While everyone wonders what's happening in Hogwarts, Harry is going through hell.
HARRY XXXIV
Avada Kedavra!
The words seemed to come out directly from a nightmare. The pain in his scar tore Harry, while he felt something heavy fall on him. The weight of this thing tackled him to the ground, while the tearing sensation kept spreading and pulsing from his forehead to the rest of his body, causing him to jerk uncontrollably under the heavy weight.
Then the weight was lifted, but the pain in his scar remained. Harry vomited. Then a rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away. The pain kept Harry somewhat conscious and willing to fight, so he tried to escape the grasp, only to be punched very hard in the face. He saw stars, and the world around turned and went pitch dark for a time.
When Harry somehow regained some more acute consciousness, he was tightly attached to something made of rock or marble. Moody was standing in front of him, his wand illuminating his face.
"Professor… What…?"
But before Harry could say or think anything else, his professor pointed his wand at him, and some black tissue filled his mouth, muffling anything Harry might try or want to say.
Harry was panicking. He didn't understand what was going on. What was Moody doing here? Why were they both here? Why did the Triwizard Cup bring him and Cedric there? Where was Cedric? Harry couldn't see him. But deep inside, he knew what happened to Cedric. Only, he couldn't bring himself to accept it. It couldn't be. And even more unbelievable was that it was Moody who did this.
Moody, the former Auror, who was part of the Order of the Phoenix like his parents, who trained his mother, a man who was respected by almost everyone Harry knew, even by Dumbledore himself. And now this man was standing in front of him, looking at him in a gaze that was a mix of anger, disgust and delight.
"Well, well, well, Potter. Here we are. Finally." By his voice, he was relishing this moment. "After all this time, all this waiting, all these efforts, finally here we are, in the last miles before the finishing line."
He advanced and stood up only a few feet away from Harry now, towering and looking down upon him with a strange expression that Harry never witnessed on Moody's face. It almost looked as if he was… exalting.
"It has been strange, Potter. All this year has been strange. When I arrived at Hogwarts, I didn't know what to think about you. I was wondering who was the boy who defeated the Dark Lord. How special was he? What allowed him to vanquish the most powerful wizard of all time? And then we met."
He shivered, then continued. "First, I didn't see anything in you. You were only a student, a boy of fourteen like all the others. A mediocre young wizard with no particular talent. When I put your name into the Goblet of Fire, I was certain that you couldn't win the Triwizard Tournament without my help."
Harry's eyes widened in shock. Him? It was Moody who put his name into the Goblet of Fire? Impossible!
"I did everything I could to make sure you would win. I convinced Hagrid to show you the dragons before the first task. I told you how to defeat your dragon. I told this dumb Cedric to open his egg underwater because I knew he would want to repay you for telling him about the dragons. Decent people are so easy to manipulate. But then you couldn't find a way to breathe under water, when I gave you a way early in November to do so. But you didn't even ask this idiot of Longbottom about the book on water plants I gave him back then. So I made sure the house-elf Dobby would hear me mentioning the possibility that you would take Gillyweed for the second task the day before it took place, and the elf went straight to Snape's office to steal it. And then I encouraged you to prepare for the third task, and I made sure you would have an easy path in front of you in the maze. I threw an Imperius Curse at Krum, and made him stun Fleur Delacour, then assault Diggory."
He took a deep breath.
"I am the reason you arrived to the Cup first, Potter. I am the reason you participated to this Tournament. But you didn't make things easy for me. Or for you." He had a mocking smile. "For a very long time, I wondered… How such a boy, filled with ideas such as nobleness, fairness… Someone who couldn't simply grab an opportunity when it was presented to him… How could such a child defeat the most powerful wizard of all time, and when he was a baby on top of that! You told Diggory about the dragons. You stayed at the bottom of this lake instead of returning immediately to the surface… for someone you didn't even know. You helped Diggory again in that maze when you saved him from Krum. Everything I did, it was as if you tried to ruin it. As if you didn't actually want to win!"
Moody actually looked mad. Harry knew that some people called him crazy, but he really looked like he was, and not the kind of crazy that people were thinking about him usually. And then, all of a sudden, he calmed down.
"However, I must admit…" He now spoke barely in a whisper. Harry struggled to hear him. "I'm kind of proud of you, Potter." He spat on the ground. "I know. This is disgusting. That I would be proud of Harry Potter?! But I am. I taught you for a whole year. I got to see who you were. And first, I wasn't impressed at all. I simply couldn't get how you managed to defeat my master. But then I saw something. Something many people probably don't see under your scar and your fame. A talent. Power. A potential like we only meet in very few wizards. You resisted an Unforgivable Curse. You were the best student in my class. In all my classes, in fact. You could produce a Patronus. You have a will like I rarely saw in my life. This is what got you through the Triwizard Tournament despite not wanting to participate to it. This is what allowed you to win this Tournament. Despite all the efforts you did to hinder yourself, you won. There's even a part of myself that can't stop to think that… you could have won the Tournament without my help." He then burst into a devilish laughter. "How stupid it is. I can't help to feel it, even though I know you would never have made it so far without me. And still… I feel proud of you… When you will face my master, I know he will kill you. But I also hope you will put up a good fight. This will be further proof of his greatness, and proof that I taught you well. At least, this way, maybe I will feel proud to have offered a worthy opponent to my master."
He turned his head at this moment.
"And here he comes."
The last words were murmured by Moody. Harry then heard footsteps approaching. An old man appeared from the darkness, carrying a bundle of robes in his arms. And again Harry felt an unsufferable pain searing through his head. The old man stopped in front of Moody, who had fallen to his knees, prostrating himself in front of the old man. Through the pain, Harry's vision was blurred, so he couldn't make the details of the man's face.
"He is here, my Lord," Moody said.
"I know. Is everything ready?" a high, cold voice asked, coming from where the old man stood, although Harry was sure it didn't come from the man but from the bundle of robes he was carrying. A large snake appeared from behind him.
"Almost, my Lord. I must first wait for the effects of the potion to vanish."
"Then prepare the rest in the meantime. Hurry!"
"Yes, my Lord."
Moody stood up in a hurry, like the cold voice asked, and moved his wand frantically. A large cauldron made of stone levitated in the air and was positioned in front of Harry. Moody then made many gestures at the cauldron. It was big enough for someone to sit inside. The magic Moody used to prepare the mixture seemed to be taxing on him. He was breathing heavily, then groaning.
"Almost… my Lord…" he screamed.
And then Moody was contorting on the ground, rolling and screaming with all the power of his lungs. Harry still didn't understand what was going on. Or perhaps he didn't want to believe what was going on. Moody contorted on the grass and earth for quite some time. His wooden leg fell. Then something shining fell from his face, and Harry saw the blue eye moving to the ground, separated from the face of its owner.
When Moody stood up again, he had two legs. His back was turned to Harry. He pointed his wand to the cauldron, and the water was now sparkling.
"Hurry!" the cold voice said.
Moody hurried to the old man, grabbed the robes he was carrying, and hurried back to the cauldron where he dropped whatever or whoever it was the robes where hiding in the cauldron. And it was there that Harry saw his face in the moonlight.
He saw this face, about a month ago. But it was in a dream. The thing he dropped in the cauldron touched the bottom of it as Harry heard the sound of a collision. Then, the man who Harry thought was Moody but now bore the face of Bartemius Crouch Junior, exactly the same face that Harry saw when he saw him discussing with Voldemort in his dream, raised his wand. At the same time, the moonlight showed him the old man standing not far away. He hadn't moved at all since he arrived. He was wearing the same expressionless face that Harry saw in his dream.
"Bone of the father," declared Barty Crouch Junior, his wand raised, with a triumphant tone. "Unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The ground under Harry shook. Looking down, Harry saw it cracking. Dust came out of those cracks and flew towards the cauldron, where they landed in the substance. The potion turned blue. The sparks increased.
"Flesh of the servant." Barty Crouch had put back his wand into his robes and produced a silvery knife instead. He brought his hand over the cauldron and placed the knife over it. "Willingly, given, you will revive your master!"
Harry closed his eyes at the last moment when he understood what Crouch was about to do. He heard the scream he produced as something heavy dropped into the cauldron. Harry barely opened his eyes and saw that Crouch's right hand was missing. The potion had turned red. He wanted to retch. Crouch then looked at him, his expression crazier than ever.
"Blood of the enemy." He approached Harry, the silvery dagger raised, still covered with his blood, his right arm against his belly. "Forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."
Harry struggled to get away, to free himself. He was reliving last year's events, when Peter Pettigrew stunned him and took his blood. This time, with a very similar dagger, Barty Couch Junior cut exactly in the very same arm, deeply, then produced a vial and collected the blood falling from Harry's wound. He then headed back to the cauldron. Harry prayed that whatever that thing alive he dropped earlier into it, that thing had drowned by now. He poured Harry's blood into the potion, and it turned white.
Sparks flew everywhere from the cauldron. Crouch fell to his knees next to the cauldron and waited as if in reverence. Then the sparks stopped, and a white steam erupted, propagating all around, blinding Harry.
And to his great horror, the figure of another man stood up from the cauldron. He could barely make the outline of this figure, but he heard his voice, the same cold voice he heard earlier in this cemetery and in his dream a month ago, coming out of the steam surrounding them all.
"Robe me," the voice ordered, and Crouch stood on his feet, grabbed the dark robes that contained the thing earlier, and dropped it on the head of the tall figure.
The white mist dissipated. And the man standing in the cauldron, stepped away from it, staring at Harry. Head and skin white as a skull… Red burning eyes… A nose as flat as that of a snake… Nostrils so thin you could barely distinguish them…
Lord Voldemort had risen.
"My master."
Barty Crouch Junior was kneeling again, his head dropped to the ground as if he was kissing it, not daring to look up. Voldemort, on his side, was contemplating each and every detail of his new body, now not giving any attention to his surroundings. Nor to Harry, nor to his servant at his feet, nor to the snake crawling around Harry. He then put his hand into his robes and produced a finely made wand, which he contemplated in the light of the moon. Only then he seemed to notice Crouch at his feet.
"Hold out your arm, Barty," Voldemort asked him nonchalantly.
At that, Crouch looked up. His expression was one of worshipping. "Master… I don't know what to say…" He raised his arm from which he cut his hand not long ago while bowing deeply again.
"The other arm, Barty," Voldemort said with the same voice.
Crouch didn't seem to know how to react for a moment. Then he swiftly removed the arm with a missing hand, hiding it in his robes. "I apologize, Master. Please forgive me."
He seemed to struggle to pull off his sleeve for a time, then extended his left arm to Voldemort. His master examined the forearm. Harry noticed there was something red drawn on it. It was the Dark Mark, like he saw it on Pettigrew's forearm at his trial.
"It is back," Voldemort said. "They will have noticed it. And now, we shall see. Now, we shall know."
Voldemort touched the Dark Mark on his servant's forearm. Crouch shivered while Harry's scar pained him once again. However, any resemblance between their reaction stopped again when you looked at Crouch's face, which was ecstatic.
"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" Voldemort wondered aloud, removing his finger from Crouch's arm. The Death Eater looked at his left arm, as if he was marvelling at it, as if the mere fact that Voldemort touched it made it somehow special. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
"No matter how many come back, master, I will be by your side," Crouch declared.
"I have no doubt about it, Barty. You have been a very good servant. And I don't doubt that you will remain a very good servant for a very long time."
"I live to serve you, master." Crouch came to his knees once again.
"Yes, you do, Barty," Voldemort whispered. "You went as far as to bring me what I needed the most." He turned to Harry and made a few steps towards him. The pain in Harry's scar was lasting and omnipresent now. Voldemort looked at him with a smile deprived of anything good. "You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father. A Muggle and a fool… very like your dear mother." Harry struggled to get free of the ropes holding him at this moment. This only elicited more laughter from Voldemort as he watched Harry fight uselessly. The ties were simply too strong. "My father had his use, did he not? I killed him, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death. You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. He didn't like magic, my father. He left 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. In some way, out respective childhoods have not been so different. You were raised in the Muggle world, grew up among them, unaware of your powers, just like me, then discovered that you were a wizard not long before coming to Hogwarts. Our difference is that I vowed to take revenge on my father, that fool who gave me his name. Tom Riddle. I understood how Muggles were corrupted, while you were taught to love them by your foolish mother. Your foolish mother who I only spared because Severus asked me to."
This caused Harry to be almost stunned. Something came up to his mind, something Voldemort said three years ago when he faced him for the first time with Quirrell. What does the world know of Lily Evans. Do they know that she only survived because her friend was a Death Eater? Snape? His mother's friend? That didn't make any sense. Why would Snape ask Voldemort to spare his mother?
"You see this old man right here, Harry?" Voldemort pointed his wand at him. Harry dreaded what would happen before Voldemort did it. The old man seemed to realize it as well, for his face took a desperate and panicked expression. "Avada Kedavra!"
And just like that, the man named Frank fell to the ground, dead. And Voldemort burst into laughter.
"This was a servant of my father's family. Their gardener. When I killed my father and his parents, he was accused of their murders, but the Muggles couldn't find any proof he did it. Normal since I did the deed. So he was left free, but an outcast in the village. He's the one who took care of me these last few months, ironically." Voldemort laughed again. "Listen to me, rambling about my family history and how we were raised differently. I must be growing quite sentimental," Voldemort whispered. It was as if he already forgot the poor old man he just killed. "But look, Harry. My true family returns."
The family in question Apparated. Dozens of wizards, their faces hidden by masks and hoods, appeared everywhere around the cemetery. They approached slowly, then one of them dropped on his knees and came to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes, murmuring master. Each man who was there, all Death Eaters, did the same. They then formed a circle around Voldemort, leaving gaps in the circle. When they were all positioned, Voldemort looked at all of them, and it was as if a cold wind went through all of them.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said on an even tone. "Thirteen years. Thirteen years since we last met. Yet you answer my call as though it was yesterday. We are still united under the Dark Mark, then."
He looked at each and every one of them.
"Or are we," he added. His expression turned to clear anger. All Death Eaters were shivering. "I smell guilt. There is a stench of guilt upon the air."
He almost spat the last words. Crouch was slightly looking up, a large smile on his lips, as if something he had been waiting for a very long time was about to happen.
"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. And I answer myself, 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?"
For the first time, the Death Eaters seemed to react. Harry even noticed some of them murmuring.
"It is a disappointment to me… I confess myself disappointed…"
Then one of the Death Eaters broke ranks and fell to Voldemort's feet. "Master! Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"
Voldemort laughed cruelly, then pointed his wand on his crawling servant.
"Crucio!"
The Death Eater twisted and rolled while screaming with all the power of his lungs on the ground. No one came to his help. Voldemort smiled widely as he tortured one of his servants. The other Death Eaters barely moved, but from their reactions, Harry could tell that some looked away while others couldn't help but stare at the show in front of them, certainly afraid that the same could happen to them. They were terrified by Voldemort. In the meantime, the dead body of the old Muggle remained on the ground nearby, while Barty Crouch Junior looked with glee at what was going on.
Then the torture stopped. Voldemort interrupted the spell, leaving his servant lying on the ground, trying to catch his breath.
"Get up, Avery."
Harry knew this name. He was one of the Death Eaters who managed to avoid imprisonment, claiming he was submitted to the Imperius Curse, much like Lucius Malfoy. Harry highly doubted that this man was truly under this curse the whole time, seeing how he behaved and how Voldemort treated him.
"Stand up," Voldemort ordered him calmly. Avery did so, but he was shaking heavily. "You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years… I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. The only one here who paid some of this debt… is Barty, my most faithful servant."
At that Bartemius Crouch Junior stood up and stared at the other Death Eaters, a triumphant expression on his face.
"How?" one of the masked Death Eaters said.
"This is a long story, Lucius," Voldemort said.
Lucius. Lucius Malfoy! He was there. Of course, he was there.
"For now, it only suffices to say that from the moment I disappeared, Barty has been trying to find me. Some of you might have had doubts about him. His father was one of my staunchest opponents. But I can assure you that it is thanks to Barty that we are all assembled here. And good service deserves a reward."
Voldemort turned to face Barty, who bowed but remained standing.
"Barty," Voldemort said softly. "You have endured very much to find me. I will never forget that. And I will start by giving you something you gave up for me, but much better."
Voldemort raised his wand, and something akin to melted silver appeared, then took the shape of a hand and attached itself to where the right hand of Barty Crouch once was before he cut hit. Barty Crouch then stared at the hand in disbelief, as if it was the most marvellous thing he ever saw in his life, then kissed it.
"I will take care of it, my Lord," he swore.
"I know you will. Now, take your place, Barty."
And the young Death Eater went to join the circle. Voldemort then made a turn around the circle, stopping to talk with some of his Death Eaters, mostly berating them. Lucius Malfoy, Macnair, Crabbe, Nott. He also mentioned the empty spaces, which represented some Death Eaters who were dead, others who were imprisoned in Azkaban, like the Lestranges and Goyle. He mentioned the dark creatures that would flock to his side once they knew he was back. There were a few Death Eaters who had not returned though, on who he swore revenge. Then he arrived in front of Crouch.
"And you, Barty, I believe that everything has already been said. It is thanks to you that we are all gathered tonight. Thanks to you that our young friend arrived here…" Voldemort then turned to look at Harry, and the other Death Eaters stared at him as well. "Yes. Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honour."
After a long silence where Harry got the impression that everyone was looking at him either with glee or interest, Lucius Malfoy's voice emerged. "Master, we crave to know… We beg you to tell us… How have you achieved this… this miracle… How you managed to return to us…"
"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius. It begins, and ends, with my young friend here." He sent a long gaze across his Death Eaters, then back on Harry. "You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall. You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His father died in a foolish attempt to save him. As for his mother… Some may have heard that she somehow survived a duel with me. I can tell you these are all lies. Lily Evans Potter is only alive because I allowed her to live. I didn't consider a Mudblood to be a real threat. But somehow, her husband, even though he was dead now, remained a threat to me. By sacrificing himself for his son, he somehow provided him a protection I had not foreseen. I could not harm the boy in any way. This is very old magic. I should have remembered it back then. I was foolish not to. But now, I can touch him."
Voldemort touched his very scar. Harry felt his head was about to split. After a time that looked like eternity, Voldemort removed his finger, leaving Harry to still writhe in pain.
"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. I didn't think that James Potter's death would create such a protection because when I killed him, I sensed a will to fight me. I didn't think it was a sacrifice for his son. My mistake was to believe that in his stupidity, James Potter actually believed he could defeat me without a wand. But no. It seems that Harry Potter's father indeed went to me decided to die. It took me years to understand that, but when he faced me in that house, wandless, he had accepted his death, and wished that his death could save his son and wife as they escaped while I took care of him. He was a fool on that, so I wasn't entirely wrong about him. But this sacrifice protected his son. When I faced Lily Evans, she begged me to kill her and to spare her son. I did the opposite. I spared her and went to murder her boy right under her eyes. If I had killed her, then that wouldn't have surprised me if the boy got a protection from such a sacrifice. But that he got it from his father's sacrifice… I didn't expect it, and it was my mistake. The curse I sent upon the boy was deflected by this protection and rebounded on me."
Voldemort now paced in front of Harry, very close to him.
"I felt such… pain, my friends. Pain beyond pain. Nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body. I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost… But I was alive." He laughed. "You know my goal. To conquer death. I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality, I was tested. And it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked. I was still alive, even though the curse should have killed me. Nevertheless, I was powerless as the weakest creature alive. I had no body, and every spell which might have helped me required the use of a wand. I only remember forcing myself to exist, each and every second. I found a place in a faraway forest where I settled. And there, I waited. Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me. One of them would come and perform the magic I could not to restore my body… I waited in vain…"
The Death Eaters were obviously terrified at this moment. But Voldemort continued as if he didn't notice their reaction.
"But one power remained to me. I could possess the body of others. However, I dared not go where other humans were plentiful. I knew the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals. Snakes were my preference. But I was little better inside of them than as a pure spirit. Their bodies were not made to perform magic, and my presence shortened their lives. Then, four years ago, luck struck me. A young, foolish and gullible wizard met my path in the forest where I resided. His name was Quirinus Quirrell. He was easy to bend to my will. And he happened to be a professor at Dumbledore's school. The school where the last Philosopher's Stone was hidden. The Stone that could bring me back to life."
"Quirrell brought me back to Hogwarts, unknown and unseen. Even Dumbledore could not realize my presence. He was searching for me all across the world, and he didn't think an instant that I was right next to him every time he took his breakfast, his lunch, or his dinner." Voldemort laughed again in derision. "But although Quirrell was easy to submit, he remained foolish, and I still depended on him to carry out my plan. He failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts before it was moved to Hogwarts. I realized then that I had to be with him at all time, so I occupied his body. For two months while in Hogwarts, I gathered information, located the position of the Philosopher's Stone with certainty. Then the night of Halloween, I decided to take action. Quirrell created a diversion by letting a troll inside Hogwarts, so he would have time to recover the Stone. But he failed. And that failure was caused, in part, by Harry Potter."
Voldemort stared at him in hatred. "He defeated the troll with one of his friends, and that destroyed the diversion Quirrell needed to get the Stone. So I ordered Quirrell to kill the boy, so he wouldn't be a hindrance again. But Quirrell failed, again. I must admit that it was my fault to trust Quirrell with such a mission. Though truth be told, I'm not that disappointed that the boy survived to be here today. Still, when finally Quirrell managed to get where the Stone was, when he finally got it, when I was about to recover the body, the Stone was taken away. By Lily Evans Potter. The Mother Who Lived."
Hatred filled Voldemort's eyes and speech, making most Death Eaters shake.
"She and her son… They destroyed the Stone. And Quirrell died. I was forced out of his body, forced to hide in the same remote forest. I will not pretend that I didn't fear that I might never regain my powers. That was probably my darkest hour. I could not hope that another wizard would walk by and I could possess him. I had given up hope, after seeing the world through Quirrell's eyes, that any Death Eater cared what I had become."
Again, a chill went among the Death Eaters.
"But then, two years ago, someone resurfaced. Another one of my servants. Peter Pettigrew. Wormtail. He had been hiding for years, under the appearance of a rat, running away from the authorities of the Ministry of Magic, faking his own death. Ironically, he had become the pet of one of Harry Potter's friends. Wormtail had been a part of Dumbledore's organization to undermine me. But when he realized that the war was lost, he turned his cloak, and began to feed me with information. The information helped me to kill several of Dumbledore's allies. The Bones. The McKinnons. Even the Potters. Yes. It was Wormtail who told me where they were, who broke the Fidelius Charm protecting them. And when I disappeared, he ran away. But years later, when he was found, judged and sentenced to a life sentence in Azkaban, he found a way to escape, and he ran to me."
"Wormtail was not the servant I would have liked to see, but he was all that I had, and he could be useful. I couldn't possess his body though. He was a runaway, with all Aurors and Dumbledore's agents chasing him. But he could gather the resources I needed to recover my body. The Philosopher's Stone was gone, but there was another way. An old dark magic, a potion. The very one potion that revived me tonight. This potion required three ingredients. Among them, flesh given by a servant. I didn't relish in the idea to use Wormtail's flesh, but I would have to settle for it."
Crouch Junior spat on the ground at this moment, but Voldemort continued as if he didn't notice his reaction.
"Another ingredient was my father's bones. This meant that we would need to come here, where he was buried. But I also needed the blood of a foe. Wormtail wanted me to have any wizard. Many of them hated me, of course, and still hate me as much as they fear me. But I knew that to rise again, more powerful than I had been before I had fallen, I needed Harry Potter's blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power, for the protection his father gave him would then reside in my veins."
"But how to get at Harry Potter? He has been under great protection for a very long time. Dumbledore invoked yet another ancient magic to ensure his protection. As long as he lived with his mother, I couldn't touch him there. And the rest of the time, he was at Hogwarts. I couldn't reach him. But I didn't need him especially. I only needed his blood. So I ordered Wormtail to get me his blood. I figured he could do it, being able to turn into a rat and having spent so much time at Hogwarts, he knew every corner of it. He could walk into it, take some of Harry Potter's blood, then bring it back to me so we could prepare the potion. But again, I made a mistake in placing too much trust into Wormtail. He spectacularly failed, despite several attempts. He failed to get the blood, and finally he got killed."
"I was desperate then. Another servant was gone, and I was sure this time that no one else would find me. This is where Barty comes into play."
Voldemort turned to Crouch Junior, who beamed.
"Surely you know the official story. When I fell, four of my servants initially escaped imprisonment from the Ministry of Magic, but they didn't abandon their oath to me. They kept searching for me. And in their efforts, they thought that some people who fought me during the war could know where I was. Frank and Alice Longbottom, two Aurors. And so these four servants tortured them, in the hope that they would reveal my location. But they didn't know where I was. They tortured them until they went insane, then other Aurors caught them, judged them, and sent them to Azkaban. This is how four of my most loyal servants, Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, ended up at Azkaban, where they still are today. Along with Barty, of course."
"Some of you might have doubted it, but Barty was really one of us. He joined us late in the war, turning against his family, against his father. He was terrorized when I disappeared. He was afraid. And yet, he tried to find me. And he paid a heavy price for this. The story that is being told today is that he died, about a year after he arrived in Azkaban. But the real story is that Barty managed to escape. His mother, who was dying, asked his father, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement back then, to set him free and leave her to die in Azkaban in his place. She asked this of her husband as a last favour, and he gave it."
Voldemort laughed again, and Barty Crouch laughed as gleefully with him. All Death Eaters were staring at them.
"Strange to which lengths parents are ready to go for their sons." He turned to Harry. "Wouldn't you agree, Harry? Well, Barty here drank some Polyjuice, and his mother drank some as well. As a result, Barty left his cell under the appearance of his mother when his parents came to pay him one last visit. His mother remained behind, and she died under his appearance. And everyone thought that Barty was dead. But although he may be alive, he wasn't free. His father kept him under the influence of the Imperius Curse. For years, Barty thought about escaping, but to no avail. He couldn't break the curse. Not until last summer."
Voldemort looked at the other Death Eaters.
"That is when you come into play. Your little show at the Quidditch World Cup, as funny as it was, at least proved useful in one way. Over time, Barty had managed to partially break free of the Imperius Curse his father placed on him. That night, while you were playing with Muggles and the people of the Ministry, Bartemius Crouch Senior could not keep an eye on his son. He was too busy trying to deal with your lot. Too busy protecting Muggles." He laughed, and Barty Crouch Junior as well. "Barty only had a house-elf to watch over him. He managed to escape the tent and walked into the nearby forest despite the attempts of the elf to hold him back. He killed the elf as soon as he could, then made his way to a nearby town where he killed a wizard, seized his wand, made the Dark Mark appear in the sky, and then went to search me."
"Barty didn't need much time to find me, unlike Wormtail. He was more intelligent. And being his father's prisoner for years, he heard many things. For example, he knew that I was hiding somewhere in Eastern Europe. From there, he easily tied the dots, and in September, in Albania, he found me. Under my instructions, he made a potion that gave me a rudimentary body. That allowed me to travel again, but I still needed my true body. But Barty gave me much of what I needed. Among the information he gathered while in his father's custody, was the information about the Triwizard Tournament that was to take place at Hogwarts this year. And also that Alastor Moody would be professor at Hogwarts. So we set up a plan. While I used the Imperius Curse on a Muggle who once served my family to take care of me while Barty would be away, Barty set up a trap for Alastor Moody in late October. He attracted him outside of Hogwarts on the day of Halloween, made him prisoner, then took his appearance and role in the school, and tricked the Goblet of Fire into entering Harry Potter into the Tournament. Then he made sure that the boy would get through the Tournament until the third and last task, tonight. When Harry Potter touched the Triwizard Cup, the Portkey in which Barty turned the Cup into carried Potter here. To me. Barty had already left the grounds of the school and Apparated here where he welcomed our guest. And where he used Harry Potter's blood, the bones of my father, and his own flesh to bring me back."
Voldemort let a silence settled on the cemetery as he finished his tale. "And now here we are, my friends. Reunited, at last. And in the presence of the boy who caused my downfall. A baby. Harry Potter."
All of them looked at Harry, whose scar kept hurting him. Voldemort then pointed his wand at him.
"Crucio!"
Harry experienced a pain like he never felt. It wasn't only his scar now that hurt. Every muscle, every bone, every fibre of his being burned. He tried to scream, but the gag muffled any noise he might have produced. He wanted this to end. The ropes dig into his skin as he tried with all his force to move without success. He wanted to die.
And then the pain disappeared. He almost wretched while the Death Eaters laughed.
"I think you now see how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," Voldemort said. "The only reason why Harry Potter is still alive today is because of mere luck and of people who fought for him. But tonight, he has no parent who is ready to die for him. No one who will protect him. Dumbledore is far away, unaware that he is here. It is only him, me, and you all. I could ask you to take your turn as you torture him until he goes mad. Then I could order you to finish him once he is only a wreck of a human being."
Harry, through the exhaustion that the night and the Cruciatus Curse left, could feel the excitement among the Death Eaters.
"But I will not. I will defeat him myself, right here, in front of you, so you may bear witness to my victory. And I will defeat him in a fair duel to prove once and for all who is stronger of the two of us."
Voldemort turned to Crouch. "Barty, untie him and give him back his wand."
Barty Crouch Junior bowed, then approached Harry. He pointed his wand, and the ropes disappeared. Right away, Harry fell to the ground, his injured leg giving way under him. The Death Eaters laughed again. And then Harry felt a warm feeling on his leg. He looked at it, to see the injury closing. Before he could ask himself how it happened, Crouch Junior seized him by the shoulder, getting him up, and thrusting Harry's wand into his right hand.
"A fair duel, my master said. You will not face him with a diminished body. He will defeat you while you are healthy, to leave no doubt in anyone's mind. Prove that everything I taught you this year was not for nothing. Try to give him a good fight. That will make his victory even greater."
Sending a venomous, devilish, crazy glare at Harry, he went back to his place among the Death Eaters. They had closed ranks, filling the gaps in their circle. Harry looked around. There was no opening. He would not be able to run away. His gaze fell upon Voldemort, who stood maybe twenty feet in front of him, a satisfied smirk on his thin, non existing lips.
Harry was stuck. He would have to fight Voldemort. He faced him in the past, once. Twice, if he counted his confrontation with Tom Riddle's diary in the Chamber of Secrets. But in both cases, Voldemort had been greatly diminished. With Quirrell, he was weaker than a spirit, and it was his mother who fought him, mostly. And even then, she almost died. And Harry no longer had the protection that allowed him to destroy Quirrell. In the Chamber of Secrets, Fawkes had brought him the sword of Godric Gryffindor and pierced the Basilisk's eyes so Harry could kill the snake with the sword. Then he landed the diary in Harry's hand so he could pierce it with the fang of the Basilisk. This time, he would be facing Voldemort in all his power, and without help. No Dumbledore, no Fawkes there to help him. His mother wasn't there to save him this time either. He was alone.
"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked softly. "We bow to each other, Harry."
And so Voldemort did, slightly. Harry only went to the Duelling Club once in his second year, and it proved quite useless. He knew many spells and counter-curses, but he didn't see how they could help him against Voldemort. He would face the Killing Curse, he knew it. And this time, he wouldn't be protected from it.
"Come, the niceties must be observed," Voldemort said as he stood up tall again. "Dumbledore would like you to show manners. Bow to death, Harry."
The Death Eaters burst into laughter again. Despite his growing fear, Harry refused to bow. He wouldn't give that satisfaction to Voldemort. If he was to die now, he would at least die while standing. He would…
"I said bow." And this time, Voldemort pointed his wand at him, and his spine was forced down under the growing laughter of the Death Eaters. "Very good," Voldemort declared, removing the pressure on Harry's back. "And now you face me, like a man. Straight back and proud, the way your father died…"
Harry felt a surge of hatred, and without thinking, raised his wand.
Before he could utter a single word, he flew in the air and hit the tombstone behind him hard. The Death Eaters laughed.
"Crucio!"
The pain of the Cruciatus filled his body once more, and this time he screamed. Then the pain stopped, and he was left breathless, under the laughter of the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Taking hold of the tombstone, he got back on his feet.
"A little break," Voldemort paused. "A little pause. That hurt, didn't it, Harry? It must. The night that I tried to kill you, I used this curse on your mother, and she screamed just as high as you did…"
Harry raised his wand again…
"Crucio!"
The unsufferable pain came back. Harry thought about his mother. He heard her so often when Dementors were around. He heard her screaming as Voldemort tortured her. Was it what she went through? What she suffered in her attempts to protect him? He was screaming so loud. Could she hear him from Hogwarts? At what distance from the castle were they? Was she still waiting for him with the rest of the crowd? Did Dumbledore and the others know that he and Cedric disappeared from the maze? Did they suspect anything that was going on right now?
The pain stopped.
"You don't want me to do that again, Harry, do you?" Voldemort said in a small laugh. Harry struggled to stand up. "I asked you whether you want me to do that again. Answer me. Imperio!"
The same feeling that Harry felt months ago in Moody's classroom filled him. He stopped thinking. He felt well. And a little voice kept murmuring in his head to do everything he had to do.
Just answer no. Say no.
However, another voice in his head refused to obey.
Just answer no.
"I WON'T!"
Harry screamed the words, but not out of pain this time. Not as a victim who writhed on the ground under the torture of Lord Voldemort. He screamed as someone who refused to obey the orders from the monster who murdered his father.
The cemetery went silent. Harry was completely aware of what was going on around him. The effect of the Imperius Curse was gone as his outburst echoed in the air. No one was laughing. All Death Eaters were now looking at him. Barty Crouch Junior wore an expression of complete and utter stupor, while Voldemort's smile left his face. He wasn't laughing either anymore. Instead, he looked… intrigued.
"You won't?" he asked, his voice cold, without any note of satisfaction. "You won't say no?" No, Harry wouldn't. He wouldn't give any satisfaction to Voldemort, however alive he might be. "Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die. Perhaps another little dose of pain?"
This time, Harry was warned. He spent his entire childhood playing football in positions that required the ability to make swift moves, and his training in Quidditch enhanced this capacity. He quickly dodged the spell and landed behind the tombstone. Judging from the explosion he heard as the spell hit the marble, he wouldn't be surprised if the name of Tom Riddle was erased.
"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," Voldemort declared, eliciting laughter once again from the Death Eaters. Harry's defiance only managed to shut them up for a few seconds. "You cannot hide from me."
No, indeed. Harry knew he couldn't hide. Voldemort would circle the tombstone and attack him again very soon. He may delay slightly to enjoy the moment, but he would hit again. And Harry knew he couldn't deflect or stop anything he would throw at him. His Shield Charm would never be strong enough to block one of Voldemort's spells.
"Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry?"
That wasn't what Voldemort wanted. He wanted this to last. He had waited thirteen years, and now he wanted to enjoy killing Harry. That was why he tortured him. But it didn't change the fact that Harry knew he was condemned. No one would come to save him this time. The end was near. He wouldn't get to see the people he loved again. His friends and comrades at Hogwarts. Remus. Sirius. Susan. Ron and Hermione. His mother.
"Come out, Harry… Come out and play, then… It will be quick. It might even be painless. I would not know… I have never died…"
The Death Eaters laughed again. But their laughter fed Harry's determination this time. No. He wouldn't die playing, hiding away and waiting for Voldemort to kill him. His father had died facing him without a wand. Harry had one. Like his mother did three years ago. He remembered her very clearly, standing in front of Quirrell, holding the Philosopher's Stone… Destroying it. She almost died for that, but she had stood tall in front of Voldemort. Harry had never seen her like this before.
His mother thwarted Voldemort's return three years ago. He might be back, but Harry wasn't about to let him come back all in glory. If he was to die tonight, then he would die while standing. And remove as much smirk from Voldemort and his servants' faces as he could. If he was to die now, he would show them that no one would bow down to them.
With as much speed and agility as when he dodged behind the tombstone, Harry emerged from and pointed his wand at Tom Riddle.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
The red jet of light coming from Harry's wand collided with the green one emerging from Voldemort's wand.
For a moment, Harry waited. As the spell from his wand kept coming out of it, he expected the green light to hit him and end his life. But it didn't. The Killing Curse and the Disarming Charm met midway between the two of them, and they seemed to be fighting each other to gain grounds. And a moment later, Harry's wand vibrated.
His wand was shaking so much that Harry struggled to keep control over it. However, he also felt his hand glued to his wand, as if he couldn't let it go. In the meantime, Voldemort's wand was shaking uncontrollably as well, and Harry witnessed an expression of horror in Voldemort's eyes, as the red and green lights of their wands turned into a single bright golden link, connecting the two wands together.
And then they were both lifted in the air, away from the graveyard. They landed heavily away from it. Harry staggered to remain on his feet when they fell in a clear field made of grass. The Death Eaters scrambled around Harry and Voldemort, drawing their wands as the golden trait linking Voldemort's and Harry's wands created veins that surrounded them, creating some kind of dome separating the two of them from the Death Eaters who didn't seem to understand what was going on anymore than Harry and Voldemort themselves.
"Do nothing!" Voldemort screamed. "Do nothing unless I command you!"
The sound of a phoenix singing began at this moment. In the meantime, something happened. It was as if the point of junction of the two spells moved closer to Harry, and his wand vibrated even more than before, forcing Harry to do everything he could to hold it still. The song of the phoenix though gave him strength. It was as if Fawkes had come to his help, like two years ago.
Harry forced himself to push back on the force Voldemort put on his spell. The point of junction began to move in the other direction. Slowly at first, then more quickly. Voldemort's wand quivered like hell in turn. Until the point of junction met the tip of his wand… only for Harry to realize there were other points of junctions. But they were not points of junction. They looked like… grains of light travelling within the jet of gold linking the two wands.
The moment this first grain connected with Voldemort's wand, screams emanated from it. A thick golden smoke came out of the wand, with the shape of a hand. Then new screams came from Voldemort's wand, and this time a human shape came out of it, as if it made its way through a tight tunnel. The figure of an old man landed between Harry and Voldemort, away from the golden trait, within the golden sphere surrounding them.
"It's all because of him," the old man said, angry. He was the old man named Frank who Voldemort killed right after he was revived. "He killed his family and had everyone believe it was me who did it. And then he killed me too. Fight him, boy. Fight him!"
Harry didn't know the old man. He only saw him twice, including once in his dreams, but his encouragements made him feel stronger and pushing the spell against Voldemort further.
The wand screamed again, and another figure emerged. First, there was the head. The face was mounted by short, tangled black hair. He wore glasses.
As his father made its way out of Voldemort's wand and landed next to him, Harry could have left his wand drop. Only his instinct kept him holding it.
"Harry."
For the first in his life, Harry heard his father addressing him. He saw him on several photos, and heard his voice when the Dementors were close, the words he uttered in his last moments, when he tried to save his son and wife, but that was the very first time his father actually talked to him. He didn't look like a ghost. His body seemed solid. He was looking into Harry's eyes.
"Harry… You have to hold… Do you understand me? You have to hold."
Harry nodded. He knew. He knew he had to hold. He didn't know why. He didn't know what it would give, but he felt that he had to hold.
New people, new spirits kept coming out of Voldemort's wand, and they wandered within the dome. Harry knew by now that all these people were the victims of Voldemort. They encouraged Harry, and cursed Voldemort. The Dark Lord looked terrified at seeing all the people he killed coming back from the dead. Harry thought he recognized a few of them. There was a woman who he thought he saw in one of his mother's photo albums. Older people and younger people. Some were only children. So many dead. So many people who Voldemort killed, and who came back to haunt him, surrounding him like an army of ghost ready to jump on him. And Harry kept the pressure, forcing still more ghosts out of Voldemort's murderous wand.
Then another man came out and landed next to Harry. He was taller than his father, with long brown hair, in a style similar to Sirius. He also had a moustache covering the space over and along his mouth, with a pinch of hair right under his mouth. He bore a very serious expression. He looked at the golden link and all the other people turning around it who shouted encouragements to Harry and insults at Voldemort. Then he looked at Harry himself.
"Harry Potter?" the man asked calmly.
Harry nodded. He didn't know why, but he got the impression that he knew this man. As if he saw him somewhere once. Then the man turned to Harry's father.
"James. I think this is time."
Harry's father nodded. "Harry, when the connection is broken, we will linger for a few moments. Only moments, but we will give you time. You must get to the Portkey. It will return you to Hogwarts. Do you understand, Harry?"
"Yes," Harry replied, gasping. It was becoming harder and harder to keep control over his wand.
"Tell your mother… that I love her… And I love you too, son."
Harry nodded, straining under the effort.
"Harry," the other man next to him said. "Tell my sister… The dogs are coming."
Harry didn't know who this man was, although he was definitely familiar, but he nodded, promising to tell his sister, whoever she was, although he had no idea who she could be. He looked around him and spotted the graveyard not far away. Judging from the distance, he could be there in a matter of seconds if he ran as fast as he could. He spotted the shining Cup on the ground.
"Do it now," his father said. "Be ready to run." Harry tightened his grip on his wand even further. "DO IT NOW!"
"NOW!" Harry screamed.
Harry strongly pulled his wand to the left and broke into a run immediately. The golden link was broken, the dome disappeared, and the song of the phoenix died off. Harry barely noticed the dead figures surrounding Voldemort. He toppled a Death Eater in his path as he ran away.
"Stun him!" Voldemort screamed. Harry just reached the outskirts of the cemetery when he heard the first spells hitting the tombstones. He slid behind a large tombstone, then pointed his wand over it.
"Stupefy!"
Not waiting to see if he hit someone, he kept running. The Cup was right in front of him… with Cedric's body a few steps away. Harry stopped. Cedric was really dead. A stunning spell hit marble stairs right next to him. Not thinking again, he rushed to Cedric's body, seized his hand, and pointed his wand to the Triwizard Cup.
"Accio!"
As the Cup flew in his hand, the last thing Harry saw was Voldemort rushing in his direction, his wand pointed at him. He opened the mouth in a scream at the very moment Harry seized the Cup by one of its handles.
As you could see, not much changed. But this remains a turning point of the Harry Potter saga, and an event that I cannot avoid writing a chapter about. It also gave me the opportunity to explain how, despite the butterfly effect cause by Lily being alive, Harry still ended in this cemetery. It seems that Voldemort's return was unavoidable.
Like I said two chapters ago, nothing will ever be the same now.
Please review.
Next chapter: Lily