Despite blacking out from the pain, I wasn't out for long. When a ritual starts to drain you to revive a lich, unconsciousness apparently isn't an option.
Green light rushed down my arm to my rapidly-blackening left hand, I assumed the light came from my head since Black was, similarly, glowing from the mark on his brow. It moved through the ring that had been shoved onto my hand where it picked up a web of black soul energy before leaping into the focus at my feet. Black and the snake, already horcruxes, just immediately added the black webs as the energy directly leaped from their heads into the wands before them.
In hindsight, I may have gotten off a little bit easier than they did. The non-dominant hand is usually used for absorbing magic and erecting shields, not projecting magic, at least in the way I was taught. The energy pathways out of my right hand were much more developed. At the very least, the green glow I was producing seemed a little less that what the other two were generating, from what I could tell through the pain.
The energy earthed itself into the phoenix-cored foci and flowed along the ritual diagram's lines into the scarecrow, green light seemingly somewhat purified of the horcrux taint by Fawkes' feathers. Nott was busily chanting in Latin, and I picked up words referring to resurrection and rebirth over the suddenly-heavy winds. Mavra and Crouch had let go of us rather than get caught in the ritual, but my body was paralyzed by the pain such that I couldn't really think about escaping. I wondered if I'd have the strength after it ended, or whether this was going to drain me dry.
If I'd lost Mathilda and failed to prevent Voldemort from getting a new body, was there really even a point to me trying to escape?
The driving, bitter wind was caught in a tornado that spun within the ritual circle, the rest of the diagram on the stone lighting green traceries to balance the power being drained into the scarecrow. Wrapped in the majority of the light, the figure's face began to transform from simple leather into flesh, and it filled out into a much more humanoid form beneath the black cloak. Though I was trying hard to do something, I wasn't able to interfere, and within a minute the wraith floating above was caught in the light like one of the traps in Ghostbusters, pulled into the body.
Not long after that, the process completed in a flash of green brilliance. Suddenly, the night was still cold but the winds had all but ceased. The process wracking my body ended, allowing me to slump to the ground, exhausted, but not dead. Newly-embodied, Voldemort pulled down the cowl of his hood to observe his few followers. Long black hair framed a face that would probably be handsome if not for the fine, pale-but-green-tinged scales that he had instead of flesh, lack of any appreciable nose, and glowing red eyes. It was hard to tell from the ground, but he might have gotten some of my height, since he seemed to tower over the Death Eaters.
"Wand!" he demanded, and Nott painfully bent down to retrieve the new wand in front of the snake, offering it with both hands to his master, hilt-first. Voldemort swished it and green sparks emerged. "It will do. A close enough match until I can find a superior option."
"Hey, you fixed the lisp," I needled with a groan from the ground. No reason not to piss him off, since he was going to kill me anyway. "Try 'She sells seashells by the sea shore!'"
"Crucio," he tossed off absently, causing my body to wrack in agony for a mere moment. It honestly distracted from the pain in my cursed hand, so wasn't too bad. "Indeed, a suitable wand. Oh, my, Dresden, that hand looks awful. You should get that looked at."
Great, the guy may have gotten a touch of my sense of humor as well.
He addressed Nott, "Speaking of which… My memories in my spectral form are not perfect. Clearly I directed you to the ring when a third anchor was required, but why did you not simply use the locket housed beneath us?"
Crouch looked a little green, either in fear or remembering an ordeal, "It had been replaced with a forgery, Master. It seems Regulus Black betrayed you before his death."
"Regulus?" Black managed from where he had sprawled on the stone across the circle. "My brother didn't die a Death Eater? Hah!"
Voldemort schemed, "Then we shall have to direct Sirius to search the Black estates for evidence of whether he managed to destroy it. Or Bella, when we make contact, if the dog is too addled to adjust the wards."
"Should we summon them, Master?" Crouch asked, rolling up the sleeve of his black robe to show his evil cattle brand and offer it to his boss.
"Soon. But not immediately. First, gifts for my truest followers." He turned to Mavra and asked, "My lady of the line of Drakul, we appreciate your assistance in this matter. What is it that you'd like in repayment?"
"I was going to take the girl, but you dropped her off a cliff," Mavra complained, apparently not cowed at all by the reborn dark wizard. "She had spunk. Let's just say, give me first refusal on any of your captives that are similarly useful, before you ruin them. I've lost three children in nearly as many months due to this operation."
"Very well. I apologize for the loss of the young one, but it's safer for us all if Dresden doesn't have anything to fight for," he smirked in my direction. "Now, Bartemius, what would you have?"
"Only to be truly elevated to the inner circle, Master," Crouch knelt.
"Of course. You were on your way before the war, and your faith does you credit." He did something complicated with his wand to summon a new silver Death Eater mask like Nott was wearing, and passed it to the kneeling wizard. "Rise, and be one of us."
"And finally, Cantankerous, my most faithful. Without you, I would still be trapped in the darkness between worlds. What would you have?"
"Your return to lead us once again is all that I require, my lord," he bowed.
"You see, Dresden?" Voldemort monologued. "My followers may be diminished, but they are true. They understand power, and that it is mine to grant. I have conquered death. And now I must finally conquer prophecy."
Well, that sounded like a setup for murder if I'd ever heard one, and I released the cutting charm I'd been silently building into my right hand, snapping the rope and using the release of tension to fling myself to my left, away from Mavra, and out of line of any spells. I managed to snatch up my Apologies focus on the way across. I vaguely thought that I might manage to kill or exorcise the snake, at least, or take out Nott.
"Petrificus totalus," Voldemort snapped out quickly and without apparent effort, nailing me with the body-bind curse before I'd made it two yards and causing me to slide to a stop just shy of Nagini, who hissed and moved away, not willing to risk being near the subject of her master's ire. "You are a worthy enemy, Dresden. I will give you that. Few wizards have been as much of an irritation to me as you have been, even at your young age. For that, I shall give you a wizard's death. If it makes you feel any better, only death will free you of the ring's curse anyway, which I can see has already nearly claimed your hand. But first, let's just make sure that you aren't sporting any irksome blood magic protections from your mother, like another child of prophecy who shall remain nameless."
He chuckled at his own joke, ran some diagnostic spells, and apparently confirmed to his own satisfaction that whatever happened when he attacked the Potters wasn't going to happen with me.
"Very well," he intoned, sighting down his wand. "Attend, and bear witness to your brother and sister Death Eaters, what happens to enemies of Lord Voldemort, nay, to hostile fate itself when it faces an immortal wizard. Farewell, Harry Dresden. Avada kedavra!"
The green blast of the killing curse hit me directly in the chest.