Greetings, one and all, and welcome to the next chapter of The Potter And Kent Chronicles. I hope you are going to enjoy it as much as I had writing it and now on to the reviews.

Ashzaroth: Happy to hear it, I was kinda taking a small break from writing PAKC. I hope you will enjoy it. I am looking forward to your thoughts about my RWBY story. You will find out if Edward... uhm I mean Cedric lives or dies.

DiNozzo-Ncis: Happy to hear it.

Dark Blue Wing: I hope it meets your expectations.

And now on to the story.


Clark felt his feet slam into the ground, his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. "Where are we?" Harry asked. Cedric shook his head. The three got up and looked around.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles, perhaps hundreds of miles, for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Clark could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at the duo. "Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.

"Nope." Harry said, and Clark shook his head as he looked around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "You think this is supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno.", Cedric said, sounding slightly nervous. "Wands out, I guess.", Clark said and they pulled out their wands. Clark kept looking around him, He had the strange feeling that they were being watched. "Someone's coming." Harry said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Clark couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, they wore a hooded cloak pulled up over their head to obscure its face.

Several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time, they saw that the thing in the persons arms looked like a baby... or was it merely a bundle of robes? It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second. Harry, Clark, Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another. And then, without warning, Harry's groaned in pain, his hands over his face and he dropped to the ground. Clark was about to rush over to his friend, but stopped when he suddenly heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare."

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him, the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes. Clark was laying on top of Cedric, who was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. Clark whispered something just as he felt himself being pulled to his feet.

The short woman in the cloak had put down her bundle, lit her wand, and was dragging Clark towards the marble headstone. Clark saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before he was forced around and slammed next to Harry against it.

Tom Riddle

The cloaked woman was now conjuring tight cords around the duo, tying them from neck to ankles to the headstone. Clark could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood. He caught a glimpse from the face under the hood, it was Bertha Jorkins.

When she had finished conjuring the ropes, she was busy checking the tightness of the cords. Once sure that the duo was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, then without a word, she turned and hurried away. Clark couldn't see where Jorkins had gone; he couldn't turn his head to see beyond the headstone; he could see only what was right in front of him.

Cedric's body was lying some twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. The bundle of robes that Clark had thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. He could hear noises at his feet. He looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where they were tied.

Then Jorkins came back within Clark's range of vision, and she was pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water, Clark could hear it slopping around and it was larger than any cauldron he had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.

Suddenly there were crackling names beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Jorkins tending the fire.

The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds. "It is ready. Master.", Jorkins said with a strained, yet dreamy voice. Jorkins pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them,. It was as though she had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind, but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Jorkins had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Clark had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Jorkins's neck, and she lifted it then she lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Clark heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud. "Let it drown...", Harry muttered painfully next to him, "Please...let it drown..."

Jorkins raised her wand, closed her eyes, and spoke to the night, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" The surface of the grave at cracked, a fine trickle of dust rose into the air and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

And now Jorkins pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside her cloak. "Flesh of the servant willingly given, you will revive your master." She stretched her left hand out in front, she gripped the dagger very tightly in her right hand and swung it upward. Clark realized what Jorkins was about to do a second before it happened, he closed his eyes as tightly as he could. He heard a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. The potion had turned a burning red.

"Blood of the enemy forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.", Clark could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly. He saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Jerkin's remaining hand. Jorkins, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

She staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood, poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Jorkins, her job done, dropped to her knees then slumped sideways and lay on the ground. The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened and then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished.

A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Clark, so that he couldn't see Harry or Cedric or Jorkins or anything but vapor hanging in the air.

But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron. "Robe me." the high, cold voice said from behind the steam, and Jorkins, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to her feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over her controller's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry and Clark and they stared back into the face whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils... Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Voldemort looked away and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cats, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Jorkins, who lay on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling them again, hissing. Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Jorkin, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where the duo was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

"Thank you for your services.", Voldemort said and in another green flash of light Jorkin was dead. Voldemort then raised his wand shooting a blast of dark fog into the air. Creating a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth made out of clouds in the sky. "They will all have noticed it... and now, we shall see...now we shall know...", he said softly, a look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars, "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

He began to pace up and down before Harry and Clark, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Cedric, "Such a pretty face.", Voldemort whispered, before he could touch him, Clark shouted, "Don't you dare to touch him!"

Voldemort gave a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face. "Ah, Clark Kent, I almost forgot you and Harry Potter were here. You stand upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother.", he then turned to Harry, "But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child... and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death...", Voldemort laughed again.

Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass. "You see that house upon the hillside? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was... He didn't like magic, my father..."

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born. Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage... but I vowed to find him... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name... Tom Riddle..."

Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave. "Listen to me, reliving family history... Sounds familiar, doesn't it?", he said quietly, turning to Clark, moving his hand closer towards him. Clark recoils, but has nowhere to go. They react to a feeling that passes between them, an energy they recognize in each other. And then it's gone, adversaries again. "You're so lonely... so afraid to be alone...", Voldemort then smile slightly, as Clark tried to hold the tears from leaving his eyes. "Elizabeth Kent, she has disappointed you. You have potential Clark Kent, you can be what your mother threw away. But you need a teacher, I can show you. Under my guidance you could be one of the most powerful wizards of all times."

Clark's eyes are fierce through the agony, "Get out of my head.", Voldemort laughed again and he stood up.

"Why, I am growing quite sentimental... But look, Harry, Clark! My true family returns..."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward... slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes.

"Master... Master..." he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle's grave, Harry, Clark and Voldemort. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.

"Welcome, Death Eaters.", Voldemort said quietly, "Thirteen years... thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?" He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening. "I smell guilt. There is a stench or guilt upon the air.", he said, a second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare to step back from him.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact, such prompt appearances! And I ask myself... why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?" No one spoke, no one moved.

"And I answer myself." whispered Voldemort, "They must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment... And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?"

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort... perhaps they now pay allegiance to another... perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them, "It is a disappointment to me... I confess myself disappointed..."

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet. "Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!" Voldemort began to laugh, he raised his wand, "Crucio!" The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked. Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping. "Get up, Avery.", Voldemort said softly. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years... I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you."

Voldemort now approached the man on Avery's right. "Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius... Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay... but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert." came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me..."

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" Voldemort said lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius... You have disappointed me... I expect more faithful service in the future."

"Of course, my Lord, of course... You are merciful, thank you..."

Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space, large enough for two people, that separated Malfoy and the next man. "The Lestranges should stand here." Voldemort said quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me... When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us... they are our natural allies... We will recall the banished giants... I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear..."

He walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them."Macnair... destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide... and here." Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures, "We have Crabbe... you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?" They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.

"The same goes for you, Nott." Voldemort said quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyles shadow. "My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful..."

"That will do." Voldemort said, he had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there. "And here we have seven missing Death Eaters... three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return, he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever, he will be killed, of course... One who turned out to be a spy, she WILL be killed, but maybe her son will take her place and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service."

The Death Eaters stirred, and Clark saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks. "He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friends arrived here tonight..."

"Yes." Voldemort said, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in their direction, "Harry Potter and Clark Kent has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor."

There was a silence. Then Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke from under the mask as he stepped forward. "Master, we crave to know... we beg you to tell us... how you have achieved this... this miracle... how you managed to return to us..."

"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius." Voldemort said, "And it begins - and ends - with my young friend here." He walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. The snake continued to circle. "You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that he almost screamed in agony. "The night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen... I could not touch the boy.", Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.

"His mother left upon him the traces other sacrifice... This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it... but no matter. I can touch him now." Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch him, and thought his head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters.

"My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost... but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know... I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last... A woman came across me in a forest, Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic. Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams... for with a little persuasion, she became a veritable mine of information."

"She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things... but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind was damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her, but she could follow commands."

"Using my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament, that he touched the Triwizard Cup first. The cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. Having Elizabeth's first born is a mere bonus. And here he is... the boy you all believed had been my downfall..."

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me." Voldemort said, "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini," he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching.

With a gesture of his wand, the ropes tied Harry against the gravestone, Harry scrambled to find his feet, there was a split second, perhaps, when he might have considered running for it, but he couldn't leave Clark behind as he stood on the overgrown grave, as the Death Eaters closed ranks, forming a tighter circle around him and Voldemort, so that the gaps where the missing Death Eaters should have stood were filled. One of the Death Eaters walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric's body lay and returned with Harry's wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry's hand without looking at him.

"You have been taught how to duel. Harry Potter?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness, "We bow to each other. Harry," bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed... Dumbledore would like you to show manners... Bow to death, Harry..."

The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him and doing worst to Clark... he was not going to give him that satisfaction.

"I said, bow." Voldemort said, raising his wand and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever.

"Very good," said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted too. "And now you face me, like a man... straight-backed and proud, the way your father died... And now... We duel."

Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, multiple explosions happened, sending the Death Eaters flying, while Voldemort managed to call up a Shield Charm. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet, it seems Clark had managed to call his wand back to his hand thanks to his Wand Holster and had combined an attack with Cedric, Harry then realized that Clark hadn't begged Cedric to be alive, but had told him his plan.

"We need to get to the cup! Come on!", Clark shouted and the three made a mad run towards the cup, they ran as they had never run in their life, zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following, hearing them hit the headstones, they was dodging curses and graves. Behind them, they heard Voldemort scream as he before he could cast the killing curse. Harry gripped his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of him, and spin around facing Voldemort.

As Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!" Voldemort cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's, they met in midair and suddenly unlike when he dueled Clark, Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to - and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort's long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

The Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions. "Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry's; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. "Do nothing unless I command you!" Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.

And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air. It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life: phoenix song.

He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the beam back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed. The cord of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry didn't understand why he was doing it, didn't know what it might achieve. The golden thread moved, it trembled for a moment and then it connected.

At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain, a large explosion of light blinded Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Harry pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke. "Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort, one tombstone stood between them and Voldemort, but the cup was out of reach. Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. Clark saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand.

"Accio!" Clark shouted, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry, Clark and Cedric caught it by the handle.

He heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked, it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, Harry and Cedric along with him... They were going back.


And there you go, another chapter, hope you enjoyed. Many thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, favorite or follows this story, you beautiful bastards! For now I wish you all a fantastic day and I will see you ladies and gents, next time.