It's always a surreal moment when you seem to be going through the unbelievable. So it was when Cho agreed to go to the Ball to him, so it was when they kissed for the first time. And so it was once more, as on the 24th of June, Harry Potter stood in his girlfriend's arms. Not saying good bye, never that, but good luck. Cries of merriment and instruments assaulted his ears, but the words Cho whispered to him were clear as a bell.
"Come on Potter, Lions for the Cup." Her calm, soft voice belayed the fear in her stomach.
He hugged her tightly, blocking out the knowledge that this may be the last time he'd ever see her. She kissed him sweetly before they broke apart. People wolf whistled, and she stared into his emerald orbs before detaching herself and going to join their friends. He followed her figure with his eyes as she walked slowly up the stands, head bowed and hands together. People clapped her on the arms and back as she ascended, yelling words of encouragement. She'd just politely nod and walk on.
"Oi! Gather round, you lot!" came Bagman's jovial voice. Harry winced at the sudden noise, although he was grateful for the distraction. He had to get his mind off her. Had to focus. But he couldn't help it, he glanced back one last time. Her eyes connected with his, and he flashed back to that long ago time in the Great Hall. She merely nodded at him, her face serious, and Harry was filled with iron certitude. He could do this. He would do this.
"Harry! Over here, quickly!" He finally turned away from Cho and jogged towards the former Beater. The two other champions were already there, Viktor stood alone, Cedric with his father and mother. Harry felt a pang of sadness, Fleur should have been here too. The two wizard's determined looks mirrored Harry's own, whereas Mr. and Mrs. Diggory looked plain nervous.
"All right, all right, champions here? Good. Come, come closer." They formed a sort of circle, the four Quidditch players with Cedric's parents on the periphery. "Mr. Potter will be headed in first, you have the most points." Harry nodded numbly, "Mr. Krum? Yes, you will be second, and you Mr. Diggory will follow him momentarily. If you should encounter any... unusually dangerous situations, send up red sparks and ministry officials will be there presently. Everyone ready?"
There were steely nods all around the huddle.
"Excellent, excellent. Hold on, I'll inform them that we may begin." he bustled off, leaving them standing together. The tension in the air was so thick, you could've cut it with a knife and spread it on bread. They all shared looks, no one willing to speak the first words.
"Vell," said Viktor finally "I hope you all do very vell. I vish you all the best of the luck." The two Hogwarts Champions responded in kind, shaking his hand firmly. Then they turned to each other.
"Good luck," said Cedric, with a look that plainly said he didn't mean it.
"Same to you," said Harry sincerely, the animosity between the Hufflepuff and himself was completely one sided. They shook hands as well, Cedric seemed to be restraining himself from breaking Harry's with great difficulty. He was just grateful that Cedric had done that in the first place.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! WITCHES AND WIZARDS! IT'S TIME!" boomed Bagman.
The crowd went wild, the champion's names were shrieked repeatedly by boys and girls alike. Sharp whistles and bangs emitted from wand tips as they yelled themselves hoarse.
"FIRST TO ENTER WILL BE MISTER POTTER, FOLLOWED IN SECOND BY MISTER KRUM, AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST MISTER DIGGORY!" He repeated his words from earlier. Cheers swelled with each name said. Harry took a deep breathe, gazing at the forbidding hedges.
"LET THE FINAL TASK OF THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT BEGIN!" A cannon boomed somewhere near the Judge's tent.
"Harry! Forward!" He walked towards the entrance into the maze, the cheering seeming suddenly distant, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Cho prayed silently in her seat, flanked by Hermione on one side and Samantha and Ron on the other.
The youngest champion entered between two of the large bushes, feeling strangely claustrophobic. Quickly, more quickly than was natural perhaps, the lights and sounds of the spectators faded away, leaving Harry alone. His breathing was abnormally loud in his ears, and seemed to echo impossibly off of the leaves.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was unlikely to have been more than 10 minutes. Gradually however, his breathing slowed, although his guard hadn't lowered an inch.
crack. A noise was made in the dark, somewhere around the corner. A twig snapping.
His head whipped around, and he rounded the corner, wand up and adrenaline pumping. At first, he thought the pathway was empty.
And then it moved.
A black lion, the size of a small car growled deeply, full of menace. Goosebumps erupted over Harry's skin, his body instinctively screamed at him to run, to hide. He held his ground, whipping through different enchantments in his head.
What had Leonis said in his book of dangerous creatures? 'Remember, use your angles. Unless they have wings, no being can change direction in mid-lunge.'
Harry remembered this just as the lion attacked, throwing himself to the side. A claw gouged his arm when the beast sailed through the area that Harry's head had been a second ago.
The pain lent him preternatural clarity, the lion's roars and snarls suddenly transformed in his mind. Gaarrowwlll- issed him! The cub be fast."
A deep, slow and raspy voice echoed in his ears, the lion began to circle once more. Got to be pleasing my master now, got to be doing what he's told me. Young this one be though, be the shame when he's gone.
The lion seemed slightly conflicted, his loyalty to his owner versus his noble nature. It drew back, Harry brought his wand higher. The great cat's ears flicked backwards in annoyance. Tch. I always was hating of those magic sticks.
Its eyes darted back and forth to Harry's flanks. Left or right? wondered the lion out loud. It prepared to spring, legs tensing "Wait!" Harry yelled automatically, like he would if a person were there. But it wasn't his voice, it was a deep, gravelly coughing bark.
The lion's jaw dropped open, it would've been a comic sight had it not been for the double row of razor sharp teeth nestled within.
Was that what I think you was just doing? Came the lion's incredulous voice.
"Erm, yes?"
You be a Lionsmane then?
"I, well, what?"
You be a talking to me. Of course you are.
"A what exactly?"
Lionsmane. Talks to cats. Be pretty obvious now yes?
"Ah, right, I suppose so."
Hmm, the lion seemed to be considering him, mayhaps me was, a little hasty. He drew himself up on his hind legs, I am Wenyama.
"I'm, uh, Harry Potter" he said back, still disconcerted at talking to someone who had only moments ago been trying to kill him. Of course, it didn't help that they weren't completely different species. The lion nodded, So you are. Look after yourself, Harry Potter, for in this maze there be more than the beasts of Africa.
And with that the midnight black lion padded away into the darkness.
Harry stood in shock for a few seconds, marveling at his newfound ability and his close brush with death.
He turned in the opposite direction, refraining from going through the path of the lion once more. His left foot caught on something, and there was a twang! followed by the wooshing sound of something coming his way, disturbing the air.
"Diffindo!" he yelled without thought, slashing in front of him. He felt a net brush the very tips of his left and right fingers, split through the middle. The cut in his wand arm burned when he used it, but he shook off the pain, there'd be time for that later.
He turned another corner, seeing light dimly ahead of him. He followed it, slightly apprehensive.
Harry listened closely for any suspicious movement, even smelled to try and detect any foreboding scents. All he smelled though were juniper leaves, and the area ahead was silent as a rock.
He peeked his head around.
There was yet another clearing, with a lighted lantern in the middle. A tiny elf about a foot tall, lounged on a stump near the lantern, looking bored out of his mind. His entire face brightened when he saw Harry.
"Well hello!" he trilled enthusiastically, taking his chin off of his hand. He had a sharp, ovally face with pointed ears and arched eyebrows. "So you found me! Hi. My name is Sullivan O'Killarney, I'm rather bored. Are you any fun? You look like fun! Oh that looks like an owie!" He said all of this very fast in a light scottish accent, jumping around in his green tunic.
Harry found himself growing rapidly annoyed, until the elf gestured at his shoulder. With a crackle of light and the strong smell of poppy, it closed itself up without even leaving a scar behind for a memory.
"I'm Harry Potter," he replied tentatively. He seemed to be telling his name to a lot of things, but it was preferable to the deathmatches for his life that he'd been worried about. But then again, he'd had those as well.
"That's a cool name, you're a cool guy, am I cool? I think I look cool. Look what I can do!" he back flipped off the stump.
"Ummm," said Harry, at a loss for words.
"You don't think I'm cool, do you?" the elf said dejectedly, he pouted, kicking lightly at the ground.
"Oh no, I think you're very cool," Harry reassured him. Anything that could heal a cut like it was nothing, no matter how irritating, was cool in his books.
The tiny thing's face lit up once more. "That's good! That's very very good and it makes me feel very very good and you know what I want to help you. Let's go!"
Harry used the voice he normally reserved for Dudley, slow, heavily articulated, and with the air that the person he was talking to was very dim. In Dudley's case, it was painfully apt. "I'm sorry, um, Sullivan, but-."
"Call me Sully!" he piped up.
"Alright, Sully. But I'm doing something dangerous okay? You know what dangerous is?"
"I know Mister Harry Potter sir, I'm ready!" he promised "I'll keep very extra quiet so the bad things won't bother us. But if they do then Mister can make friends with them like he did with Wenyama!" Harry resisted the urge to ask how he knew about that, sensing that if he could, the elf would talk forever.
"I really don't think so Sully, it would be-"
"Look what I can do!" said the elf impatiently, he clicked his fingers and the ground several feet to Harry's right turned into a gaping hole 5 feet wide, then closed up again.
Harry gulped. "You can come Sully."
"Great!" he smiled widely. "Let's go now don't want to be late we've got to find the Cup! Oh the Cup is shiny, you'll like it! I like it, but it doesn't talk to me like you do, so I like you more."
"Thanks," grinned Harry, the little guy was starting to grow on him.
"Anytime! Absolutely any, even if I'm at the other end of the Earth!" Then Sully zipped up his lips, and with a single jump landed on Harry's shoulder. He pointed forwards, and Harry marched.
They reached a shimmering net, and Sully waved his hand. A powerful gust came and blew it away.
They reached several goblins, and Sully gestured at the ground. Vines coiled up and wrapped them in place.
They reached a wood troll several meters tall, and Sully's brows creased in concentration. Fire licked up the troll's sides, and he ran with a bellow.
Harry was in love.
But they reached a clearing that was almost identical to the first one, the lantern just glowed a different color. The elf sighed and hopped off Harry's shoulder, "Sully has to go now Harry Potter, but we'll play again okay? I'll give you a hint! Go that way!"
He pointed to the wildest, scariest path leading out of the grove and Harry groaned. Always the hard way huh?
"Bye Sully," he said regretfully. The elf waved a hand morosely and slumped back to the tree stump.
"Lumos" murmured Harry before resuming his quest.
He exited the clearing, going the way Sully had indicated. Immediately tendrils uncurled, reaching for him, twisting and clawing. "Immobulus!" yelled Harry, and they froze in mid-grab.
Picking his way between the still roots, Harry found himself face to face with the final obstacle. A pack of creatures, 5 in number, paced in front of a pedestal that held a gleaming trophy. The Triwizard Cup.
He braced himself to run, a branch cracked under his foot. They all turned to glare at him. Harry gasped in horror, the creatures wouldn't stay.
It wasn't that they were moving, no, they were still for the moment. But always, never ending their body parts were morphing and blurring and shifting into new ones. As he stared at the creature nearest to him, its bared maw became a vicious beak before a black vortex, its claws became talons, then pads, then a grasping human hand. Harry felt sick.
Changelings.
The endlessly shifting group attacked.
"Impedimenta!" several stopped as though they had run into a brick wall, but two others kept coming when they weaved around the spell.
"Solum Speculus!" yelled Harry, stabbing his wand down in the direction of the nearest one.
The ground opened up in front and swallowed it whole. Its startled yelp became a caw, shifting to a growl before it hit the floor of the pit and choked off abruptly. Harry closed it remorselessly with a second wave of his wand.
He turned to confront the other one, but moved too slowly; its teeth had already sunk into his leg. His first thought was that it wasn't too bad, just a dog bite, but then the constantly shifting mouth began to tear new wounds with each shape.
"Divello," he gasped, pointing his wand at its head then flicking it away towards into the pathway he had come from. The changeling was ripped off, tearing out a piece of his leg in the process. He buckled while the dark creature was trapped by the now unfrozen roots.
The three remaining creatures had recovered, and begun to circle him. They didn't immediately attack, wary at the loss of their comrades. Taking advantage of the respite, he healed his leg as best he could with a murmured "Vigoratus."
It scabbed over, but part of the muscle was gone and Harry was finding it extremely difficult to stay upright.
Suddenly two of the changelings charged, one heading for either side. Thinking fast, Harry levitated the one on the right and slammed it into the one on the left. They began to limp away, before he stunned them for a good measure.
The last one cocked its head at him, as though wondering if it was a good idea.
It lunged, jaws snapping. "Ortermino," said Harry, and the creature looked bemused when he found he couldn't open his mouth any more. He continued the attack, perhaps thinking of using his front legs to claw at him.
"Petaro Somnus," said Harry quietly, and it collapsed just a few feet from him, perfectly asleep.
All was quiet, save for the strange grunting sounds of the unconscious changeling, the Cup glowed softly.
Harry limped forward to grab it, Nearly done, he thought.
Just as his hand closed around its handle, the yelling form of Cedric Diggory erupted out of the darkness and tackled him. Together, they were jerked forward by their navels into a swirling pool of light. No, thought Harry, when his surroundings disappeared, this is all wrong.
The were jettisoned from the vortex, into a dark and chilly place. Roughly shaped rocks surrounded them, and Harry shivered. They were in a graveyard.
"Harry?" said Cedric as he looked around, utterly perplexed "What's going on here? Where are we?"
"You tackled me!" Harry whispered at him, fiercely.
"I did? I did... Funny, I..." he shook his head from side to side.
"Harry!" he gasped. Harry backed up slightly, the Hufflepuff was scaring him.
"Something's happened! I've been bewitched! I remember, I remember, I think I, I think I killed Fleur!"
Cedric closed his eyes hard, speaking very quickly. "It was after I told you about the egg, I was walking in the corridor and I heard a noise. And then all of a sudden there were voices in my head! I know it sounds crazy but I remember them. All of them. They told me to do... horrible things. I didn't want to, I didn't want to! They kept coming though, again and again, and then suddenly I was like a spectator. I was watching through my eyes, but I wasn't controlling anything. It was horrible, but it felt so good it was... Harry I think it was the Imperius Curse! Yes it felt just like in Moody's class. And, and.."
He shook his head again, trying to clear it.
"We're in danger! I remember someone saying that, hearing them. I tried to stop you from touching the Cup, it's a Portkey Harry! We have to go, now! Grab the Cup, we have to-" There was a subtle flash of light Cedric's voice cut off. They looked around wildly, a man with a dark cloak had a wand pointed at him. The other arm held something small, what looked like an infant in a blanket.
"Kill the spare," hissed the sibilant voice from Harry's nightmares. His scare gave a painful throb.
"Avada Kedavra!" came a whinier, nasal voice. There was a flash of horribly familiar green light, and Harry could only watch in frozen horror as a silenced Cedric was struck dead before him.
"No!" Harry choked out.
"Be quiet, boy" came the same malevolent voice "You'll have yours soon enough. Bring him!"
Harry was immobilized, then levitated towards a particularly ornate gravestone. "Bind him Wormtail," said Voldemort again, and the small man obeyed, conjuring rope from thin air. Every syllable out of the Dark Lord's mouth sent nails of pain through Harry's scar.
Wormtail?!
"WORMTAIL!" Harry roared, the freezing spell broken. He yearned to reach out his hands to throttle the man who had betrayed his parents, but they were already tied to the gravestone by the enchanted rope.
He could only watch, breathing heavily in fury, as the two destroyers of his life stood mere feet from him.
Voldemort continued, oblivious to Harry's pain, or more likely simply uncaring. "Wormtail, do it now. It's time! My strength is already waning."
The small man gestured with his wand hand, and lit a cauldron that Harry hadn't seen until that point; it was so dark that it simply blended in with the moonless night. He wondered why it was so large, it was nearly as tall as himself, and much wider around.
Directing his wand again, the Death Eater made it fill with water, which began to boil almost instantly. He dropped whatever he was carrying inside, and Harry repressed a scream of horror. For swaddled in the cloth was not a healthy baby, but a deformed and strangely stretched looking... thing. It looked like a human cadaver, but with the utmost disgust, he knew what it was. Who it was.
Casting his gaze around wildly to find something he could use to escape, Harry's eyes fell on the very tombstone he was tied to. There, engraved in the white marble, were the words "Tom Riddle Sr."
He was on the grave of Voldemort's father. This was obviously no coincidence, and he could only wait in trepidation for events to unfold. Harry recoiled when Wormtail pointed his wand at him again, but realized it was aimed at the ground below his feet. A slim bone, pure white, poked out of the the ground, rotating slowly in the air. It was levitated all the way to the cauldron, where Wormtail dropped it in with a muffled splash. Harry's scar pulsed with pain, and the edges of his vision seemed to blur slightly.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew you son!" chanted the small man.
He lifted a knife with his right hand, and poised it over his left. His whimper of a voice stuttered this time, "F-flesh of the s-servant, willingly given, you will revive your master." He closed his eyes at the same time Harry did, but that did nothing for the pain. Wormtail screamed as he cut off his left hand, and it fell into the pot with a much louder sound. The potion changed from clear to blood red, and the ache in Harry's head doubled in intensity, and for a split second the colors in his eyes ran.
Still crying softly, Wormtail shuffled towards Harry, who recoiled from him. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." The knife flashed out once more, digging into Harry's shoulder. Before he knew it, Wormtail was already back at the cauldron, shaking the knife over it.
As the first drop of Harry's blood hit the potion, it began to roil and heave, turning midnight black. Harry screamed in pain, it felt as though his head had to have split open along the lines of his scar. Suddenly he could see nothing but black, with dull splashes of red. Slowly, the world came back into focus, looking even darker than before. Then as the potion finally stilled, his scar shot through with almighty agony.
A dull roaring sounded in his ears, while Wormtail squeaked in terror.
The cauldron was vaporized, the black potion melting away into air before it hit the ground. Mist curled around, making the entire thing feel even less real to Harry.
Standing in its place was a tall, slender man. His muscles were slim, but defined, and though his body was normal, his face was anything but.
The cheek bones were sharp as spear tips, the ears completely gone, small holes in the side of his head. Where a nose should be, there were only two slit like nostrils, and his eyes; much wider and thinner than normal humans', had blood red irises.
The man grinned widely, teeth abnormally pointed, and laughed a high and chilling laugh. Harry's blood ran cold, and he instantly remembered the flash of green light, his mother's desperate pleas, his father yelling for her. He remembered what he could of the events that had systematically ruined his life.
Lord Voldemort was back.
When the Dark Lord returned, an incredibly strong pulse of magical energy radiated from Little Hangleton's graveyard.
It rolled through Britain's countryside, permeating valleys and mountains, lakes and streams, woods and caves. Giants paused their tribal dances to glance in the direction it had come from. Leprechauns halted their revels, Dementors froze in air, and the centaurs raised their noble heads to look at the stars.
Deep in a forest, the leaves of an ancient and twisted tree ruffled slightly. Hidden within its confines in a hollow scarcely larger then it was, a Great Horned Owl opened its yellow eyes, blinking in a bemused manner.
It worked its way out of the large oak, looking around once more. It spread its wings as though stretching, and the wings continued to elongate, beyond the confines of the bird. Arms and legs sprouted, feathers receded, and hair grew. In a matter of seconds, where there was once a majestic bird stood what at first glance appeared to be an old man. However his shoulders were broad, his back unbent, and he looked around with startlingly blue eyes. In fact, the only sign of his age was the color of his hair, and the timeless wisdom carved on his features.
His long silver beard touched the forest floor, his pointed hat brushed the branches of many trees.
Merlin the Wizard, teacher of King Arthur, most legendary magician of all time, looked around in surprise. "Much has occurred in my absence," he said simply, and then he disappeared with a small pop.
Author's note: What'd you think? Kinda... un-canon right? I just had to make the ending like that :)
Leave you hanging. Well! You know the drill. Read and review please. Thanks, - sasansan