A/N: So this took longer than I thought. I'm super busy, so it's difficult to find time to write when I'm actually inspired. I'll just say that the chapters will come as soon as they're done, I don't think I can maintain a steady update at this point. But I thought this was a good day to update.

Happy birthday to Harry Potter.

Also, Kangee notified me that I made a few mistakes last chapter regarding continuity, with the trio learning of Crouch Jr and Krum and Harry's conversation. Those have been fixed, but it doesn't really affect the plot as of now if you don't want to go back and reread those parts. They were minor changes.

I was planning on having someone else die, or at least have some serious injuries, but it didn't write that way. I also tried to make it more serious in tone, but I kept coming up with sarcastic remarks to slip in so I don't know how good of a job I did there.

As always, unbeta-ed, sorry if I miss any errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Supernatural, or anything belonging to J.K. Rowling or Eric Kripke, I'm just using the characters for fun. I receive no money off of this story. Don't sue me.

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Chapter 24: The Beginning

"Kill the spares."

The high voice floated over the graveyard, and Harry reacted on instinct, pulling at the cup's energy, knowing she had to get out of the yard. The glowing blue chalice came flying at her from it's spot on the ground, slamming into the backs of Cedric and Fred. Their eyes widened as they reached out for her, but Harry was too far away and they were too burdened with supporting George. A haze appeared around their features, the air twisted, and they were gone.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry ducked and rolled on instinct, watching as green light bisected the space where Cedric, Fred, and George had just been standing. She came up on her knees, jumping forwards to engage in combat, only to catch sight of a flash of red, then her vision went dark.

.

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Harry woke to the bubbling of a cauldron. She squinted, looking down from whatever she was tied to. In the middle of a ring of greying headstones was a large black cauldron, easily big enough to bathe in. She winced, reaching to grab at her aching scar, but unable to with thin cords tying her to the cold stone of what she assumed was a gravemarker holding her back. Through the haze of pain clouding her vision, she could see a short, robed figure stumbling around the yard.

"You!" A flash of the figure's face, lit by the fire under the cauldron revealed the pointed nose and watery eyes of Peter Pettigrew. The man crept closer grabbing the ropes around her and tightening them. Her arms were strapped down, hands unable to even twitch upwards. She could feel the cold steel of her knife strapped to her thigh, but was unable to grab it without drawing Wormtail's attention. Though, the man in question was distracted by other things. He walked away from her after tightening the bounds, withdrawing a silver knife from his own robe. Harry didn't like the look of that one bit.

She glanced around, trying to get a location. Beyond the fact that they were in a graveyard, Harry was lost. Then she looked down and read the name inscribed on the plinth she was tied to.

Thomas Riddle

Well that cleared some things up then. Harry knew she wasn't going to love anything involving that guy, and so willed herself to apparate away from the cemetery.

Imagine her surprise when nothing happened.

Harry frowned, flicking her wrist at the end of the ropes, trying to summon something. Nothing. She couldn't even call her wand from where it sat on the ground across the clearing.

At this discovery, she began to panic somewhat. Her magic wasn't responding, and she couldn't try to use her wand because it wasn't currently in her hand. Looking deeper within herself, Harry only found a barren emptiness within her core, like some part of her had been gouged out with a surgical precision. She didn't know what Wormtail could have done to cause this.

The man's muttering drew her attention, and she focused on him, trying not to have a full blown panic attack. It was of the utmost importance that she kept her mind clear for whatever was about to happen. Between the panic and the pain in her skull that was beginning to become an issue, she couldn't quite make out his frantic whisperings as he tended the fire under the cauldron. Then the robed bundle that he'd left on the ground across from her moved. Then, of course, it had to speak.

"Hurry!"

"It's ready, master."

"Now." It was the same cold voice that had ordered her friend's attempted murders, and one that showed up in her nightmares far too often. Wormtail walked over and picked up the bundle. Harry was both insanely curious and horrified to see what was held within the cloth. She got her wish when Wormtail unfurled it, Harry immediately regretted it. Curled on the grass was a raw, oozing creature.

Now, when faced with the impossible, including creatures that should not exist and beings that had no right to, most people might have stayed quiet, shocked fear coursing through their veins and stilling their responses. Or alternatively, they might have screamed in horror. Harry was not some people.

"What the fuck is that?!" Wormtail ignored her, naturally. Harry couldn't draw her eyes away. It was almost childlike, if children had bloody, fleshy skin consisting of what looked like exposed nerves and muscles with hideous scars cutting through its entire body. Then the thing lifted its arms, like it was a kid and wanted to be picked up. Wormtail obliged, wearing possibly the most disgusted look Harry had seen since Ron asked Fleur to the Yule Ball. The rat carried the thing across the clearing to the cauldron, dropping it into the boiling waters. Harry sincerely hoped it would drown.

The pain in her scar was reaching an all-time high, making it hard for her to keep her eyes open. She gritted her teeth against a scream of pain as Wormtail lifted his wand towards the grave and cracked open the ground beneath her.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" A fine trickle of dust rose from the split in the earth, floating over to the cauldron and dropping into it. Her scar gave a particularly painful pulse. "Flesh of the servant… willingly given… you will revive your master!" Harry realised a split second before what the man was going to do. She watched as he lobbed off a hand, tossing it into the boiling potion with a whimper. The water was red now, sparking and crackling as it roiled in the tub. It had to have drowned by now, right?

Then Wormtail was walking to her, the knife stretched out in front of him. "Blood of the enemy-"

"Oh, hell no!" Harry lifted her legs as far off the statue as they would go, kicking out at Wormtail's knees. The man snarled, casting another incarcerous at her. He moved the knife towards the crook of her elbow. "Do you have any idea how unsanitary that is?!" She asked, trying to lean away. It would occur to her later that this was perhaps not the most intimidating of remarks.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!" He cut into her arm, walking back to the cauldron as rivulets of blood ran down her arm. He tapped the knife, drops of blood plinking into the scarlet liquid. Each tap was a thunderbolt to her skull.

The potion turned milky white, and Wormtail dropped to the ground, whimpering as he cradled his stub. Harry paid no mind to the servant though, watching as the suddenly still surface of the potion was broken by movement. Wormtail cried out as his master rose out of the cauldron, naked as (she assumed) the day he was born. He was skeletal, with grey-white skin, his voice the same high pitch as ever as he asked Wormtail to robe him. Covered by the thick black robe sitting on standby, Voldemort looked to Harry, staring into her face from his own body for the first time in more than twelve years.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

"My wand, Wormtail." The rat scurried to hand over a long, pale wand. Voldemort took the instrument almost lovingly. "Hold out your arm."

"Yes, Master. Thank you." Wormtail held out his bleeding stump, and Harry was disgusted to find that she'd curled her lip just as Voldemort had.

"The other arm!" Wormtail started, flinching away before murmuring apologies and presenting his other arm. Harry caught a glimpse of a faded tattoo before Voldemort placed the tip of his wand on Pettigrew's forearm, concealing the rest from view. He withdrew a second later, leaving a jet-black Dark Mark curling up the man's arm.

"They've felt my call. Let's see who is brave enough to return, and who is foolish enough to stay away." Less than a minute later, he got his wish. All around the graveyard, there were cracks announcing the approach of Death Eaters as they apparated into the graveyard. Harry struggled some more, reaching again for her power. She swore to herself that if she got out of here, she'd be spending more time on practicing wandless magic without 'cheating' using the now stolen energy she usually had.

The ring around her was almost complete, with a few telltale spaces peppering the circle of black robes. Voldemort must have noticed as well, as his freshly forged forehead crumpling with a singular grey wrinkle. Still, he made to address the crowd.

"Welcome, my friends," He started, his high voice piercing the silence the others had maintained. "Thirteen years, it's been, and yet you stand before me as if it were only yesterday." He stepped in a slow circle, examining every figure and empty space. I confess I am disappointed. None of you tried to find me." He stepped in a slow circle, examining every figure and empty space. Voldemort came to a stop, pausing in front of one of the taller members in the clearing.

"Not even you, Lucius." He swept his wand sideways, yanking the dark fabric off of the elder Malfoy, exposing his face for Harry to see. She blew a short breath out of her nose. Of course.

"My lord, had I detected any sign of your whereabouts, I would have-"

"There were signs." Voldemort leaned forward, ever so slightly. "Plenty of them, in fact."

"I never renounced our ways, merely presented a mask-"

"You hid away, glad to be rid of your duty."

"My Lord, I-"

"Silence!" Malfoy stilled, his skin paler than Harry had ever seen it. "The fact remains, that none of you tried to find me."

"I returned!" Wormtail put in.

"Out of fear, Wormtail, not loyalty. Still, you have proved yourself to be useful these past months. Perhaps, a reward." Voldemort gestured for the man's bleeding arm.

"Yes! Thank you, Master, thank you." He sobbed over the stump as a pale hand waved his wand over it, creating a hand of molten silver. Pettigrew's mouth stilled in awe. He crept away to the corner of the circle, while Voldemort continued to pace.

"Only two returned to me. Only him, and my faithful servant at Hogwarts." Harry stilled, her mind flashing back to her suspicions about Moody. "They are the ones who will be rewarded, for it is with their help that I am restored to my former glory, and with no one the wiser." At this, Harry couldn't stay silent.

"Oh, Bull! Shit!" Those in the circle who hadn't noticed her before flinched, turning to look in surprise. "You mean Moody and Crouch, yah? Well they weren't exactly subtle, I'll tell you that. I caught wind of their scheming weeks ago."

"Ah, Harriet, I almost forgot you were here. Standing on the bones of my father. I'd introduce you, but word has it you're almost as famous as me these days." Voldemort came closer. "You say you figured out my plans at Hogwarts? Tell me, girl, what is it that you think you know?" She glared at him.

"You say you have a follower at Hogwarts? Let me guess, is it the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Named Moody, a couple of chunks missing from his face, about yea hi- Oops, sorry, I forgot you'd tied my arms down like a coward.," She spat. Voldemort only seemed amused. "I know all about him and Crouch. How'd you do it? Bribery? What made an auror with such an outstanding record work for you?!"

"I'll say, you know more than I thought you would. But you're grasping at straws, Harriet. You've missed the real culprit." Harry shrugged.

"Okay. I'll admit when I'm beat. No one likes a sore loser, Tommy, I'm sure you've had some experience with that." Voldemort shot forward, a sneer on his face.

"You bite your tongue!"

"Not likely," She snorted. If she could off balance him, maybe she could find a way to escape. After she untied the cords. And made it past the Death Eaters. And walked however many miles it was to civilization.

Voldemort slapped her on the cheek, snapping her head sideways. She almost laughed, just to outrage him, before a cold feeling overtook her.

"Ah, you understand now, don't you Harriet?"

"You're not supposed to be able to do that."

"Yes well, it appears as if you are wrong about more than one thing tonight." He looked into her eyes, the red irises bright in his excitement. "Shall I tell a story? Let's tell everyone about what really happened that night, thirteen years ago." Voldemort turned, now addressing everyone in the clearing, but clearly focusing on her.

"The-Girl-Who-Lived. Of course it was through no true skill of your own. You see, when I came into your nursery thirteen years ago, I had forgotten the power of love through which Lily Potter protected you. Poor Quirrell discovered that himself, when he burned himself trying to grab you. Of course the knife probably didn't help either. But the spell itself would have done it. A charm, so powerful, I have been unable to even touch you since then." He came closer still. "But I can touch you now." He reached out a cold finger, pressing it against her scar as the wound gave a huge flare of pain. Harry tried and failed to bolt down on a scream, the noise bursting out of her as he pressed harder. She called up on her magic out of instinct, panic and pain taking hold of her with the response once again useless. She pulled her head as far back as possible before slamming it forwards again, crashing into Voldemort's pale skull. He released her, backing up as she panted. Harry smirked when she saw the blood dripping from the snakelike slits he called a nose.

"Manners, Harriet. It simply isn't polite to rage on like a brutish muggle." Voldemort's expression twisted into a smugger one, despite barely showing on his face. "Or is that your only option now that your power is bound?" Harry kept her expression as still as she could, but apparently not still enough. "It's troubling, isn't it, to be reduced to something else, to have your power ripped away from you."

"How?" She gritted out, now openly glaring.

"Wormtail," Voldemort called. The man took a break from inspecting his new hand to pull a string from within his cloak, revealing a pendant with multiple symbols engraved over it. "You see, I discovered the memory charm you placed on Wormtail here. A powerful one, may I say, good job. Yet I was still able to reveal some of the information you tried so hard to bury, Potter. Though I was at lower strength, I was able to find Wormtail's memories of your frankly astounding pursuits. No child has magic like that." He stepped in front of Harry, reaching again for her face. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "So I took every binding ritual there is and I placed them on one amulet. And I assume it worked, seeing as you're still tied to my Father's headstone. Trapped. Helpless." Harry ripped her chin out of his grasp, breathing hard.

He was right. She didn't have a plan to escape, and even if she did, none of her usual tricks were working. She supposed she was lucky that Voldemort was such an arrogant son of a bitch.

"Shall we play a game, Harriet?" He swept around, addressing his followers. "Let's see who really would have won that night, without the interference of mudblood mothers or unnatural powers." He waved his hand, releasing her ropes. Harry fell hard, landing on her hands and knees. Voldemort tossed her wand at her, the stick landing in the grass in front of her.

"Pick up your wand, Potter." He crowed. "I assume you've been taught to duel? Don't worry, the binding shouldn't affect your natural magic. Only those parts which make you a freak." Harry took her wand, standing quickly, trying to gauge the situation. There were fifteen or so Death Eaters caging her in, Voldemort directly across from her as they rounded the circle, watching each other. "First, we bow."

"I don't bow to men like you." She felt something like cold metal press against her back, forcing her spine to curve in a sick imitation of a dueler's bow.

"That's better. And now, crucio!" Harry couldn't duck in time, the full force of the spell hitting her. She fell, curled in a ball as agony hit her. Moody was right, you didn't need thumbscrews when you had this spell.

And then it was over, and Harry was panting on her back, the wet grass soaking into her shirt. She pulled herself up, grabbing her wand and standing determinedly before he could cast another spell.

"That was but a taste, Harriet."

"You really know how to show a girl a good time," She quipped, shooting off a weak Diffindo. He swatted it away, leaving Harry to cast again in an attempt to get used to the feel of only one magic coursing through her.

"Crucio!" He cast again, his wand high in a dramatic arc, leaving her space to cast another cutting charm as she rolled out of the way. This one actually hit, slicing a line along his left arm. The Death Eaters shifted, some stepping forwards as if to break the circle. "NO! Crabbe, Goyle, get back! She's mine!" He seemed to go into a frenzy after that, snapping off crucios left and right so that the Death Eater's had to break formation so as to not get hit. Harry took this chance, darting out of the circle and into the open yard where there was more cover.

She ducked and rolled, dodging another curse sent by Voldemort. Her magic seemed to be responding better, despite the emptiness she felt inside her. Harry jumped out from behind a gravestone and shouted the first spell that came to her mind.

"Expelliarmus!" Nice going, Harry. Way to get yourself killed.

But surprisingly, her spell collided with Voldemort's, doing a good job of holding off death. The red and green beams met, with an explosion of gold echoing outwards. Beads formed in the middle of the stream of light. Harry felt her wand shake in her hand as the beads slid down the energy towards her wand. She set her jaw, focusing all her energy on sending them back towards Voldemort. His hands became shaky as they neared him, an outraged expression overtaking his snakelike features. The beads entered his wand, and the golden light pulsed again. They were encased in a golden cage, with ribbons of energy streaming down on either side. Harry found her feet lifted off the ground, and she was floating along with Voldemort. Where the beads had entered his wand, there was now a smoky figure exiting it. Harry watched as an unfamiliar female pushed herself out of the wand. She split her focus between keeping the spell up and watching as figures climbed out of his wand. There was the female, then a stocky groundskeeper.

"He killed me, he did. Keep it up girlie. Make him pay." Then came the figure of a young redhead, and Harry's heart almost stopped.

"Hello Harriet." It was her mum. Her mum was standing, well, floating there, looking at her. "Stay strong, dear, your father's coming." Harry refocused on holding the spell, watching as her dad's messy black hair pushed itself out of the wand and his form followed.

"Harry."

"Dad?" Harry's attention was no longer on Voldemort. How could it be? "What?"

"It's the spell, Harry."

"Well then, that explains that doesn't it?" She muttered lightly, shock coursing through her. "I don't-"

"No time, dear. You can't hold this forever."

"Watch me." Her parents smiled. Lily's, a fond little curve of her lips, James', a half-grin half-smirk.

"Listen, when the connection is broken, get to the pendant around that bastard's neck."

"James."

"Well it's true isn't it?" Her mother rolled her eyes fondly, something so out of place in the middle of a graveyard while Harry battled her arch nemesis to the death.

"You need to break the amulet, dear. It will release your magic, and then you can escape. Do you understand?" Harry nodded frantically, and her mum smiled tightly.

"Wait! Why am I like this? Why do I have these powers?" Her parents exchanged a look, something heavy disguised in it. Harry struggled to keep her wand steady against Voldemort as they found their answer.

"There isn't enough time to explain that here, Harriet. But you have the resources to find out. Look through my mother's journal more closely, there are secrets hidden in more secure ways than a lock."

"Now you have to go! We can delay him for a moment, but you have to move fast. Break the connection!"

"I love you." Harry jerked her wand upwards, breaking the golden cage as she fell to the ground. She landed more gracefully than last time, immediately running towards Wormtail.

She cast a glance backwards, watching briefly as the ghosts swarmed Voldemort, his followers standing shocked. Harry sprinted towards Wormtail, his eyes growing wide as he caught her approach. She jumped, tackling him to the ground and grabbing the cord of a necklace that he'd hidden beneath his robes. She cut it with a quick severing charm, throwing it to the ground and casting a bombarda. Harry ducked as the pendant exploded, and with it came a rush of sensation as her other magics returned to her. Harry jumped up, stomping on Wormtail in the process. Voldemort said he'd broken part of the memory charm, and probably intended to finish the job. Harry made a choice. She took the knife from her thigh, shoving it into Wormtail's stomach, turning it sharply.

"That's for my parents," She whispered in his ear as he gave a choked gasp. Harry yanked out the knife, shoving it back into her holster as she heard a yell.

She turned to Voldemort, the ghosts just clearing. He made eye contact with her, anger overtaking his features. Harry's stare remained resolute as she flipped up her middle finger and twisted, apparating away from the scene.

Harry fell onto flat ground, the grass of the Quidditch pitch slightly moist with late night dew. There was an explosion of noise around her, confusing her already-ringing ears.

Quickly, she adjusted, launching back to her feet as she turned around, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She was back where she started, a few yards away from the entrance to the maze. She turned, breathing heavily as she took in the crowds, still packed with people, and the medics stand where Fred, George, and Cedric were gathered with Dumbledore and the other officials, staring at her.

"Harry?"

"Harry!" They broke away from Madam Pomfrey's hold, rushing towards her. She caught a glimpse of a distinctive pairing of red hair and bushy hair pushing their way through the stands as well. Harry was swept up in a hug as the older trio met her, questions flung at her from all sides.

"Are you alright?"

"Where were we?"

"Someone tried to kill us right? Who-"

"Are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"BOYS!" Harry yelled, and they stopped finally, backing up a little to give her space. "I'm a little on edge right now, can you give me a minute?"

"While those are all good questions, I believe Miss Potter is justified in needing a moment of pause, Messrs Weasley and Mr. Diggory." Harry looked up to see Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes. "Though I would appreciate it if those questions were answered in a timely manner, my dear." For once, Harry didn't bother with any ill feelings toward the man, nodding tiredly.

"I'll take her, Albus." Harry turned to see the face of Alastor Moody, and everything came crashing back. She leapt away, her wand coming up in her hand immediately as she cast a stunner, one which was blocked by the old auror right before he sent out a wave of stupefys in the direction of Dumbledore and the others, taking them by surprise and knocking them out. Harry cast again, throwing several cutting curses at him, only to be blocked and thrown backwards by a strong impedimenta. Moody flicked his wand in the direction of the crowd, latching onto one student at random and pulling them towards him. He held his wand to the temple of Theodore Nott, staring Harry down.

"Go ahead, Potter. Make a move and your classmate dies bloody." Harry held her hands up placatingly, her wand still tense but no longer trained on the man. He raised his voice. "If ANY of you casts a single spell, Mr. Nott here will join his mother! Got it?!" The remaining professors interspersed throughout the crowd put down their wands uneasily,

"What's your angle here, Moody?" Harry started out softly. "Why would you, of all people, work for Voldemort? I did the research, but nothing makes sense." Nott gasped in Moody's arms, flinching away from the name as well as the wand that only pressed tighter. The man himself gave a deranged grin.

"He wouldn't, would he? On all accounts, it makes no sense. Of course, you're missing some of the pieces."

"I know you're working with Barty Crouch. Or is it you in there, Mr. Crouch? You two were always plotting up in that office. I know you stole Polyjuice ingredients, you might even be taking it right now."

"You think you're so clever, Potter. You're almost there, too, you just missed the mark a bit." Moody smiled more, the slash of his mouth growing grotesque amongst the battle scars. "I am Barty Crouch. Junior." Harry's mouth opened slightly, her eyebrows drawing together. Crouch took that opening.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry dropped, her elbows hitting the ground hard. She plank-rolled, her wand coming up to aim at him, only to pause. "Ah, ah, ah! I've still got Mr. Nott here. Unless, of course, there's still that animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It was there when I was in school, but I didn't think it was enough for you to murder one of your peers, Potter."

"Nope, no animosity over here," Harry muttered, standing again. She thought quickly, trying to find a solution to the current problem. She held up her wand showing Crouch her surrender. "Look, I'm playing nice here. Go ahead and deliver your villain monologue, promise I won't interrupt."

"You think I'm that stupid, Potter?"

"Well there must be a reason you haven't killed me yet."

"That's true," he hedged.

"So?"

"Is it done?"

"Oh, don't be coy, Crouch. Ask the bloody question, for everyone to hear. It's too late for whatever surprise party you and your friends wanted to throw."

"Is he returned?" Harry could see the confusion on Nott's face, and those closest to them. She could also vaguely make out the teachers edging their way closer, trying not to disturb Crouch. So distraction, then.

"You mean Voldemort?"

"Don't say his name!"

"Sorry, sorry, my bad. Yes, Moldyshorts has indeed woken from his siesta. I don't know if the vacation did him any favors, though, he's a bit pale. I think there's something stressing him."

"You dare!?"

"Honestly, quit it with the whole he dares, she dares stuff. It's like dialogue from an eighty's spy movie."

"The Dark Lord has returned?"

"Yes. He's back." There were gasps all around her, but she paid no attention to them as Flitwick was just behind Crouch, his wand drawn and moving.

"Ah!" Crouch shouted, turning quickly as he caught her glance. The charms teacher stopped his charm, hurriedly snapping off a shield charm to deflect the curse Crouch sent at him. "My old head of house. Is this how you treat your students nowadays, Filius?" The Death Eater clucked his tongue. "Well I said that he'd die if anyone made a move, so-"

"Wait! What do you have to gain by killing him? You're not getting out of here anyways!"

"Who said I was looking to escape?" Moody's borrowed face looked even madder now, both eyes wide and bright with insanity. "My job is done. The only thing I could do now to help my master is kill you." His head tilted to the side as if that idea had only just occurred to him. "But that's not without collateral damage."

Crouch raised his wand to Nott's head again, and Harry reacted out of instinct, snapping her hand forwards as the tip of his wand glowed green. Nott came flying out of Moody's grasp just as he uttered the spell, his body crashing into Harry and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Flitwick took his chance from there, engaging Crouch in a duel as the stadium watched, the other teachers too worried about distracting Flitwick to interfere.

Say what you would about Crouch's mental state, he was a fantastic duelist. Harry knew Flitwick was a circuit champion when he was younger, but he still had trouble gaining the upper hand. Harry hurriedly cast shield charms with the other conscious teachers, trying to protect those trapped in the stands. The spells cast between the two were too fast to categorize, and rarely hit their marks, instead flying out towards the student body.

The fight moved towards the maze, with Crouch backing Flitwick towards the hedges. Harry was sure the charms professor was gaining on him, with Crouch flagging slightly, until he got in a lucky shot. Flitwick stepped backwards into a small divot in the dirt, part of the process of changing the Quidditch Pitch's terrain. It sent him stumbling backwards, missing the shielding response to a blasting curse. It clipped him on the shoulder, sending him flying into the bushes.

Harry stepped in quickly, taking the opportunity of the distraction to send an incarcerous at Crouch. He ducked the spell, turning on his heel to fight her now. Harry shot off three stunners, using her opposite hand to conjure and pull a rope under his feet, sending him crashing to the ground when he ducked the red beams. Crouch rolled, coming up and casting an Avada that she had to dodge. She glared at him as he sent her a lopsided smirk, pushing outwards in her anger and sending him flying into the bushes, the enchanted hedges growing around him and holding him in place like they were spelled to do for the champions. His wand dropped as a particularly nasty vine cinched around his wrist. Harry breathed out a sigh of relief as he growled uselessly, flopping onto the ground as the remaining staff and some of the older students cancelled their shields and ran to wake Dumbledore and the others. Harry watched as Madam Pomfrey ran to Flitwick, conjuring a stretcher and taking him into the castle to heal the burns covering his right side. She had to stand herself when Dumbledore patted her shoulder, a perfectly empathetic look painted on his face. He conjured actual ropes to bind Crouch, bringing him along as they left for the castle, following the mob of excited students who had been evacuated in the previous minutes.

Ten minutes and a cup of tea later, Harry was sitting in front of a waking Crouch. The Polyjuice was wearing off now, his features shrinking and stretching in various places. A shock of straw-like hair replaced Moody's limp tresses, and the change was complete.

"Barty Crouch Junior." The man glared sullenly. "Severus, I believe we've found who's been stealing from your stores.

"Indeed."

"I believe some Veritaserum is in order, Severus. Minerva, go to the kitchens please, and fetch a House-Elf named Winky." After that, it was just a matter of listening to the man's story. Harry found her opinion of Barty Crouch Senior more of less unchanged, even previously thinking he was a Death Eater. It did make her question the infallibility of the map, however, if it couldn't tell the difference between people with the same names.

Harry, too, was made to tell her story and describe what happened in the graveyard. With slight alterations, of course. Dumbledore looked much older in light of her news. Crouch just looked ecstatic.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," He'd said, brandishing his forearm as much as he could with it being tied to the chair. Dumbledore slid up his sleeve to reveal an inky Dark Mark, gesturing for Harry to copy the motion. She showed the room the blood that had dried on her arm, causing Dumbledore's grave expression to tighten further.

"Stay here, Severus, I need to owl the minister. Azkaban is missing an inmate." The headmaster left the room without a glance, leaving Harry sitting across from an incarcerated Crouch, Snape standing in the doorway.

Crouch started cackling, his bout of amusement brought on from seemingly nothing.

"What's so funny?" She edged out.

"Nothing you can do now, Potter. He's back, and he'll kill you and all your friends. I'll be there, at his side, watching as he tortures the mudbloods and blood traitors, like it used to be." Crouch leaned in, as if to tell a secret. "My personal best? Three hours before they were completely gone. That was to be expected though, the Longbottoms were a strong bunch of blood traitors. It's too bad the Dark Lord killed your parents before we could have a crack at them. I bet they were screamers." Harry snapped, grabbing the bloody knife strapped to her leg, launching forwards to hold it to his throat.

"Shut your mouth, Crouch." Her words were cold and deadly. She pressed the knife in slightly."I'm tempted to forget the Dementors and see how long you last once your throat's been cut!"

"Miss Potter." Harry froze, turning her head slightly to see Snape hovering over her, concern and a hint of rage etched into his features. Harry would've commented on his emotiveness, except for the fact that she currently had a dagger to a man's throat.

"Sorry, Sir." She pulled the knife back a little reluctantly.

"Care to explain why you are carrying a knife and why it is covered in blood?" She looked down, finding that the silver was indeed tarnished by the coppery rust of Wormtail's blood.

"I can't always rely on magic to protect myself."

"And the owner of the blood?"

"Oh, just a rat, professor. I forgot to clean it." His stare made her think he knew just who she was referring to. Still, he nodded tersely, going back to his position as guard. Crouch began to hum a tune, leaving Harry to sit white-knuckled in her chair as she swept her wand over the knife, siphoning off blood. Soon enough, Dumbledore was back, and busy helping a prosthetic-less Moody out of a large trunk.

After that, she was dismissed to the Hospital Wing. Harry trudged along the corridors, ignoring the curious portraits, until she entered the room and collapsed on a bed. She only got maybe twenty minutes of rest before the Weasley clan burst through the doors accompanied by the Diggory's, Hermione, and a large black dog.

"Harry!"

"What happened?"

"Harry, dear, are you alright?" She nodded along, submitting herself to their worried hugs. Harry waited until everyone calmed down to explain.

"You-Know-Who? Preposterous," Amos Diggory exclaimed, waving off Harry's story.

"Amos."

"Dad! You really don't believe her?!"

"It's poppycock, Cedric! You-Know-Who returned? No one will believe it."

"It's true, Mr. Diggory."

"Excuse me if I don't believe the words of an attention-seeking brat."

"Dad!"

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Diggory." He pressed his lips together. "Well, let me give you an exclusive. I didn't enter the tournament by myself, Barty Crouch Junior entered me so that at the end of the year during the third task, he could ship me off to a graveyard who knows where so that the very-alive animagus Peter Pettigrew could use my blood in a ritual meant to bring Voldemort back. This ritual was preceded by Voldemort's temporary body ordering Pettigrew to kill the spares, those being Fred and George, and, oh yah, your son! Hermione here says I have a saving-people-thing, so naturally I sent them back to safety using the portkey Junior designed. This left me trapped there. With Voldemort. So when I say he's back, I'd appreciate it if you'd believe me. We'll call it even, what with the life-debt your family owes me."

Diggory was speechless. In fact, the whole room was silent. That is, until Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and threw herself on Harry, crushing her in a hug that might finish the job Voldemort constantly failed at.

It was pretty chaotic from then on. Matters were only made worse when Dumbledore appeared and asked Sirius to shift back.

"So you're saying that Sirius Black is innocent? And Voldemort's back? And Barty Crouch is dead, killed by his son who is also supposed to be dead?"

"Yep."

"It takes a little bit to get used to knowing her," Cedric reassured his father. "Within my first couple interactions with her, I'd become a worshiper of a pagan god with almost no idea how it happened."

Eventually the hospital wing died down, with only one or two more outbursts, including Hermione rather violently catching a bug on the windowsill. Harry caught her triumphant look, and vowed to speak with her about it later. When Madam Pomfrey provided her with a glass of Dreamless Sleep Potion, she downed it, collapsing in the hospital bed as everyone else muttered quietly around her. She would need the rest while she could still get it. A war was coming.

.

.

The next couple weeks were a blur. Exams had been cancelled along with the House Cup, so mostly everyone just gossiped about her. A good portion of the student body was split between stalking her and openly insulting her in the halls, with the rest somewhat dubious about the information she'd released. There were a few people who believed her though, coming up to her and giving her a supportive smile, or a pat on the shoulder.

Earlier in the week, her mood had been somewhat brightened by Hermione revealing her capture of Rita Skeeter. She somewhat jokingly suggested using Raid, but Hermione vetoed her. She would have to suffice with occasionally waving the bottle in front of Rita's new home, watching as the animagus skittered in fright.

Mostly, though, she felt tired. With Voldemort currently residing on her plane of existence, Harry's troubles had been multiplied exponentially. And the reaction of the Hogwarts students didn't bode well for how the rest of the Wizarding World was going to take the news. She spent a lot of her time after the third task wandering the grounds, planning her next moves or just staring into the distance. Today wasn't any different.

She was standing at the edge of the lake, staring at the ripples in the water as the sun set. Harry let out another deep breath and the giant squid turned over in the water. She became aware of a presence approaching from her left, but kept her eyes on the water.

"Potter." She lifted her eyes, catching the gaze of Malfoy. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he shifted on his feet, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement. She nodded at him, turning back to her watch. He stepped forward, standing next to her now and joining her in staring at the water. There was silence for a long time, and she sighed.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She asked tiredly. His eyebrows drew together, apparently thinking hard on the question.

"My father owled me yesterday."

"Hmm."

"He told me to keep my nose clean, and to avoid you. They're working on ways to discredit you, not that the Daily Prophet isn't already trying its best."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm in." He responded immediately, and Harry flicked her eyes up to see him staring at her, somewhat nervous.

"What?"

"You told me to choose. Well, I've made my choice. I'm in." She watched him, and his expression seemed to take on a faraway look. "All these years, I've been a bully, and thought myself better than everyone, and that everyone else was in the wrong. Then we had a sort of acquaintanceship in third year, and I figured you couldn't be entirely horrible. Then the Weasleys and Diggory came back that night looking dirty, and bloody, and frightened, and I knew something was wrong. Then you came back, and you were covered in blood, and mud, and looking like you'd just gone through war, but you weren't afraid. You were determined, and you marched up to Moody, or Crouch, and you fought him right then and there. And he turned, and he tried to kill you. He tried to kill Theo, and for no reason other than he was there and he could be useful." He paused, swallowing. "And my father owled me and told me to keep quiet." His voice turned bitter in that moment, and he closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself.

"I don't want to be a part of that team. I don't want to be on the side that kills kids and doesn't care about the value of life, and ignores insanity! I want to be on the side that fights back against people like that. I want to be on the side that protects everyone, even if they've been terrible to you for years, or might be one of the bad guys." He gave a self deprecating smile. "So, I'm in. If you'll have me."

"How can I be sure that you aren't just trying to spy on us, and give that information back to daddy dearest?" She didn't speak with an accusatory tone, but a cool and logical one, which might have hurt worse. He swallowed, clenching his jaw.

"You can't be. But I'm not going to report back to someone who tried to ruin a girl's life in second year, and is trying to kill another one now."

"So you know about that."

"People talk. Especially people who think they can't get caught." She tilted her head back appraisingly.

"Alright Malfoy. Welcome to the club." She shook his hand, feeling an odd sense of resolution from first year. "You're in for a rough time, you know."

"I know. But I probably deserve it." She shrugged at that, turning back to the water.

"Come to my compartment tomorrow. I don't care what excuses you have to make to your friends, but we need to have a meeting."

"I was thinking we could keep our allegiance a secret." She snorted.

"Why? Are you already ashamed of us?"

"No, I just think I'll be of more value when I'm still part of the inner circle of Slytherins."

"You're looking to be a spy?"

"It worked so well in third year. Why not?"

"You're playing a dangerous game, Malfoy."

"Draco." She glanced at him.

"Okay, Draco. You can play your spy games, just make an excuse tomorrow to get away from them and I'll make sure nobody can see you in our compartment."

"Alright." They were quiet for a few minutes, watching the sun sinking through the water.

"This is going to be fun."

"This is going to be hell."

"Scared?" She turned to him. He smirked.

"You wish."

.

.

Voldemort screamed in rage as the Potter girl escaped. He snarled at the Death Eaters who recoiled when he turned, his eyes catching on a figure curled on the ground, whimpering. It was Wormtail, and the corner of his mouth pulling into a disgusted sneer at the man's cries.

"Wormtail." The man didn't move, his arms curled around his middle. "Wormtail!" Voldemort waved his wand, forcing the man to look up. It was then that he saw the blood covering the rats hands. He stopped short, surprised that Potter could have been so ruthless.

Voldemort stepped forwards, examining the wound. There wasn't much he could do about it now, and he doubted St. Mungos wouldn't ask questions after treating a dead man. It was too bad, Wormtail wasn't entirely useless. Still, there were things he needed from the man that were too important to leave to death.

He bent down, grabbing Pettigrew's chin and forcing him to look into his eyes, ignoring the increased whimpering. Voldemort pushed past the memory block, doing irrevocable damage to the man's psyche. It was no matter, he wouldn't live long enough for it to be a problem.

Images flew past the Dark Lord's sight, most filled with a red-head who must have been a Weasley, an obnoxiously bushy-haired girl, and...ah. Her. The three of them were in a red and gold dorm room, and appeared to be having a most interesting conversation. He pulled out of Wormtail's mind, turning away as the man's body hit the ground, lifeless. It didn't matter, as he was flushed with a sense of triumph at his new discovery. Monsters existed.

Of course, he'd known that since he was a boy, since he had first entered the magical world. He'd aligned with them, even, in the last war. But this was something different. These were the monsters of his childhood, the ones that haunted the ghost stories told by the other, lesser children. They were uncontrolled, vengeful, and chaotic. And they would prove useful to his cause.

Yes, he would have to look into this business of 'hunters' and the demons they so feared.

.

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Child of Dreams: Glad to know you're enthusiastic.

Kangee: Thanks for letting me know, I think I updated it to where it's correct. The last chapter was pretty messy because I was exhausted the majority of the time I was writing it.

Meep: Yes, it was the empty, as to why you'll find out at some point. I didn't kill off Fred or George, but I was considering murdering or paralyzing Cedric. The story wrote itself another way, though, so I guess they're safe for a while more. As for the magical ancestry, I haven't decided how I'm going to use that to advance their characters yet. I'm sure I'll figure it out. I'm not planning on having Sam be a wizard, I'm already working with too many variables. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think Rita mentioned anything about Parvati in the books, so I figured she probably wouldn't use George either. Plus I think she just really dislikes Hermione. With Krum and Harry's conversation, I think it was a bit of both, which is understandable considering the amount of time they spend together. We'll find out about Dean's thoughts soon enough. The time gap wasn't that long, I think after the resurrection, the dark energies were sort of released because they'd been funneled into the ritual. You're right, I didn't specify whether or not he knows. And finally, I'm glad you enjoy the story. You're comments are always really interesting.

PuddlePirATEpro: I'm gonna be honest, I'm not entirely sure what you're referring to. If it's the Dementor on the train, I'll just say that she was probably not expecting a demon on the Hogwarts train, and her guard was down slightly around her friends.

Guest: In the beginning of this story I did write Harry as very OP and having a lot of luck and power. At this moment I'm not going to go back and shift some stuff so that it's more realistic, as I both think it would be untrue to the original story, and that I really don't have time right now. It's probable that some time in the future I might rewrite parts of this to make it more realistic and a smoother story, but right now I'm just letting it be.