Disclaimer: JK Rowling can escape a Penrose staircase

A/N: Well, this story has grown bigger than I ever imagined it. It's definitely been learning experience, and while I think some parts are rough around the edges, I like how it's turned out, and I want to thank you for all your support. At over 2,000 favourites and 3,000 reviews, it's far more popular than I expected, too.

Now, since this story is already over half a million words, I've decided to split it into two to keep it manageable. Therefore, Chapter 84 will be the final chapter of The Arithmancer. Years 5-7 of Hermione's adventures will take place in the sequel, to be entitled Lady Archimedes. More details on that to come in the next couple weeks.

Also, careful readers will remember that Wormtail is in Azkaban in this story, and that Bertha Jorkins is alive and under Barty Jr.'s Imperius Curse.

Also, also, how did the shades of Harry's parents actually know that the Cup would take him back to Hogwarts? Did they see Barty Jr. cast the spell from beyond the Veil?

Chapter 82

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament!" Ludo Bagman's amplified voice boomed over the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione was sitting anxiously in the stands with Sirius, Remus, and the Weasleys. Luna and Neville both found themselves sitting in front of the group, and Luna was completely mesmerised by the shifting tesseract of the maze.

"The champions stand before a magical maze of fiendish complexity in which space turns back on itself," Bagman said dramatically, "filled with traps and strange creatures to test their skills to the limit."

Hermione had to hand it to Septima, Professor Flitwick, and the Gringotts builders. They had spared no expense for authenticity. She could see many types of creatures running every which way in the variable gravity of the maze through the arches and stairways of the interior, along with suspicious-looking dark corners that no doubt held mind-bending traps. But the most intriguing sight was a large number of creatures that looked like six-legged, armour-plated lizards about ten feet long. They would crawl around normally on flat surfaces, but they would curl up into a wheel-like shape to roll "down" each flight of stairs they came to.

"Oh my, they're wentelteefjes!" Luna exclaimed when she saw them.

Hermione stared at the younger girl. "Yes, they are. How did you know that?" she asked.

Luna stared up at her: "Why wouldn't I? They're quite rare, though. I wonder where they found them."

"I assumed they were transfigured constructs."

"Hmm…possibly."

"The Triwizard Cup lies inside the vault at the centre of the maze," Bagman said. "The first champion to reach it will win the Triwizard Tournament. Now, to remind you of the scores. Viktor Krum is in first place with ninety points, so he will enter the maze first. Harry Potter is in second place with eighty-eight points, so he will enter two minutes after Krum. And Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory are tied for third at seventy-eight points, so they will enter ten minutes after Potter. So, on my whistle, Viktor—three—two—one—"

Bagman blew his whistle, and Krum ran into the maze. He took it at a run, flitting into and out of view in the forest-like structure, his wand waving wildly, dispatching anything that got in his way. And yet, he didn't seem to get very far. He quickly got turned around, flipped over, and looked as if he was going in circles. Two minutes later, he was still near the entrance, and it was Harry's turn.

Bagman blew his whistle a second time, and Harry ran into the enormous structure. It looked straightforward enough at first. He just needed to climb a couple of stories and get close to the zigzagging walls. Sure, there were those weird armoured lizard things running around—and they had pretty wicked beaks on their heads—but they weren't very fast or threatening except when they were rolling. To be honest, he had no idea what they were, but as long as they didn't bother him, he didn't care.

Things got more complicated at once when he hit one of the landings, and he suddenly felt something he shouldn't ever feel: the gravity shifted. He fell, albeit only a couple of feet, to the wall, which now became the floor. He stood up shakily. Four years of flying had never prepared him for this. The view outside the windows of the maze had turned completely on its side. It was dizzying. He couldn't tell up from down properly, and he was already getting confused about his bearings.

He needed to think. He turned his head to get a sense of the way the maze was set up when the world was facing the right direction. Hermione's directions had been clear: get close to one of the zigzagging walls—any of them—and flip through it. Those things had the same orientation in any direction. Harry figured out where the nearest one was, and hopped on the steep stairs that seemed to be leading to it. Then, things got even more complicated. The stairs shifted under his feet, rotating to a new position—upside down relative to the world outside. What's more, the zigzag wall seemed to change shape as he approached it. Up close, it started to flatten out so that it looked more like the outer walls of the cube, but on the other side was more of the same impossible geometry instead of a view of the stands.

At that moment, he remembered the other complication of the maze as a dark shape sprang at him out of the shadows.

"Oh my God! Is that a dementor?!" Hermione screamed. Her hand tensed on her own wand. If something went wrong, she'd send her own Patronus into the maze to stop it, consequences be damned.

"Wait for it," said Bill.

From a distance, she saw a shape of silver light exploded from Harry's wand and slam into the dementor. The crowd gasped at seeing Harry Potter cast a Patronus. The dementor stumbled oddly. Harry paused, then cast another spell that made it vanish into a cloud of smoke.

"Huh?" Hermione said.

"It was just a boggart," Bill said. "We're not insane."

"Oh."

Cedric Diggory entered the maze with a plan of his own. He strongly suspected that Hermione knew how to get through the maze and had told Harry. He had graciously refrained from asking her the secret, since she clearly owed her loyalty to her best friend and was uncomfortable giving Cedric any advantages unless Harry was okay with it. But that didn't mean he had no options. Cedric watched Harry carefully from the moment he entered the maze to learn what path his opponent was taking. He was banking on the fact that he was faster, better at magic, and—let's be honest—smarter than the Boy-Who-Lived.

And so, Cedric ran flat out as close to the path Harry had taken as he could remember. He wasn't exactly sure where it was leading, but Harry had seemed pretty sure of himself. He soon noticed that Fleur was also sticking close to him. Either Hermione had told her something, or she had the same idea. That could be a problem when they got close to him, but for now, he was more worried about catching up with Harry.

After just a couple of minutes, though, something strange happened. Cedric was busy dispatching one of those armoured lizard things when a red spell flew past his head. He ducked and turned to fire off a spell at Fleur automatically, assuming she was the culprit, but she already had a shield up and wasn't facing him at all, but Krum, who was coming at them, spells flying. A violent spell struck the stones under her feet and sent her tumbling down the stairs with a scream. Cedric at first considered whether he ought to help her, but then…

"CHIEN!"

Cedric changed his mind and continued pursuing Harry as the stairs erupted in fireballs behind him.

"And it looks like Krum's going for the incapacitate-the-other-champions strategy," Harry heard Bagman's voice echo through the maze. Indeed, he could hear the distant sounds of explosions and a lot of swearing in French. "Surprising move since he had the head start, and I think he might've bit off more than he can chew with Miss Delacour."

At this point, Harry could only see the outside world in distorted snippets in impossible positions. As Hermione had told him, he moved away from those windows, deeper into the maze—or what he called deeper. Hermione would probably have a complex explanation that would go completely over his head. The central vault was visible above and at an angle from him. It was less distorted than before, but it still didn't look right. He moved toward it nonetheless.

There was a loud squawk as he came to the next landing and one of those awful armoured lizard-things popped up right in his face, its great beak snapping.

"AHH!" He lost his footing and rolled backwards down the stairs, automatically curling up to protect his head. He rolled to a stop when he hit something smooth and hard, and the gravity shifted with a jolt so that he found himself lying on his back across an uncomfortably humped object. Straightening his glasses, he blinked and saw something like a scorpion's stinger looming above him.

"AHHHHH!"

Harry was lying across the back of one of Hagrid's blasted Blast-Ended Skrewts.

In the current gravity, the lizard-thing was above him, now, climbing down the underside of a flight of stairs towards the Skrewt. The Skrewt hissed. Seemingly blind though it was, it didn't like the lizard encroaching on its territory. So it turned and shot a blast of fire up the stairs.

The lizard retreated, but with a loud squeal, it turned and, to Harry's horror, curled up and rolled down the stairs just like he had. Harry had only a split second to slide off the Skrewt's back before the two armoured shells collided. The Skrewt staggered under the impact, but it held its ground, lunged, and crushed the lizard against the stairs.

For a moment, Harry thought he now had only one horrible monster to deal with, but he was wrong. The lizard's death cry had attracted more of its kind, and they began rolling down the stairs one after the other, trying to force the Skrewt off the landing. If that happened, it would fall Merlin knew what direction and wreak havoc. Unfortunately, even as he raced off down the stairs, the Skrewt was dislodged from its position and knocked on its side. This caused something even worse than he expected to happen: the Skrewt curled up and started to roll after him.

Feeling much more like Indiana Jones than a wizard at the moment, Harry raced to the bottom of the flight, where there was a landing with two corner walls. With no other place to go, he continued down the next flight, hoping the Skrewt would stop at the corner. It didn't. It bounced off the wall, uncurled, and promptly followed him down the next flight of stairs, spitting fire all the while, until he reached an identical corner landing, and so the process repeated on a third flight, and then a fourth, and Harry felt like this place looked an awful lot like where he'd started.

"Oh, no! He's trapped on a Penrose Staircase!" Hermione cried, observing the upside-down scene through a pair of Omnioculars.

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"It's an impossible object. You keep going down, and you wind up back where you started. And a Skrewt's after him!"

"Yikes! How does he get out of that one?"

"I have no idea."

Harry was on his third circuit of this devil's staircase when he realised he was definitely going in circles. There were the marks where the Skrewt had hit the wall that first time. How could he keep going down the stairs and wind up back at the top again? And more importantly, how could he get away from this Skrewt?

"Reducto!" he cast behind him. The Reductor Curse was good for smashing stuff to bits. Hermione had added it as an afterthought to the list of spells he ought to learn. He was hoping to hit the Skrewt with it, but unfortunately, he hit the wall, blasting a Bludger-sized hole in it. It wasn't until he came back around that he saw the solution: there was another stairway on the other side of that wall.

"Reducto! Reducto! Reducto!" He shouted on his next pass, throwing as much power into the spell as he could. It wasn't enough to destroy the whole wall, but he could see it was teetering. He kept running and threw a few more curses the next time around. That did it. There was a loud crumbling sound, and the Skrewt was buried under a pile of rock.

"YEAH!" he yelled in triumph. From there, he only had to keep running down the stairs until he was above the Skrewt again, clamber over the rock pile, and run up the other flight he had just opened up to himself.

"Oh, bravo!" came the echoing voice of Ludo Bagman. "Did everyone see that? Potter uses the going in circles to his advantage to bury the Skrewt. But he'd better hurry up if he doesn't want Diggory to catch him."

Harry looked around frantically and spotted Cedric closing in on him. Their eyes met. The older boy was soaking wet and covered in grey feathers, but it was him. Harry didn't question it. He took off running again. He didn't see Fleur or Krum at all, so it looked to be down to the two of them.

Suddenly, the world bent around him, and Harry soon realised what had happened. The moving staircase he was on had folded into the next cube. Hurriedly, he got his bearings, and his heart leapt. There it was: the middle vault—sitting there clear and undistorted. He must be in the middle cube—or what looked like the middle cube, as Hermione had said. He could still see little snippets of the stands in the windows and archways around the vault, but he was almost there.

It was still hard to navigate the maze—doubly so now that he was trying to evade Cedric and also had to avoid those zigzagging walls that would see him folded back out of the middle cube. At times, it looked like the only way available to him was directly away from the vault. Sometimes he even had to double back because the staircase moved in the wrong direction. But slowly, he got closer. Cedric was above him, now—now upside down, now sideways—no longer following directly, but making his own way to the vault. As Harry neared it, Cedric disappeared from view behind it, which made him even more nervous. But there was nothing for it. He made for the nearest door.

The vault was a solid stone cube. Up close, he could tell it was three stories high, suspended in the centre of the maze. It had one door in the middle of each face. After a few more twists and turns, Harry reached one of them and pulled it open, not knowing what he would find.

He had expected more traps or more maze, and indeed, the inside of the vault looked similar to the outside, but there was only so complicated you could make it with it only being three stories high. It was even easier than that, though. There was a catwalk extending from each of the six doors to a pedestal in the exact centre where the Triwizard Cup was sitting.

And Cedric was standing directly across from him.

"Well, this is awkward," Cedric said.

Two things went through Harry Potter's mind in about half a second. One: there was no way he could beat Cedric in a duel, and two: he didn't look it, but Harry could run very fast.

"Well that's it, they're inside," Hermione said.

"I guess now we have to wait for them to duel it out," said Fred.

"Shouldn't take long. Cedric wiped the floor with Harry yesterday." Hermione sighed. It would be a close second for Harry, but not quite good enough.

"Well, it was a good try," Ginny agreed. "I think Harry's still a winner for getting that far when he's younger than all the others."

"That works for me," said Sirius.

"Harry Potter, the People's Champion…" Hermione sounded out. "No, that'll never do. If it was Krum, maybe, but that would be completely unfair to Cedric."

"Still got a soft spot for him?" Sirius teased.

"He's just a friend," Hermione protested, turning pink. "And he's still with Cho Chang."

"You know, Hermione," Ginny kept on the subject, "you've been hearing all about my love life, but what about yours? Did anything happen with that boy you met in Arithmancy class."

Hermione turned much redder, mortified that Ginny would bring this up in public, but she forced the thought down. It wasn't really that embarrassing, was it? "No, it was just the Valentine's date," she said. "I think I scared him off, honestly. Some of my experiments seemed a little too much for him."

"Well, his loss," George said.

"Yes, not just any boy can handle a real mistress of mischief," Fred added. This made George and Hermione both blush, and they almost subconsciously averted their gazes from each other.

"And what about you two?" Hermione asked boldly. "You have any better luck with Angelina and Alicia?"

"Me and Angie are doing alright," Fred answered. "She agreed to come over to the Burrow sometime this summer, so I'm hoping it'll stay that way."

He stared at his twin, and George said, "Er, I don't think Alicia or I either of us were really into it. Fred and Angie just wanted to double date."

"You know, I never really thought I'd see one of them dating and the other not," Ginny said, but it didn't quite sound like teasing. "It doesn't quite seem natural."

"Well, it's not as easy as it looks, is it?" George insisted. "Not many girls can keep up with this." He struck a pose and gestured to his body.

"Well, I've never had a problem keeping up," Hermione quipped before she could catch herself.

George stumbled, and Fred and Ginny both giggled. Hermione turned red again when she realised what she'd said, but George recovered and said, "It's true. You know, I think I know the real reason you went to France?"

"Oh?" she said in confusion.

"Because Hermione Granger is too much for one country to handle," he said affectionately.

Hermione found herself laughing. And yet, she had to wonder, was there something more than teasing in his tone? And was there something in what she had said? Maybe they should have a private conversation after—But no, it was crazy. She was still stuck in France. Even if she left in sixth year once she was of age to pursue an arithmancy mastery full time—Merlin's beard! Did I really just think that? Phew, she'd scared herself for a second there.

With the feeling of a hook behind his navel, Harry found himself flying through the air with a sickening feeling. Cedric looked as surprised as he felt. The two champions had grabbed the Triwizard Cup at the same time. Harry was pretty sure that meant they'd drawn, but no one had mentioned a Portkey.

Harry's feet slammed into the ground, and he went tumbling. "Where are we?" he said.

"Not Hogwarts," Cedric said, helping Harry up. They were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard beside a small church. The land around was flat except for a nearby hill topped by a large house. They had to have come at least a hundred miles to see terrain like that. "Did you know the Cup was a Portkey?" Cedric asked.

"Nope," Harry said. "Didn't Bagman say the first to grab it would win?"

"Yeah, he did. This doesn't look like winning, though. Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah."

No sooner had they drawn their wands than a figure approached them slowly out of the shadows. But it didn't look like a threat. As it came closer, they could see the shape was that of a woman. Even closer, and they could see her clearly, despite the dim light of twilight. She was a youngish woman, but shuffling, glassy-eyed, and carrying a baby—or was it just a bundle of robes?

"Oh my God, Harry, it's Bertha Jorkins!" Cedric whispered.

"The woman who disappeared?" Harry said, but before anyone else could speak, his scar exploded with pain. He dropped to his knees instantly, his wand falling from his grasp, blinded by the worst headache of his life—and that was saying something.

He didn't see Cedric point his wand at the woman, the only visible person who could be assaulting him like this. He didn't note the crack that sounded nearby or the second figure who appeared. But he did hear, as if from far away, a high, cold voice that he had heard once before, sending shivers down his spine: "Barty, perfect timing. Kill the spare!"

Cedric! Harry tried to grunt, but it was no use. A green light flashed.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Dasask Cohaerens!"

"AHH!"

Cedric stood in shock as the Killing Curse whizzed past his right ear. He had done the only thing he could think of, acting purely on instinct, and by sheer luck, it had turned out to be right. Hermione's Dazzling Jinx, travelling at the speed of light, had struck the tall man's face and thrown off his casting at the last second. If it weren't for that, Cedric would be dead right now. He didn't have time to register the enormity of the fact, though, since the tall man was casting again.

Cedric had three objectives at that moment: rescue Harry, who was still writhing on the ground for reasons unknown, get back to the Cup—with any luck, it was a two-way Portkey. If not, they were screwed—and finally, don't die! The man was making all three of those nearly impossible. Cedric breezed right past most of the spells Hermione had taught him and started casting hardcore curses meant for a real fight against dark wizards, which it seemed was exactly what this was.

"Kill him!"

"Reducto!"

"Diffindo!"

"Sectumsempra!"

"Confringo!"

"Expulso!"

Harry fought back the pain and forced himself to look up. Despite the constant pounding from what felt like a knife being stabbed into his skull, he got his bearings and looked up. A young man with wild eyes and a flicking tongue—Barty, apparently, was duelling Cedric, apparently to the death. He hadn't caught how the Cedric had escaped that first spell, but he was glad he did. The other man was clearly brilliant, though. Harry didn't think even Cedric could hold out against him. Explosions were booming all over the graveyard, each one sending a concussion through his spine.

His fingers found his wand again, but he didn't know what to do with it. He would get only one shot if he was lucky, and he didn't think he could cast anything very powerful just now.

Cedric ran into his field of view at the edge. The wild-eyed man was still duelling him, and yet, somehow, his gaze was never far from Harry. Cedric was limping by now and covered in blood.

"Bombarda!"

BOOM!

Harry watched in horror as an over-powered Bludgeoning hex ripped through Cedric's wand arm and slammed into the headstone behind him. Cedric's wand exploded, embedding splinters in his arm. At the same moment, Harry could see the bones of his arm shattering and poking through his skin. And finally, the headstone cracked and fell forward, pinning him down by his right leg, immobilising him. The wild-eyed man raised his wand again to deliver the killing blow…

"Vlefaricurl!"

Harry's spell flew true, and the man screamed in pain as Hermione's Eyelash-Curling Hex made all of his eyelashes curl so tight that they poked into his eyes.

Unfortunately, Harry could barely, let alone run. Eyes squeezed shut, the man turned his wand on him and cast blindly: "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" On of the Stunners found its mark, and everything went black.

When Harry woke, he was no longer lying on the ground. He was standing upright, but tied hand and foot to a headstone. His headache had partly subsided, but he didn't know where his wand was. He looked around frantically. In the corner of his eye, he saw the name written on the stone:

TOM RIDDLE

That was bad. He kept looking around until he spotted Cedric, still lying on the ground with his leg pinned under the fallen headstone.

"Cedric?" Harry called, heedless to whether it was a bad idea.

"He's not going anywhere."

Harry turned his head. It was the wild-eyed young man. Harry recognised him now from Dumbledore's Pensieve. He was Barty Crouch Jr.—the dead Death Eater—very much alive. He had dispelled Hermione's hex, and he was stirring the largest cauldron Harry had ever seen. And for some reason, he had one bare foot.

"I'll kill him once my Master's done with you," Barty continued. "It is ready, Master."

"Now…" said the high, cold voice.

Barty took the bundle of robes from the dazed Bertha Jorkins, and Harry though he might vomit. Inside was something that would have looked like a baby if it didn't already look like a devil—dark red in colour with a scaly, snake-like face. Barty lifted it up and gently lowered it into the cauldron. Then, he raised his wand and began to chant:

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

A mist of dust rose from the ground at Harry's feet, not unlike the spell he had used to fight the dragon, but he knew this wasn't magnesium. The dust fell into the cauldron, producing ominous blue sparks. Barty now drew a silver knife and continued:

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!"

Harry tried to look away as he saw a gleam in Barty's eye that could only be borne out of the deepest fanaticism. He heard a single stroke of what must have been a magical blade and a hiss of pain, followed by a splash. He looked back and saw Barty had cut off his own foot—the bare one. He quickly cast, "Incendio!", cauterising the stump, and he fit it with a prosthetic leg—one that Harry recognised. It was Mad-Eye Moody's. Barty limped towards him.

"What'd you do to Moody?" Harry slurred.

"He's where he's been all year, Potter." Barty stabbed Harry in the crook of his right arm with that same silver dagger and collected his blood in a phial to pour into the cauldron.

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

A moment later, a blinding white light filled the graveyard. For a moment, Harry thought that the potion had exploded, but his luck couldn't be that good. Out of the cauldron rose the form of a tall, skeletal man, bone white and shrouded in steam. Barty handed him a robe, and he turned so that Harry could see a snake-like face and glowing red eyes. Another jolt went through his scar.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "I have waited many years for this day. I have been strapped for resources of late, else we would have had this meeting years ago, but no more. Your arm, Barty. We will see how many of my followers are brave enough to return."

"Yes, Master." Barty rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth—the Dark Mark. Voldemort drew a long, bone-white wand from his robes with a spider-like hand and touched it to the mark. It turned jet black. Harry's scar burned again.

It took a few minutes, but soon, the cracks of Apparition began. Wizards in black robes and white, skull-like masks appeared in the graveyard, approaching cautiously, understandably shocked to see their master alive again. They cringed when he approached them, fell to their knees and kissed the hem of his robes before daring to join the circle. Harry could only watch helplessly as they assembled. There were about two dozen in all, with spaces left for probably a dozen more.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said with the quiet danger of a snake about to strike. "Thirteen years it has been since we last met like this, and yet you return as if it were yesterday. Such loyalty…or such guilt."

A shiver ran through the circle. They all knew their guilt all too well. They had disowned their master, the one to whom they had sworn eternal loyalty. They had pleaded the Imperius Curse and claimed they had never willingly supported him to stay out of Azkaban, and, once freed, they did nothing to help him. Harry gasped with horror as Voldemort Crucioed the first Death Eater who begged him for forgiveness. It had been hard enough to watch with a spider and infinitely harder to see and hear from a human being, even an evil one.

"Thirteen years, Avery," Voldemort hissed. "Thirteen years, all of you. Thirteen years you abandoned me, and thirteen years you will labour to earn my forgiveness. Only young Barty is blameless, my most faithful servant, barred from reaching me by a hypocrite of a father. Barty, you have been most patient. Your reward is waiting for you. I will no longer require her services. You may do with her as you wish."

"Thank you, Master," Barty said with a grin. "You are generous." And with that, he when over to the Imperiused Bertha Jorkins and almost lovingly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.

Voldemort called out some of the Death Eaters by name, while he passed others by: Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott were all fathers of Slytherins in Harry's year, and none of them surprised him. Avery and Macnair he didn't know by name. About ten who would have been in the circle were in Azkaban, including the Lestranges, whom Harry had also seen in the Pensieve.

"And here we have five missing Death Eaters," Voldemort said, closing the circle at the gap next to Barty and Bertha Jorkins. "Three dead in my service, one too cowardly to return—he will pay—and one who I fear is lost to us forever…he will be killed, of course."

Harry hadn't heard Snape's name—the allegedly reformed Death Eater who had turned spy. He wondered if he was one of those last two spaces, and if so, which one.

"And of course, we cannot forget the guest of honour," Voldemort continued, motioning to Harry himself. "Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party." The Death Eaters chuckled to themselves. "You have been quite the thorn in my side, Harry—you and your allies. One of my rare mistakes—trying to kill you without foreseeing how you were protected. Fortunately, this ritual was already the perfect tool to negate that protection. 'Blood of the enemy'—the very enemy who carries the protection. You will find you cannot stop me with a touch anymore."

He touched a long, white finger directly to Harry's scar, and Harry felt like his own face was burning, like Voldemort's had three years ago. So that's why Voldemort had wanted him specifically. That's why he had gone to great lengths to help Harry win. A brief pang struck him: Cedric wasn't supposed to be there at all, and now, he was as good as dead, too.

"You see now…the boy who would be my downfall…Crucio!"

Harry had suffered the worst headache of his life several times in Voldemort's presence tonight—enough to send him to his knees. But this made him forget it all. He was on fire from head to toe. It burned into his flesh, his bones. He was sure he was dying. He wanted to die.

And then it stopped. The sting lingered, as savage as the worst of what Dudley and his gang had ever done to him. He hung limply in the ropes. The Death Eaters were laughing at him. How could they laugh like that at someone's pain?

"You see? Harry Potter is no match for Lord Voldemort. Not when there is no one else to protect him. He is merely an ordinary boy with no special powers. But we will have a proper demonstration. A duel. I will allow you to die on your feet like a proper wizard, Harry. Barty, untie him and give him his wand."

Harry was surprised Voldemort was arrogant enough to give him his wand back at a time like this. But then, he couldn't imagine what he could actually do with it at this point. None of the spells he knew was a match for the dark wizard. A wild thought in the back of his mind pointed out that Hermione's Iambic Pentameter Curse would prevent Voldemort from casting all three Unforgivable Curses, but he knew there was no way he could hit him with it. And in any case, he was surrounded by Death Eaters.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry? We bow to each other. Bow to death, Harry." Voldemort cast a spell—not the Imperius Curse, but something that physically bent Harry's back like a puppet and forced him to bow. "Very good. Face me like a man, Harry—like your father: straight-backed and proud. And now…we duel. Crucio!"

Harry was writhing on the ground before he could even try to cast a spell. Forget Voldemort blocking them. He wasn't sure he could even get one off—or that was what he thought when thought returned to him. He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could. He couldn't imagine how he could get out of this alive, but his native stubbornness wouldn't allow him to just roll over and die. If he was going to die, he would go down fighting.

"That hurt, didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

Harry wouldn't obey Voldemort. He wouldn't beg. If a twelve-year-old muggle-born girl could hex Voldemort in the face—of course. Harry remembered what Hermione had taught him. He needed speed. Angling his wand very carefully, he cast the absolute fastest spell he knew.

"LUMOS ARDENS!"

A beam of searing red light slashed across Voldemort's face. Voldemort gasped in pain, and the Death Eaters gasped in shock. Harry was just about to sweep the beam back to aim for his eyes when—

"CRUCIO!"

The word was shouted with more rage than before, but the pain didn't seem greater—probably because he was already well past the limit of what his mind could comprehend. The pain stopped, and in the few seconds it took Harry to stagger to his feet again, Voldemort had quickly conjured a mirror, inspected his face, and dispelled it. A thin, red line stretched across his face, from the top of his right ear, just under his right eye, across his non-existent nose, and down to the left corner of his jaw. And yet for all that, his anger still seemed controlled.

"Impressive, Harry. Most impressive. Few have ever managed to make a mark on Lord Voldemort."

Harry coughed once and spat, "That's from Hermione!"

"Ah, your mudblood friend. I remember her well. Her method for dealing with the dragon was highly original. Such talent deserves a reward…So your deaths will both be swift."

Harry stared for a split second. The Killing Curse was unblockable by any magical shield. All he could do was dodge, or else land another spell on Voldemort first. But a laser wouldn't do. If he wanted to have any effect, he needed to get his wand off him. Almost before could think, he cast, "Expelliarmus!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Something else happened that Harry was pretty sure wasn't supposed to. The spells collided in midair, cancelled out, and formed a golden cord between their two wands. Harry felt an electric shock in his wand hand, and he couldn't let go—couldn't do anything but hold the connection. From the look on Voldemort's face, he was having the same problem. The magic around them built up to a fever pitch. Splinters of light lanced out from the golden cord and formed into a cage around the two of them.

"Do not interfere!" Voldemort ordered. "Do not approach unless I order it!" He didn't know what was happening either, but he didn't like the odds for any Death Eater stupid enough to touch the cage.

A beautiful melody filled the air, and Harry knew it was phoenix song. Golden beads formed along the thread of light. Harry still didn't understand, but he somehow knew what he must do. By sheer force of will, he pushed the beads towards Voldemort's wand. Voldemort pushed back, but somehow, Harry's will was stronger. The first one touched the white wand.

Voldemort's wand emitted echoing screams of pain. Then, flashes of light in various shapes and colours that Hermione might be able to interpret. Then, a cloud of smoke, which, impossibly, formed itself into the shape of an old man.

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said. "Killed me, that one did…you fight him, boy…"

Harry was lost, now, but he was already fighting, so he kept at it. It wasn't until the next shape appeared that he understood. A woman with long hair formed from the cloud of smoke—seeming solid but lacking in colour. Harry looked into the face of his mother.

"Mum?" he said, so shocked he nearly lost his grip.

"Hold on, Harry," she urged him. "Hold on for your father—he's coming."

Yet another cloud emerged from Voldemort's wand. Voldemort could only stare in terror as it formed into the shape of James Potter. James rushed to Harry's side, as Lily had done. "Harry," he said, "we can hold him off, but just for a few seconds. Run to Cedric and summon the Portkey. It'll take you back to Hogwarts. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"We love you, Harry," Lily said. "Get ready to run…NOW!"

Harry wrenched his arm up. The light and phoenix song vanished, but the shades didn't. The old man ran at Voldemort to block his path, while James and Lily ran alongside Harry and bowled the Death Eaters away from him. They had gone by the time he reached Cedric, but he didn't stop to think. He grabbed Cedric's hand and shouted, "Accio Cup!" It reached his hand a second before a hail of curses passed through where he had been standing.

"Something's really wrong," Hermione said for the fifth time. "Cedric and Harry aren't that evenly matched. One of them should've come out by now."

"Maybe there were more traps in the vault," George suggested.

"Maybe there's a whole other maze in the vault," Fred added.

"But what's going on with the teachers?" Ginny said. Moody had wandered off at the start of the Task, which wasn't like him, and Dumbledore and Snape, obviously concerned, had gone off somewhere about ten minutes ago, speaking in hushed tones. Dumbledore had come back alone just a couple of minutes ago. Karkaroff had excused himself while they were gone and still wasn't back.

"I don't know…I don't like this," Hermione said.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack, followed shortly by a bloodcurdling scream. Harry, Cedric, and the Triwizard Cup appeared in a heap at the entrance to the maze, right in front of the judges. Hermione frantically fumbled with her Omnioculars to look as someone—she eventually decided it must have been Minister Fudge—shouted out, "HEALER!" She steadied her Omnioculars and promptly screamed herself. Harry was on his feet, but he looked like death warmed over, while Cedric…Cedric's wand arm looked like it had been through a wood chipper, and his right leg had been severed at the hip.

A/N: Vlefaricurl: based on the Greek for "eyelash" and the English "curl".