AN: Some of the scenes in this chapter had been in my mind ever since I thought up of this story. Hope the execution was well. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 19 - Grave Danger

Landing on shrubbery, Anya took note of her surroundings. Cover and concealment, entry points and exit points, magical traces and Muggle traps. Training and experience kicked in instantly as the familiarity of being in equipment with a rifle and wand seeped through her bones. Solo missions were rare and demanding, but they provided an insidious thrill that she had and still ravished. The standard set of concealment spells went up and she began her mission.

She popped open another Invigoration Draught and chugged with practiced ease, she would save the other for her exfiltration. Drawing out her wand and pistol, Anya made for the crest of the hill she had arrived on, making sure to keep her profile low as she neared the top, moving from tree to tree. Dropping to a prone and crawling the final stretch, she reached the crest of the hill overlooking where the portkey destination of the Triwizard Cup should be.

Vertigo punched her in gut as her right eye registered a pulsating wave of greenish-brown lines from the distance. If the sensation of vomiting and consuming said vomit afterwards could be transferred to the visual receptors, then that could be the uncanny description for what Anya felt like she was seeing. She shut her right eye and groaned softly in agony, but her right eye seemed to tremble on its own accord. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and she immediately understood what the nauseating lines were. It was either the rare and fabled magical signature of a homunculus which had ascended in power through a dark ritual, or it was the twisted and corrupted soul which had been responsible for cursing her right eye.

A graveyard laid before her eyes, at least six hundred meters away. There was a gathering of hooded and masked people, encircling an ongoing duel between Harry and what she could only assume to be Lord Voldemort, a dead body belonging to Cedric lay forgotten by the side. Despite the gloomy skies and eerie mist, the graveyard was lit up by a bright golden light. The Boy-Who-Lived and the Dark Lord, wands locked in a battle of will. Golden threads poured out from each wand, meeting in the middle with a golden ball of raw magical energy.

Anya unslung her rifle and flicked the bipod open, resting it on the soil. She took out her omniculars, Harry could wait, she was not tempted to interrupt an unknown magical phenomenon that might have potentially dangerous backlashes. Range, wind and a hint of Coriolis force, Anya noted the information and adjusted the rifle accordingly. A final glance at the runes on the bullets and she slid the magazine into the rifle, pulling the charging handle and waiting for the opportune moment.

Peering through the scope, she watched as the golden light weaved and shifted, morphing into various figures. Both Harry and Voldemort had dumbstruck faces on them as magic itself acted on its own whim. She lined the crosshairs on Voldemort, this time relying on the white lines in her vision to let her know when to shoot.

The figure twisted into the shape of Cedric Diggory and Anya got suspicious. Two other figures weaved into form, an old man and a woman. With a gasp, Anya was hit with the realisation that the unknown magical phenomenon was showing the victims who died by Voldemort's hand. Then, the phantoms of a young couple appeared.

That only meant that the young couple was her parents, James and Lily Potter. Her eyes widened and her jaw opened, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. They both looked so happy, so serene. She looked hungrily at them, trying to etch their faces in her memories. Growing up in Arkhangelsk, she had dreamt frequently about her parents when she was still young, they all did. Here, an old, nearly forgotten childhood dream resurfaced and she soaked herself in the feeling of seeing her long lost parents.

Kind of like seeing Harry for the first time, huh? Not exactly the same but similar nonetheless.

They faced her brother, holding a conversation with him. She could see the shining pride glistening on their faces as they exchanged words. The white lines in her vision slowly converged. To her absolute surprise, her parents turned around and faced directly at her. Even through the lenses of her rifle scope, she could feel the subtle connection of eye contact with the phantoms of her parents, they knew she was there.

James' mouth open and years of experience in lip-reading allowed Anya to 'hear' his words. She watched the movement of his mouth in detached concentration, as though she was stuck in a blank, white and empty purgatory and his 'voice' was the only thing she could sense.

Anne, you've grown up a lot too, such an intelligent and beautiful girl. Look after Harry will you?

He turned his head back to Harry to say something and Lily spoke to her this time. Staring at her mother, Anya realised she inherited her looks from her mother, aside from the hair colour. Lily's lips moved and her face shone with a bright, sad and proud smile.

Anne, you may have had a difficult and different life compared to everyone. But always remember that regardless of it all we love you and we are so proud of you.

The empty purgatory that she was in suddenly ripped open, carrying her mind back to the colourful earth in a strong gust of wind. The hollow feeling in her chest that had pierced through her heart during the maze of the Fourth Task, that had made her paralysed with fear and madness, that had been suppressed under an emotional detachment and Invigoration Draughts moments ago. It found itself being filled up a little.

White lines instantly whipped around and drew pulled themselves together in a taut string and a single emotion-filled teardrop trickled from Anya's eye. She had never pulled the trigger with so much emotional attachment yet knowing with absolute and unconditional certainty that the bullet would find its mark.

The recoil was barely felt as she stared in a split second anticipation. The gold light exploded and the figures of Voldemort's victims rushed to their murderer. At the same time, the Voldemort's head blossomed into a wide burst of dark crimson. His body reeled back from the impact and he toppled unceremoniously onto the ground, leaving his group of followers frozen in shock.

Harry began running and for his sake Anya hoped that he had a plan or at least their parents gave him a plan. Maintaining her breathing pattern and trigger control, she concluded the follow through of her shot before shifting her aim slightly and releasing another round. This time, one of the masked Death Eaters beside the fallen Voldemort snapped his head back, his body spinning dramatically before landing on the floor.

A third thump followed and another Death Eater fell, this was enough to snap the remaining Death Eaters out from their traces. Shielding spells of various types were erected immediately, causing Anya's next shot to smash into an invisible wall, sending up glowing red sparks in the air like a sledgehammer on hot iron. Anya let out a soft huff of annoyance, wishing dearly that she was somehow able to get her hands on Grey's infamous Witch-Hunter bullets. Those bullets were primed with null magic meant to bypass magical protections and wards, making them one of the most perfect ammunition for killing wizards and witches.

Several Death Eaters began throwing curses at Harry, the boy in question ducking and weaving around the tombstones, using them as cover. However, each time Anya's shots slammed against the shields, the Death Eaters scrambled and dove for cover before resuming their spells. She had to give credit to the Death Eaters, they knew how to cast strong shields. The greenish-brown lines spun in the air wildly, drawing Anya's attention away from the masked men and back to Voldemort. She allowed a dash of surprise to pass through her as Voldemort rose once more, his face horribly mauled by her initial shot but still standing and breathing. It appeared that a homunculus of that calibre had some immunity to physical damage.

Voldemort was screaming something to his followers, the lack of lips and oral flexibility made it hard for Anya to lip-read his words. The Death Eaters began running for Harry and Voldemort began conjuring a massive snake-like entity that was Fiendfyre. From a safe distance, Anya had to admit that the spell was very much worth learning. Shoving aside the thoughts, Anya aimed the rifle once more at Voldemort, the opportunity was too good to pass.

The bullet flew straight at Voldemort's hand, knocking his wand arm back as his yew wand slipped out of his mangled hand. Immediately, the Fiendfyre when wild without a person to control it, descending onto its surrounding people. Once more, Voldemort gave Anya a surprise when a wave of his uninjured hand stilled the rogue fire, preventing both him and the nearby Death Eaters from meeting their demise. Well, one doesn't get called the most dangerous Dark Lord of the century without reason.

Voldemort brought down his arm and the Fiendfyre surged towards Harry, its fiery jaws wide open in an attempt to consume Harry. However, Harry was faster as he ducked behind a large tombstone, dodging its lunge while covering himself from a red curse that cracked the tombstone. Grabbing onto Cedric's dead body, he flicked his wand and summoned the Triwizard Cup towards him, disappearing into thin air.

Anya could literally see the manifestation of Voldemort's rage as the sickly brown lines flared into a frenzy. The Fiendfyre descended onto the spot where Harry was moments ago and started consuming the nearby foliage and tombstones. Death Eaters began to slowly back away from their lord, fearing his wrath.

It was tempting to stay and observe the situation, but the threat of a wild Fiendfyre raging through the place pressured Anya into taking the safer option. Slinging her Dragunov back onto her shoulders, she took out her wad of paper that was her escape portkey.

"Tungsten."

With the activation phrase spoken, she found herself flung from a gloomy countryside graveyard to the empty grasslands east of Winchester. Anya checked for witnesses and found none, she drew her wand and pointed at the spot she just landed. Muttering an incantation, the ground glowed dark red before the light faded away. With the trap set in the event someone happened to foolishly tail her to her exact portkey destination, Anya took out a tightly folded bag. Unfolding it to its original form, she stripped herself of her ballistic vest and various equipment. She stowed them in her bag and proceeded to disassemble her sniper rifle into its parts, storing them in the bag as well. She checked her appearance in a pocket mirror to find it satisfactory, she would look like any random backpacker or hiker to others.

Making sure her wand and pistol was well hidden in her jacket, she put on her bag pack, drained her final vial of Invigoration Draught and began her run towards the aforementioned city. She had travelled further with heavier loads in the frigid Arkhangelsk winter, this three mile journey would be easy. She kept up her pace all the way, time was of the essence, every minute she wasted was a minute she was missing in Hogwarts.

Half an hour and she was in the fringes of the city. Anya checked her watch and cursed, wishing that she had already nailed down Apparition. Three miles was a good enough distance and she kept up a spell that erased her trail as she ran. Several layers of glamour charms turned her into a middle-aged witch with stuffy robes. Sticking out her wand arm, she awaited the arrival of the Knight Bus and mentally prepared herself to see if the exalted rumours were true about a ride on the Knight Bus.

XXXXX

Pain seared through Harry's limbs as the conjured ropes bound him tightly to a tombstone. But the pain was overshadowed by a bigger pain stinging his scar. That in turn was overshadowed by fear, he stared with a pale face at the bubbling cauldron in front of him.

He was begging in his hearts of hearts that the wretched thing would drown in the green liquid, it would be so easy, so simple. Harry Potter was many things, but easy and simple was nowhere near the list. His heart clenched with horror when steam gushed out from the cauldron, revealing the silhouette of a tall figure.

"Robe me."

Lord Voldemort was reborn. It sounded unreal to Harry's ears, it felt like a nightmare rather than reality. Voldemort looked like a nightmare rather than reality. Bald, white, noseless and blood-red eyes, his limbs and body were willowy but throbbing with an unrestrained strength. Wormtail draped a set of long, black robes over his shoulders. Voldemort flexed his fingers, turning them around before slowly running them around his body though to inspect for any defects. With the satisfied smile on his face, it appeared as though there was none.

"Thirteen years," Voldemort murmured. "It has been thirteen years since I had a real body."

He gripped on the rim of the cauldron he was still in.

"It feels... good," his grip tightened on the rim. Voldemort leaned forwards slightly, applying pressure on the cauldron.

A loud crack and the cauldron shattered.

"Very good in fact."

Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now, he had wrapped the stump of his dismembered arm in them.

"My Lord..." he choked. "My Lord... you promised... you did promise..."

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.

"Oh Master... thank you, Master..."

He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please... please..."

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm, forcing up the sleeves to reveal the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.

"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it... and now, we shall see... now we shall know... "

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.

The scar on Harry's forehead seared with a sharp pain, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl. Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort turned his attention to Harry. "A pleasure to meet you once again, it has been three years has it not?"

Voldemort strode over to Harry, leaning over him. His fist lunged and flew past Harry's ear, smashing against the tombstone. Bits of marble burst into the air, but Voldemort's fist barely had a scratch or bruise on it. The fist that had connected with the tombstone unclenched itself, moving over to cup Harry's chin, lifting his face to meet red eyes.

An explosion of pain erupted in Harry's head, as Voldemort touched his skin. He jerked about wildly but the ropes restricted his movements. Voldemort released a cold laugh.

"Three years indeed. And look how the tables have turned. Where once I recoiled in pain from your touch," Voldemort removed his hand from Harry's chin and pressed his finger against the lightning shaped scar. Harry's shriek of pain drowned Voldemort's next words. "Now it appears to be the other way round."

"And of course, those green eyes," Voldemort reminisced as he gazed on Harry's eyes as his head snapped back against the tombstone, eye bulging out from the pain. "How nostalgic. It seemed not so long ago when I murdered your father and mother, both pathetically weak. Oh, how your mother begged. Then I proceeded to steal the light from one of those green eyes, the wails of your twin was exceedingly annoying, did you know?"

Harry could not respond, he could not think. Not with the pain clawing at his head.

"Your mother, your twin and you, all of you with those green eyes. And all of you so terribly weak," Voldemort sneered. "Dead from simply losing an eye, pathetic. I wanted your twin alive too, a sole heiress to the Potter fortune? Only a fool would waste that opportunity, one simple betrothal contract to any one of my Death Eaters' children is all it takes."

The words managed to worm their way into Harry's subconscious but he could not bring himself to react to Voldemort's words. Pain was all he felt.

"But she just had to die, how disgustingly Potter of her," Voldemort spat, turning around leaving Harry. "But I have spoken about your family for too long, let's change the subject to my own family. For they have returned."

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. Harry's breathe hitched in his throat, this was going bad.

XXXXX

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, the-"

"Kensington High Street, London," said Anya testily, shoving a galleon into his hands. "Make it quick."

"Alrighty," Stan Shunpike, the conductor of the Knight Bus, accepted the generous tip and nodded to the driver. "Well Ern, you 'eard 'er, lady's on a rush and we better move fast."

Anya stepped aboard the bus and settled herself into one of the seat, wondering why the bus was lacking in seatbelts. The bus lurched forward and Anya gripped the handlebars tightly as they disappeared with a bang.

XXXXX

The Death Eaters clung on to Voldemort's every word as he regaled them with the story of his rebirth. When the last sentence was spoken, Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end... to black out... to die...

And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter.

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "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.

"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone.

There was a split second, perhaps, when Harry might have considered running for it, but his injured leg shook under him 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. Wormtail 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. Then Wormtail resumed his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters.

"You have been taught how to duel. Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

At these words Harry remembered, as though from a former life, the duelling club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago. All he had learned there was the Disarming Spell, that was hardly enough in a fight against Voldemort. He filtered through the spells he had been drilling since he was forced to join the Tournament. Stunning Spell, Reductor Curse, Blasting Curse, Full-Body Bind- no, the last one was a dud in this case. The short time spent training with Anya had taught him that the best spells in combat were the ones with the shortest incantation. Sure, the Killing Curse was dark and powerful but in the time it takes for Voldemort to cast one, he could theoretically cast two Blasting Curses. Various plans and tactics started to form in his head, his mind working on top speed and his breathing rate increasing.

For starters, calm down. You're a Gryffindor, be brave.

The words of his sister subconsciously hit him and he remembered the sensation of being trapped in the Third Task. Telling himself this was the same, Harry wretched control from the hands of panic and steeled himself. He just needed a simple plan and in the meantime, just stay alive.

XXXXX

The moment she stepped out from the Knight Bus, Anya muttered a Notice-Me-Not Charm while dropping her glamour charms simultaneously. Her appearance reverted from middle-aged witch back to Muggle backpacker.

Looking around to orientate herself, Anya found her destination and broke into a brisk walk, heading for the tube station. A few transactions later and she was boarding a train of the London Underground.

This was the standard evasion tactics that Nathaniel had taught them, combine both magical and Muggle means of movement to throw off any pursuers.

XXXXX

Everyone in the graveyard was in shock, Harry, the Death Eaters and even Voldemort. When the Disarming Spell from Harry and the Killing Curse from Voldemort met in the middle, red and green gave way to a thread of bright gold, meeting in the middle in a big ball of golden magic. Their two wands connected and the thrilling music of a phoenix's song filled the air.

Harry's jaw dropped in surprise as the figure of Cedric Diggory formed. If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken.

The figures of an old man and Bertha Jorkins materialised as well, all of them shouting words of encouragement to Harry. Another figure before to form and Harry stared with anticipation, he knew who was about to come from the other side. A tall man with the same messy hair as him, identical to the one he had saw in the Mirror of Erised, James Potter.

"Your mother's coming..." he said quietly. "She wants to see you... it will be all right... hold on..."

Once more, a figure weaved into existence beside his father, with the lack of colours in their ghostly forms, she would have looked like Anya had she done her hair up in a simple ponytail. Lily Potter appeared and gazed longingly at Harry, a smile on her lips.

"Sweet Merlin, you grew up a lot, Harry," Lily said softly. "I wish I could have been there to see you grow up."

"Me too Lily," said James, putting his arm on Lily's shoulder. "He's a proud Gryffindor just like us."

"Watch over Anne, will you?" Lily requested with a smile, her eyes crinkling as she did, just like Anya. "Because she is doing the same right now, for you. Remember that I will always love you, both of you."

Harry nodded in confusion but he still stared at his parents with a strong yearning. The wand in his hands trembled even harder but he still managed to keep his grip. Then, his parents looked away from him, into the distance.

"Anne, you've grown up a lot too, such an intelligent and beautiful girl. Look after Harry will you?" said James.

James turned back to Harry, speaking to him.

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments but we will give you time you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.

"Harry..." whispered the figure of Cedric. "Take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents."

"I will," said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort of holding the wand.

"Anne, you may have had a difficult and different life compared to everyone," said Lily as she still stared into the distance. "But always remember that regardless of it all we love you and that we are so proud of you."

"Now, Harry!" the voice of James echoed in his ears as soon as Lily finished her speech.

"NOW!" Harry yelled, he didn't think he could have held on for another moment anyway. He pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke, the phoenix song died. Immediately, the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims closed in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze.

Voldemort began to rise his wand, but the impossible happened in front of Harry's eyes. Voldemort's head cleaved open in a torrent of gore, sending him onto the ground. Not wasting the deus ex machina bestowed upon him, Harry took off into a sprint. Once more he heard another crack of a head opening and the thump of a body falling, sending wild panic through the Death Eaters. When he heard the third body fall, the Death Eaters came to their senses and spells erupted all over.

Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two Death Eaters busy casting shields aside as he passed. He zigzagged behind tombstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the tombstones.

"POTTER! HOW DARE YOU!" the sound of Voldemort's roar, sent a shiver down his spine, there was no way he had survived that. This only urged Harry to run even faster. "Stun him! Bring him to me!"

Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel.

"Stupefy!" he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him. The Death Eater crumpled onto the floor without even having the chance to be surprised.

Harry chanced a look at Voldemort and gasped in terror, Voldemort had conjured a monstrous snake made of fire. The snaked encircled Voldemort and rose high into the air, facing directly at Harry and coiling itself for a lunge.

Once more, divine intervention struck Voldemort's wand hand, reducing it to a bloody mess as the wand slipped from his hands. The fiery snake shrieked in madness as its caster lost control, Harry seized the opportunity and began running once more towards the body of Cedric.

"TWICE! POTTER! YOU WILL NOT DO THAT AGAIN!"

Next thing he knew, he heard the hissing screech coming behind him and he dove for cover immediately, landing onto Cedric and behind a tombstone. From the corner of his eye, he realised that he had just dodged death as the fiery snake had landed its jaws where he was just moments ago. The heat from it was sweltering and Harry next that he had seconds left.

"Accio!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry 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 colour, and Cedric along with him.

XXXXX

Once again, Anya arrived in front of the apartment building she had been in an hour ago. An hour, that was enough to get people suspicious, she had to act fast. Rushing up the stairs once more, she deposited everything she had taken, leaving her with what she had when she left Hogwarts.

Crushing another piece of paper for a portkey, and stopped to consider her choices. Straight to Hogwarts into the maze where she once was, or Hogsmeade then Shrieking Shack, tunnel, Whomping Willow and finally back to Hogwarts.

It would be too suspicious if she got to the castle without ever crossing paths with a Tournament official. And if her guess was right, there were probably several searching parties combing the maze in a wild manhunt for her. Placing herself in their hands would result in less questions.

"Portus."

Another Portkey Charm and Anya found herself speeding away into blurriness. She landed back onto the soft ground of the Quidditch field, she considered firing red sparks but that would lead to questions as to why she didn't do it beforehand.

With that in mind, she simply laid down on the ground and stared blankly at the sky. Sooner or later, someone would pick her up and in the meantime it was a good opportunity for her to gather her thoughts. The day had been nothing short of a whirlwind, leaving her disoriented with all that has happened.

As the adrenaline slowly wore off, the images of Kiel and Tanya came back to her mind. The cold grip on her chest tightened and Anya found herself curling up into a fetal position. The sight and sound from past memories stabbing holes all over her. She realised she would not be gathering her thoughts anytime soon.