Hermione was stirred awake by the raising of voices.
"You have to know something, Poppy!" Mrs Weasley was yelling.
"Molly, I know as much as you do!"
"Have they even found Harry yet? If Moody is here, where can Harry be?! It's been nearly two hours!"
Two hours! Moody! Hermione sprang up from Ron's shoulder and looked around, confused. Had she really been asleep for two hours?
"What's going on?" Hermione murmured.
"Mum's tired of waiting, apparently," Ron said softly.
"Has it really been two hours?"
"Yeah, I didn't want to wake you," Ron said.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said sheepishly.
"It's ok," Ron said, stretching.
"What is she talking about? Moody is here?"
"Yeah," Ron said. "They brought him in about a half hour ago. Found him stowed away somewhere. Mum's trying to get more information."
"So, is he a Death Eater?" Hermione asked, totally confused.
"When they find Harry, I assure you they will bring him here," Madame Pomfrey said. "He, like Ms Delacour and Mr Krum, will need medical attention."
"Viktor was here?" Hermione asked. She couldn't believe how much she had missed.
"Yeah, he came in about an hour ago to get checked out. He didn't want to wake you, either. Good guy, he is."
"He's ok?"
"Yeah, just shaken up. I guess Moody put him under the Imperius Curse, and used him to attack Cedric, but Harry found them and stunned Viktor."
Hermione gasped. "Oh no! Did Viktor-? Cedric-?" She couldn't bring herself to say the words.
"No, Viktor didn't kill Cedric," Ron said softly.
"Oh, thank God," she gasped. Hermione looked over to Madam Pomfrey and Ms Weasley. "We need to find out more information," she added, getting up and walking over to the two adults.
"I don't think she knows anything, 'Mione," Ron said, but Hermione wasn't listening. She needed information, or else she'd go mad.
"Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said. "You must know something. You were right there when Harry and -" Hermione couldn't say Cedric's name. "When Harry came back."
"I don't know anything more than you lot," Madame Pomfrey said in a tired, irritated voice. Ron and Bill had come over to join them.
"What did Professor Moody say? Do? Where did they find him?"
"Miss Granger, I don't know how many times I have to say it, I-"
Madam Pomfrey was interrupted by the doors to the Hospital Wing creaking open. All of them whipped around. There stood Dumbledore, Harry, and Sirius in his dog form.
Mrs Weasley let out a muffled scream. "Harry! Oh, Harry!"
She started to hurry towards him. Hermione was rooted in the spot. She couldn't move. However, it wouldn't have mattered because Dumbledore stepped in front of Harry.
"Molly," he said, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he added, looking around at Hermione, Ron, and Bill, too, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."
Mrs Weasley nodded. She rounded on Hermione, Ron, and Bill as though they were being noisy and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"
"Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, "may I ask what –?"
"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while," said Dumbledore simply. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry – I will wait while you get into bed."
Hermione watched as Harry walked from the entrance towards them as if he had aged a hundred years. The sadness and despair were visible in his hunched shoulders and ghostly grey face.
"I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school." He left.
"Is he OK?" Harry asked, looking at the real Moody lying unconscious in one of the beds.
"He'll be fine," said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pyjamas and pulling screens around him. Hermione, Ron, Bill, Mrs Weasley, and the black dog came around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of Harry once he had changed and got into bed. Hermione couldn't stop staring at him. Harry looked up and caught her staring.
"I'm all right," he said. "Just tired."
Mrs Weasley's eyes filled with tears as she smoothed Harry's bedcovers unnecessarily. Her robust and take-charge demeanour seemed to have dropped entirely now that they knew Harry was safely in the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a goblet and a small bottle of some purple potion.
"You'll need to drink all of this, Harry," she said. "It's a potion for dreamless sleep."
Harry took the goblet from Madam Pomfrey and drank it without another word. They all watched as Harry immediately started to drift off to sleep.
Harry had only been asleep for a few minutes when Professor Snape slithered into the Hospital Wing. They had all moved chairs around Harry's bed by that point, holding vigil.
"Miss Granger. Mr Weasley. I must request you accompany me," Professor Snape sneered quietly.
"What do you need with them?" Mrs Weasley said, springing back into protective mode.
"The Headmaster asked me to take them to his office," he answered.
"You think I am going to let them go with you after all that has happened tonight?"
"Obviously," Snape drawled.
Mrs Weasley gasped and stood up. "Who do you think you are? How dare you-"
"Mum, it's ok. I'll go with them," Bill said.
"Fine," Mrs Weasley said, sitting back down. "But I will be speaking to Dumbledore about this."
"Do what you must," Snape said. "I am merely doing as I have been instructed," he said, pointing his wand at Harry's sleeping head. A silvery string appeared between his wand and Harry's temple. Hermione watched him put the silver string into a small phial before he turned on his heel to stalk out the Hospital Wing's front doors. Hermione, Ron, and Bill sullenly followed him.
No one spoke until they had gone through the gargoyle room and up the spiral staircase to reach the Headmaster's empty office. Hermione could tell Bill was on edge. Something didn't feel right about this.
"The headmaster will be with you shortly. Don't worry, I won't be staying. Give him this," he sneered, mainly for Bill's benefit. He handed Hermione the phial of silvery liquid. With a flourish, he turned and walked out as if it was all beneath him.
Only a few short minutes later, Professor Dumbledore entered. He looked alert yet tired.
"Thank you for coming," he said. "Please, sit down."
"Professor, what-"
Dumbledore held up his hands. "I believe I have access to all of the answers you will need. I presume Harry has told you about his experience with my Pensieve?"
It took Hermione a few seconds to make the connection. Harry had mentioned it when he talked about Barty Crouch Jr.'s trial. "Yes," Hermione answered simply.
"I figured as much. Bill, are you familiar with what a Pensieve is as well?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. That is one less thing to discuss," Dumbledore said. He cleared his throat and leaned forward across the desk. "Inside the maze, both Harry and Cedric reached the Triwizard Cup at the same time. Both being upstanding men, they agreed to share the glory instead of fighting for the honour of winning. However, the Triwizard Cup was a Portkey planted by a double agent of Voldemort's."
Hermione gasped. Dumbledore continued.
"The Portkey transported Harry and Cedric to a cemetery where Peter Pettigrew and Voldemort were waiting. It is there where I will let Harry take over telling the story. You see, before I brought him to the Hospital Wing, I asked him to retell the story for Sirius and me." Dumbledore paused. "Bill, I know hearing those names must be quite jarring, but I assure you I will explain later."
Bill nodded.
"When Harry recounted the story, I knew it would be traumatic for him to tell it again. That is why I instructed Professor Snape to collect his memory while Harry was asleep and brought it here for you two to see. Bill, I am sorry, but I am not comfortable showing you either. These are Harry's personal thoughts and memories. Hermione and Ron must know what happened to support Harry as he begins to heal. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Professor," Bill said.
"So, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, I invite you to the Pensieve. Understand that I am showing you this, so Harry does not have to relive it because he feels compelled to tell you or to answer your questions. Of course, he may choose to tell you both, and I suspect he may, but this way, I hope you can help him through the process."
Hermione and Ron nodded.
Dumbledore took a small phial of silver liquid out of his robes and poured it into the shallow stone dish of the Pensieve. With his wand, the Headmaster stirred the liquid into a shimmery whirlpool. "Now, all you have to do is peer inside, and you will be transported to Harry's memories. On the count of three. One. Two. Three."
Hermione and Ron found themselves surrounded by thick vines on either side. At the sound of Harry's voice, they spun around and saw Harry and Cedric standing with their backs to them. Hermione strangled a sob in her throat at the sight of Cedric standing there, very much alive. Harry was closest to them. Cedric was ahead a few feet, and the Triwizard Cup was glowing blue just beyond Cedric. Near Cedric's feet, Hermione noticed a stunned giant spider. She glanced at Ron, who had also obviously seen the arachnid.
"Take it, then,' Harry said to Cedric. "Go on, take it. You're there."
But Cedric didn't move. "You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."
"That's not how it's supposed to work," Harry said. "The one who reaches the Cup first gets the points. That's you. I'm telling you, I'm not going to win any races on this leg."
Cedric took a few paces nearer to the Stunned spider, away from the Cup, shaking his head.
"No," he said.
"Stop being noble," said Harry irritably. "Just take it, then we can get out of here."
"You told me about the dragons," Cedric said. "I would've gone down in the first task if you hadn't told me what was coming."
"I had help on that, too," Harry replied. "You helped me with the egg – we're square."
"I had help on the egg in the first place," said Cedric.
"We're still square," said Harry.
"You should've got more points on the second task," said Cedric. "You stayed behind to get all the hostages. I should've done that."
"I was the only one who was thick enough to take that song seriously!" said Harry bitterly. "Just take the Cup!"
"No," said Cedric. "Go on." Cedric said. His arms were folded, and he seemed decided.
"Both of us," Harry said.
"What?"
"We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it."
Cedric unfolded his arms. "You – you sure?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah... we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take it together."
"You're on," he said. "Come here."
Hermione and Ron watched as Cedric grabbed Harry's arm below the shoulder and helped Harry limp towards the cup.
"On three, right?" said Harry. "One - two - three -"
Harry and Cedric both grabbed a handle. There was a sudden howl of wind and a swirling of colour as Hermione and Ron were transported by Portkey along with Harry and Cedric.
All four of them slammed to the ground. Hermione and Ron jumped up, on guard. Harry had fallen to the ground, clearly hurt. "Where are we?" Harry asked. They all looked around.
They had left the Hogwarts grounds entirely; they had obviously travelled miles – perhaps hundreds of miles – for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left.
"Did anyone tell you the Cup was a Portkey?" Cedric asked.
"Nope," said Harry. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"
"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"
"Yeah," said Harry. They pulled out their wands. Hermione's heart was racing. Somehow, knowing the ending was worse than anything.
"Someone's coming," Cedric said suddenly.
A figure was walking steadily towards them through the graves. It was carrying something. It looked like a bundle of robes. Hermione watched with dread as the figure got closer and closer.
Suddenly, Harry shrieked in pain and fell to his knees. Just as Hermione instinctively went running to him, Ron grabbed her and held her back.
"Kill the spare!" a high, cold voice screeched.
"Avada Kedavra!" came a second voice.
A blast of green light blazed through the night. Hermione cowered into Ron's arms. She heard the thud of Cedric's body.
All of the air rushed out of her.
Hermione tried to gasp for air, but it was impossible. Had the spell hit her? Was this what Cedric was feeling?
Even though she didn't want to, Hermione opened her eyes. She had to bear witness for Harry. What she saw made her immediately shut her eyes again. The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and dragged Harry towards a marble headstone. Upon the headstone was the name:
TOM RIDDLE
He Who Must Not Be Named's name.
The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. As a finishing blow, he drew a length of black material from inside his cloak and stuffed it in Harry's mouth.
The cloaked figure then started pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. Hermione also noticed something slithering in the grass near Harry's feet: a giant snake.
Even more horribly, the bundle the short man had been carrying started to stir on the ground as if it was alive. The cloaked figure started tending a fire under the cauldron.
"Hurry!" came the high, cold voice again. Hermione realised it was the bundle talking.
The whole surface of the water in the cauldron was alight with sparks now. It looked like it had been encrusted with diamonds.
"It is ready, master," the cloaked figure said. The voice was familiar, but Hermione couldn't place it.
"Now…" said the cold voice.
The cloaked figure pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them. Hermione let out a sound of total fear. The thing the short man had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except nothing could look less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - was flat and snake-like, with gleaming red eyes.
The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around the figure's neck, and the figure lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back. It was Peter Pettigrew! Hermione saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface.
Wormtail started speaking. His voice shook. He seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Horrified, Hermione watched as a delicate trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.
And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his robes. His voice broke into petrified sobs. "Flesh – of the servant – w-willingly given – you will – revive – your master."
He stretched his right hand out in front of him – the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung upwards.
Even though Hermione knew what he was going to do before he did it, she physically couldn't tear her eyes away. She watched as Peter Pettigrew sliced his hand clean off. The scream that erupted from Wormtail's body was almost worse than the gore of the amputation.
Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony but managed to pick up his amputated hand and throw it into the cauldron. The potion turned a burning red, casting an eerie shadow over the graveyard.
Peter then crossed over to Harry, still tied to the gravestone. "Blood of the enemy - forcibly taken - you will resurrect your foe."
Wormtail had the dagger in his remaining hand and slashed Harry's right arm. Blood seeped out of the wound as Wormtail collected it in a glass phial and then transferred it to the cauldron. The liquid within turned a blinding white instantly. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground. He cradled the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sopping.
The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead. As the mist cleared, Hermione could see the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.
"Robe me," said the high, cold voice. Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.
The thin man stepped out of the cauldron.
Lord Voldemort had risen again.
` He Who Must Not Be Named slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He raised it and pointed it at Wormtail, lifting him off the ground. Then, with another flick, he threw Peter Pettigrew against the headstone where Harry was tied, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.
Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them. "My Lord," he choked, "my Lord, you promised... you did promise…"
"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort.
"Oh, master... thank you, master…"
He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again. "The other arm, Wormtail."
"Master, please... please…"
He Who Must Not Be Named bent down, and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow.
"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it... and now, we shall see. Now we shall know."
He pressed his long, white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.
He Who Must Not Be Named straightened up, threw his head back, and stared at the dark graveyard.
"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he said. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
He walked towards Harry. "You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hissed. "A Muggle and a fool, very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child. And I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself in death?
"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. He didn't like magic, my father…
"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage. But I vowed to find him. I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name: Tom Riddle.
"Listen to me, reliving my family history," he continued quietly. "Why, I am growing quite sentimental. But look, Harry! My true family returns."
The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one, they moved forwards... slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. He Who Must Not Be Named stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled towards the dark wizard, and kissed the hem of his black robes.
"Master... master…" he murmured.
The Death Eaters behind him did the same, each of them approaching He Who Must Not Be Named and kissing his robes before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle's grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps in the circle as though waiting for more people. He Who Must Not Be Named did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling seemed to run around the circle as though it had shivered.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years... thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it was yesterday... we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"
He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.
"I smell guilt," he said. "There is a stench of guilt upon the air."
A second shiver ran around the circle as though each member longed, but did not dare, to step back from him.
"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact – such prompt appearances! – and I ask myself, why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"
No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was on the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm.
"And I answer myself," whispered He Who Must Not Be Named, "They must have believed me broken. They thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment…
"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power, in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?
"And I answer myself. Perhaps they believed a still-greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort… Perhaps they now pay allegiance to another. Perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?" It is a disappointment to me. I confess myself disappointed."
One of the men suddenly flung himself forwards, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at He Who Should Not Be Named's feet.
"Master!" he shrieked. "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"
The dark wizard began to laugh. He raised his wand. "Crucio!"
Hermione gasped as the Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked.
He Who Must Not Be Named raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat on the ground, gasping. "Get up, Avery," he said. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years. I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"
Wormtail only sobbed in response.
"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, master," moaned Peter Pettigrew. "Please, master. Please!"
"Yet you helped return me to my body," said He Who Must Not Be Named. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me… and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers."
The dark wizard raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. Hermione watched in horror as a streak of what looked like molten silver hung, shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downwards and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist.
Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing was harsh and ragged. He raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground, and crushed it into powder.
"My Lord," he whispered. "Master, it is beautiful. Thank you. Thank you!"
He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of the dark wizard's robes.
"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," said He Who Must Not Be Named.
"No, my Lord. Never, my Lord…"
Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. The dark wizard now approached the man on Wormtail's right.
"Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered. Both Hermione and Ron gasped. It was Lucius Malfoy! "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though, to the world, you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius... your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay... but might not your energies have been better directed towards finding and aiding your master?"
"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately. Nothing could have prevented me –"
"And yet you ran from my Mark when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" said Voldemort lazily, and Mr Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. You have disappointed me. I expect more faithful service in future."
"Of course, my Lord, of course. You are merciful, thank you."
He moved on and stopped, staring at the space – large enough for two people – which separated Malfoy and the next man.
"The Lestranges should stand here,' said Voldemort quietly. 'But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me. When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honoured beyond their dreams. The Dementors will join us; they are our natural allies. We will recall the banished giants. I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me and an army of creatures whom all fear."
He walked on. He passed some of the Death Eaters in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them. Only he knew his pattern.
"Macnair... destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide."
"Thank you, master. Thank you," murmured Macnair.
"And here," the dark wizard had moved on to the two largest hooded figures. "We have Crabbe… you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"
"Bloody hell," Hermione heard Ron murmur.
They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.
"Yes, master…"
"We will, master…"
"The same goes for you, Nott," he added quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr Goyle's shadow.
"My Lord, I prostrate myself before you. I am your most faithful –"
"That will do." He Who Must Not Be Named had reached the most significant gap. "And here we have six missing Death Eaters. Three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return - he will pay. One who I believe has left me forever… he will be killed, of course… and one who remains my most faithful servant and who has already re-entered my service. He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived tonight. Yes, Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honour."
There was silence. Then the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke from under the mask.
"Master, we crave to know... we beg you to tell us... how you have achieved this - this miracle. How you managed to return to us."
"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius," said the dark wizard. "And it begins – and ends – with my young friend here."
He walked over to stand next to Harry.
"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" he said softly. "You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him – and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen ... I could not touch the boy. His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice… this is old magic. I should have remembered it. I was foolish to overlook it, but no matter. I can touch him now!"
He Who Must Not Be Named pressed his long white finger on his forehead. Harry screamed in pain.
The dark wizard continued. "I miscalculated, my friends. I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon me. Aaah, pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body. I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost… but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know. I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal – to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked, for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself… for I had no body, and every spell which might have helped me required the use of a wand."
"I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist. I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited. Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me. One of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body. But, I waited in vain.
"Then, four years ago, the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard, young, foolish, and gullible, wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of, for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school. He was easy to bend to my will. He brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Philosopher's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted… thwarted once again by Harry Potter.
"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been. I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't then fear that I might never regain my powers… Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour. I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess, and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me.
"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last. A servant returned to me: Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends, and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumoured I was hiding... helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them …
"But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food ... and whom should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic?
"Now see the way that fate favours Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail – displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected of him – convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a night-time stroll. He overpowered her. He brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams… for – with a little persuasion – she became a veritable mine of information.
"She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me if I could only contact him. She told me many things ... but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her.
"Wormtail's body, of course, was ill-adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if seen. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth ... a spell or two of my own invention ... a little help from my dear Nagini" – Voldemort's red eyes fell upon the continually circling snake – "a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided. I was soon returned to an almost human form and strong enough to travel.
"There was no hope of stealing the Philosopher's Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again before chasing immortality. I set my sights lower... I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strength.
"I knew that to achieve this – it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight – I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant…
"My father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe… Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me, as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potter's blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago, for the lingering protection his mother once gave him, would then reside in my veins, too…
"But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. Not even I can touch him there. Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup. I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt kidnap in the midst of a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him?
Why, by using Bertha Jorkins's information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the Tournament – that he touched the Triwizard Cup first – the Cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is: the boy you all believed had been my downfall."
He moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand. "Crucio!"
Harry cried out. Hermione buried her head in Ron's shoulder, willing her senses to cease working. She couldn't bear to listen to any more.
And then it was gone. Harry was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter.
"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me… but I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini," he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching.
"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."
Peter Pettigrew did as he was told and retrieved Harry's wand from near Cedric's body. He then thrust it roughly into Harry's hand without looking at him.
"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?"
Harry remained silent.
"We bow to each other, Harry."
He Who Must Not Be Named bent ever so slightly. Harry did not.
"Come, the niceties must be observed," the dark wizard continued. "Dumbledore would like you to show some manners. Bow to death, Harry."
Harry remained unmoved.
"I said, bow," He Who Must Not Be Named said, raising his wand and forcing Harry to bow. "Very good. And now you face me, like a man. Straight backed and proud, the way your father died. And now, we duel. Crucio!"
Harry barely had time to raise his wand. Hermione and Ron watched helplessly as their best friend fell to the ground in pain.
And then it stopped as suddenly as it had started. Harry scrambled to his feet. He staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back towards He Who Must Not Be Named.
"A little break," he said. "A little pause. That hurt, didn't it Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?
Harry didn't answer.
"I asked you whether you want me to do that again?" he screamed. "Answer me! Imperio!"
Harry seemed to be suspended in time, fighting within himself. Finally, he screamed, "I WON'T!"
"You won't? You won't say 'no'? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die. Perhaps another little dose of pain?"
"Oh bloody hell, not again," Ron groaned.
The dark wizard raised his wand, but this time Harry flung himself out of the way and rolled behind the marble headstone. The stone cracked under the power of the spell.
"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry. You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry. Come out and play, then. It will be quick. It might even be painless. I would not know; I have never died."
He Who Must Not Be Named started walking towards the headstone Harry had hidden behind, his wand high in the air. Even though Hermione knew Harry would survive, she couldn't help but cower in fear. Harry suddenly stood up, facing the dark wizard.
They both shouted different spells at the same time:
"Expelliarmus!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light issued from the dark wizard's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's. They met in mid-air in a spectacular light show.
But then, a narrow beam of good light was connecting the two wands. Both wizards were being lifted into the air, attached by the golden thread of light. It suddenly splintered, and a thousand more offshoots arced high over them all. Harry and the dark wizard were encased in a golden, dome-shaped web.
"Do nothing!" the dark wizard shrieked to the Death Eaters. "Do nothing unless I command you!"
And then, to everyone's great surprise, a dense, smoky hand erupted from He Who Must Not Be Named's wand. It flew out and vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Then, something much larger began to blossom from the wand tip: a great, greyish thing that looked like it was made of the most solid, densest smoke.
It was a head.
Then a chest and arms.
And then the torso of Cedric Diggory.
"Hold on, Harry," it said.
Another man erupted from the tip of the dark wizard's wand, but Hermione didn't recognise him. "He was a real wizard, then?" the ghost (was it a ghost?) of the old man said. "Killed me, that one did. You fight him, boy."
Another head started to emerge. Hermione recognised it from pictures. Bertha Jorkens surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes.
"Don't let go, now!" she cried. "Don't let him get you, Harry! Don't let go!"
Hermione realised what was happening even if she didn't understand. The ghosts or manifestations of the people He Who Must Not Be Named hurt were being resurrected to an extent within the golden cage of magic.
Hermione took a guess who would be next. She was right.
The smoky shadow of a long-haired young woman fell to the ground. Hermione watched Harry's face as he faced the vision of his mother for the first time since he was a baby.
"Your father's coming," she said quietly. "He wants to see you. It will be alright. Hold on."
And James Potter did come. First his head and then his body. The shadowy form of Harry's father blossomed from the end of the dark wizard's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him.
"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments, but we will give you time. You must get the Portkey. It will return you to Hogwarts. Do you understand, Harry?"
"Yes!" Harry gasped.
"Harry," whispered the figure of Cedric. "Take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents."
"I will," said Harry.
"Do it now," whispered Mr Potter. "Be ready to run. Do it now."
"Now!" Harry yelled. He pulled his wand upwards with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished.
Harry ran faster than Hermione had ever seen him run towards Cedric's body.
"Stun him!" screamed the dark wizard.
Harry was shooting spells out of his own wand. Hermione just made out the incantation, "Impedimenta!" over the screams of chaos. Harry dove over the cup and reached out to grab Cedric's arm.
"You got this, Harry!" screamed Ron hoarsely.
"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked He Who Must Not Be Named.
"Accio!" screamed Harry as he held onto Cedric's arm. The Triwizard Cup flew into the air and soared towards them.
Suddenly, Hermione and Ron were unceremoniously tossed to the floor of Dumbledore's office.