Hello everyone! Welcome to the first post for the new year. One more week and I'm on holidays for a week - I'm hoping to get more written on book 5 while I'm home. I'm also thinking about donating an outtake to the Fandom group that is creating a compilation for the bushfire survivors here in Australia. Just let me work my stuff and we'll see.
A big thank you for Pienuniek and Sally for working on this chapter over the Christmas break. I couldn't be more thankful for the pair of them.
Twilight and Harry Potter belong to Stephanie Meyer and JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
I'll let you get to this ... I'm sure you're anxious to find out what happens.
Chapter Twenty-One ~ The Graveyard
The tugging that felt like it was coming from my navel abated as we landed in a graveyard I was all too familiar with. First from Alice's vision, then later from Harry's dream. It was one I'd been dreading landing in. Yet here I was all the same.
"No," Harry breathed as he looked around. "I've been here …"
"Before, in your dreams. I know," I said as I too looked around, seeing many different headstones.
Behind us stood the statue that looked like death. With its hooded figure, the scythe in one hand, and the name plate to the left; it looked like something out of a nightmare. Across from us stood a small tomb. It looked like a squat building that was hardly taller than me, but from what I knew of tombs, it most likely went down underground.
I continued to turn in circles, taking it all in, including the huge manor that was behind the graveyard. It was the house from Harry's dream over the summer. The house Voldemort had been hiding in when they'd killed Frank Bryce. Which meant that this house, and graveyard, had once belonged to the Riddles. Tom Riddle's father. Voldemort's father.
As I was staring at the house, I heard the snick of a door opening and Harry screaming out in pain. I spun to see he was clutching the scar on his forehead. When I turned to face the tomb, there was none other than Wormtail standing there holding what looked like a pile of rags. But because I knew better, I knew who was wrapped up in those rags.
"What are you doing here?" Wormtail sneered.
I flicked my arm, causing my wand to shoot out. "Winning the tournament." I snickered. "What are we doing here?"
"Kill the spare!" hissed the bundle of rags.
With a brown wand that I hadn't seen, Wormtail fired a spell at me, barely missing as I spun out of the way. I fired back a stunning curse that caused Wormtail to take to hiding behind a gravestone.
Harry was still crouched over in pain, unable to help, while Wormtail had placed his bundle of rags somewhere out of sight between spells being flung.
For the next few minutes, we traded spells. I was defending myself while trying to capture Wormtail. I knew that things had to happen in this graveyard to help with the future, but that didn't mean I had to make it easy on them.
Edward, please. Let's just get it over with. This pain is splitting my skull in two, Harry thought from his position by the statue of death.
I looked over to see that he was really struggling and becoming more and more worn out by the second. So, with the perfect timing only someone who could read minds would achieve, I stepped out to fire a spell just as Wormtail did the same.
"Expelliarmus!" I shouted just as he yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"
My spell had him diving for cover, once again, while I braced for the impact of the killing curse. It hit me above the right pocket of my vest, and I used the momentum from the spell hitting me to fling myself onto the ground. I landed somewhere I could see, but also somewhere where I would be out of the way. My eyes remained open. I would just have to remember not to blink, or breathe, when anyone was looking in my direction.
It was a good thing I didn't need to do either.
I was glad that I had worked the angle right. The way I had thrown my body had it landing right next to the Triwizard Cup. When we had to make our inevitable getaway, I would just be able to reach out and grab it.
"Noooo!" Harry screamed both in pain from his scar and because he truly believed the vest Bella had made me failed and I was dead. Another thing I would have to atone for.
"Now!" the voice hissed from wherever Wormtail had stashed it. "Do it now!"
Wormtail moved from the spot he had hidden himself when I fired my last spell at him and flicked his wand in Harry's direction. I hadn't noticed it at the time, but Harry had been crouched in front of that damn death statue, clutching his forehead. And right now, that made things all the easier for Wormtail. His spell had the statue coming to life and reaching out for Harry. The statue bent over from above him and hooked the scythe under him. With both hands now lifting Harry, the scythe ended up right under his chin. The statue pulled it up, as well as Harry, until Harry's back was flush against the statue's front.
Harry had absolutely no place to go.
Instead of continuing to look through my place on the ground—because it was severely limited—I chose to look through Harry. What I saw would be something I wish I could unsee for many, many years to come.
Wormtail went and picked up the talking bundle of rags he had hidden during his fight with me and placed them on the ground while he went off for something else. But as he had placed it on the ground, the rags had fallen open to reveal what was inside. I could physically feel Harry reel back from the shock, and I had to fight not to gag and give away the fact that I was still very much alive.
Inside the rags was something wriggling and moving. It was ugly. It was slimy. It was bald but worse, a hundred times worse than anything I had ever seen. This thing was shaped like a crouched child but mangled like an old maid after working her whole life. From Harry's angle, I could see it was hairless—completely. Its raw skin was a dark reddish-black color and almost scale like, as reptiles would be. The way it was curled up made it look feeble and frail while its face was smooth, almost snake-like.
But what scared Harry, and even concerned me, was the bright, gleaming red eyes that stared at him from within that face. They were the eyes of human-drinking vampires. Those were the eyes of a murderer. And they were glaring straight at Harry.
This ugly, twisted, mangled person was what Voldemort had been reduced to after the Avada Kedavra spell he cast on Harry rebounded onto himself.
Both of our thoughts were interrupted by the loud clang of metal as Wormtail dropped an overly large cauldron onto the circle of rocks I hadn't notice before. Voldemort had also been strategically placed next to it, so it seemed. With another flick of his wand, Wormtail lit a fire underneath the cauldron and had filled it with liquid.
Nagini, Voldemort's snake, slithered out from her hiding spot quickly. She made her way out into the graveyard to circle around the malformed body of her master—just once—before she slithered back off into another hiding spot, waiting for him to reappear full of praise for her once again. My brows furrowed ever so slightly, wondering what attachment Voldemort had to this snake, why it followed him so blindly, and why he continued to keep it around. It was just one thing that didn't make sense. Psychopaths didn't form emotional attachments. They can't. They don't know how. So why was this one so important?
Once the snake was gone, Wormtail was, once again, at his master's side. Both Harry and I could see the grimace that crossed his face when he reached down to pick Voldemort up, and Voldemort wrapped his arms around Wormtail's neck. He intensely disliked touching the thing that was now Voldemort. Wormtail stood straight before turning to the cauldron and dropping Voldemort in.
Please drown, Harry thought desperately. He'd put everything together. He knew who was now resting in the bottom of that overly large cauldron. Please, please drown.
Wormtail lifted his wand and spun to where Harry was being held. "Bone of the father unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
After the words were spoken, the ground beneath Harry's feet shook and shuddered before opening up and releasing a stream of white powder that flew and swirled before landing in the cauldron. The liquid inside simmered before turning a spectacular blue.
Wormtail pulled out a knife, raising both of his arms into the air. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!" With a whimper that belied the words he had just spoken about willingly giving his flesh, he still used that knife to slice his entire right hand clean off. The potion in the cauldron bubbled and boiled turning a deep, dark, rich blood red.
With another whimper, this one much more painful sounding, Wormtail spun and wobbled over to Harry. Using the knife in his left hand, Wormtail cut open the sleeve of Harry's tournament robe. Another slice and Harry's arm was open and bleeding as well. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!"
Wormtail dropped the knife on the ground, pulled a vial from his pocket, and he held it against Harry's arm, collecting several drops. While the stump of Wormtail's arm continued to bleed, he ambled back to the cauldron and tipped Harry's blood into it. As Wormtail took several steps back before collapsing on the ground clutching his arm, the potion in the cauldron turned a brilliant, blinding white, causing Harry to close his eyes to block it out. Once the light dissipated, Harry opened his eyes, only to see steam and sparks flying in every direction.
Eventually, the potion shot up into the air. As it came back down, the cauldron, fire, and everything beneath it disintegrated as a fully-grown human stepped out of it. When he was clear, the potion soaked into the earth like there had been nothing at all. The figure stretched lazily as he took careful steps away from the cauldron that brought him life. He faced Harry as he ran his hands over the top of his head and down his body, making sure everything was there and in working order.
As he stepped closer, Voldemort's physical features were revealed. He was at least six feet tall. Covered in a black, flowing robe. But what stood out to me, as well as Harry, was the snake-like face that had been on the wriggling ugly mass in the rags had followed him through his transformation. He was bald—completely bald. No hair, no eyebrows, no mustache. He had ridges where his eyebrows should have been and red veins marked out all over his head. He was also missing a nose. In its place were two small slits that acted like gills moving in and out as he breathed.
But what completely freaked Harry out even more was that his eyes were still blood red. To know that this man was essentially human with eyes like that was even scaring the crap out of me. What did this man do to earn eyes like a vampire's? How many people did he kill?
"My wand, Wormtail." Voldemort's voice floated over the graveyard. It was calming, almost hypnotic. I imagined this is how he lured his followers in, much like the cult leaders in the muggle world. Wormtail handed over Voldemort's white, almost bleached bone wand after pulling it from his pocket. "Thank you. Now your arm, Wormtail."
The sniveling little weasel looked up at his master as if he knew all the secrets to the universe. "Th-th-thank you, master." He held out his bloody stump, expecting it to be repaired.
Voldemort looked down at Wormtail balefully. "Your other arm, Wormtail."
"Oh," he sniveled pathetically.
Wormtail held out his left arm for inspection. Voldemort lifted his wand and used it to slice open the sleeve of Wormtail's jacket, revealing the tattoo on his arm. Wormtail was obviously on the outside of Voldemort's circle because his tattoo only had the skull on his forearm. The obvious difference was that Wormtail's tattoo was red, right up until Voldemort placed his wand on the skull's forehead. As soon as he did that, Wormtail's skin rippled, and with a rolling wave, the skull went from red to black as if it had burnt the skin. If Wormtail's rather girly scream was anything to go by, it had hurt a hell of a lot.
Almost the second Voldemort had touched the tattoo, thunder and lightning lit up the sky. Harry jumped but looked up to the sky, giving me a glimpse of what was happening. Through the clashes of thunder, the bursts of lightning, and the rolling clouds.
"I wonder how many will answer the call? How many will be brave enough to return, and how many will try to stay away?" Voldemort murmured, almost lazily before he turned to face Harry. "Do you know where you are, Harry?"
Harry's attention snapped back to Voldemort, but instead of answering, Harry shrugged his shoulders as much as he could from the position he was in.
"No, I don't suppose you would. You are currently standing on the bones of my father, and behind you is the house my father lived in before he died." Voldemort indicated the mansion behind us.
Harry finally took a good look at the name plate next to him only to gasp softly as he read the name: Tom Riddle.
"He was a muggle and a fool … who abandoned my mother after she told him what she was. You see, he had a problem with witchcraft … My poor mother, she died giving birth to me. Not unlike your mother, who died for you." Voldemort paced around as he seemed to talk to himself, even if he was directing it at Harry. "Ah, listen to me prattle on about ancient history. Now … here comes my real family."
Suddenly, it looked like the clouds were throwing off meteors, or shooting stars—streaks of black shooting off through the sky. They'd fly around, making loop-de-loops before shooting up then straight down at the ground. When it hit the ground, those same streaks of black disappeared, leaving figures shrouded in a black cloaks with a half masks covering their faces. The same types of masks that were worn by Voldemort's death eaters back at the World Cup.
That seemed so long ago. We'd gone through so much since then.
The thoughts of the death eaters were very sad. They were sniveling, pleading, and they were going to beg for forgiveness. They were very pathetic. And I could see that very same thought on Voldemort's face as he took in all of his inner circle. They were all in a circle, places they seemed to be used to, even if there were people missing from the circle.
"Thirteen years," Voldemort started, catching their attention. "It's been thirteen years since we've all been together. Yet you return when I called, as if it were just yesterday."
From the parts of the faces you could see, they were stunned at the sight before them. Voldemort glided around the inner circle, inspecting each and every one of them. The first one to fall to his knees and kiss the bottom of Voldemort's robes was about halfway around the circle.
"Master … master," he sniveled, sounding even more pathetic. It didn't take long for the rest to follow suit, and Voldemort being the psychopath that he was basked in the attention, at least for a short while.
"It seems we are all still united under the dark mark. Or are we?" Voldemort asked menacingly. There was a shiver that ran around the gathered death eaters. Voldemort closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. "I smell guilt. The stench of it is overwhelming."
Another shiver ran around the gathered group. I could hear the hesitancy in their thoughts. They wanted to step back but didn't think it wise.
"I confess myself disappointed. I see you all hale, hearty, … healthy. And I wonder … where were you all when your master needed you? You all have your powers intact, but I wonder why didn't you all come to my aid when I lost mine? Why is it that you pledged your eternal loyalty to me yet you believed I was broken, that I may be gone, but you were able to slip back in among my enemies so easily?"
The death eaters surrounding him didn't say a word. But their thoughts were loud and clear. Voldemort was right. They did think him gone. They never thought they'd see him again. Most of them had just tried to keep under the radar and hope they would never be fingered as a death eater and thrown in Azkaban.
"Most of you here knew the steps I had taken not to suffer a mortal death, had seen my immense power, so I had to ask … how did you think I would not be back? Was it because you believed there was a greater power, one that could vanquish the dark lord? Perhaps you now pay allegiance to another … the champion of muggles and mudbloods … does your loyalty lie with Albus Dumbledore?"
Disgust rippled through the death eaters, some grumbling under their breaths, others outright denying what Voldemort was speculating.
Suddenly, Voldemort was moving faster than I had thought a human could move. As he passed his followers, he ripped the masks off the death eaters, each one collapsing as if in pain. "What say you, Avery? McNair? Crabbe? Goyle? Nott? James? And you, Lucius?"
Harry looked around at each of the death eaters that had been unmasked. McNair was familiar. He was the executioner who had come to put Buckbeak down last year. Crabbe and Goyle looked distinctly familiar. They had certainly passed strong traits onto their sons. The redhead, Victoria, she had thought when Voldemort had unmasked her. She wanted him to acknowledge her, to treat her with some type of affection. She believed she was Voldemort's equal; she loved him as much as a psychopath could love, and she wanted that returned. And of course, there was Lucius Malfoy, now sporting a scar down the side of his face, curtesy of the events at the World Cup.
It was Malfoy who answered Voldemort's question. "My Lord," he whispered, "if I had heard any inklings of your whereabouts …"
"Oh, there were whispers, talk, even rumors. But did one of you check? Did any of you look into those rumors?" Voldemort looked around as all of his followers bowed under the glare he aimed in their directions.
Voldemort spun and aimed his wand at the man named Avery. "Crucio."
Avery bent in the most unnatural angles as he writhed and screamed in pain. I couldn't even access his mind because it was screaming at me. If I had to compare it to something, I would say it was as bad as when I changed to a vampire.
"Did any of you attempt to come back?" Voldemort asked angrily as he released Avery from the torture he was putting him through.
"I-I-I did, m-m-master …" A sniveling, sobbing voice sounded out in the darkness. "I came back."
A majority of the death eaters sneered as Voldemort spun and approached Wormtail, who was still huddled against a headstone.
Voldemort looked down at Wormtail, assessing his condition. His stump was still bleeding, and he was growing paler by the minute. "You did, Wormtail. Although, it was not out of loyalty but out of fear for what your former friends would do to you. You know you deserve this pain, don't you?"
"Y-y-yes, master. Please, please." Wormtail moaned pitifully.
"You may not be trustworthy, you certainly are worthless, but you helped me. You gave me back my body. And Lord Voldemort rewards those who help him."
Harry shook his head. Who talks like that? Why? Why didn't the vest work? My God, Bella is gonna kill me. Harry thought desperately as he looked over at me lying still. I wished we had thought up some kind of signal that would have shown Harry that I was okay, or that I could move to capture his attention, but several death eaters were looking in my direction as well.
Harry turned back as the movement of Voldemort's arm caught his attention. He had lifted his wand, whirling it through the air. As he moved it around, a stream of silver sprouted from the end. It circled around a couple times before swirling down to latch onto the stump of Wormtail's arm. The bleeding stopped immediately, and the molten silver filled itself in until Wormtail had a replacement hand. Wormtail moved it around, inspecting it and moving it to see if it worked the same as the one he had cut off.
"My Lord," Wormtail whispered. "Th-thank you. It's beautiful."
Voldemort reached out and placed his hand on Wormtail's head. "May your loyalty never waiver again, Wormtail."
Wormtail bent down, kissing the ends of Voldemort's robes. "N-never, m-m-master. Never again."
Voldemort started walking around the group of gathered death eaters, talking to them, making them beg for his forgiveness, making them humiliate themselves before moving on. That was until he came to the first gap in the circle.
"The Lestranges should stand here. Two of them entombed in Azkaban. One of them gone. They were faithful. Rather than denouncing the old ways, they went to Azkaban. They will be honored when Azkaban is broken open."
Say what now? Harry thought. I wish Edward was here to help me remember this.
Don't worry, Harry. I'll be there.
Voldemort's thoughts were wide open. I could see everything he had planned so far. His mind was probably the most diabolical I had ever read. As far as he was concerned, he thought I was dead. Not that he remembered I had been a mind-reading vampire. It seemed that some things were blurry from before he was returned to his mortal body. I'm hoping that little tidbit of information stayed gone when he knew I wasn't dead.
My perusing of thoughts was interrupted when Voldemort spoke again. "The dementors will rejoin with us as they are my natural allies. And we will recall the banished giants. I will have my army of creatures back, as well as my faithful followers."
Harry watched as Voldemort continued interrogating and humiliating some of his death eaters while praising others like McNair. Promising him more suitable things to kill other than the creatures that were deemed appropriate by the ministry.
"And here we have six death eaters missing," Voldemort said when he came to the biggest gap in the circle. "Three of them died while in my service." I saw three different faces floating in his thoughts. Not anyone I recognized, nor anyone I had discovered in my research of death eaters.
"One too cowardly to return … He will pay for his cowardice." Igor Karkaroff … was the name that floated through Voldemort's thoughts as well as a picture of his younger self.
Voldemort took a couple steps to the side. "One who I believe has left me forever … He will be killed." The picture that appeared in his mind was of a man I was all too familiar with … Severus Snape.
"And one who has already re-entered my service. My most faithful servant. He has been in place at Hogwarts …" Bartemius Crouch Junior as well as a picture of what he currently looked like accompanied that name. "And it is due to his efforts that we are joined tonight, at my rebirthing party, by none other than Harry Potter."
Deathly silence fell over the graveyard. No one wanted to be the one to ask the obvious follow-up question. Though Voldemort waited. Eventually, one of them stepped forward to ask.
Harry's face twisted with a sneer when he saw the blond hair of Lucius Malfoy. He hated that man with a passion, but it had more to do with the fact that he was hurting one of his friends than it was because he was a death eater. "My lord, can you … we beg you … tell us how you came back to us?"
"A very good question, my friend." Although, Voldemort's thoughts were that Lucius was anything but. His "friends" were all his servants. "And this tale begins—and ends—with our friend here." Voldemort was looking at Harry before he spun around with dramatic flair. "You all know they call this boy my downfall, right?"
The death eaters nodded and watched as Voldemort spun back to Harry, whose scar started to burn with pain. It took all Harry had not to scream out. Through the pain, Harry watched as Voldemort approached him, his red eyes calculating and with a small smirk on his face.
"On the night I lost my powers, his mother provided a magic that I had not taken into consideration. I was a fool to dismiss this ancient magic. The silly woman had run from me, trying to hide within their house. I followed her of course, stalking her, dragging it out for my enjoyment."
I groaned in my head. This … monster … was something else.
"Eventually, she had no place left to run, and I found them as she was placing baby Harry in his crib." The smile that crossed Voldemort's face was well on the other side of creepy—it was downright demonic. "I knew, of course, that Harry was my primary objective, so that was who my wand was aimed at. Just before the spell released from my wand, she stepped in front of him and died for her son. I could not touch him."
Voldemort raised his hand and held it just above Harry's cheek, not touching him.
"With that, she covered him with traces of this old magic. I should have remembered it. But it does not matter … I can touch him now." Voldemort placed a long, bony finger to the scar on Harry's forehead, making his entire head explode with unbelievable pain and causing Harry to cry out.
After a short moment, Voldemort stepped away but let his finger linger for as long as possible. He laughed softly as he turned back to the death eaters. "I have to tell all you losers that I have had quite a few lucky breaks. When the curse rebounded upon me, it soon showed me that my master plan had worked. Even though I lost my powers and my human body, some form of a residual body remained. I was able to rescue my wand, useless as it was because I could not use it. But it worked great as a walking stick for the thing I became."
I snorted softly to myself. It was a good thing he hadn't found out about Vlad's diary. He may have found someone to turn him. Then where would we all be?
"I remember forcing myself to endlessly, sleeplessly, continue on. I waited in a faraway place for one of my death eaters to find me … to help me in my hour of need … because I could not do for myself what had to be done." Voldemort's eyes roamed around the death eaters. "I waited in vain."
There was some uncomfortable shifting around the circle as Voldemort let the silence linger, let it stretch out. "I remained hidden as the aurors searched for me, inhabiting bodies of animals—snakes being my preference—with the only magic left to me. Until, one day four years ago when a young, foolish, and gullible wizard happened to come across the place I was hiding. And better yet, he was a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Professor Quirrell. Harry sucked in a shocked gasp. Edward foiled that plot. Bella nearly lost him. Harry looked over at me. Once again, he was trying to help me, and now, he's paid with his life. I'd hate to be Voldemort when Bella catches up with him.
That was a thought I would love to entertain later.
"It was easy to convince him to bring me back to this country, and eventually, I took possession of his body to watch him complete my work. The philosopher's stone was in reach, but I was thwarted … thwarted by a now dead Edward Masen."
I could feel the weight of the stares of the death eaters as they looked at me. I laid still, made sure to hold my breath, until they looked away.
"Of course, the servant died when I left his body. I retreated to my hiding place. I had given up all hope of ever being found by one of my death eaters, for they seemed to have forsaken me." A couple of the lower-ranking death eaters shifted once again, but Voldemort seemed to ignore them. "About a year ago, another piece of incredible luck happened. The biggest coward of all my servants, who was somehow able to hide from all you useless pieces of shit. Those who betrayed me the moment I seemed to have gone, and the aurors who were still hunting death eaters, which wouldn't give up. The ones persevering in Azkaban—those ones are my true, loyal servants. But let me tell you how we came to be here …"
Voldemort began pacing around the circle, keeping the attention of the death eaters. "Wormtail over there managed to disappear, once again, from under the nose of the escaped Rabastan Lestrange and the overzealous students of Hogwarts. One of whom I had already encountered and misjudged. But that was only once; Edward Masen is now permanently dead. His snivelling life is now forfeit, another debt Wormtail has now paid. Scurrying through sewers with his rodent friends, Wormtail found out there was a place where even they wouldn't go. Some place deep in the woods where you could go but never return from. He came for me, unlike you other so-called death eaters. His trip, however, was not without its perils. For one night, when foolishly stopping for dinner, he ran into someone who worked within the ministry."
God, no, I thought. If she came across them …
"None other than Bertha Jorkins …" Voldemort smiled. But it was not your average happy smile. No, this one was maniacal; it was creepy and downright evil. "Somehow, Wormtail talked her into going for a walk where he overpowered her, and he brought her to me. Bertha became an absolute well of information, after a little persuasion of course. She told me all about the fact that the Triwizard Tournament was coming to Hogwarts this year, about a faithful death eater who would be all too willing to help me with what I needed, if I only made contact with him."
Voldemort sighed as if remembering something wonderful. "She did give up all her information. Unfortunately, in breaking the memory charm placed on her mind, I may have used too much force. After I was done, her mind and body were no longer suitable for co-habitation."
What is wrong with this person? Harry thought as he watched Voldemort remembering the act of breaking someone fondly. He looked around at the death eaters, only to find that they were hanging on his every word. What is wrong with all of these people? To enjoy the act of breaking, or killing, someone with such … passion?
Voldemort sighed again. Bringing Harry's attention back to him. Exactly where Voldemort wanted it. "As you can see, Wormtail's body is unfit for possession due to the fact that he's too widely known to be dead. But he does make a good able-bodied servant, and he was able to follow my instructions, without too much trouble. He returned me to a rudimentary body and helped me become stable enough for travel. Although that required a couple spells of my own and a little help from some unicorn blood …" A hiss sounded through the clearing as Nagini came to circle around her master. Voldemort reached out a hand and ran it along her head as she continued to circle him. "… and some venom from my dear sweet Nagini. But how to accomplish it?
"This spell"—Voldemort looked down at his hands sticking out from the end of his robes—"is an old spell. A dark piece of magic. I had to settle for being put back in my mortal body, with my old strength. But I needed three things. One of those couldn't have been any closer, right, Wormtail? Flesh of the servant?"
"Right, master," Wormtail replied, puffed up with pride.
"Then the bone of my father. That meant returning here, to the place where he lived. And the last was the blood of my enemy. Now, Wormtail here would have used any old witch or wizard who hated me. But that just wouldn't do. No, no, no, no, no. For me to return stronger than I was, I had to use the blood of the one who destroyed me. I had to have the power that protected him run through my blood. I had to use the blood of Harry Potter. But how to get him?" Voldemort paused in his monologue—he death eaters all hanging on his every word. "I couldn't get him at his home where he resides with his godfather and the other one. Nor could I get him at Edward Masen's house, not with all those wizards and vampires hanging about. I was nowhere near strong enough. The same with attempting a kidnapping at the World Cup. So how?"
Merlin's beard. Is there anything he doesn't know about me? How long has he been watching me? Watching all of us? How did we not know? Harry wasn't the only one gobsmacked. We would have to step up security. Hopefully, Voldemort doesn't know about the one person we were trying to keep under wraps. If he knew about Draco …
"Then it occurred to me. Bertha Jorkins had given me how. My one faithful death eater, posted at Hogwarts, to ensure that Harry Potter's name would be entered into the Goblet of Fire. The death eater would ensure that Harry would succeed in the tournament, that he would be the one to grab onto the cup. And that the cup, as a portkey, would bring him here … out of Dumbledore's reach. And here he is!" Voldemort shouted, spinning and pointing at Harry with his wand. "The one who you all thought was my downfall … Crucio!"
Pain exploded through Harry. His head felt like it was splitting in half, starting at the tip of his scar. His bones felt like they were liquefying from the intense heat that was swirling around and through them. And his organs contracted so hard he didn't think they'd ever be the right size and shape ever again. But as quick as it had come on, it disappeared, leaving Harry completely dependent on the statue to hold him up. He was panting so hard I wondered if he was going to pass out from hyperventilation.
The graveyard was alive with the sound of death eater laughter as Harry struggled to breathe, and I struggled not to get up and go on a murderous rampage, ending with the red-eyed demon currently staring at Harry as if he were a science experiment. Death was going to be too good for this … monstrosity. How did anyone ever miss the complete psychopathy of Tom Riddle when he was in school?
Voldemort's face twisted into an ugly grimace as the laughter died down. I think it was supposed to be an attempt at a smile, but it was like his face muscles hadn't moved that way before. "It was foolish to believe that this boy was ever stronger than me. And tonight, I will prove it. No one is here to protect him. His mother is dead, he's far from Dumbledore, and his most fierce protector is lying in a heap at his side. Tonight, I will kill Harry Potter."
With a flick of his wand, Voldemort had the statue releasing Harry. Harry fell to the ground with a thump that I felt vibrate through the ground. He landed on his hands and knees with his head twisted my way. I could see the fear. I could almost taste it on the air. I watched Harry try to decide if he had time to get to the cup near my outstretched hand, but he could feel the eyes of every death eater on him. They were closing in around him.
"Leave him to me!" Voldemort's voice sounded from the other side of the clearing. "He's mine. I am to kill him. Pick up your wand, Harry."
Harry's head bowed forward as he reached for his wand. I'm sorry, Edward. I want to get you home to Bella, I just don't know how I'm going to. I'm going to give Voldemort everything I've got. Hopefully, it'll be enough.
Slowly, Harry got to his feet as he steeled himself for what was to come. He didn't hold out a lot of hope for beating one as formidable as Voldemort, but he was going to give it his absolute best.
"I assume, Harry, that Dumbledore has taught you how to duel?" Voldemort stopped talking as if he expected Harry to answer him.
Harry was instead thrown back to another time, another year, where we had a professor who … attempted … to teach us how to duel. Given who they were teaching, I had to give Professors Snape and Lockhart credit—we didn't make it easy for them.
"First, we bow …"
Harry stared belligerently at Voldemort. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.
"Come, Harry, the niceties must be observed," Voldemort crooned, his red eyes glittering dangerously. "Bow to death, Harry. Dumbledore would want you to."
The death eaters burst out into laughter, like what Voldemort had said was hilarious.
Harry was going to ignore him again, but then he decided to do something else. "I think bowing implies respect for your opponent, Tom Riddle, and I have none for you. So, I shall not bow."
"We bow, Harry Potter," Voldemort sneered. He was incensed that Harry would use his God-given name.
Voldemort's wand hand came up so fast that Harry didn't see it, but he sure felt the effects. Harry's body bent over in a bow, not giving him any option, although he fought against it the whole time. The laughter from the death eaters was louder than ever. When the pressure eased up, Harry stood and glared at the man who had, essentially, destroyed his childhood.
"And now, as men, we duel." Before Harry could even think of a spell to fight with, he was under the pain of Crucio. The pain was so intense that he couldn't think straight.
I hated that I had to lie here, that I had to let this all happen. Harry needed support. He needed to know he wasn't alone. I had a thought cross my mind—would Harry hate me later for letting him face this all alone?
The pain disappeared. Harry staggered to his feet, a little wobbly. He stumbled, falling at the feet of the ring of death eaters. They pulled him up and pushed him back toward Voldemort.
"You don't want me to do that again, do you, Harry?"
Again, Harry did not answer. He felt he was going to die. He could see that was what Voldemort wanted. Voldemort's red eyes glittered. He wanted Harry to die, and he was going to do it tonight.
"Answer me, Harry. You don't want me to do that again, do you? Imperio!"
I watched as the numbness descended over Harry's mind and the blissed-out feeling swept through, making him feel like he had no worries. He loved the sensation, wanting nothing more than to stay there where he had no one trying to kill him.
Just say no … just say no … just say no. Echoed through his mind on a continuous loop, lulling him into a false sense of security. But at the back was a persistent voice, one that was argumentative.
I will not …
Just say no …
I will not …
Just say no …
"I will not!" Harry shouted, breaking free of the Imperious Curse. He stood there, panting, as the death eaters around him stared in shock. They had never seen, or heard, about someone breaking free of one of Voldemort's curses before.
"Obedience is a virtue, Harry. Something you should learn before you die," Voldemort said quietly. You could hear the threat in his voice. "Maybe a little more pain will teach you the lesson you so need."
Voldemort might have been quick to raise his wand, but Harry was prepared this time and was that much quicker. He dove for cover behind one of the few headstones so that the spell Voldemort fired missed him by only a few inches.
"Come out, come out, Harry. We are not playing hide and seek! Are you tired of our duel already?" Voldemort called out above the laughter of the death eaters. They had started again when Harry decided he wanted to hide instead of fighting. They thought him weak and a child. They weren't wrong about one of those. He was a child, but he was stronger than any person I had ever met.
Voldemort was creeping closer to where Harry was hiding. Harry knew it. He also knew he was going to die. He looked over at me, lying here on the ground, prone—or dead to him—and knew that he wasn't going to go out hiding. He was going to do what I had done. He was going to fight. He wasn't going to die at Voldemort's feet but standing and giving him everything he had.
Harry gripped his wand tight in his right hand and waited just a few more seconds. He stood, his wand out in front of him ready. Harry spun to face Voldemort with all the courage that he could muster. Voldemort was ready for him, almost like he knew Harry wouldn't give up without a fight.
Harry shouted out "Expelliarmus" just as Voldemort cried "Avada Kedavra". As soon as the words left their mouths, a bright flash of green left the end of Voldemort's wand while a shocking burst of red left Harry's. But what was more surprising was that Harry's spell clashed … and stopped in its tracks … the unstoppable spell.
Instead of either spell making contact with the wizard they were aiming for, they connected in one long stream of magic, from one wand to the other. Red streaking out of Harry's and a green band shooting from Voldemort's, connecting in the middle to create a brilliant gold ball in the middle.
Oomph. Harry groaned in his thoughts, feeling the weight, and vibrations, through his wand. What the?
Both of their wands were sparking with unrestrained power, seizing their hands, forcing them to hold on and not let go. Harry grabbed hold of his with both hands and tried to control the tremors he was feeling.
The shock around the clearing was palpable. But as the shock wore off, the death eaters started to try to close in ranks and ask what they could do to help.
"Leave him to me!" Voldemort shouted. "He's mine!"
And even though Voldemort had told them not to, the death eaters continued to close in. Instead of them continuing to advance and interfering in what was happening, something else happened, something extraordinary, something I had never read about in all my research. Gold threads shot out from the ball in the middle, linking, circling, and swirling around the dueling pair. The dome it created pushed back the death eaters who had managed to sneak too close until it had completely sealed Harry and Voldemort inside so no one could penetrate.
As Harry looked around instead, he heard the most beautiful song start to play. He'd never heard it before but I had. It was a phoenix song. Something Fawkes would sing. It sounded to Harry … like hope. He had to hope that he could get out of this … he had to hope that Bella would be okay … he had to hope that things would all work out because if he didn't, there was no hope for anyone.
You mustn't break the connection, a voice whispered in Harry's ear … a voice that sounded suspiciously like a woman.
I know, Harry thought … I won't.
But just as he thought that, the vibrations from his wand got stronger. And the streams between wands changed. Instead of just one ball of gold light in the middle, there were several along the beam. They slid along the beam, backward and forward, but as Harry began to notice the pattern they were flowing in, the balls started to slide ever so slowly in his direction, causing his wand to vibrate harder.
Harry's hands started to burn the closer the balls got to his wand, and the wand seemed to almost shake out of control. Harry thought he was going to lose control, but he dug deep and shoved all of his fear from his heart. He planted his feet and connected to the place where his magic resided, and with everything he had, he focused on bringing it out from his heart and right into the strange connection that was happening between them. The phoenix song grew louder as Harry used every fiber of his being to push those balls back toward Voldemort.
With barely an inch to spare, the balls came to a halt and started to move back toward Voldemort's wand. They crept over the golden thread, slowly at first, while Voldemort looked on in horror. Now, it was his wand that started shaking violently, as if the wand wanted to avoid being touched by those shining beads.
With an almighty push, Harry was able to get the balls all the way over. An almighty screech emitted from Voldemort's wand, as if the screams of all of his victims echoed over the graveyard, only dulled by the beautiful phoenix song. When the death scream ended, something silvery, pearly, almost translucent, seemed to try to wrestle itself out of the wand.
First, it just poked through a little, then pulled back, and poked through again. For a few seconds, it continued this trend, then all at once, a hand and forearm shot out. It waved around before it seemed to latch onto some invisible handhold. Once it did though, another hand shot out from the end of Voldemort's wand and grabbed that same handhold. All those around the graveyard could see the strain those arms were using to pull whoever it was out of the wand. It took a few moments, but with one last massive heave, a complete figure pulled itself out of Voldemort's wand.
Now back over the summer, Harry'd had a dream. In this dream, an old man had been creeping into the house that was nestled on the hill overlooking the graveyard. That poor man had been murdered simply because he had gone to inspect—what he thought—was squatters who had broken in. We had always, always suspected that it had been Voldemort, or one of his followers, who had done it. And if I hadn't believed it then, I certainly would now.
Harry's eyes lit up with recognition as Frank Bryce clambered his way out of Voldemort's wand and floated around 'til he settled inside the globe.
"A real wizard, eh?" the old man muttered as another figure fought to climb out of the wand. "You get him, son."
The next person to pull themselves free was Bertha Jorkins. This one really wasn't a surprise to me or to Harry. Voldemort had admitted earlier that he had killed her. But her … ghost … or whatever she was, was fuming mad. If she had become a ghost, I expect it would have been a poltergeist.
"How dare he!" she raged at the top of her lungs as she stormed around the dome. "How dare you!" Bertha got right in Voldemort's face. "Don't think you'll get away with this!"
Harry smirked as Voldemort seemed to cringe back a little from the vengeful spirit. Not that the death eaters took any notice. They were all struck dumb at what was happening, at the ghosts coming from Voldemort's wand, to look at the faces of the wizards inside.
By the time Bertha had taken her place inside the dome, a third figure had pulled itself from Voldemort's wand. Only this one had Harry struggling to hold onto his heavily vibrating wand.
"Mum?" Harry whispered as tears sprung into his eyes.
"Just a little while longer, my love," Lily whispered soothingly as she floated right near Harry. "Can you hang on for just a while longer?"
Harry nodded frantically while keeping his eyes on just Lily. Even when Voldemort started screeching about what was happening, and fighting to release his wand, as a few more of his victims fought their way from his wand.
"You need to take Edward back with you when you go, my love. And please don't be too mad with him. It needed to be done," Lily said, watching and waiting.
Harry's eyebrows furrowed at the cryptic words she had spoken. "What do you mean?"
"Just take him back when I tell you to release your wand." Lily looked at Harry so lovingly. I could tell just by that look how much she wanted to hug him. "For Bella."
For Bella, Harry thought as he focused on his wand, pushing all the magic from his heart into the spell.
Lily comforted Harry through two more people pulling themselves from Voldemort's wand as he struggled to both hold onto it and let the spell go at the same time.
Lily looked to Harry one last time, a determined looked crossing her features. "I can only give you a little time. You must get to the portkey. And please … don't forget …"
"Edward," they finished together.
"Sweetheart, you're ready." Lily reached out to try to touch Harry, only for her hand to go right through him. They both frowned at the gesture. "Sweetheart, now! Let go!"
Harry focused on his magic once again, feeling the connection he had with his wand. He pulled it back into himself just enough to feel the connection slacken, and then wrenched his wand away. As he released the spell, the ghosts flew straight at Voldemort, and Harry ran straight for me.
When the beam between the wands was broken, the golden cage vanished as well. Voldemort was still fighting off the ghosts, and the death eaters looked on like statues. All this gave Harry the head start he needed. It wasn't long until the death eaters caught on that their dark lord wasn't in control of things anymore. They whirled around and threw curses after Harry to try to stop him from escaping. Harry zigzagged from tombstone to tombstone, throwing curses at the death eaters left and right over his shoulder.
At the back of all the mayhem, Voldemort was desperately trying to make his wand work, but the screech it let out earlier certainly seemed to have been its death cry. None of the curses he was attempting to throw were working.
I'd made sure my wand arm was outstretched toward the group of them after my wand had returned to the gauntlet, thanks to an especially clever group of spells Bella had come up with. Nobody took notice of my slight motions while Voldemort and Harry were dueling. I could fire extra defensive spells to incapacitate some of the death eaters, giving Harry a better chance to reach me and the cup.
I kept a very close eye on Harry's progress across the graveyard while I was subtly throwing spells. The ghosts were making it hard for everyone to see, but I could see Harry was about to make the last dash to me. He had nowhere else to hide.
He threw a spell over his shoulder at the incoming death eaters before he pushed off the tombstone and sprinted in my direction. I couldn't believe how fast he made the dash, but at the very last second, Harry tripped over a small rise in the dirt. He landed with a thump on my chest. I wrapped my right arm around Harry's waist, causing him to gasp as I reached out for the cup with my left. I prayed to everything and every deity out there that the portkey would take us back to Hogwarts.
The familiar hook behind my navel had me blowing out the breath I had been holding onto for much too long. The graveyard, Voldemort, and the death eaters vanished as we were pulled through space. Voldemort's screeching cry of rage was the last thing I heard.
Where would we end up?
~*~UHS~*~
So what's going to happen to Harry and Edward? What are your theories on where they will end up? Let me know what you think.
See you in a fortnight!