In the last chapter: Rumors start up about Harry and Anthony due to Rita Skeeter. Bagman gives the champions information on the third task and the maze that will be grown on the quidditch pitch. Barty Jr kills an escaped Barty Snr who'd been held captive by Voldemort, and Harry gets rid of evidence. Anthony and Harry finally have their heart to heart and Harry reveals all his secrets to Tony.


Moisture hung in the still air, coating everything in its dampness and stale fragrance. Cool black stone gleamed muted green and wet with the slow drip of water in the enormous chamber, flickering with the light of a single fire near the end of the chamber. The fire was no ordinary fire, though, instead of burning its usual organic orange, the flames were a deep ruby red, burning higher and flicking about slowly like feline tails. The fire should not have been able to burn, as it seemingly came from the wet stone floor and had no wood to sustain it.

The reason for the fires life sat only two feet away, staring entranced into the flames as low, rolling words dripped incomprehensible from the boy's dry lips in a chant made quietly thunderous by the magic coagulating in every syllable.

Harry felt the low pulse of power through his body as he continued with his ritual—which was meant to strengthen his body and magic for a short amount of time, just long enough to get him through the third task and whatever may follow. Harry braced his hands against the floor as the magic overwhelmed him and wrapped around him in an embrace that was both constricting and exhilarating. Warmth curled deep in his gut and though normally he might have been embarrassed by the knowledge of just what that sensation was and how the magic was affecting him, he was still too deeply entrenched in the ritual to hesitate even a moment.

Harry reached the peak of the ritual and the invocations stilled on his tongue as his head fell back and his eyes stared wide and unseeing at the distant ceiling. His spine arched to its limit and his body was taut with the strain as Harry tried to cope with the flood of ambient magic into his system. For a moment Harry thought that perhaps his body wouldn't be able to handle the strain on his muscles and that something would give, painfully, but then the magic settled to a low buzz and he nearly collapsed when every muscle relaxed at once.

Harry panted and wiped away some of the sweat that had collected on his face. The fire had gone out and the ritual was complete. Harry was now ready to bring back Tom Riddle when they finally met. The third task was set for the very next day after dinner. The magical maze had been grown, the champions had—assumedly—prepared, and everyone else was anxiously anticipating.

Once Harry had composed himself and cleaned up the remnants of the ritual, he promptly made his was back up to the Ravenclaw dorms. The common room was relatively empty, as many people were decompressing after having just taken their final exams. Harry spotted Anthony alone by a large window, book in hand. Harry took a seat in the armchair across from the blonde and he looked up at Harry with an inquisitive raised brow.

"Just some last-minute preparations for the task." Harry answered his silent question. He had told Anthony enough for him to know that Harry didn't just mean practicing defensive spells, and that it wasn't really the task that he was preparing for per se. Anthony closed his book and set it to the side.

"You know, perhaps it would be a little easier if you'd let me help you?" Anthony prodded, it not being the first time he'd asked to assist Harry in any way he could ever since finding out just what Harry was up to. Harry leveled his friend with a knowing look.

"We've been through this already Tony, I can handle this on my own. I've been preparing for a very long time and I won't be alone, I have help on his end as well, so everything should go smoothly. Besides, there really isn't much to do. I'll do my part and then be out of there before the dust even settles. If you really wish to help me, then keep yourself safe and don't get into any trouble. Everything is laid out according to plan and we just need to let the pieces fall where they may." Harry assured, still feeling the dull hum of magic in his limbs from the ritual he'd done.

Anthony looked like he wished to push the topic, but also didn't look confident that he'd win. Anthony sighed and moved onto another, less weighted topic.

"Have you heard back from Sirius on the issue with Skeeter?" He asked instead, the mood shifting immediately. Harry's expression lightened and he nodded.

"Yes, he went straight to the Ministry after hiring a legal consultant. I also notified the Child Protection Department within the Ministry so they were expecting him and collaborated quite well together to sort the matter out. Sirius is going to levy she be charged with slander, exploitation of a minor, and breech of the privacy clause set for minors. Apparently, they're also bringing in other people and even other underaged wizards who'd been featured in her rubbish articles to make their case even stronger. From what I could tell, it won't be dragged out for long and hopefully the witch will stop being such a nuisance." He could only hope.

Anthony nodded. "I wrote to my father as well, just in case. I'm sure he'll help where he can. Skeeter has been trying to smear his name for years, ever since he started having success with his company and gaining the public's attention. My mother says that people like Rita Skeeter care nothing for the truth, and probably don't even know what things such as honesty and loyalty truly mean." Harry huffed and nodded in agreement.


The next day, the four champions were excused from lessons for the day to give them time to prepare themselves, and also spend time with their families before the final task. Harry thought it came off as a little grim that they were allowed the day with their families because it made it feel like they were saying their goodbyes to each other just in case something was to go wrong.

That being said, Harry was also glad to spend time with Remus and Sirius as he hadn't nearly as much time before the tasks the other two times. They roamed the castle without a clear destination in mind while the two older men reminisced about their own days at Hogwarts and the mischief they used to get up to. Eventually Harry showed them the Room of Requirement, which they hadn't been able to find in their own time, and they settled down there for tea and relaxation.

Their conversation had just lulled into a comfortable silence when Remus, who was sitting beside Harry on one of the conjured couches, suddenly leaned over and wrapped his arms around Harry. With one hand on the back of Harry's head and arm hooked around his shoulder, and the other arm wrapped around his back, Harry was pulled into a warm and protective embrace. Remus released a shaky breath and sounded suspiciously congested when he spoke.

"Sorry Harry, I know you're not much of a hugger, but . . . we just came so close to losing you last time and the thought of sending you back out there for a third time has me going crazy. I can't wait for this bloody tournament to be over! I want you to keep in mind that, win or lose, it really doesn't matter, as long as you come back safe." Remus squeezed a little tighter as he spoke.

"You have nothing to worry about, Remus. I'll play it safe, take my time, and if it gets to be too much, I'll withdraw from the task." Harry insisted, but even as he spoke, he wrapped his arms around the man who had become such a comforting and important figure in his life. Harry stayed there for a while, drawing strength from the easily given affection, before he started to pull away. Before he'd fully managed it, though, Remus suddenly turned his face and smacked a big, overexaggerated kiss on Harry's temple with a cheeky grin. Harry groaned and whined about Remus treating him like a stuffed teddy bear, even as he fought against the indulgent smile pulling at his lips.

Sirius hopped up and joined in by giving Harry another smothering hug and wet kiss to his other temple. The three distracted each other from the coming night with lighthearted teasing and stories of grandeur and hilarity involving four mischievous boys in a magical school.


Dinner passed in a blur. Harry had never been so out of it waiting for the first two tasks, but this time was different, because this was it, wasn't it? The tournament was nearly over, and Harry would be almost completely isolated and unsupervised while within the maze, the perfect time to get to him. Harry ate a simple supper automatically, not really seeing or tasting what he was eating, mind flipping between a thrilling buzz of thoughts about what might happen and finally accomplishing a goal that had been years in the making, and a distracted stillness within his skull where thoughts blended together or stilled completely and left him thoroughly blank.

Anthony noticed Harry's behavior and did an impeccable job of deflecting attention and the erratic questions people directed towards him, while also making sure Harry wasn't completely out of it and occasionally putting something else on his plate so that he'd have at least a half-decent meal. Once dinner commenced, Harry sort of came out of his fog and realized that over three-quarters of the Great Hall had emptied as most people had scurried off to the stands to take their seats. This included Harry's friends, minus Anthony, who had stayed to walk down to the quidditch pitch with Harry.

When they exited the castle, the sun had just dipped below the low peaks of the distant mountains and the grounds were awash in muted tones. As they walked silently, Harry's eyes tracked the wide path of recently trampled grass they were following, they were amongst the last to make their way towards the pitch. Standing outside of the entrance to the stands was a loose gathering of the champions, the headmasters, and a few family members of the champions—such as Cedric's father, Fleur's little sister, and even Sirius. Once they were spotted, Sirius took Anthony's place so that the young Ravenclaw could go join their friends in the stands.

Sirius settled a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed gently. When Harry looked over, the man gave him a relaxed smile and a cheeky wink that was perhaps meant to help rid Harry of any pre-task jitters.

Harry could hear the exuberant bouncing instrumentals from the Hogwarts band and various chants from groups of students cheering on their favorite champion. Dumbledore looked over their group one last time to make sure everyone was there before announcing that they could enter. Amos Diggory, who appeared to be ready to bounce right out of his robes ignored the exasperated protests from his son for whatever they'd been discussing, and bounded away, through the entrance, and into the waiting cheers of the crowd. Cedric grimaced at the sound of his father attempting to start his own chants for his son amongst the audience and raced in after the man.

Fleur's entourage glided in elegantly, with sharp, determined, and ravenous eyes that seemed to fit well with the two younger Delacour girls' Veela heritage. Viktor's large, slightly encumbered gait stomped in behind them with Igor Karkaroff sneering smugly at the crowd, reveling in the fact that his student was in first place—never-mind the fact that he was also tied with Harry. Each champion received their own round of boisterous cheers and clapping and rattles of noisemakers that seemed to appear from nowhere.

When Harry and Sirius stepped out, they received their own enthusiastic wall of noise, but both generally ignored them while Sirius pointed Remus out of the crowd for Harry so he could smile and wave at the man who sat with an anxious smile of his own, gripping his coat in his hands tightly and attention solely on his adoptive son. Dumbledore followed up the end of the line and soon made his way to the little podium at the center of the small clearing and began to wrangle in the crowd's attention.

While he did that, Harry glanced around and took in the impressively tall wall of foliage at his back. It was as he was watching the wall that the hedges parted and out stepped Moody. Moody caught his gaze and sent him a mischievous smile that could have been taken as a professor trying to encourage his favorite student, but Harry knew the true intentions behind it. He knew it meant that whatever Barty had been doing within the maze, it would guarantee he reached Voldemort and Harry couldn't help but feel relieved.

Moody had just wiped the smile from his face when Dumbledore turned and brought everyone's attention to the man by announcing that Moody had been entrusted with placing the Triwizard Cup somewhere within the maze and only he knew of its location.

"Whichever champion reaches the cup first will be declared the winner of the Triwizard Tournament and be granted the monetary prize of one thousand galleons, but perhaps more importantly, the glory of generations to come as a Triwizard Champion. Now, as Mr. Potter and Mr. Krum are in the lead, they will enter first, followed by Miss Delacour, and then Mr. Diggory. The staff have been instructed to patrol the perimeter, so, should any of the champions wish to withdraw from the task, they need only to send up red sparks and they will be escorted out of the maze." Dumbledore then turned to face the champions and beckoned them forward so that he could speak to them directly.

Dumbledore gave them a few warnings that there were dangers lurking within the maze and to always be on their guard. With that, Harry and Viktor were nudged towards the two separate entrances that had opened in the hedge at some point while Dumbledore was talking. At Harry's entrance stood Sirius and Barty. When Harry approached, Sirius gave him once last tight hug, the roar of the audience and blare of the instruments at his back. Then Sirius let go reluctantly and Harry stepped through the entrance.

Harry felt like he was stepping into another world, the cold press of the night air hitting him and dampening the sound already. Harry turned to look back through the entrance, just in time to see Barty subtly point off to Harry's left, his body blocking him from sight so that only Harry caught the action. Barty gave him a wink and a little smirk and a moment later the hedge closed behind him, completely shutting out the sound and blocking all light from the well-lit clearing, causing Harry to realize just how fully night had fallen since dinner had ended.

Harry took a deep breath as he settled back into the sensation of no longer having so many eyes on him. A moment later, his barriers slipped away like a falling curtain and a perpetual presence took ahold of his attention.

'Barty seems to have enchanted the cup into transporting you to Tom, you will need to reach it first before anyone else.' His companion told him and just like that, they were off.

Harry moved at a steady jog, guided by Death to take the right turns and move past any obstacles that could be avoided. However, in order to reach the cup in time, he knew certain things couldn't be bypassed without confrontation. Harry met his first obstacle in the form of a Bogart that was blocking the long, narrow path that was the only direct way to reach the next section of the maze. Harry spotted the creature lurking in the form of a faceless man of impressive stature, pacing up and down the length of the path in long midnight blue robes. The Boggart's posture was severe and seemed to represent a particular person, but the boggart's last encounter with another person's fear must have been a while ago since the details of its appearance had faded, causing the face to have receded into a terrifying blank mask of skin with only vague ridges instead of any actual features.

Having already faced his own boggart, Harry jogged forward resolutely and then the boggart noticed him and transformed into a hole in the hedge filled with an endless black and haunting tones that were all too quick to bring back memories of his first encounter. Pushing onward without pause, the sound soon faded and Harry was once more progressing.

It was only a few minutes after facing the boggart that Harry heard a distant yell and a loud crash of something large hitting the earth. Harry couldn't quite identify the owner of the voice, but he suspected Cedric and worried slightly that the surprisingly uncoordinated and mild-mannered champion would actually survive the maze.

The next obstacle he faced was a rather simple—if fairly disorienting—challenge. The path was now blocked by thick golden mist hovering two feet above the ground. Limbo mist. Whoever entered the mist would have their senses fooled and the world would seem to have turned upside-down, making one feel like at any moment they would fall straight on their head and break their neck. Wizards had gotten stranded in the mist before, only getting out when someone dispelled it with magic. However, Harry wouldn't get stranded because he knew about the effects of the mist and knew that the simple way through it was to just enter it at a run and not stop until you were out.

Which is exactly what he did. It was certainly an odd and rather nauseating feeling to have his entire equilibrium flipped on its head, but his feet carried him all the way through regardless. Next were a cluster of blast-ended skrewts—Hagrid's strange hybrid cross of a manticore and a fire crab—they had grown to be about ten feet long with shiny dark grey armor all over their long-crab like bodies, with a large scorpion-like stinger on one end and the other end gave a blast of flame and sparks that would propel them at their prey and had given it its name. They were quite aggressive creatures and probably very lethal, their armor reflecting most spells.

Harry took out his wand and when the first skrewt launched at him, he took advantage of the angle and threw a powerful cutting curse at the creature's vulnerable underbelly, splitting it from one end to the other. Not waiting for the others to attack, Harry used both his wand and powerful wandless magic to cut, blast, and eviscerate his way through the deadly creatures.

Afterwards, there was yet another unavoidable obstacle that stood between him and the cup. A sphinx. Sphinxes were intelligent, loved their puzzles, and prone to violence. With the face of a human woman and the body of a lion, the sphinx stood tall, guarding the shortest path to the cup. Harry approached and waited. He had to answer riddles everyday just to enter the Ravenclaw dorms, he doubted he'd be stuck there for long. The sphinx offered him the chance to turn away and find another path, but he only had the vague assurances that Viktor had yet to reach the cup and he wouldn't take any chances by taking any detours.

"First think of the person who lives in disguise,

Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.

Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,

The middle of iddle and end of the end?

And finally give me the sound often heard,

During the search for a hard-to-find word.

Now string them together and answer me this,

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"

The first line referred to a spy, then 'd' and the last clue probably being '-er.'

"Spider." Harry pronounced after a moment and the sphinx reluctantly stepped aside. Harry picked up his pace and ran through the last winding path of the maze, hoping he was close to the center. Harry felt a slight stitch in his side by the time his path crossed another and he saw the pale blue glimmer of the cup all the way at its end. Harry put on a last burst of speed as he sprinted towards the cup.

However, it seemed that the riddle the sphinx had given him had also been a clue. When he reached the clearing where the cup sat atop a stone pedestal, he was not alone. A large acromantula stepped into his path, blocking the cup from view. Harry sighed, frustrated that he was so close but yet another tedious obstacle impeded him. Except, that from somewhere over the hedges, not far from the clearing, Harry heard a low grunt, the snap of a powerful spell, and then feet running quickly over the compacted earth. Panic rose like bile in Harry's throat at the thought of another champion—likely Viktor—arriving soon and taking advantage of the distracted acromantula to take the cup themselves.

Without time to think about other options, Harry shoved his wand back in his pocket and focused solely on the intimidating and deadly creature before him. With his magic crawling up his spine and wrapping around his tongue, Harry spoke with purpose, hoping what he was about to try would actually work.

{Sleep.} His tone resonated through the clearing and the beast stumbled, but regained its balance after a while. Forcing more strength into his voice, Harry tried again.

{Sleep!} The spider swayed and its legs bucked as his magic influenced it. With one last forceful shove of power, the acromantula crumpled, unconscious. Harry wasted no more time and sprinted around the creature, his hand reached out and he was so close to wrapping his fingers around one of the silver handles.

"Harry!" At the last second, Harry turned his head just to see Viktor several meters away, running towards him, eyes ablaze in determination. Viktor's arm was already rising, meant to be pointed right at Harry, but the teen was too late as Harry's fingers grasped the handle and he was jolted forward into a violent twist of blurred scenes and portkey magic that had his stomach feeling like it was tearing from his esophagus.

A moment later, Harry tumbled into thick, damp, overgrown grass and rolled until his back hit solid stone. Harry coughed from the impact as pain radiated through his back. He slowly sat up, careful not to touch the cup lying beside him, and took in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was what he'd crashed into; the dark granite base of a headstone—specifically, Tom Riddle's headstone. Based on the dates, Harry knew it was Tom Riddle Snr's grave. He also noticed that it wasn't the only one, that he was in a small unkept cemetery not too far away from a vaguely familiar manor he knew belonged to the Riddles.

The next thing Harry noticed was the largest cauldron he'd ever seen in use, hovering over blue flames. Harry wanted to get closer and check that the cauldron only included the base materials for the ritual and that Voldemort hadn't yet added anything that would be detrimental to Harry's ritual, but right when he was about to get up, the familiar silhouette he'd been counting on stepped out from behind a stone tomb holding the tiny deformed husk the last piece of Voldemort's soul was residing in. They stepped out of the shadows and into the pale light of the moon and Harry was sure to make a show of widening his eyes and shuffling backwards a foot at the sight of Voldemort and Phil.

Harry had been sure to make Phil convince Voldemort that he would be a better fit for assisting him during the ritual as it would demand sacrifices that were better suited for someone more . . . expendable. In Harry's opinion, Philias' position in the Ministry and non-fugitive status made him far more valuable, but Voldemort was not exactly in a rational mindset.

Philias held his wand aloft, pointed at Harry as he approached, and it was a good thing that Voldemort seemed more concerned with getting on with the ritual so that he didn't look at Phil and see how uncomfortable the man looked pointing his wand at Harry.

"Hurry, Green! Do it now." Voldemort hissed impatiently once they stood beside the cauldron, and without much else fanfare, Phil dropped Voldemort into the bubbling cauldron and Harry jumped up from his place on the ground and hovered over the cauldron to get a good look and make sure he wouldn't have to do any last-minute improvisations to make sure Voldemort didn't come out with a tail or some other horrendous deformity. Thankfully, they were safe and Harry stepped back.

"Well, what now?" Phil asked, peaking at the contents of the cauldron with a mix between curiosity and disgust. Harry reached inside the collar of his shirt and pulled out the leather pouch he had around his neck and quickly unshrunk it. Harry pulled it open and the first thing he tugged out was a long and thin black ritual robe. Harry slipped off his shoes and socks while also tugging his shirt over his head and pulling the robe on quickly. The material did little to protect from the chill of the night, but Harry didn't mind.

"Now you allow me to do what I have to do, and only step in if I ask for assistance." Harry answered seriously.

Next, Harry pulled out his single most important ingredient for the ritual, the locket. He would need to put it in with Voldemort before throwing anything else into the cauldron. Harry stood over the cauldron and slowly pulled his magic away from where it had intertwined with that of the locket, and before the soul within the locket could regain any sort of sentience, he dropped it into the viscous bubbling liquid and went back to his preparations.

Harry retrieved his totem from the pouch and put it on before doing anything else. Carefully, Harry made a runic circle around the cauldron roughly fifteen feet in diameter. But instead of just carving the runes into the damp ground, Harry had already prepared twelve moon stones carved with the ritual and protective runes he needed, and then proceeded to bury them a few inches down into the soft earth equidistant to each other to make up the circle.

Harry went back to his bag and brought out a jar of thick pale grey liquid that he would be using to paint several spells written in the language of the dead on the outside of the cauldron. The mixture was made of crushed, powdered bone, and water from a natural spring. The heat of the cauldron didn't burn him, thankfully. As Harry began to dip his fingers into the jar and then draw around the rim and midsection of the cauldron, he felt the draw on his magic with every word he wrote. As he neared the end, the blue flames flickering below the cauldron turned purple, then red when he finished, burning higher and behaving very similarly to the flames he'd seen just the other night while performing his strengthening ritual.

Harry straightened back up, placing the closed jar back in his bag and then pulling several more jars out. The jars consisted of all of the precious and painstaking ingredients he'd been gathering and making over the last year. Harry spoke lowly in the language of the dead, stating that each ingredient was a willful offering that had been gifted unto him and he was gifting in return, before adding it to the cauldron. It was a slow process, but necessary.

Finally, Harry reached the end of his prepared ingredients and approached Phil, who stood quietly outside of his circle, looking fascinated and more than a little out of his depth.

"The stone, please." Phil fumbled for a moment with his pockets before finally pulling out the philosopher's stone and handing it over to Harry. Phil seemed like he wanted to ask or say something as Harry walked back over to the cauldron, it wasn't until Harry pressed the stone to his lips and whispered a silent blessing before holding it over the cauldron that Phil made a sudden noise of protest, but Harry dropped the stone in without remorse, even as Phil grumbled about it being 'a damn waste.'

Lastly, Harry positioned his arm over the cauldron and with small flick of his wrist, wandlessly cut a deep scarlet divot into the sensitive pale skin of his forearm and spoke as the dark rivulet dripped steadily into the bubbling liquid.

{And with this blood, I bind soul to form, I demand this magic's obedience to my will, and I bless the rebirth of balance.} Harry's arm slowly closed as he took a step back from the cauldron, sank to his knees, and sat back on his bare feet, his ritual robe pooling around him on the damp carpet of grass. Now comes the hard part. . .

Harry let the world around him slip away as his focus turned fully towards the cauldron before him and his own magic within. He began the intricate invocations he'd constructed and memorized in the language of the dead. The first part was devoted to declaring his right to wield the temperamental magic as the hand of Death, as well as drawing out the properties of the ingredients within the cauldron so that they might begin to mingle and mix together. It was a process that required little power and only needed to be spoken once, unlike the other parts.

At the end of the first section, Harry bent forward until his forehead kissed the soft cool blanket of grass. The contact drew a sudden pulse of energy from the buried stones of the circle. Harry's magic awoke inside of him like a slumbering beast to answer the call of the energy from the stones and suddenly he could feel everything within the circle. A flicker in his stomach went willfully ignored as Harry mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

Harry continued to chant, his magic rising with every word, both urging his body to relax and tense at the same time. It curled inside of him and expanded until it had soaked into every single cell in his body and then it pulsed. Harry's breath stuttered but his words continued to come out strong, he tried to steel himself and focus through the distracting sensations building like a tsunami on the distant horizon.

It was different from what he'd felt just the other night when doing the strengthening ritual. While that had been like a burning flame encased within his chest cavity, an internal burn that left him flushed and sweating, he could tell almost immediately that this instance would be different. Instead, it felt like he was immersed in a strong river with the current not pulling him in a singular direction, but instead swirled around him like an anxious, powerful beast, it moved through him. His fingers curled into the thick strands of grass to ground himself as he continued to chant, believing that if he didn't, he would be swept up from his hunched-over position low to the ground and would float, immersed in the slow ripples of magic.

Harry completed another section finally, straightened up and tilted his head back so he was facing the inky dark blue sky. The star-flecked expanse above him wavered and lazily shifted in Harry's vision, like the slowly rolling waves only seen from under the water. The swell and glide something enchanting and sensual as the movements mimicked the mannerisms of a lover. He chanted into the night air, breathing heavier than when he'd started and fingers trembling slightly.

Magic seemed to draw up from the earth and continue to feed into the endless rapture within Harry. His tongue curled around two powerful invocations and warmth poured down over his body and set his nerves aflame in a way that had nothing to do with pain. Harry's voice became thick and reverent as honey and wine coated his tongue and bloomed in his lungs. The spike in magic and pleasure combed through Harry's breaths, making them leave heavier and more encumbered, and Harry's body shifted restlessly, knees shifting apart slightly without meaning to.

The stars danced in his vision and his breath fogged in the night air. Harry felt his awareness expand beyond the physical world around him as the restless thrills and dancing warmth fed into the tension and low current of giddiness that was taking hold of the young raven. The words continued to pour out automatically as he lost himself in the never-ending flow of everything. Harry had never felt such an immense build of power and he felt like the edges of himself were unraveling under the gentle and insistent fingers of sensations, coming undone and like soon he would find himself unmade. His breaths came in ragged and he was on the precipice of his undoing, the chanting just a low undercurrent drowned out by the overarching tide of noise and energy.

Every inch of him, down to the smallest expanse measurable, was alive and singing and his head dropped forward until his chilling pale green gaze locked on the large cauldron before him. The power continued to grow inside of him until Harry felt like he contained a heavily compacted star within his small human body and that in a matter of seconds it was going to explode into a supernova. And then something inside of Harry that had otherwise remained untouched and unaffected by his magic was suddenly connected and Harry's very soul had communication with the magic. It became the heavy blast of wind to the precarious house of cards and Harry threw his hand forward as the tidal wave finally hit and the magic needed to be channeled or it would surely kill him.

Harry's fingertips made contact with the cauldron and the magic gushed out of him and into the being within the cauldron. Harry trembled as the magic continued to flow and Harry vaguely noticed the grass within his circle flicking around like flames, not at all behaving as it should in the gentle wind. Tension was drawn out of his body with the release and his heart pounded hard with the heavy reverberation of a drum in his chest that shook his bones and pulsed behind his ears. The last of the magic escaped from his oversensitive, ravaged body and the magnetic like force connecting him to the warm metal surface ceased and his hand dropped immediately. Harry used the hand to brace against the ground and help hold him up as he watched the events unfold before him, barely able to keep himself up.

The red flames at the base of the cauldron suddenly grew and engulfed the entire thing until it melted away, leaving behind a large ball of rolling shadows and opaque black smoke that spun and twisted around the ball as it hovered in the air. The ball slowly lowered to the ground and became more and more translucent by the moment until Harry could spot a flash of pale limbs and dark hair from within it.

By the time the smoke finally dissipated, a figure knelt before Harry, only a foot away, in much of the same position as him. Harry gazed wide-eyed at the figure before him and took in every detail, breathing still labored and limbs quaking minutely. He was a young man, clearly no older than 18 at most with broad shoulders, endless smooth pale skin, and compacted with hard lean muscle that spoke of natural physical strength and athleticism. His eyes were closed but his face was a smooth, impeccable cut of hard planes, symmetrical bone structure, and immaculate fair skin. His lips were full, appearing soft but capable of a hard set at a moment's notice. His hair was so dark it looked black in the night's lighting, with a natural lax wave in the parted hair. Harry could also see the small dark dots of beauty marks all over him that were pointedly distracting.

And then his chest expanded with a sudden breath and his eyes opened and Harry couldn't see anything else. A depthless dark blue that he swore mirrored the cloudless night sky above them. Harry held his steady gaze and even when he'd spent hours staring up at the sky from the Astronomy tower on clear nights, never had he seen a sky so dazzling. The enthralling dark gaze was framed by long black lashes and the small shadowy dot of yet another mole hiding just below the lashes at the bottom outer corner of his right eye.

And then, as a bit of Harry's strength returned and he was able to straighten up without bracing his arms against the ground, he then seemed to realize for the first time that looped around Tom Riddle's neck was the familiar gleam of the locket, but . . . that seemed to be the only thing Tom was wearing. With a sudden heat in Harry's cheeks, Harry conjured a simple black robe and reached around Tom to pull the robe over his shoulders and conserve a bit of his modesty by pulling it closed around him.

However, the use of magic and sudden physical maneuvering that simple act took after his body and core had just been through so much seemed to have been too much too soon, as Harry suddenly felt light headed and his muscles gave a weak tremble before it all came crumbling down. Harry only had a moment after closing the robe to see Tom's slightly furrowed brow of confusion before he made a noise that was somewhere between a small grunt and a sigh as he crumpled and ended up falling forward right into Tom, his face ending up right in the juncture of Tom's neck as the man seemed to grab him on reflex and hold him steady.

"Harry!" Phil rushed forward with heavy concern in his voice and pulled Harry from Tom's arms carefully. Harry went easily, limbs loose at his side and his head lolling slightly. "Are you alright? Don't overdo it, okay kid?" The Auror fretted, looking Harry over as if he'd find a way to fix the teen right then and there.

". . . Why . . .?" The rough, unused, baritone voice immediately caught both of their attentions and Harry looked over to see Tom still staring at him, looking disoriented, confused and thankfully nothing else—like, for example, genocidal. Harry gave Phil's hands a thankful pat for supporting him, as well as a reassuring smile and nod when Phil sent him a questioning look, before pulling out of the man's grip and moving closer to Tom once more—though, thankfully Harry saved face by staying out of the man's lap!

"You have many questions right now, but I cannot stay for much longer and you need time to heal, recuperate, and regain your strength before we meet again. When you're ready to hear the truth, ask and I will come to you." Harry stated simply and even though he wasn't sure how much time had already passed, but knew his was running out, he felt an overwhelming urge to stay. His gut clenched at the thought of leaving right then, it didn't feel . . . right to go somewhere where Tom was not. Harry had never really expected to feel such strong concern for somebody who he didn't consider family, but he supposed he did invest an abundant amount of time into this and leaving without really seeing the fruits of his labor flourish would of course have some effect on him.

'You and he will not stray far from each other, young Harry. There is no need to fret your parting.' Death soothed with absolute assurance. Harry supposed his companion was right, they still had important matters to discuss and Harry's involvement had not entirely concluded itself.

From just beyond the veil, Death sighed at the naivety of his little necromancer.

Harry, slightly assuaged by his friend's words, pulled away from Tom and accepted Phil's assistance in helping him to his feet. His head swam once he was upright, but thankfully Phil seemed to have thought ahead and pulled out a pepper-up potion for him. Harry downed it in one go and felt the immediate effects of energy and strength once more returned to his limbs.

Phil walked Harry back over to the cup and Harry made quick work of pulling off his robe and totem and stuffing them back in the pouch before putting his shirt and shoes back on. Once Harry had everything essential back in his bag—not bothering with most of the ritual materials and ingredients as none of them were crucial and he didn't have much use for them anymore—he turned his attention back to Phil.

"Take him back up to the manor and be sure that he rests as much as possible and eats plenty. Check his vitals and the health of his magical core every few hours to make sure there are no issues." Harry glanced over at Tom, who was still watching him, but looked more and more out of it as time went on, the man would probably crash soon. "I give you permission to tell him anything he wishes to know about me and what I did to him. If he has any questions you can't answer, send me a letter. I'm sure he'll be curious, but if he wants to know everything that will have to wait until we meet again, face to face."

"Harry, are you sure? Everything?" Phil sounded uncertain and slightly incredulous.

"Yes, everything. Although the hope is that he will be quicker to thought instead of violence now, it is best not to keep answers from him when he knows he's missing something. Though, you will be watched over, so you needn't worry about him being a danger to you while you take care of him." Reluctantly, Phil nodded and took a step back, giving Harry room so he could use the portkey. Harry looked back at Tom once more, before he gave Phil a thankful look and grabbed onto the handle of the Triwizard Cup.

With a gut-wrenching twist, Harry left the quiet cemetery and was spat out into the brightly lit and incredibly loud entrance to the maze. When people saw the cup in his hands, their cheers increased triple fold and Harry had only a moment to try to regain his bearings before he was swept up into the crushing embrace of Sirius and Remus. While his adoptive parents fussed over him, Harry took a look around and saw that Krum stood next to his brooding headmaster, arms crossed and silent. Fleur was also with her headmistress, looking more than a little ruffled with leaves in her hair and dirt smearing her cheek. Cedric was absent, but Dumbledore then turned and told one of the professors to go fetch the boy and after a few minutes, Harry was relieved to see the boy come out of the maze looking a little embarrassed and worse for wear, but relatively unharmed.

Harry was starting to hear questions directed at him about what kept him so long, but before he could fumble away with his tired mind to try to come up with some explanation, Moody appeared next to Harry and shooed those trying to crowd him away.

"Can't you see the boy is practically dead on his feet? He's exhausted and probably pretty banged up. I take him up to see Pomphrey and then you lot can pester him to your heart's content!" Moody barked in a no-nonsense tone. Sirius immediately began to protest but Harry raised a hand to stop him in his tracks.

"It's fine, Sirius. He's right, I'm a little bruised and scratched and dog-tired, but you know that Mediwitch will have me good as new within the hour. It won't take long, so you and Remus should head up to the Ravenclaw common room with the others and I'll meet you up there in a minute so we can celebrate properly." Harry smiled, feeling an avid excitement in his system that had very little to do with winning the tournament, but no one else had to know that.

Reluctantly, Sirius agreed with Harry—though it took some finagling and a whispered excuse about really wanting some time and space away from the crowd for a few stolen moments before he had to partake, as well as the intervention of Anthony who had picked up on the situation, if only partially, and urged both men away to join the group of Harry's friends. Dumbledore was still in the middle of making a grand speech to conclude the tournament while he and 'Moody' slipped out and made their way back to the castle.

Harry held no illusions about actually going to the infirmary, he knew that Voldemort had been planning on calling his Death Eaters to him after the resurrection, thanks to Phil's intel, but they hadn't been summoned and Barty would have realized that. So, when Barty started heading towards his office instead of the infirmary, Harry just quietly followed.

When they finally reached the office, Barty ushered Harry over to a comfortable chair and sat in the one across from him, expression bright and eager.

"What happened, Harry? You were gone for quite some time and Krum withdrew from the task fairly early but wouldn't say why. Did something happen?" Barty probed, too impatient for much subtlety. Harry wasn't there to play games, so he answered fairly honestly.

"Actually, yes. It turns out that the cup had been a portkey and transported me to a cemetery. Voldemort and one of his Death Eaters were waiting for me there." He stopped there and waited for Barty to pry deeper.

"And?"

"And it would seem that Voldemort was trying to create a new and more powerful body for himself since the one he had was weak, barely human, and would not last long. He was doing it wrong, though." Barty paused at his last utterance and his brow creased in confusion and curiosity.

"How so?" The man asked, growing less concerned with his assumed persona as they continued to talk.

"Well, Voldemort has had a . . . long-standing affliction, one that affected both his mind and body. If he were to try to regain a body without first fixing this affliction, the results would be dangerous and would only later lead to his ruin. However, thankfully, before he could do such, I stepped in and offered my assistance. I have a particular set of resources and contacts to aid me, and I was able to fix the problem and assisted with the rest of the process." Barty's brow puckered and he scrutinized Harry.

"And why exactly would you help the dark lord? He killed your parents and is the light's biggest enemy."

Harry pursed his lips for a moment before choosing his next words carefully.

"I believe, Barty, that everyone could use a friend in times of need." The man tensed at his words, but Harry was standing and half turning towards the door before he could respond. "Oh, and I would suggest you soon turn in your resignation. Your lessons were undoubtedly interesting, but you cannot pretend to be Alastor forever and you are needed more by your lord. Besides, I really don't think teaching children suits you." Harry turned fully and began to exit the office. He was almost at the door when Barty seemed to thaw from his shock and blurted out the first question to pass over his mind.

"What do I do with Moody?" His tone sounded unsure, like he didn't even realize he'd spoken aloud.

Harry cast the man a look over his shoulder, thinking of all the blunders he'd had to clean up over the year from that man alone. Sighing warily, Harry spoke in a flat tone.

"Ask Phil, I'm sure you'll come up with something. Just remember, it's all about timing." Harry allowed his still-weak legs to carry him swiftly down into the empty Hogwarts halls on autopilot, only slowing when he was halfway to the dorms.

Ducking into an alcove to assure his privacy, Harry took several deep breaths and allowed the nights events and his own jumbled feelings elicited by them to finally come pouring in. Harry pressed a hand to his chest as he leaned against the cold stone wall to take some of the weight off his weak muscles. Harry distractedly fingered the fabric of his shirt just over where the locket usually rested and he wondered dazedly if the next time he saw Tom, he could trade his knowledge for the locket. He knew it no longer held the soul that had given him comfort for so long, but the object itself had become something of a calming influence and he felt bare without it.

Harry's mind drifted to the successful ritual and for the first time that night, Harry reflected on the feeling of the ritual with a clear mind and his cheeks immediately inflamed with bright scarlet heat. Harry could even clearly recall echoes of the sensations that had his knees feeling a little weak. Harry hunched forwards and buried his face in his hands with utter embarrassment. Merlin, he'd- . . . it had been far more intense than any other time! And then there was Tom, who'd not only been there while he was still under the influence of the soul magic, but had also caught Harry when he fell on him because of it and he was still practically naked.

Harry groaned and crouched down with his face still firmly buried. Harry silently cursed Death, his bloody magic, suicidal tournaments, teenage hormones, resurrection rituals, stupid blasted moles, and dark captivating blue eyes that seemed to hold a magic all their own. Harry whined petulantly and let his head fall even further so that his fingers sank into his hair so that he could tug on the locks in frustration.

He needed a vacation.