Lord Voldemort was in his throne room in Malfoy Manor, reviewing in his mind the previos night. He had finally adquired a body, it had taken him years, but he had fully back. But he felt like something was wrong. His magic wasn't what it was before, he could barely cast a weak lumos, he had covered it well, the dark mark could be use to torture his followers if necesary and he could drain magic from it too. But it was his body that worried him more, he felt like it was unstable, like it could break in any moment, that magic was the only thing keeping it as it was. He had to find out what had failed in the ritual, so he could fix it.

He had led Pettigrew for the last year, ordering the man since the minute that he had found him. He had told him every step off the ritual, every word, rune, spell and potion. He made the man repeat every word until he didn't have a voice, write every rune until he coukd write them in his sleep and he had made him do the spells until he couldn't cast another spell. He knew that as useless as the man could be the preparation from the ritual had been perfect. Everything had been practice until extenuation, everything except the potion.

That was it the potion. The rat had done something to it, it was the only thing that couldn't be practice, and he had made something wrong. Pettigrew had failed in the most simple part, the potion, that just had three ingredients in three steps. How could you even do that wrong, you didn't have to stirr in any direction, flame temperature didn't need any control, just three ingredients and three steps. Once he, Lord Voldemort, figure it out was had been made wrong Pettigrew will pay.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!

Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master.

Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe. ""

— Peter Pettigrew

The Dark Lord started analysing from the begining. The words of the ritual had been said with perfection, one that could only be achieved after hours of practice. The rat had been scared but that didn't afect the words, but helped him know which step had done wrong.

- First step. Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!

Ingredient needed was the bone of the father. The ritual required the one of a wizard, but he had planed ahead, his father might had bee a lowly muggle and,as such, didn't have magic but that was mean that his magic would be less strong. A couple more of rituals and potions would have solved that.

- Second step. Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master.

Ingredient required was the flesh of a servant. The ritual didn't specified how much was needed and which part of the body, just that it was a willing sacrifice. And Pettigrew might have been scared, he might have been encourage to do it, but he had made the potion. He knew why was he doing it and for what, he knew that if he give his hand (as he had decided it was the best part to sacrifice the ritual) he would got a body. Lord Voldemort had remembered the other man what would happend if he didn't help him regain a body, he made sure that he presented for the man the less scary alternative, so he could do what was needed. And he had sacrifice his hand willingly, even if it was because of fear of the alternative.

- Third step. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.

Ingredient required fresh harvested blood from an enemy.

He had planed carefully to made sure that Potter was at the right place at the right time for the ritual. He had made great enemies during his first reign, but it had been the Potter boy who had destroyed his body. He liked the irony, the destroyer of his body giving him a body.

Crouch had made sure that Potter reached the portkey first, Pettigrew had then killed the spare as his orders and tie boy to a headstone. The blood had been harvested just before its introduction in the potion.

So the ingredient choosing it was right. There had to bee something else. He would had to see Pettigrew memory to see what he had made wrong, and made him paid for it. He could feel his body failing him more each second, he could probably had a couple of days left before he was to revert to his shadow/smoke form.

He reviewed the memory the next morning, it wasn't difficult to obtain.

- First step.

He could see how Pettegrew had accioed the bone of his father and droping it directly into the cauldron.

"Didn't the man knew any potion ingredient preparation?" Voldemort questioned furiously.

He use magic to get the bone, he had tell the rat tgat thebone could be tainted by magic. It was bad enough that the bone could still have the echos of tge curse that killed the man but Pettegrew had just made it worse. Pettegrew's magic wasn't needed, and it had erased the traces of his magic from the bone. Lord Voldemort had hipotised that the magic from his previous body could contrarrest partly the lack of magic of Riddle Srn.

And he hadn't even clean or check the bone before throwing it into the caldron. He could see how it had came out under the earth, dragging soild with it. And the skeleton was provably in a wooden casket, which was broken by the bone coming out. Which meaned that splints of wood were probably in the bone to.

So that was the first thing that Pettegrew made wrong, he will made him paid for it.

- Second step.

He could see Pettigrew using a knife to cut his hand and said the right words. The rat gave his hand willingly, even if he was clearly scared.

"Maybe been scared into doing it afected somehow the ritual?" The Dark Lord mused. Maybe it made him weaker? But that couldn't have afected it so bad."

It took him a while, he review the original ritual, he had used flesh as indicated, a whole hand, it should have been enough. Maybe, maybe he should have asked for more, a whole body. Or not, it couldn't be, he didn't made mistakes, he was the great Lord Voldemort. The flesh of a servant, that was it, he just needed the flesh, not the whole hand. The bones should have been elimitaned and the hand desanguinated, that had been a mistake. The added bones and blood of Pettigrew had afected the potion, unbalancing the equilibrium of flesh, bones and blood.

At the end of the second step it should be a portion of bone and another of flesh. And there was two of bones, one of flesh and another of blood. How that had afected the ritual it was unknow for now, he woild have to figure it soon, or else he would have to redo the whole thing. And Lord Voldemort doesn't do things twice.

- Third step.

He saw Pettigrew cutting Potter arm with the knife and gathering some blood in the blade. The idiot hadn't even clean the blade from the last step, he would have to make sure that the next time he need a potion and he was the only one avilable he would posses him.

But there was something else. Could it be, yes, he could feel the boy mind even with the long distance. That night, he had prepared to create anither horrocrux, he had create one from the boy. The boy was another horrocrux.

"The horrocrux had affected the ritual" Lord Voldemort guessed that it was possible. He hadn't taken that into cosideration preparing for the ritual, as he was unaware or it. He would later go the Malfoy library to find answers. If not the blonde would pay too for it.

The boy had been tied and the blood have been forcibly taken from him, but the horrocrux inside him might have recognice was the ritual was. If that small part of him had been willing to give the blood... Then it wasn't forcibly taken, not totally, the enemy had to be against the harvesting of his blood, and in this wasn't the case. The ritual was propably weaker because of it.

And then there was the blood protection, could have it affect it too. Mother's love, tied to the blood of the family, Lily's blood cursing through the boy's veins and now him. He could almost feel it now, the love destroying him from inside, his weak body decaying from it.

And the blade hadn't been clean from Pettigrew blood, that had been added wrongly the steep before too.

The proportions of the potion even more unbalanced. There were two bones (from his father and Pettigrew), one flesh (from Pettigrew) and two portions blood (from Pettigrew added in two different steps and from Potter). And there was proabbly traces of earth and wood mixed too. The potion was tainted with extra ingredients and those that were added correctly weren't in the right proportions for the potion the be correctly made. The potion couldn't be considered a passing grade at Hogwarts, he realissed with horror. That was why he was feeling wrong.

One bone, one flesh and one blood. Unknowingly, willingly and forcibly. Bone first to create the skeleton, flesh second to form the rest of the body and blood to give live. Magic coming from the three elements, though it wasn't necesary in all of them, if his calculations have been right.

It wasn't that difficult, how could have him miscalculated so bad, him, The Greates Wizard of all the time, the descendant of the great Salazar. He could feel how the conection with his horrocrux debilitation each passing second, dessapearing as his body failed. It was as with his body failing the horrocruxed were failing too, breaking down, that part of his soul living this plain of existance behind.

He was dying, he could feel it, there went other horrocrux, one less anchor. He had to stop it. He used the Dark Mark taking all the magic from his follower, living the empty shells without magic that soon will die. For a couple of minute he felt better, he had time, he had to have time.

He reached the library, and went to look through the book, his vision started to get blurry. His body was starting to decay again, all that magic should have been enough to keep him for days. Another horrocrux came down. Nagini was by his side, he decided to leave the falling body and take refuge in his snake, his last created horrocrux. He body crumble to ashes second after leaving it.

The rest of the horrocrux had broken down, it was just Nagini and the Potter boy left sutaining him, and now that he was part with Nagini, the snake and him were just one part of soul again.

Lord Voldemort realize with horror that the only anchor that he had now was a teenager boy, his enemy. If Dumbledore knew, he could probably kill the boy, for the Greater Good, and call it and accident. He had to reavh the school and posses the boy before it was too late. And he would have to do it alone and quick before he took the express the next morning.

He started to slither when he felt it. LOVE. The boy was feeling the love of someone. He opened slighly the conexion and he saw it, he was beeing hugged by a man with black hair and grey eyes. The boy was being hug by his godfather, Sirius Black. He could feel the love through the conexion, it hurt so bad. He had to go back to his mind, but he couldn't. How was that posible. And now there was another man. And a girl with wild hair. And a ginger boy. And apir of red haired twins. It was too much.

The horrocrux that was the boy, and Voldemort inside, were overwelmed too much, it was too much. The knew it, before it happened that it was the end. The love was to much, family and friends. Each word, each hug was destroying him, little by little until he was no more.

During the next couple of days and weeks people start appearing dead. Rich members of the magic world, Lords of the Wizengemot, people in high places... For some people it was a mistery, for other the pattern was soon discovered, they all wearing the dark mark, a fading one, a little more that an outliner. Most had claimed that the had been imperioused during the First Blood War.

Some of the more powerfull wizards, with the dark had been more lucky. There had been some that had turned into squibs or wizards with little power, it could be theoriced that those were the ones that had been forced to take the mark, or had been since been against i, and its meaning, those who hadn't killed or torture.

Dumbledore saw all of this. One morning in the middle of the summer, once the deads and wizards turned squibs started to appeared in less frecuence, Dumbledore checked his silver and gold instruments.

The silver one that had been expulsing smoke,the one that was tied to the live of Tom Riddle had stoped to produce smoke.

The golden one that was tied to Harry's horrocrux, had blowing smoke as white as snow, indicating that Harry's sould was just his. The black smoke that simnolized the horrocrux had dissapeared.

The one that emited noise, tied to Severus Snape dark mark, had gone silent. The previous sad tone, muted as the Dark Mark had faded.

Dumbledore cheked and rechecked his dispositives. Everyone had been the same for sometime. Every indicative of Voldemort live had evaporated, everything indicated that he had been destroyed.

It took some time for reforms to pass, the lives of the muggleborn, halfblood and those who had been discriminate getting better. Without the former Death Eathers death and new members chosen for the Wizengamot, with more open ideas, the change started.

The curse in Defence Against the Dark Arts had banised with Riddle, and Lupin had returned to the post to the delight of the students.

A new potion teacher had been apointed, now the non Slutherin students weren't against the class anymore.

Hogwarts school opened its doors to the students, now without the dark cloud of the Dark Wizard return anymore.