It was five o'clock in the evening and Ursedonah was getting nervous. She had a lot on her mind. What if it doesn't work right? I know he'll blame me. I really hope it works. Barty better do his job.
She knew that Harry would arrive in less than an hour, so she decided to go help Wormtail with the preparations. When she arrived, there wasn't much left to do. As he went to get the cauldron, she got her brother. When she returned, Wormtail was nowhere to be seen. Then suddenly she heard the voice of Harry Potter not too far away.
"Where are we?" came Harry's voice.
"Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" Ursedonah heard another male voice that she didn't recognize ask.
"Nope." Harry said, "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"
"I dunno." Replied the male voice nervously, "Wands out, d'you reckon"
"Yeah" Harry answered. Ursedonah could see him now.
"Someone's coming," he said suddenly.
Ursedonah saw Harry put his hands over his face and then saw his knees buckle.
"Kill the spare." Voldemort commanded.
Ursedonah's voice seemed to screech the word to the night, "Avada Kadavra!" and with a blast of green light, the boy who arrived with Harry fell to the ground and lived no more. Ursedonah brought Harry to Voldemort's father's tombstone and tightly bound him to it. After retrieving Wormtail, they brought the cauldron over together. They made a fire beneath the cauldron that was placed near the tombstone and Voldemort grew impatient.
"Hurry!" he commanded in his high, cold voice.
"It's ready, Master." Wormtail said his voice shaking with fear.
"Now…" came the cold voice of Voldemort.
Wormtail carried him over to the cauldron with a look of revolution. He placed him inside.
Wormtail spoke, his voice shaking with fear, closed his eyes and raised his wand.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son." Dust rose from near Harry's feet and fell softly into the cauldron. The potion turned blue.
Wormtail whimpered. It was obvious that he was on the verge of tears. He pulled a long, thin, shining dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into terrified sobs.
"Flesh – of the servant – w-willingly given – you will – revive – your master."
He stretched out his right hand – the hand with the missing finger. Gripping the dagger very tightly in his left hand, he swung it upward. There was a deafening scream that pierced the night. A sickening plop followed as he dropped his hand into the potion. The contents of the cauldron turned bright red. Wormtail gasped and moaned in agony. He walked over to Harry.
"B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken . . . you will . . . resurrect your foe."
Wormtail collected some blood from Harry's right arm and filled a vial. He staggered back to the cauldron gasping and sobbing. The potion turned clear once more and blinding light penetrated the velvety blackness. Suddenly, the sparks stopped flying and white steam emanated from the giant cauldron.
"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam. Wormtail stumbled over holding black robes and put them over his master's head one handedly. With a face whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils…
Lord Voldemort had risen again.