Prologue

Warm

Harry was feeling warm. Warmth of his parent's touch. Or whatever it was. It's warm. He just saw his parents, for the first time, no second time if you count Mirror of Erised. Still it felt so real. So warm. So vivid.

"Curious, It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar."

The very same words that Mr. Ollivander said that day. His mind replayed that scene. He should've known.

"Harry"

A deep voice jerked him away from his thoughts.

"Is that all you got. Pity. Pity indeed." Mocking voice of Voldemort echoed. Soon followed by laughs. Harry glanced sideways for a second. He didn't really think much about the death eaters till now. Now that he did, he couldn't help but curse his luck. There's about a dozen death eaters laughing at him. How can he defeat all of them, let alone Voldemort? He's just an ordinary fourteen year old boy. He clenched his jaws.

"And here I thought that we'll see Potter bravado again. You know Harry, your parents made me sweat once or twice. And now look at you." Another mocking laugh echoed through the graves.

"Come face me, Harry. One on One. My friends here won't intervene, I promise." Voldemort said.

Harry stood up and turned to face Voldemort. Voldemort's red eyes looking directly at him. All the death eaters also stood there but kept their distance. He could spot the blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy, standing just to the left of Voldemort.

"Harry, don't worry. You'll be just fine. Maybe you don't know but let me tell you your mother and father were brilliant. Both of them. Lily was by far the most intelligent witch I've ever seen. And James, the git is the real deal when it comes to duel and transfiguration. You are their son. Be proud Harry, do your best. Win the tournament."

Another memory flashed. Just before his eyes. The words of Sirius's letter before the third task. Can he ? Can he, Harry Potter defeat all of them ? No way he can. But he has to try. He'll make his parents proud. He'll make Sirius, his friends proud. He'll fight. He'll show them.

His whole body seemingly recognised his thoughts. Air around him cracked. His scar throbbing very badly. But all he can see is Voldemort. He took a deep breath.

Unknown to him. Voldemort's eyes widened. He could feel the magic around Potter. Though weak & somewhat volatile. Though what got his attention the most is the famous scar of Potter that is bleeding rapidly. Potter boy doesn't seem the same as he was just a minute earlier. Voldemort tightened his grip around his wand.

Harry voiced his full power & yelled "Reducto'. The blue light soared right towards Voldemort. Voldemort for his part simply raised a shield. A loud bang echoed because of the impact. After a second or two a spell came right towards his head. Harry ducked and rolled to his side, firing another volley of spells right at his foe.

Voldemort again raised his wand slightly but conjured a strong shield compared to the last. It did its job. The first spell that the Potter threw at him was powerful. Powerful than he anticipated. His shield almost did give off. He underestimated Potter. No, he should've known. He should've known better.

Whatever spells Harry uses are easily batted away by Voldemort. He glanced at his sides. Cedric's dead body is still about 10 meter away from him. The cup is on the totally opposite side. He needs to get closer to Cedric. With last ditch effort Harry sent another volley of spells then dived right towards Cedric's body.

During his first year when Voldemort possess Quirrell, he thought Potter was an ordinary boy. Nothing special, nothing like him. No thirst for knowledge nor for power. He seems lost at times. He was a weakling. Voldemort gained that impression from him. But now that he is battling him face to face, he reminded himself just how wrong he was. Potter isn't the second coming of Dumbledore nor is he the same like him. But there's something about him that unnerved him. Like gazing at a black pit, a gaping pit that is ready to swallow him all. His green eyes the very same colour of killing curse looking at him fearlessly. The same look he got from hundreds of enemies before him. But Potter's different. Voldemort trusts his intuition. Harry Potter needs to die. He needs to die right here. He can't let him escape any more.

"Master" a yell from Peter snapped him out of his thoughts. He saw Potter diving towards the dead body of that diggory boy. His eyes twitched.

Before Voldemort can even fire a spell at him, Harry aimed his wand right at their feets and yelled "Bombarda Maxima". The cold stone floor blasted away with debris and dust all around them. Harry quickly held Cedric's body and summoned the Cup. The cup soared right towards him.

With a flick of his wand Voldemort cleared the debris around him. The cup was flying away towards Potter. Without a second thought Voldemort yelled "Avada Kedavra".

He did it. His plan worked. The cup coming right towards him at a rapid speed. He held out his hand for it. That is when he heard the very same words he heard from Voldemort that night.. "Avada Kedavra"

Just as the cup touched his hand, his vision blurred as a green light struck him in his heart. The last thing he saw is a pair of glowing red eyes.

A/N:

I know my grammar sucks. I'm young and not native either. English isn't even my second language (It's third btw, you can guess my country now). I wrote this fic just to challenge myself. Though I'm good at writing in my mother tongue, I can't say the same for English with confidence.

Anyway, onto the story, I know it's not much but I just wanted to keep it short for the prologue. Next chapter will be posted shortly too. I know there'll be criticism, but pls be somewhat nice at least. Some people tend to downright nasty in the reviews and it can be rather discouraging.