harry screamed in silent agony, tears burning his eyes as the white, hot pain shot through his scar. Voldemort released Harry, laughing sadistically and Harry fell against his restraints, quietly sobbing.
"Hold out your arm Wormtail" Voldemort suddenly snapped, sending a tendril of icy terror through his chest.
Whimpering, Wormtail bowed forwards and acquiesced, extending his trembling left arm for Voldemort to take. Harry watched the revulsion and fear in Wormtail's eyes as Voldemort grasped his chubby hands between his own, pressing a long, skeletal finger to the tattoo that seemed to be there.
Pain, like Harry had never felt exploded through him, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he vomited, choking as it had nowhere to go. It was as if somebody had taken a soldiering iron to his head. Somebody kill me now! He thought desperately.
The pain dissipated and his mind came back to him. It was now taking all of his willpower not to vomit everywhere. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, to slide through the cracks, away from Voldemort but he knew it was not possible. A thrill of fear shot through him, he was going to die.
"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the bones of my deceased father. He was a filthy muggle and a fool to boot, much like your dear, mudblood mother." Voldemort hissed, sending chills down Harry's spine.
"I took great pleasure in killing my father. In death, he has proven himself to be of some use!"
Voldemort paced back and forth in front of Harry, pausing to kick Wormtail sharply in the ribs. He turned, smirking at Harry. He pointed a filthy finger to a house in the distance, just visible through the smog and gloom.
"Upon that hillside, Potter. My father resided there. My mother, was a witch, whom lived in this very village, the foolish blood traitor fell in love with the filthy muggle. He left her and returned to his Muggle parents – before I was even born. My mother died giving birth to me, you see? I avenged myself in the end, that fool Tom Riddle would rue the day he gave me his filthy muggle name!" Voldemort hissed.
"Wormtail! Stand up!" Voldemort suddenly ordered, eyes alight with coldness and malice.
Wormtail staggered to his feet, pale with the amount of blood he had lost. Sneering, Voldemort roughly grasped the bleeding stump, pressing his nails into the fleshy sinew that could be seen. Wormtail screamed and his legs buckled but Voldemort pulled him up roughly, sneering.
He tapped his wand to the jagged skin of Wormtail's stump, sniggering at Wormtail's agonised expression. From the sky, fell a silvery, cloud like substance. It morphed into a hand shape and attached itself to Wormtail's stump, seamlessly preventing any blood from escaping.
"Master! It's beautiful." Wormtail stammered, staring at the white, gold hand in awe.
Loud cracks filled the air as a dozen hooded figures apparated into the clearing, all stopping stock still when they saw Voldemort. One of the hooded figures bowed down and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes as if he was a king and they were his loyal subjects.
"My men," Voldemort whispered, eyes scanning the crowd critically. "They have returned to me."
between the gaps of trees and behind gravestones – appeared more hooded figures. They gave off a cold, composing air that made Harry feel sick. He was outnumbered, there was no way that he was making it out of this alive.
Harry struggled fruitlessly once more. He was growing more and more desperate as he felt the hungry eyes of Voldemort's men trained upon his face. He could almost feel the leers sent in his direction.
"Welcome my loyal death eaters," Voldemort hissed. "Thirteen years it has been. Thirteen years since you stood before me. Yet, you arrive to my summons as though it were only yesterday. Under the dark mark, we are united. Are we not?"
There was a murmur of assent as the death eaters shifted uncomfortably, Voldemort's tone indicated that he was less than pleased. Nobody wanted to fall under the wrath of Lord Voldemort. He sniffed the air, as if trying to sniff out disloyalty and contempt.
"Guilt is present," he drawled. "The stench of guilt lays heavy upon you."
Once more, a shiver ran through the circle. Nobody dared move as Voldemort surveyed them, head tilted to the side, giving him the effect of childlike curiosity.
"Here you all are, standing before me. Whole, healthy, powers intact. I must broach the question … why did the band of men I see before me never come to my aid. To whom they swore never-ending, eternal loyalty?"
Tentatively, almost cautiously, Wormtail stepped forwards, face flickering in the low light cast upon him by the flames of the cauldron.
"M...Master, I was always l..loyal to you!" Wormtail said, despite the fear that Harry could hear, he detected a sense of sulkiness.
"Ah, Yes, Wormtail," Voldemort sneered. "But it was out of fear, was it not ?"
Wormtail squeaked and stepped back into the circle, trembling violently. Voldemort's lips curved into a mirthless smile, snakelike face seeming even more depraved and hostile.
"I think to myself," Voldemort sneered, voice so low that you had to strain to hear it. "they must have believed me dead, indeed, they must have felt sharp relief at my 'supposed' demise. Perhaps they believed or indeed, hoped that I would not rise again, more powerful than ever before."
There was a collective shudder around the circle. There was no mistaking the anger in Voldemort's voice – which was low and dangerous. Suddenly, one of his men flung himself forwards, murmuring desperately and kissing the hem of his robes. Voldemort's sneered and kicked, his foot connecting with the man's face with a sickening crunch.
"Lucius," Voldemort sneered. "I see you have managed to slip through the fingertips of muggle loving fools? How very touching."
Voldemort moved around the circle, discussing his followers as if he was discussing the weather. Meanwhile, Harry's fear was slowly mounting. He suddenly realised that he did not want to die.
"As you can see, my loyal followers, Harry Potter has joined us tonight." Voldemort snarled, coming to stand beside Harry.
Harry's scar exploded with pain but he fought it off, keeping his eyes firmly wedged open. He had to stay alert, stay focused. He had to find a way out of there.
"You crave to know, I can feel it, I can smell it," Voldemort hissed, sniffing the air. "How I managed to procure Harry Potter. Well, it is rather an ingenious plan."
Nobody moved, nobody spoke as Voldemort resumed pacing, pausing every now and then to sneer at his death eaters.
"You all, of course, know the story. Of how the little whelp you see before you brought about my downfall," Voldemort said in a dangerous whisper. "What you do not know … is that his filthy mudblood mother died to protect him … thus setting in store, a most ancient magic, one of which I knew not of. But no matter now, I can touch him."
For the second time that night, Voldemort pressed his finger to Harry's scar. Almost immediately, white, hot pain shot through his scar, locking him in a silent scream, still gagged by the thick wad of material.
"No matter now, Harry Potter will die tonight and Lord Voldemort will rule the world once more!" Voldemort laughed mercilessly, eyes crinkled with hatred and pure evil.
Voldemort snapped his long fingers and the ropes binding Harry to the headstones disappeared, sending Harry crashing to the ground. The gag was ripped from his mouth and a something cold and hard was shoved into his hands. His wand!
Slowly, surreptitiously, Harry clutched his wand in his hand, looking up at Voldemort's with pure, unfiltered hatred in his eyes. He was shaking with anger and fear and a survival instinct that had been imbibed deep within him. He had to survive this, for Remus, for Sirius, for Ron, for Hermione.
"Ah, Harry, you will of course fight valiantly. But I, Lord Voldemort am stronger than you. Crucio!"
Pain, like nothing he had ever felt before – ripped through him. Every nerve was on fire, his internal organs stitching together, his eyes rolled back into his head and his back arched as the curse progressed. He was aware of nothing, no sight, smell or sound as the unbearable pain ripped through his body.
The curse was lifted and Harry was left panting on the floor, sobbing quietly. Voldemort laughed quietly and lifted his wand, sending Harry flying through the air and into a tombstone. His back connected with the stone, knocking the wind out of him. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his back.
"You see, Harry Potter? Your attempts are fruitless." Voldemort hissed.
Harry staggered to his feet and cast a cutting hex, which Voldemort easily deflected, sending it back at Harry. It hit its target, ripping a huge gash across his cheek and settling just above his ear. He was aware of the thick, sweet-smelling blood dripping down his face, of his own laboured breathing and of the pains suddenly shooting through his body.
He clutched at the tombstone with shaky legs, hoping against hope that he wouldn't pass out. He had to get back to the cup! Something told him that it was his only hope of escape. It was lying inches from him, glinting innocently in the firelight – next to Cedric's stiff body. He began edging towards it. Slowly, cautiously.
An invisible fishing line hooked him backwards, slamming him into the hard earth. He gasped, winded once more as his fingers scrabbled desperately for his wand – which had fallen from his hand and was laying inches away.
"You think you can escape, Potter? Think again, Crucio!"
For the second time that night, Harry's agonised screams tore through the air. once more, his vision failed as the unbearable pain ripped through his body, firing up his nerves. The curse was lifted and Harry felt Voldemort crouch beside him.
"You see, Harry Potter? Now you see that you cannot escape me. Stand up like a man!"
Harry was lifted to his feet as if invisible hands had lifted him and slammed into the hard earth, his legs buckled but he stood his ground, wand held shakily in front of him.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Voldemort had acted so suddenly that Harry scarcely had time to react. He ducked behind a headstone, the curse sailing over his head and shattering a stone angel, covering him in dust and debris. He coughed and spluttered as he pointed his wand round the corner of his hiding place, hoping to catch Voldemort unawares.
He dived from behind the tombstone, wand clutched tightly in his hand.
"Expelliarmus!" he roared, just as Voldemort sent the killing curse.
Their spells collided in mid-air, sending sparks of colour and the distinct smell of burnt grass into the air, a lightly glowing force field cropped up around them, pushing the prowling death eaters away. Beads of light had started pulsing through the beam of light, making Harry's wand vibrate.
He bit his lip as he concentrated on forcing the beads of light back towards Voldemort. His wand trembled violently in his hands and it took all of his sapping strength to not drop the wand. Voldemort was eyeing the beam in surprise, seeming as perturbed as Harry himself was.
Perspiration permeated Harry's forehead, intermingling with the thick, congealed blood and dripping down his chin. Suddenly, his wand jerked violently and the beads of light connected with Voldemort's wand. He watched with mounting horror and fascination as Voldemort's wand glowed an ethereal red and began emitting high-pitched screams which were lost in the deep rumbling caused by the spells.
Harry's throat caught in his throat as a ghostly arm shot from the end of Voldemort's wand, followed by the rest of his body. Before his very eyes, an old man, stooped with age fell to the ground. He straightened himself up and smiled reassuringly at him.
"Wizard eh? He killed me, he did. Don't break the connection." the old man said, prowling round, hissing obscenities at Voldemort whose eyes were widened in something akin to fear.
Harry nodded, half to himself, half to the ghostly figure as Voldemort's wand began to wail once more and a second figure clambered out. Harry's stomach contracted, almost painfully and he felt tears spring to eyes as he saw whom had just stepped out.
A beautiful woman with waist length red hair stepped out. Like the man, she had a ghostly appearance to her.
"Keep strong sweetheart, your father is coming. Just hold on a little longer."
it was becoming harder to hold the connection, his back was aching beyond belief and he felt as if he would pass out any second. Sure enough, his father followed next, searching Harry's face hungrily, as if committing him to memory.
"Let go now, sweetheart. We'll hold him off. Take the boy and go!" Lily said, tears streaming down his face.
"Now, son!" Harry's father said softly, gazing kindly at Harry.
With a loud scream, Harry wrenched his wand upwards, ducking as the curses sailed towards him. Allowing his adrenaline to fill him up, Harry ran for his life, faster than he had ever ran before. He dived behind headstones as curses were sent his way, cracking the old tombs.
Using all the skills of a seeker, Harry dove for the handle of the Triwizard Cup, hands enclosing upon the cool metal, other hand upon Cedric's cold wrist. He felt a jerk behind his navel and was whirled away in a flash of howling sound and colour.
He slammed into the hard earth of Hogwarts grounds, the grass filling his mouth and nose. He clutched tighter at Cedric's body as he felt the rumble of hundreds of feet approaching him, the cheers as Hogwarts celebrated it's victory. They didn't notice, they didn't notice Cedric's vacant stare or the state Harry was in.
He felt strong hands clutch his shoulders and he was turned around, looking up into the crepuscular night. Sirius hovered over him, looking scared. That got to him, Sirius actually looked scared. Tears fell from his eyes and into his hair as he looked up at Sirius.
"He's back, Sirius, Voldemort's back." Harry cried, still clutching at Cedric's body.
Sirius paled and tried to pry Harry's fingers from Cedric's stiff body but Harry held fast, crying and begging.
"He's dead, I couldn't save him!" Harry whimpered, looking into Sirius' eyes.
"Harry, it's all right. I'm here now, you're safe," Sirius begged, finally prying Harry free and holding his distraught godson to his chest.
He tuned out the agonised screams of Cedric's father, the sobs and screams of the crowds, of Dumbledore talking loudly, trying to regain some order. He wasn't even aware of Remus' presence beside him – or Sirius' silent tears at his heartbreaking sobs.
"Sirius, get Harry inside. I think we can still save the boy." Dumbledore said urgently, looking older than Sirius had ever seen him.
Nodding, Sirius staggered to his feet, still clutching Harry in his arms. Harry screamed and struggled against Sirius' grip, fighting to get back to Cedric. His brother in all but blood.
"No! I need to see Cedric, I need to say goodbye!" Harry screamed, punching his godfathers chest feebly.
"Harry, please," Sirius begged. "Cedric isn't dead, do you hear me?"
Harry stilled, tears soaking his dirty face, chest heaving with emotions. Sirius clutched him tighter, running to the grounds with more urgency. With that, Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went slack in Sirius' arms.
Sirius thought he would vomit as he raced through the cold corridors, heading straight for the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey was already inside, tears streaming down her face as she readied the equipment. Sirius gently set Harry down on the face and clutched his stomach when he got a good look at his godson.
His clothes were torn and frayed, a large cut spread from his ear, down to his jaw was bleeding profusely. His arms and legs were covered in huge, purple bruises and he could easily see the burn marks from the various curses.
"Mr Black, if you want Harry to get better, you need to stand back!" Madame Pomfrey snapped, softening her voice slightly.
Sirius watched, horror-struck as Madame Pomfrey injected him with potion after potion, putting a Muggle breathing mask over his face and setting his ankle in plaster. Several times, she nearly tripped over his feet in his haste and shouted at him.
"Mr Black, I must insist you leave. Harry needs urgent treatment."
Sirius was about to protest that he wasn't leaving Harry when he felt Remus' warm hand on his shoulder, he trembled and a tear escaped his eye.
"Come on Sirius, not here." said Remus, wrapping an arm around Sirius' shoulders and pulling him towards the waiting room.
Sirius had tears streaming down his face as Remus pulled him down in a chair and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his head to his shoulder. He knew what Sirius needed, he needed reassurance that Harry would be all right, that he would survive. But he couldn't give him that. He couldn't tell him that Harry would be okay when there was a chance that he wouldn't so he settled for the next best thing.
Remus' own tears fell as Sirius fell apart at the seams. Harry was just as much a son to him as he was to Sirius, if he lost him, it would kill him. Sirius pulled back, looking embarrassed that he'd shown a sign of weakness and blinked apologetically at Remus.
Nobody said a word. They just listened to the ticking of the clock, of the distant screams at the aftermath of the task. Time seemed to be going by slowly, indeed, were it not for the ticking of the clock – Sirius would have said that time had stopped.
The door opened and both heads shot up sharply. Madame Pomfrey stood in the doorway, looking grim.
"You can see him now."
Well, after 23 pages it's complete. This chapter was so hard to write so I apologise for the errors contained within it.
