"I had hoped for a better show than that," Voldemort said to Harry. The Dark Lord was looking coolly at Peter Pettigrew's body, unmoved by the sudden death of his minion. "So ruthless…"

Harry scowled. "It's what Pettigrew deserved."

"My lord?" It was Lucius Malfoy's voice. "If I may… you alluded to your previous offer to Potter, an opportunity to join you…"

"Indeed. What of it?" Voldemort was indulgent, but Harry could see from the way Voldemort held his wand that Lucius was only seconds from death.

"After that demonstration, I cannot help but think that Potter may be an asset to our cause. Surely, Harry knows that you bore him no particular animosity, nor his parents. Your problem was simply one of prophecy. A business transaction, if you will. Wormtail, though… he betrayed the Potters and violated their trust. Now that you have generously allowed Harry to take his revenge, perhaps he would be more… amenable to your offer?" Harry took note of Lucius's words, and the meaning packed therein. Lucius knew that Pettigrew had betrayed Harry's parents, which meant that Lucius was among the highest echelons of the Death Eaters. And Lucius had alluded to a prophecy as Voldemort's motivation.

Voldemort's nostrils flared. "Very well." He turned and addressed Harry. "I offered you my power once before, and you denied me. You said that you would find power of your own. Perhaps you have?"

"Those were the dreams of a child," Harry said quietly.

"So true. Death cannot be undone. But, as sure as I stand before you today, and as sure as you stand before me, death can be defeated. Lucius tells me that he has raised you to respect the old ways. As a gesture of goodwill, I allowed you to kill Wormtail. Out of respect for the old ways, and the old blood which flows through your veins, I offer for the last time: join me. Join me, Harry Potter. We can defeat death, together."

It was literally the chance of a lifetime; if Harry refused, his life would end. If he accepted, he could bide his time, wait for an opportune moment, and make his escape. Or he could learn from Voldemort, and kill the older wizard at some point in the future with his newfound knowledge of the Dark Arts.

Or… Harry could legitimately accept the offer. Perhaps Voldemort did not mean it sincerely, but if that were true, Harry would be no more or less dead than if he rejected the offer outright. But if Voldemort's offer was made in earnest, it could be a gateway to power and influence far beyond anything that friendship with Lucius Malfoy had offered. Harry cast a quick glance to Mr. Malfoy, searching for any indication of what he should do, but the blonde man's face was hidden behind his death's head mask.

"Answer me, Potter," Voldemort said.

Harry cast his eyes down and took a deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pettigrew's feet, lying lifelessly on the floor. Harry felt his stomach lurch, but then he remembered that Pettigrew was a murderer. Pettigrew had killed Cedric. Pettigrew had betrayed his parents; he might as well have cast the killing curse himself. If Harry accepted Voldemort's offer, he would be no better than Pettigrew. Good people were dead because of Voldemort and his minions, and Harry refused to be a party to that madness.

"No," Harry said. "I will never be a Death Eater." The rational, pragmatic part of Harry's mind couldn't believe what he had just said, but the words were gone, past his lips, never to be called back.

Voldemort glanced at Lucius. "You have done such poor work with Potter, my slippery friend. I hope that you have done better with your son, or I will be forced to kill him, as well." The Dark Lord turned back to Harry. "If you so easily reject immortality, then I will gladly usher you into death. But first, pain. Cruicio!"

Voldemort flicked his wand, sending the curse toward Harry, but Voldemort had betrayed his intentions with his pithy comment and Harry was ready. With his well-trained quidditch reflexes, Harry dove away and into the center of the nursery, tucking his body into a forward roll. Voldemort's curse passed harmlessly over Harry's head, and as Harry rose from his somersault, he raised his wand.

Harry knew that he needed to end this duel immediately, or he was dead. If he could do something unexpected, he might buy himself the split-second he needed to escape. Harry cast the only spell that he could think of, the only spell that would prevent Voldemort from overwhelming him with dark magic.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry hadn't anticipated Voldemort's amazing speed. The Dark Lord had recovered from the missed Cruciatus Curse impossibly fast, and Voldemort's killing curse struck Harry's disarming charm in mid-air.

Harry expected that a flash of green light would be the last thing he would ever see, but, somehow, he was still alive. The spells had paused in mid-air, and then a bolt of white light connected itself to both Harry's wand and Voldemort's. The light surged and pulsed like a bolt of lightning, and in the center, where the spells had struck one another, was a glowing ball of plasma.

Harry poured all his will and resolve into his magic. He wasn't sure what the ball of energy was, but he knew that he didn't want to be the one to touch it and find out. The ball began to move toward Voldemort, slowly.

Around Harry, the Death Eaters began to shout, and several reached for their wands. Voldemort held out his free hand. "Stop! Do not interfere! I will be the one to kill the boy!"

Voldemort began to exert his power, as well. Harry could feel the Dark Lord's oppressive will, weighing upon him like an enormous stone. The ball of plasma began to move toward Harry. No matter how hard Harry tried, the approach was inexorable.

Harry began to panic. Whatever this was, he couldn't let it touch his wand. He couldn't let Voldemort win. This was the man who killed his mother, killed his father, sent his godfather to prison. Voldemort was the reason that Cedric was dead. The reason that Lucius Malfoy had betrayed him. The reason that Harry's life was falling apart.

Harry felt a surge of anger. He would not allow this to happen. He would not allow himself to be overcome. Voldemort's magic might be more powerful, but Harry would not allow his resolve to be destroyed.

Harry shouted and thrust his wand forward, and the whole world turned green. It was as if Harry had been dropped underwater, deep in Black Lake, and was looking up at the sky. Everything was tinged in emerald, even the ball of light that was suspended between Harry and Voldemort.

But the ball of light had stopped. And, as Harry poured his will into his magic, the emerald green of his vision grew darker, and the ball of plasma reversed its course.

A flicker of confusion crossed Voldemort's face. Befuddlement. Bewilderment. The ball of light began to accelerate, and before Voldemort could do anything else, the light struck the tip of Voldemort's wand.

An explosive hiss filled the room, deep and rich, a sound that Harry had only heard once before: the hiss of a basilisk, ready to strike. Voldemort became even more obviously confused, and a strange missed seemed to be forming around his wand. This was the chance that Harry had hoped for, the second's worth of distraction that he needed. Harry snapped his wand like a whip, and sent a ripple of power down the beam of light connecting his wand to Voldemort's. Voldemort's wand and arm were yanked upward, and Harry made his move.

Harry heaved his wand away and broke his connection to Voldemort. The hissing of the basilisk disappeared, the magical energy connecting his wand to Voldemort's blinked out of existence, and the room was plunged into darkness. In the sudden confusion, Harry pointed his wand at the floor; he knew what he had to do, and the only Death Eater who might have anticipated Harry's action was lying dead on the ground.

"Confringo!"

Harry's blasting curse struck the floor slightly to the left of the hole that led to the living room. The explosion was enormous in the enclosed space of the nursery. Death Eaters shied away, raising their hands to cover their faces, but Harry leaped forward, into the smoke and debris. He felt himself falling, falling through the hole he had blasted open, falling to safety.

Harry landed awkwardly, twisting his left ankle. Harry toppled to the ground and gasped in pain. Above him, Harry heard Voldemort cry out: "After him! Stun him, you fools!"

Harry heaved himself to his feet and lurched away from the hole in the ceiling. Behind him, through the dust, red bolts of energy flew into the living room. They struck the walls and the floor, but none struck Harry.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway above. Somebody was charging toward the stairs. Harry only had a few moments, but he had reached his destination. Harry grabbed Cedric's ankle and pointed his wand.

"Accio cup!"

The Tri-Wizard Cup flew across the room, and Harry desperately grabbed its handle. He felt the familiar jerk of a portkey, hooking him behind his navel and pulling him, spinning, into the sky. The furious cry of Voldemort followed him, but Harry knew that he was beyond harm. He was safe. Safe, and on his way back to Hogwarts with proof that the Dark Lord had returned.

*!*!*!*!*!*!*

Harry landed on the ground with an unceremonious thud. The Tri-Wizard Cup clattered away from him, but he never lost his grip on Cedric's ankle. The band struck up a jaunty march, full of horns and booming drums, and Harry could hear the sonorous-enhanced voice of Ludo Bagman booming out: "AND OUR VICTOR HAS ARRIVED!"

Harry slowly pulled himself to his feet. Cedric, of course, did not move.

Bagman was rushing forward, as was Dumbledore. Harry could see that the headmaster was concerned, but Bagman did not yet realize what had happened.

"TWO CHAMPIONS HAVE APPEARED," Bagman was saying. "IS IT POSSIBLE THAT BOTH HOGWARTS CHAMPIONS HAVE TIED? IS THIS A DOUBLE VICTORY?"

The crowd was beginning to murmur. More people had realized that Cedric was not moving. Some of the band members had stopped playing; the victory march fell apart, then fell silent.

In the crowd, a voice began to shout. "Move over! Get out of my way! Let me through! That's my boy down there!" Harry recognized it as the voice of Amos Diggory, whom Harry had met briefly at the Quidditch World Cup. There was pain in his words, and a choked disbelief. Amos had already realized what happened, of course. Like any father, Amos only had eyes for Cedric. "That's my boy!" he cried again, voice shot through with still-forming grief.

And then Dumbledore was at Harry's side. "What happened, Harry?"

"He's back," Harry said simply. He raised his eyes and met Dumbledore's piercing gaze. "Voldemort is back. The Cup was a portkey. It took us away, and now he's back."

Bagman had arrived, as well. "DID HE SAY VOLDEMORT IS BACK?" Bagman was too oblivious, too careless to think of ending the voice amplification charm. There was a piercing scream from the crowd, and the bleachers erupted into chaos. People pushed past one another, frantic to escape, as if Voldemort were present in the stadium.

Harry could see things, but only in flashes. Amos Diggory bursing past Bagman and throwing himself upon Cedric's body. Amos wailing into the air, tears streaming down his face, and he wouldn't stop repeating, over and over, "That's my boy!"

Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Stay close," he said. Dumbledore's voice was calm and soothing. But that wasn't right. Dumbledore should be afraid. Or frantic. Why? What was it?

Oh.

"They're coming," Harry said. "That was their plan. Come to Hogwarts, attack tonight."

Dumbledore drew himself upward, to his full height. "Then we must prepare. Alastor!" Dumbledore turned away, in search of Mad-Eye Moody.

Harry was suddenly surrounded by people, buffeted on all sides. He couldn't get to Dumbledore. He didn't know where to go.

And then there was a hand on his arm, and a calm, logical voice speaking to him. "Come along, Harry. We have to get you into the castle. The wards will protect us. We'll wait for Dumbledore there. Come along."

Harry allowed himself to be pulled along. His leg still hurt, but it was a dull ache, and he was able to limp along at a reasonable speed. It was only when they were away from the maze and in the darkness that he looked up and saw the face above him. Percy Weasley. Of course Weasley would be taking charge.

Percy led Harry through the main doors of the castle. They were the first ones to return from the task. The teachers had remained at the maze, organizing the students from the various schools, and the spectators had fled. Percy led Harry down the hall and up a staircase. Harry recognized that they were headed to the office that Percy shared with Mr. Crouch.

A figure stepped out of the darkness ahead of them. "Give the boy to me," said a gruff voice.

"Professor Moody?" Harry asked.

Moody ignored Harry, and continued to speak to Percy. "Give him to me, now. Don't make this difficult." Harry noticed for the first time that Moody's wand was out, held ready at his side.

Percy licked his lips and glanced about, nervously. "He's safe with me."

"Do you really think that?" Moody asked threateningly. "Give Potter to me, now."

Percy thought for a moment. A bead of sweat appeared at his temple and began to run down his face. Without warning, Percy drew his wand and fired a spell at Moody. Moody batted the spell away and returned fire with a curse of his own.

Harry yelled and dove to away from Percy. There was a flurry of spells, and then a grunt from Moody. Harry saw that his Professor was lying on the ground, clutching at his side. Percy fired another spell at Moody, a red bolt of light, and Moody went limp, stunned.

"I can't believe it," Percy said quietly.

"He said there was a Death Eater at Hogwarts," Harry said in a low voice, thinking back to what Voldemort had said in the nursery: his servant thought that Harry had grown arrogant and lazy. An accusation that Snape made from time to time, but also an assumption that Moody had held about Harry since the first day of class. It wasn't Snape—it had been Moody all along. "He put my name in the Goblet of Fire," Harry muttered. "I even saw him in the Great Hall on Halloween. How could I have missed it?"

Percy shook his head. "Come along." He waved his wand, and Moody's body floated into the air. Percy led Harry to the office he shared with Ludo Bagman, and Percy closed and locked the door behind them. While Harry helped himself to a seat in the nearest chair, Percy wrapped Moody in conjured chains and set him in the corner of the room.

"So," Percy said slowly. "Did I hear you correctly? Has the Dark Lord returned?" Percy crossed the room and sat in the high-backed leather chair, behind his desk. He and Harry were facing one another.

Harry nodded slowly. "It was awful. That's how… that's how Cedric died."

"How? What happened?"

"They took a bone, and my blood, and a hand from one of the Death Eaters… and then Voldemort hatched from a cauldron, like it was some kind of giant egg."

"Did the Death Eaters return? How did the Dark Lord treat them?"

Harry looked at Percy curiously. These were strange questions… and almost every Gryffindor Harry had ever known referred to Voldemort as "You-Know-Who," or "He Who Must Not Be Named." Harry could think of only one Gryffindor that had ever referred to Voldemort as 'the Dark Lord,' and that was Peter Pettigrew. Something was very, very wrong. Hadn't Dumbledore told Harry to stay close? Why had Percy led Harry away from the only wizard that Voldemort had ever feared?

"Tell me," Percy said forcefully. "What about the Death Eaters?"

Harry leaned forward. He put his head in one hand, and allowed the other to drop into his lap, near his pocket. "Voldemort called them, and they appeared. He was angry, but he forgave them."

"And Wormtail, did the Dark Lord reward him?"

Harry's hand slipped inside his pocket and grabbed his wand. He took a moment and tried to make himself angry, tried to achieve the strange emerald trance that had given him the power to overcome Voldemort, but there was nothing. It was like Harry was grasping at empty air, having just missed a snitch. He would have to do this alone.

Harry raised his head and gestured with his free hand, trying to draw Percy's attention. "Wormtail got what he deserved," Harry said.

Percy's eyes flicked to one side, following Harry's hand, and Harry acted. He drew his wand and fired a body-binding charm at Percy. Percy jerked his head out of the way, and the charm impacted harmlessly on the chairback. Percy responded with a disarming charm; Harry's wand popped out of his hand as he was knocked backwards, tumbling out of his chair and onto the floor of the office.

"A reasonable attempt," Percy said, as he caught Harry's wand. "But not nearly enough."

Harry scrambled backward on his hands and feet. Percy grinned, a maniacal expression.

"Tell me," Percy said, slowly standing and coming out from behind his desk. "Was Wormtail praised? Did the Dark Lord punish those traitors who walked free? Did he speak of the rewards that would be due to the loyal few who remained in Azkaban, singing the praises of their Dark Lord?" Percy was almost raving. The knuckles of his hands were white, clutching a wand in each fist.

Harry felt something catch on the rug, tugging at his back pocket. Then he remembered: Wormtail's wand.

"I told you already, Pettigrew got what he deserved," Harry said.

"Tell me," Percy said, still advancing toward Harry. "Tell me everything."

Harry stood, slowly, hiding his back pocket from Percy. Harry continued to back away, but he was quickly running out of room. "The Dark Lord gave Pettigrew a new hand, made of silver, to replace the hand that Pettigrew sacrificed. And when Pettigrew asked for a new face, the Dark Lord promised him Cedric Diggory's."

"And what happened then?"

"I killed Wormtail and took his wand." As Harry spoke, he twisted to the side and allowed himself to fall backwards toward the ground. He drew Wormtail's wand from his back pocket as he fell. Percy fired a curse at Harry, but Harry's sudden movement meant that curse missed Harry altogether, passing harmlessly over his falling torso.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry's charm flew true, directly at Percy's chest.

Then Percy raised his other hand, which held Harry's wand, and deflected the charm away. Harry crashed to the ground, and Percy did not miss with his second charm. For the second time that night, Harry felt constricting chains twist around his arms.

"The Dark Lord will be pleased," Percy said. He stepped forward and loomed over Harry. "For even though you managed to escape him, you will not escape me."

Behind Percy, the door to the office burst open. Dumbledore stood in the doorway, followed closely by Snape and McGonagall. Percy turned and began to move his lips, preparing another spell, but those words were never said. Before Percy could complete his turn, he was struck by a wave of powerful magic and thrown across the room. He crashed heavily into the wall and Dumbledore's wand flicked forward once again. A molten red cord of fire lashed out of Dumbledore's wand, splitting into two as it reached toward Percy, each cord wrapping itself around one of the wands in Percy's hands. As Dumbledore jerked the wands away, Percy's unconscious body collapsed to the floor.

Harry finally understood why Dumbledore was the only wizard that Voldemort had ever feared. There was no compassion on Dumbledore's face. No mercy. The ancient lines of his face revealed a cold power that Harry had never before seen.

Snape dispelled the chains that bound Harry's arms, while McGonagall did the same for the unconscious Moody. She mumbled a quick incantation, restoring Moody to consciousness. As Moody hauled himself to his feet, swearing all the way, Harry grabbed Wormtail's wand off the floor and tucked it in his back pocket. Dumbledore offered Harry his own wand, which Harry gratefully accepted.

"Potter, get to the hospital wing," said McGonagall. There was surprising amount of concern in her voice.

"I'd prefer that Harry stay close by," Dumbledore said kindly. "With all that has happened this evening, I wish to keep an eye on him."

Dumbledore's words suggested that Harry was unable to take care of himself. Harry did not protest, though; his brief duel with Percy had revealed that Dumbledore was exactly right.

Last year, when Harry had disarmed Sirius, it had been the first time that Sirius had held a wand in over a dozen years. And earlier tonight, Harry had managed to surprise Wormtail, ending their duel before it had even started. But when Harry fought Percy, even the element of surprise wasn't enough. Harry simply wasn't strong enough to defeat a trained, adult wizard.

Harry was weak, and he hated himself for it. Voldemort had returned, and Harry could not hide behind Dumbledore's robes for the rest of his life. Grinding his teeth, Harry made a promise to himself. Whatever else happened, he would learn to duel. He would never allow himself to be weak again.

"I can't believe that Percy Weasley betrayed us," McGonagall was saying, looking down at the body of her former student. "Do you think he put Harry's name in the goblet?"

"Almost certainly," said Dumbledore. "But I do not believe that this is Percy Weasley. Severus, go to your stores and fetch the strongest Truth Potion you possess. Minerva, please go down to Hagrid's and speak to the large black dog waiting in the pumpkin patch. Bring the dog to my office and tell him that I will be with him shortly. Alastor, gather the rest of the professors; I fear that Hogwarts may be under assault before the night is through, and the preparations of its defense is in your hands." McGonagall gave Dumbledore an odd look, but the three professors left without question.

Harry found himself alone with Dumbledore and the unconscious body of Percy Weasley. Dumbledore moved around the office, looking here and there, opening cupboards and drawers.

"Um, sir? Are you looking for something?"

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said. "If you would like to assist me, I am searching for a small container of some sort. A bottle or a flask, something that would hold liquid securely. Something easily concealed."

Harry began looking around the room, as well. As Harry rifled through a filing cabinet, he heard Dumbledore let out a small "A-hah." Harry turned and saw that the headmaster was holding a small flask aloft. It appeared that he had taken it from an inside pocket of Percy's cloak.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore opened the flask and tipped its contents out onto the stone floor of the office. A thick, viscous liquid poured out. "Polyjuice potion. Used by this impostor to take on the appearance of Percy Weasley. I think that in the excitement of the night, our imposter has forgotten to take his potion with the required regularity. If so…"

Before Dumbledore could finish speaking, the body of Percy Weasley began to twist and contort. The shoulders grew broader, the hair darker, and the face sprouted a thick, dark beard. The face was familiar, but Harry couldn't quite say how.

"As I feared," Dumbledore said. "Barty Crouch, Junior."

A/N: So, going back to last week's Author's Note, here are some suggestions of stories similar to mine.

"They Shook Hands," by dethryl was suggested by an anonymous guest. I expected this to crop up, as it's one of the more popular Slytherin Harry stories on the site, and one of the longest. I've read it previously, but it didn't really stick with me. I've been meaning to give it a re-read, but haven't gotten around to it. A lot of my readers are fans, however, so it's worth checking out.

"On the Way to Greatness," by Mira Mirth was suggested by Joy. I didn't expect this one to crop up because its abbreviated structure (each year gets chapters equal to Harry's year in school) is very different from mine. But, it's a story that I really love and I'm really super flattered to have my work compared to a story and author that I respect so much.

Personally, I'm going to throw out, "Magical Relations," by evansentranced. I was fairly surprised that nobody mentioned this one. Like my story, it starts at first year and has a Slytherin Harry. It also involves a fair amount of interaction with Gryffindor students, which is something that can also be found in my work.

If you wind up reading any of these stories, please do the author a favor and leave a review. Reviews keep us going, more than food or water or even the air we breathe. (And please do me a favor, and let the author know which story sent you over!)