Chapter 18: Flesh, Blood & Bone
Buffy felt her feet slam into the ground as she let go of the Triwizard Cup.
"Where are we?" Cedric asked as he stood up next to Buffy.
They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles—perhaps hundreds of miles—for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left.
Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Buffy. "Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.
"No," Buffy said. "Originally I was given information as I was to be security for yours and the rest of the champion's protection. Then I competed in Harry's place in the first task and from then on out I was left out of the loop. Which also means I have no idea if this is part of the task or not."
"Wands out, d'you reckon?" Cedric suggested as Buffy nodded.
They pulled out their wands.
Buffy looked around her, her Slayer senses were screaming at her, telling her they were being watched. "On your guard and stay behind me. Someone's coming." She reached down and slipped out the dagger again from her garter. She held her wand in one hand and the dagger in the other.
They watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. It was light enough that Buffy could see the figure was a man wearing a hooded cloak and that he was carrying something in his arms.
The man stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Buffy and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.
Buffy heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare."
A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"
Buffy moved suddenly and pushed Cedric out of the way of the incoming curse. Buffy waved her wand at the cup. "Accio cup!"
The cup came hurdling toward her and she picked up Cedric and pushed him into the cup, he briefly glanced at her and he knew what she wanted. He gripped the cup as it came at him and he and the cup disappeared.
Buffy knew she no longer had a way home. But she had done her duty as a Slayer and saved Cedric from being killed.
The short man in the cloak put down his bundle, lit his wand, and cast a spell. With the spell he was dragging Buffy toward the marble headstone. Buffy saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before she was forced around and slammed against it.
TOM RIDDLE
The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Buffy as she tried to place the name. Then she remembered it, Harry had told her that Voldemort's birth name was Tom Riddle. That meant this headstone belonged to Voldemort's father.
"Make sure they are extra tight," the cold voice said. "She is a Slayer after all."
The cloaked man nodded as Buffy felt the cords tighten to the point that she was sure they would strangle her to death. The man hit her, hit her with a hand that had a finger missing.
Buffy tried to remember where she had heard about a man missing a finger. Then she realized it was something Harry told her when he was explaining about Sirius. This was Wormtail, the man who had faked his own death and had gotten Sirius imprisoned for his crimes.
Once he sure that Buffy was bound so tightly to the headstone that she couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into her mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Buffy and hurried away. The cords were so tight around her she couldn't turn to see where Wormtail had gone. She could though hear noises at her feet. She looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where she was tied.
She remembered the dream Dawn and Harry had and mentioning they had seen a snake.
Wormtail came back within Buffy's range of vision, and she saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water.
The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness.
The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire.
Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated.
"Hurry!" the cold voice said.
"It is ready, Master," said Wormtail.
"Now…" said the cold voice.
Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them. Something that was ugly, slimy, and blind. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Buffy had never seen anything less like a child.
The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back. Then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Buffy heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.
Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The surface of the grave at Buffy's feet cracked. She wondered if a vampire was about to rise. Instead though fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.
And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs. "Flesh—of the servant—w-willingly given—you will—revive—your master."
He stretched his right hand out in front of him—the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.
Buffy watched as Wormtail chopped off his own hand and it fell into the cauldron.
Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony as he moved in front of Buffy. "B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe."
Buffy could do nothing to prevent it, she was tied too tightly… Trying to use every ounce of strength the Slayer gave her proved it was futile to get out of the ropes, they were too tight. Buffy watched as Wormtail sliced into her right arm drawing blood.
Wormtail still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Buffy's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it. He staggered back to the cauldron with Buffy's blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.
The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness.
Then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron, obliterating everything in front of Buffy, so that she couldn't see Wormtail.
But then, through the mist in front of Buffy, she saw the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.
"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.
The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Buffy… and Buffy stared back into the face that she knew from Harry's description was that of Lord Voldemort…
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Back at Hogwarts Cedric Diggory came running out of the maze with the Triwizard Cup. "Professor Dumbledore," he called out as Dumbledore hurried toward him. "It's a portkey. Buffy, she saved me from the killing curse. Sent me back alone."
Dumbledore took the cup from Cedric and could tell that the portkey had only been good for two trips, one there and one back. Its magic was depleted. He turned and looked toward the stands searching for the only person that might be able to find Buffy quickly. "Dawn Potter!" he called out.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Voldemort was examining his body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cat's, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant.
Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Buffy was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Buffy, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.
Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them. "My Lord…" he choked, "my Lord… you promised… you did promise…"
"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.
"Oh Master… thank you, Master…"
He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.
"The other arm, Wormtail."
"Master, please… please…"
Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and Buffy saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo—a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth—the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.
"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it… and now, we shall see… now we shall know…"
He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.
Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark, and Buffy saw that it had turned jet black.
A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.
"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered; his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
He began to pace up and down before Buffy and Wormtail, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked at Buffy again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.
"You stand, Elizabeth Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool… very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend your brother as a child… and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death…"
Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked.
"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was… He didn't like magic, my father… He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage… but I vowed to find him… I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name… Tom Riddle…"
Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave.
"Listen to me, reliving family history…" he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental… But look, Elizabeth! My true family returns…"
The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward… slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.
"Master… Master…" he murmured.
The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle's grave, Buffy, Voldemort, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail.
Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people.
Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years… thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday… We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"
He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.
"I smell guilt," he said. "There is a stench of guilt upon the air."
A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare, to step back from him.
"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact— such prompt appearances! —and I ask myself… why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"
No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm.
"And I answer myself," whispered Voldemort, "they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment… And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living? And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort… perhaps they now pay allegiance to another… perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"
"It is a disappointment to me… I confess myself disappointed…"
One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet. "Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"
Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand. "Crucio!"
The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked.
Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.
"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years… I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"
He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob.
"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail, "please, Master… please…"
"Yet you helped return me to my body," said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me… and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…"
Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist.
Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.
"My Lord," he whispered. "Master… it is beautiful… thank you… thank you…"
He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.
"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," said Voldemort.
"No, my Lord… never, my Lord…"
Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. Voldemort now approached the man on Wormtail's right.
"Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius… Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay… but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"
"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me—"
"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" said Voldemort lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius… You have disappointed me… I expect more faithful service in the future."
"Of course, my Lord, of course… You are merciful, thank you…"
Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space—large enough for two people—that separated Malfoy and the next man.
"The Lestranges should stand here," said Voldemort quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me… When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us… they are our natural allies… we will recall the banished giants… I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear…"
He walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them.
"Macnair… destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide…"
"Thank you, Master… thank you," murmured Macnair.
"And here"—Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures— "we have Crabbe… you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"
They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.
"Yes, Master…"
"We will, Master…"
"The same goes for you, Nott," said Voldemort quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyle's shadow.
"My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful—"
"That will do," said Voldemort.
He had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there.
"And here we have six missing Death Eaters… three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return… he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever… he will be killed, of course… and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service."
The Death Eaters stirred, and Buffy saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks.
"He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived here tonight… Yes," said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Buffy's direction. "Elizabeth Potter chose to take her brother's place for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call her my guest of honor."
There was a silence. Then the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke from under the mask. "Master, we crave to know… we beg you to tell us… how you have achieved this… this miracle… how you managed to return to us…"
"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius," said Voldemort. "And it begins with my Elizabeth's dear brother and ends with her."
He walked lazily over to stand next to Buffy, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. He told his Death Eaters how Harry had caused his downfall. What he had done in the intervening years, how he had sought the Sorcerer's Stone during Harry's first year at Hogwarts and had been foiled in that endeavor. He told them how Wormtail had returned to his service and finally how Buffy had been the instrument of his return. And why he now believed he could touch Harry.
Buffy realized that the protection had resided in the blood. She was sure even though Lily had not died for her or Dawn that since they too shared the same blood that Harry did as they too were Lily's children that they would have been protected from Voldemort as well. After all, as Spike had said, 'Cause it's always gotta be blood'.
Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Buffy. He raised his wand. "Crucio!"
It was pain beyond anything Buffy had ever experienced; her very bones were on fire; she had a splitting headache and her eyes were rolling madly in her head. And then it was gone. She was hanging limply in the ropes binding her to the headstone of Voldemort's father. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter.
"You see, this girl is supposed to be the Slayer, stronger than her brother who was supposed to have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. That neither of them is stronger than I, that Harry Potter escaped me by lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing Elizabeth Potter, here and now. I will give her a chance. She will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini," he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching.
"Now untie her, Wormtail, and give her back her wand."
Wormtail approached Buffy, he raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Buffy, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Buffy to the gravestone.
There was a split second, perhaps, when Buffy might have considered running for it, but where would she have gone. Wormtail thrust roughly into Buffy's hand without looking at her, her wand.
"You have been taught how to duel, Elizabeth Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.
"Not really," Buffy said.
"We bow to each other, Elizabeth," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Buffy. "Come, the niceties must be observed… Dumbledore would like you to show manners… Bow to death, Elizabeth…"
Buffy did not bow. "You know how many have wanted me to do that? I never bowed to them, I won't to you. Let's just get this over with."
"I said, bow," Voldemort said, raising his wand—and Buffy felt her spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending her ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed. "Very good." He raised the wand and the pressure bearing down upon Buffy lifted too. "And now you face me … straight-backed and proud, the way your father died… And now—we duel."
Voldemort raised his wand, and before Buffy could do anything to defend herself, before she could even move, she had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that she no longer knew where she was… White-hot knives were piercing every inch of her skin, she was screaming more loudly than she'd ever screamed in his life—
And then it stopped. Buffy rolled over and scrambled to her feet. "A little break," said Voldemort, "a little pause… That hurt, didn't it, Elizabeth? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"
Buffy didn't answer.
"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," said Voldemort softly. "Answer me! Imperio!"
'Do not answer, daughter' said a stronger voice, in the back of Buffy's head. A voice she had come to believe was that of the Slayer.
"I won't," said Buffy.
"You won't?" said Voldemort quietly. "You won't say no? Elizabeth, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die… Perhaps another little dose of pain?"
Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Buffy was ready; with the reflexes born from the Slayer, she flung herself sideways onto the ground; she rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father, and she heard it crack as the curse missed her.
"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Elizabeth," said Voldemort. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Elizabeth? Come out, Elizabeth… come out and play, then… it will be quick… it might even be painless… I would not know… I have never died…"
Buffy straightened at the mention of dying. She gripped her wand tightly in her hand as she stepped out from behind the headstone, facing Voldemort. "You want to know what. I'm done with dying. Done it one too many times already," she said as she raised her wand.
Voldemort raised his wand and that's when Buffy noticed it, the green shimmering glow of a portal created by the Key was forming in front of her.
"What?" Voldemort said shocked.
Buffy smiled. "The Key," she said as she ran full tilt, adding every bit of Slayer speed into the run.
Voldemort raised his wand and aimed it at Buffy, "Avada Kedavra."
She dove into the portal as the curse flew past where she had been moments before.