AN Disclaimer Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling I own nothing. This is fanfiction, I make no money out of this whatsoever. Now that's out of the way...

Chapter 36 – A Dark Lord Rising

Sirius had been watching the task on tenterhooks. It never got any easier watching his child risk his life, every parental instinct he had was screaming at him to run down to the maze, find his son and pull him to safety but with the iron will he had acquired in Azkaban and that one year on the run he forced himself to stay in the stands, his heart thudding painfully and his knuckles white where they gripped the railing.

A monitoring spell had been cast on every champion before they entered the maze, and each champion had a large screen dedicated to them where live images of what was occurring in the maze were being projected. Sirius's eyes had been glued to Harry's screen, seeing everything from a distance was hard enough but watching it from Harry's viewpoint make everything worse. He could see precisely what his child was facing, see every hit that almost got him, see precisely how close he came to death.

But Harry was almost there, glancing down at the maze revealed both he and Cedric were almost at the cup and soon it would be over. Sirius tried to slow his racing heart, it wouldn't be more than a few minutes before Harry was out of the maze, it was almost over and then his son would be safe.

The Acromantula came out of nowhere.

One second Harry had been jogging towards the cup and the next minute he was fighting for his life. It happened so quickly, there was a blaze of spell fire and then his child was hanging in the acromantula's pincers.

Sirius didn't hear the roar of pain and fury that erupted from his throat, he didn't see the shocked and fearful faces of the crowd surrounding him as his entire being was focussed on one thing and one thing only. His child was hurt, injured and he had to help him. He had lost so much and he refused to lose his child too. Vice like hands clamped down on his upper arms and he struggled desperately, trying to free himself to reach his child. But he was no match for the strength of the werewolf.

Enraged he whirled around, "Let me go Moony!"

Remus hung on grimly, "No Padfoot," he said firmly, "If you go down there you'll put yourself in danger, and Harry could lose his father. Don't make him lose another parent."

Sirius turned anguished eyes out onto the field, automatically searching for Harry's figure. "I can't lose him Moony," he admitted in a voice that was barely above a whisper, and with that thought his struggles redoubled and he strained against the hands holding him back. "Let me go!"

To his utter surprise he felt the hands holding him release but as he whipped round to face the maze he saw why. Harry was no longer in the grip of the spider's pincers, rather he was sitting, shaking somewhat with what appeared to be a bandage around his middle but he was there, whole, alive, breathing.

Sirius sat down suddenly, relief coursing through his body. Harry was alive, he was safe and all he had to do was reach the cup. He let out a shaky breath, then another, then another, trying to calm his racing heart. He would not be satisfied until he had his son back in his arms where he belonged, and he had had Poppy look at the injury the spider had dealt him but that reality was only getting closer.

He let out an explosive breath as he saw Harry touch the cup and vanish with the usual sign of a portkey. His eyes immediately flicked down to the ground in front of the maze but nothing and nobody appeared. Anxiety rose up in him, thick and cloying. Portkeys weren't supposed to take this long, Harry and Cedric should have appeared before now.

Fear churned in his belly as he lurched to his feat, his eyes scanning the grounds and the stands, frantically looking for anywhere his son might have been brought by the portkey. All around him he could hear mutterings as slowly the watching crowds began to realise that something had gone awfully, horribly wrong. Sirius's feet carried him almost mechanically to the part of the stand where the judges and the ministry representatives sat, barely aware of the hurried and worried footsteps that were following him.

He burst into the Judge's box, "What's happening?" he demanded roughly, the instant he saw Dumbledore.

"Sirius m'boy, I'm afraid..."

"Don't 'm'boy' me Dumbledore," Sirius snapped back, a flash of ambient magic wresting away from his control for just a second, punctuating his words with an emphasis nobody in the box could miss, "Tell me what has happened to my son!"

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Sirius looked from one fact to another, rage, fury and fear rising up in him as he realised exactly what that silence meant.

"You don't know do you?" The question appeared innocuous on the surface but everyone in the box flinched at the threat, and the accusation in the words. "You are just sitting her while my son is Merlin knows where, facing Merlin knows what along with Cedric Diggory and not a single finger is being lifted to help find them, or where they have gone!"

His voice fell ringing into the silence, even as his magic rose, writhing and lashing as it sensed its master's anger and fear but as helpless as Sirius to find Harry and bring him safely back.

A thought came to him and whirled on the Auror standing guard at the entrance to the box, "You there!" The man jumped and instantly turned his attention onto Sirius, "You can track portkey signatures can't you?"

"Yes Sir!" The man replied promptly.

Sirius didn't stop to think that he couldn't technically give this man orders, didn't stop to consider the fact that it should have been Dumbledore and the Minister giving these orders in the first place and not him, his whole body and mind were absorbed with the awful knowledge, Harry is missing, in danger and there was nothing he could do to help him.

"Then what are you waiting for? Track that damn portkey!" Without another word the Auror turned and broke into a run in the direction of the maze, calling out to his comrades as he did so but Sirius had already moved onto the next thing. He turned to Moony, ignoring the others seated in the box, if they weren't going to help him find Harry they were worse than enemies in his eyes but he couldn't spare the energy to deal with them now, he had to help Harry, everything else could wait until he had his child safe in his arms again, and only then would he hunt down the bastard that had done this and make him pay dearly for every hair on his child's head that had been harmed.

A raw throated yell broke the silence suddenly and Sirius glanced up in confusion for his eyes to meet one of the screens that had been suspended over the stands to allow the audience to see precisely what was going on in the maze. The specialist monitoring charm had been cast on each of the champions and it provided a video feed and a weak audio link to the screens. It was not enough to pick up any of the details of speech or the specific spells that were used but screams and similar were easily able to be picked up.

In his worry and fear Sirius hadn't looked at the screens, he had just presumed that they would have gone black when Harry and Cedric had left the maze but he realised suddenly they were still broadcasting, the only reason that nobody had realised that they were working before was that they appeared to have been taken somewhere dark and he was too preoccupied with his fear and worry to look.

But as he recognised the figure on screen he suddenly knew that he had far more to fear and the chances of his son getting out of this alive had just slipped from slim to virtually non-existent.

Harry forced himself to calm his breathing, the longer he could stay out of Voldemort's awareness the longer he had to plan and try to do something, anything to help him escape. He could still feel the lingering touch of the dark magic, hear the faint echo of the heartbeat in his ears, feel the pain where the magic had ripped through him but that effect was slowly receding, and the pain was fading away, leaving the throbbing pain of the cuts in his side and the slight burn of Acromantula venom in his bloodstream and his scar, which had flared up in response to the touch of the same magic that had originally made it a horcrux, had died down, becoming nothing more than a scar.

His attention was ripped from his internal musings when Voldemort spoke.

"Now we shall see," he hissed, his voice soft and sibilant but somehow the more menacing for it, "See how many are still loyal, how many will return when their marks burn,"

"Wormtail," he snapped suddenly, and Harry's attention instantly fixed on the curled form of the one-time Marauder. Disgust, hatred and pity warred within him as he stared at him, Peter was a pathetic figure, cradling his handless arm to his chest whilst boulder tears flooded down his cheeks. Despite himself Harry couldn't help but pity him, what did it take to reduce a grown man to this? But at the same time he couldn't help but feel it was nothing more than the rat deserved. Was it worth it he thought suddenly, was selling out my parents and betraying their trust worth this? The vicious part of him took great pleasure in knowing the answer was certainly no.

The man looked up at his master's voice, his entire being quivering with fear but Voldemort paid no heed, "Your arm Wormtail,"

A look of complete shock and hope blossomed across the man's pointed features and he held up his trembling stump towards his master but Voldemort merely laughed, knocking his servant's handless arm aside with a contemptuous blow, "Other arm you fool!"

Harry could see the man bite back a cry as he raised his single good arm towards the creature, Harry was loath to call Voldemort a man. With one single movement he jerked up Pettigrew's threadbare sleeve, exposing the glowing snakes-head of the dark mark to the sky, and pressed down on it.

Wormtail screamed and Voldemort dropped his servant almost idly, red eyes already searching the surrounding, waiting for his servants to return to his side.

The first tell-tale pop of an apparition shattered the waiting silence, and almost instantly it was followed by another and another, as masked men, clad in flowing black robes hurried to their master's side once again.

Harry tuned out all of Voldemort's speech as the man roved the gathered Death Eaters, anger and rage beginning to pulse through him. These men had murdered, raped, tortured and then lied about it and were allowed to walk free, but now the instant they had heard their master call they were back, ready to kill, torture and maim, pulling yet more families apart and creating more orphans.

His rage grew, lashing out as he realised that it was not only Voldemort that had been responsible for his parent's deaths but everyone here was in some way culpable. Without his followers Voldemort was just a man, an awful, evil and powerful one true but still a man. It was his followers that had allowed him to gain so much control, to make a nation cower in fear at his feet and that had eventually led to him murder the parents of a child, and to turn his wand on the child attempting to remove a prophesied threat.

Magic grew thick in the air. The ambient magic in the graveyard, and the magic that had bled into the surroundings from the ritual rose up as Harry's rage and anger grew. A storm was building, feeding off Harry's anger and fear, he could feel it tingling against his skin, hanging heavy in the air as it swirled around him, growing in potency and power.

Harry wasn't controlling it, but at the same time he was. With his anger burning through his veins, the magic rose around him, seeking for those who had riled its master so and for the first time he understood why Sirius had told him that people feared this, feared the magic that the Black's wielded. He could feel the power thrumming around him, and he knew that if he could control it, control everything his anger had summoned he could do anything he willed but there was too much magic, more than he had ever felt or summoned.

The magic was wild, he knew that and he could feel it. He gritted his teeth, forcing his will on the magic that had risen at his call. He could use the magic, it could get him out of here and back to Hogwarts but he couldn't let it go free, not unless he wished the destruction of everything in the surrounding mile radius. He couldn't care less about the death eaters but he knew this was a muggle graveyard, so there were muggles in the area and he would not be responsible for the deaths of innocents!

Slowly he yanked the magic back to him. It still rose up in the air, cloaking him like a shroud but he knew it would not harm him, the magic was his to command and he was going to leave this graveyard alive, Voldemort and his Death Eaters be damned!

"Cut the ropes," he murmured, plucking at two tendrils of magic and sending them flowing down but a jarring laughter echoed around the graves and Harry glanced up, his body tensing automatically.

All the Death Eaters' heads were turned in his direction and Harry knew that he had taken too long trying to control the magic, even as he realised that the circle had extended and he was surrounded on all sides. He was going to have to fight his way free. He pulled the magic to him, automatically tensing, ready to fight, he was not going to sit here helpless while they killed him.

Voldemort's silky voice broke into his thoughts, "I'm sure you all recognise my guest," A ripple of laughter, harsh and cruel went round the gathering, "Harry Potter has become the distinguished guest at my rebirth. I'm sure you all know him, The-Boy-Who-Lived." Then his voice changed, losing its silky, almost amused note and taking on a hint of something much darker.

"You know of course, that they have called this boy my downfall? You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body I tried to kill him. It was to be my greatest triumph, to kill the one that could pose a threat but I in my glory I overlooked the mother, the common mudblood mother that died in an attempt to save him – and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen... I could not touch the boy. This is old magic, I should have remembered it. I was foolish to overlook it...but no matter. I can touch him now."

Voldemort leaned forward, bone white fingers reaching for Harry's face. In another world and another life it could have almost been called affectionate but Harry knew that affection, care and love were emotions Voldemort was incapable of feeling and he was not going to sully himself by allowing the bastard that had murdered his parents to touch him.

He twisted his head away as far as he could, striving to avoid the grasping fingers even as he lashed out with the ambient magic. "Drive him back," he willed silently, his face taught with concentration.

Voldemort's fingers were mere inches from his cheek when the wave of pure magic slammed into him. He straightened abruptly, red eyes focussed and sharp, not waving as he stared at Harry. Behind him a ripple of shock ran through the ranks of the Death Eaters even as the first of their number caught the edges of the deflected magic. But Voldemort paid no heed to his followers, his eyes were fixed on Harry and they contained an almost predatory gleam.

"Ambient magic," the man mused quietly "The control of the magic in everything and a most rare gift, it would be such a shame to waste it, such a shame to waste such glorious potential."

The red eyes spun so they were boring straight into Harry's own. "Such a gift would be highly valuable among the ranks of my servants. If you joined me you would be highly favoured, I can offer you riches and power beyond your wildest dreams. You would find a true family in the ranks of my Death Eaters, indeed I could see you rising to the position of my heir, you would have whatever you desired. Will you not join the cause?"

A colourless tongue licked over white lips and the man leaned forward, anticipating Harry's reply. Harry let him get closer, he could have used the magic once again but that felt too easy, as if Voldemort ever thought he'd willingly join him when he had killed his parents, he needed something physical to convey the contempt and outrage that the offer inspired in him.

Voldemort's face was mere inches from his own when he spoke.

"Go to hell Tom."

And just as Voldemort's eyes started to widen in shock Harry spat straight into his enemy's face.

There was a moment of pure, utter silence.

Voldemort had been feared by the entire magical world, the people hadn't even attempted to fight back and even now, fifteen years after he had supposedly fallen they were still too scared to mention his name, almost believing that to say it would bring the death eaters swooping down on them. Towards the end of the last war they had been virtually unopposed, few even dared to raise their wands against them and here a child had dared not only to refuse the Dark Lord's offer and a high offer but to reject him in that manner.

With a single, slow, deliberate movement Voldemort raised a colourless hand and wiped the saliva from his face. "You dare refuse me?" He asked, his voice silky and deadly, "I Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard to walk this earth?"

In reply Harry spat in his face one more.

"Such insolence," Voldemort murmured, "Children should learn to respect their betters. It seems it is down to me to teach you. Crucio!"

Harry had one frantic moment of thought as the curse sped towards him. He lashed out with the ambient magic, willing the magic back but the curse flew towards him, unstoppable. The instant before it hit Harry bit down hard on his tongue, he'd be damned if he let Voldemort hear him scream.

Pain. Nothing but excruciating pain. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire, his blood boiled in his veins as he was stabbed by a thousand, thousand knives. He wanted nothing more to scream, to cry, to beg them to kill him but he bit his tongue harder and held on.

And then it was over. He drooped against the ropes that held him in place, his breathing erratic as he tasted the bitter tang of blood. He couldn't prevent the shudders that racked through his body, the natural response to the torture he had just endured, and the fire in his side where a fresh wave of blood flooded out the wounds but in a move of absolute defiance he raised his head, looked Voldemort dead in the eye and smiled. It was mocking and taunting, almost daring him to cast it again

There was a twisted smile on his enemy's face but deep in the man's red eyes, behind the almost unholy pleasure and contempt for every living thing Harry could see the barest hint of respect and doubt lurking in the depths of his eyes. Voldemort spoke the incantation a second time and Harry braced himself, prepared for the pain even as he clamped his lips shut.

It was harder this time. Perhaps knowing what was to come had made it worse but Harry only just managed to hold on, he had been about to give in the moment the curse had been removed. He doubled over panting, his limbs shaking and he knew he couldn't withstand another blast, but he gritted his teeth and raised his head once more, to smirk at his enemy.

The Death Eaters were becoming unsettled. Harry could see it in their posture, in the glances they exchanged when they knew their Lord was not looking. His defiance had confused, worried and unnerved them. How could a child, a mere boy stand against the Dark Lord, endure his curses and then smile? Doubts were rising, had their Lord been resurrected with his powers intact, were they still following the Lord who had made them powerful or did he possess but a ghost of his former power?

Voldemort could see it too, he ruled by fear and he needed to make an example of the boy, only then could he prove that he was still the Dark Lord that nobody could stand against. A slow, cruel smirk spread across his face. "That hurt didn't it Harry," he said, his sibilant voice mocking, "You wouldn't want me to do it again would you?"

Harry just gritted his teeth, refusing to answer even as he blanked out the Death Eater's laughter, glaring at his enemy. "Answer me! Imperio!"

The too familiar mist settled across his thoughts, he was drifted languidly in the blankness and it was peaceful here, away from the troubles, the war, the pain. A voice floated across his thoughts, just answer no, just answer no. Harry opened his mouth, it would be so easy to answer no, why would he want to resist the voice, it contained the promise of peace and it was completely reasonable.

But a small voice started up in the back of his mind, 'Why?' it asked, 'why should I?'. The first voice responded, just answer no, just answer no, but the second voice was becoming stronger, more powerful. "No I don't think I will, thank you very much." The second voice was becoming louder, pushing down the first, the whisperings were becoming easier to ignore and with a sudden rush Harry snapped back into control. "I WON'T!"

The Death Eaters were no longer laughing and any trace of amusement had been wiped clean off Voldemort's face. "You won't," he repeated slowly, each syllable he uttered promising pain. Harry didn't dignify the question with a response. He was tied up to the grave, he was surrounded by Death Eaters and he was facing down Voldemort himself and after the crucios the control he was exerting over the ambient magic was shaky at best, he could hold it back but he knew if he tried to command it he would lose control.

The torture curse ripped through him a third time as this time he could not suppress the screams that tore their way out of his throat. He didn't know how long it had been before the curse was released and he slumped forward but this time there were no ropes impeding his movement and he fell face first, gasping on the cold grass.

Harry knew he had no more than a split second to react. Ignoring the trembling in his limbs and the pain in his side he forced himself to his feet, a growled command to the ambient magic sending his wand flying back into his hand, even as he spoke the incantation for the strongest shield he was able to cast. The disk of magic shimmered into place just in time as half a dozen spells impacted almost at the same time, and he was under no delusions that the curses hadn't been anything but dark in origin and designed to cause as much pain as physically possible.

Another wave impacted into his shield, and the magic wavered, even as he heard Voldemort's voice cut through the night air. "Hold your fire fools, the boy is mine!"

The spells instantly stopped coming, no Death Eater was willing to disobey their master, whether he had been weakened by the ritual or not, and particular when he was in such a fell mood. At their core the Death Eaters were slytherins and they valued self-preservation above all else, to stand against their master now would mean instant death.

Harry let his shield fall, aware it had only just stood up to the spells the Death Eaters had cast and he knew Voldemort had to have far more knowledge and power than his servants and he knew that his shields were not strong enough to withstand an attack of that magnitude, his best defence now was to keep moving, and hope he landed a lucky shot, or that he could distract Voldemort for long enough for help to arrive although he knew that hope was faint.

A sudden idea came to him and he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. Completely deliberately he allowed his magic to well up inside him, calling out the ambient magic, pulling it towards him. He was calling more than he could handle and he knew that, but he could also remember what had happened to Sirius when the magic had got out of control, the only difference here was that he had no conpunction about hurting any one of the bastards that had been, even in a small way, responsible for his parent's deaths.

But the magic took time and concentration to call, and he knew that he had to stay alive for long enough to blast a large enough hole in the death eater ranks to get back to the portkey that had brought him here, and with that thought in mind he raised his head to look Voldemort in the eye an expression of absolute defiance on his face, his wand up and ready to cast.

Voldemort's low laugh had not been the reaction he had been expecting and a shiver worked its way down his spine as he tensed, his body instinctively preparing to dive out the way of the crucio he was sure was about to be sent his way.

"You have fought well tonight Harry Potter, and Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Throw down your wand and I will ensure your death is quick and painless."

Harry's reply tore itself from his throat, "Never!"

Voldemort's smile was cold and mocking, "Never Potter? Well I am sure I can arrange that your death is most painful," His voice twisted on the last word, almost caressing it. Harry gritted his teeth, before deciding that offence was the best defence, and he was better striking now while Voldemort was not expecting it rather than waiting until he was ready, and it would buy him the time he needed even as the ambient magic was still growing steadily in the background.

"Stupefy!" The red curse streaked across the graveyard, and Harry saw Voldemort's eyes widen in surprise for a second before a flick of his wand sent the spell careening off into the ranks of the Death Eaters.

The expression on Voldemort's face was icy and Harry knew instantly that there would be no more taunts, no more playing. This duel would only end when one of them was either dead or had managed to escape.

"Very well," Voldemort murmured, his voice still managing to carry to every corner of the graveyard, menace underlying every syllable, "To the death Harry Potter."

"To the death," Harry echoed.

He dived out the way of the first crucio a second later, taking shelter behind a gravestone as it absorbed the curse, shattering into a million different pieces as it did so. Harry didn't stay still, he was already rolling, spinning and ducking as he tried to avoid the maelstrom of spells that were being flung at him. He didn't recognise even half of them but he knew that any one of them had the potential to kill him and if he stayed still he was going to be hit.

He was gasping for breath, but he didn't stop moving even for a second, any mistake or hesitation could cost him his life and he had no intention of dying here, not when he had a father to return to. With that thought in mind he began firing some of his own curses back at the Dark Lord. He wasn't aiming precisely and he knew that some missed their targets by a mile but Voldemort's rate of fire had slowed slightly as he now expended effort trying to keep his own back protected.

A streak of white hot pain flared across his cheek and instinctively Harry's hand rose to the wound as his concentration faltered for the briefest of seconds, but that brief second was enough. Another spell hit him and he feel to his knees, his cheek burning in pain, his side flaring in agony in response to his movements, his body trapped under the body bind.

Voldemort strode forward, his face twisted into a mocking smile of victory, "And here it ends," he murmured, "The great Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, lying alone, defeated by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged." His mouth stretched into a cruel smirk, "Say goodbye Harry Potter, you will be with you dear mudblood mother soon. Any last words?"

He raised his wand, the glowing green of the killing curse already growing on its tip. Harry stared defiantly into the face of his enemy, he was not going to give the man the pleasure of seeing him beg.

"And so it ends," Voldemort said quietly, "Alone, friendless and at my mercy. Goodbye Harry Potter." The first syllable of the killing curse rose on his lips but he never got to finish the spell. The ambient magic which had been slowly building during their confrontation had finally reached boiling point. With a gasp Harry let it go and a wave of pure magic lashed out.

Voldemort's red eyes widened for a spilt second, an expression of incredulity on his features as the wave of magic slammed into him, knocking him to the ground, even as the wave threw the nearest death eaters to the ground.

Harry didn't stop to think, grabbing his wand he lurched to his feet, ignoring the pain in his side and cheek as he ran. The wave of magic had given him the moment he needed but he knew it wouldn't stop any of them for long. Already he could hear Voldemort's enraged shouts and he could hear the cry of curses that sped in his direction. He fired blindly over his shoulder and he thought he heard a thud, but they were getting closer, his lead wouldn't last long.

There was fire in his veins, the exertion forcing the venom through his system far faster, and his side was in agony. The running and the blood lose and the crucios had all taken their toll. He was nearly there, they were gaining on him, he wouldn't quite make it. In desperation he cried out "Accio Cup," and he lunged forward, his hand clutching onto Cedric's wrist, even as he caught the cup in his free hand with reflexes borne of his Quiddich training.

There was an awful pause, and for a single frantic moment Harry thought the portkey had only been one way but just as the Death Eaters were about to reach him he felt the tell-tale jerk behind his naval and he was spinning away onto the blankness, his fingers still clinging desperately to Cedric's wrist, and then with a single thump he landed on the cool grass.

A wave of sound hit him instantly and he pushed himself to his feet, his wand up, ready to face the new threat if need be, standing over the body of his fellow champion. The light here was bright, too bright after the darkness of the graveyard and he couldn't see. He blinked furiously, trying to ignore the trembling in his arm, he hadn't come this far only to die now.

There was the sound of running footsteps and he instantly swivelled to face the new threat, but in the next second he found himself gathered up in a pair of arms he would recognise anywhere.

"Harry, thank God, thank God." Sirius's voice was scratchy and hoarse and Harry could tell he had been crying. He didn't protest as Sirius pulled him deeper into the embrace, pressing him tightly against his chest.

"Dad," he murmured brokenly into the man's shoulder, relief and disbelief warring in his tone. Relief that he was here, that Sirius was here, that he had survived but at the same time the disbelief that he had made it out, that he was really away from that graveyard. He had been so sure Voldemort was going to kill him. He suddenly realised, almost detachedly that he was trembling. There was a sound in the back of his throat, a mixture of a sob and a gasp of relief and in response he felt Sirius's hand rub his back soothingly.

"Shh pup, I'm here, it's alright, you're safe." His father's voice wobbled and he knew that Sirius had been going mad with worry ever since he had vanished but nevertheless Harry felt himself relax at the assurance. But he couldn't stop the fear that was growing in him now he was away from the graveyard and could realise what had happened, what would happen now.

"He's back," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"I know," Sirius's reply was just as soft but Harry could hear the fear and pain in his voice.

"Wormtail was there...there was a ritual...ambient magic...cruico...couldn't stop it...it hurt...Cedric, he fell..." He was rambling, his thoughts fighting in his head and it was too confusing, he didn't know what to think, what to do. A new voice broke into his awareness halting the words that were spilling out of him with no sense or pattern.

"He's alive Harry," It was Professor Lupin's voice, "He was unconscious but Poppy thinks he'll make a full recovery."

Harry just blinked, absorbing the news but not really understanding it as he buried himself deeper into the comfort and security of his father's embrace. It was too much, the fight, the fear, the realisations he'd made, the pain that lingered from the crucios and the pain of his injuries, the betrayal, the hatred, nearly losing his life, nearly losing Cedric's, Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the task. He couldn't cope.

The tears came then, the sobs tearing themselves out of his throat as he buried his face in his father's chest, hiding the tears that were streaking down his cheeks, even as his whole body shook. He could hear words being spoken above him, reassurances and whispered conversations but they didn't make sense, didn't matter. The adrenalin was wearing off and the pain of his injuries was beginning to make itself known once more.

The tears were not stopping, they poured down his face, full of his pain and fear as he clung onto his father, too far gone to be aware of the crowds surrounding them, of the noise, the screams and shouts, of the arguments and the pain. He was aware only of the arms holding him up, the ground beneath his feet and the rough material his face was pressed against as the tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

The arms around him shifted and Harry clung on tighter, refusing to let go. "Come on pup," he heard Sirius say quietly, "Let's get you to the Hospital Wing." His father started walking slowly, his arms still supporting Harry, as the teen took a few steps forward. His legs felt like a mixture of lead and jelly and he stumbled forward, his legs shaking madly as they tried to support his weight, his tears blinding him. He heard voices murmur something about him then suddenly he felt the ground disappear from under him as he was lifted up.

He didn't have to look to know that Sirius was carrying him, and although he knew he should be embarrassed that the whole school was watching he didn't care, all he wanted was to be told that it was a nightmare, a nightmare that was over and that he was safe now. He rested his head on Sirius's shoulder, tears still marking his face, and tremors still wracking his body and let his eyes drift shut. He wanted to forget, to leave behind all the pain and fear, he wanted it to be over but at the same time he feared sleep, feared the nightmares that would lurk, haunting his mind.

Sirius was almost running as he headed towards the infirmary, his child clutched tightly in his arms. There were no words to describe the agony of watching his child fight for his life against the most evil madman to stalk this planet, to watch him be tortured, no words for those few awful seconds where there had seemed to be no hope and he was sure he was about to lose him.

They had been doing everything they could to try and reach them but the magic in the maze had scattered the portkey trail rendering it almost impossible to follow, and whilst they had been trying to track the spell supplying the images the arithmancy had been unwieldy and difficult to unravel, and without the spell's composition they were unable to track it to its target. The details of the graveyard had not provided an accurate enough image for apparition either, and you were not able to apparate to a person. He had been sitting there, completely helpless, powerless to act to save the child who was the most precious thing in his world.

He pushed those thoughts away angrily, Harry was here, in his arms and he was safe. His heart ached as he looked at the injuries, and felt the tremors caused by cruciatus exposure, even as rage swelled in him, that somebody had dared hurt his son, had caused him pain. Harry whimpered slightly as he started up the stairs, the movement jogging the wound in his side, and instantly the rage vanished as overwhelming concern swamped him. It will be alright, Poppy will heal him, he mentally chanted as he tore through the corridors as fast as he was able without hurting his child further.

A rhythmic thumping caught his attention as he turned slightly, assessing whether this was a new threat, and relaxed as the grizzled face of the ex-Auror came into view. He didn't slow his pace, intent on getting Harry medical treatment as soon as possible but he allowed the man to draw alongside, comforted in the knowledge there was another wizard here to protect Harry if the need arose.

He was completely unprepared when the petrification spell struck him from behind. His mind had barely had time to comprehend what had happened before the anger rose up in him, thick and strong. His child had been hurt and now someone dared to try and hurt him once again, but he couldn't stop the confusion that rose in him, where had the threat come from, and why hadn't he heard Mad Eye respond or fall?

The questions were answered a second later as he saw the mangled face of the auror come into his field of vision, but there was an expression of cruel ecstasy on his face that Sirius knew the old auror would never possess. A wave of fear swept through him as he realised that they were an imposter it they were the one which was the threat but that was almost instantly overridden by the rage and the sure knowledge that he would die before he allowed this bastard to touch Harry.

"The Dark Lord will be so disappointed that you escaped. He had been waiting for it for months, the chance to kill the Boy-Who-Lived." There was an edge of madness to his voice, and a crazed gleam in his eyes that worried Sirius. He was petrified, unable to reach his wand and this bastard was going to hurt his child. But he didn't need a wand to defend himself. Already the ambient magic was rising in the air, whipping around him, as the imposter continued to speak.

"It was I who entered you into the tournament Harry, I was prepared to help you, the Dark Lord needed you alive for the ritual and he would kill you afterwards, then he would return in glory, but you changed that but now I have you here and I will be rewarded when I bring your body back to my master." One trembling hand reached out and the imposter ran a finger down the child's cheek.

"So warm," the man murmured, "Still alive, but I will take great pleasure in extinguishing that life from your worthless body and presenting the cold corpse to my master. I will be exalted above all others..."

The wave of magic that slammed into the imposter was the most powerful wave Sirius had ever unleashed. It broke through the spell, even as it pined the imposter to the wall. He gritted his teeth as he controlled it, his breath coming in gasps as he locked the magic around the man, securing it so that he couldn't escape. The man's eyes were wide with fear and loathing, "My master will come for him," he cried out, "The Dark Lord will come and the boy will die!"

There was not a shred of remorse in Sirius as he shot several stunners, a petrification spell and several sticking charms at the man, fastening him to the wall, as well as conjuring a plaque above him that proclaimed the man to be an imposter. As a final measure he forced the ambient magic to strengthen the charms, preventing them being removed until he did so purposefully. Then satisfied that the spells had put in place were going to hold, he turned his back on the prone man and continued to hurry to the Hospital Wing, he needed to get Harry to Poppy as soon as possible.

And there's the update! Hope you all enjoyed it and please review!