Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; he stumbled and the cup flew from his hands before he quickly reoriented himself and held his wand in the ready position.
He had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; he had obviously traveled miles - perhaps hundreds of miles - for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. He could feel no trace of the school's magic, which was ever present in the background when near the ancient castle. He was standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to his right. A hill rose above him to the left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.
Squinting tensely through the darkness, he watched three figures drawing nearer, walking steadily towards him between the graves. He couldn't make out a face on any of them, but could tell that the shortest of the group was carrying something. There was one who appeared to be average or slightly above adult height, while the other was much shorter and slightly wider. The third off to the side appeared to have his hands behind his back and he was much slimmer than either but about the same height as the tall one. They were wearing dark hooded cloaks pulled over their heads to obscure their faces. As they drew nearer Harry noticed that the thing the short one was carrying appeared to be a baby or a bundle of something.
Harry kept his wand at the ready, but didn't fire off anything because they hadn't threatened him yet and he didn't want to hurt or kill a baby just because he was paranoid.
The trio then stopped beside a towering marble headstone, barely six feet from him. For a second Harry just stared at them with no words spoken by either party.
And then, without warning, Harry's scar felt as if it exploded outward. He could barely see through his blurred vision as a tendril of smoke blacker than the darkest night shot out of it and was seemingly absorbed by the baby figure. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand nearly slipped from his fingers as he clamped his free hand over his face; his knees grew weak; he was ready to collapse when his survival instinct kicked in and forced him to remain standing. He shot a confringo towards the pair but the pain in his head was so intense it came out weaker than normal and the taller figure batted it away easily before binding Harry with an incarcerous and then tying him to the large marble headstone. He was able to catch the name on the stone and it made his blood run cold as he was tightly bound to the stone.
TOM RIDDLE
Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood covering the short figure as he was being bound; he struggled, and the man hit him - hit him with a hand that had a finger missing. And Harry realized who was under the hood. It was Wormtail.
"You son of a bitch!" he screamed with all the rage he could muster. "I'll fucking kill you!"
But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he simply backhanded Harry once again. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry couldn't speak only grunt, and he did so until his throat was raw. He couldn't see where Wormtail had gone; he couldn't turn his head to see beyond the headstone; he could see only what was right in front of him.
The Triwizard cup lay just visible in his peripheral vision. The bundle of robes that Harry had thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. Harry watched it, and his scar seared with pain again. . . and he suddenly knew that he didn't want to see what was in those robes. . . he wished he would have blown the pair to hell as soon as he landed instead of playing noble and holding his fire because of the disgusting subhuman piece of shit that lay before him.
He could hear noises at his feet. He looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within Harry's range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water - Harry could hear it slopping around - and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.
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. And Harry heard a high, cold, yet somehow weak voice speak.
"Hurry up wormtail!"
The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.
"It is ready. Master. "
"Good. Do it now!" said the cold voice.
Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a renewed series of muffled screams that were strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth.
It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind - but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Harry had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.
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, and Harry saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, Harry saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Harry heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.
Let it drown, Harry thought, his scar burning almost past endurance, please Merlin let it drown…
Once the disgusting baby figure was lowered in the cauldron, the two taller figures moved to stand beside it. Harry's surprise was furthered when the cloak was ripped off of the figure. It took Harry a moment because of the age difference, but he finally made the connection as he saw the blank stare coming from the face of Gellart Grindelwald. He didn't ponder long before the still unnamed figure shoved Grindelwald over into the pot.
Apparently, the concoction cancelled whatever compulsion or spell that kept Grindelwald silent, because as soon as he touched the liquid he let out a primal scream of pain before he was submerged. He quickly bobbed his head back up and began screaming anew.
Wormtail then yelled to be heard over the screaming. "The soul of the predecessor, given to the brew. You will empower your successor!"
As soon as he finished the line, Harry's eyes widened as the last unknown figure pulled his cloak back revealing the face of Barty Crouch, who pointed his wand at Grindelwald. "Et facti estis in cinere." He said in a flat tone, no emotion noticeable in his voice. The black light struck the past dark lord true, and his body seemed to shatter before the bits all fell down into the potion. The boiling calmed slightly, and the sparks stopped.
Wormtail moved to point his wand at Harry's feet. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a bone rose into the air at Wormtail's command before turning to dust and falling softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of 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 downward.
Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened – he watched with disgust and heard a scream that pierced the night, that went through Harry as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard a sickening splash, as Wormtail's hand fell into the cauldron. Harry could barely stand to look… the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it burned his eyes.
Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not until Harry felt Wormtail's anguished breath on his face did he realize that Wormtail was right in front of him.
"B-blood of the enemy. . . forcibly taken. . . you will. . . resurrect your foe. "
Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly… Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding him, and lashing out with his magic, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail's remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.
He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry'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. Nothing happened. . . .
Let it have drowned. Maybe it took too long. Harry thought. Please fucking let it have gone wrong. . .
And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn't see Wormtail or Crouch or anything but vapor hanging in the air… It's gone wrong, he thought. . . it's drowned . . . please. . . please let it be dead…
But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and lean, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.
"Robe me," said a velvety smooth voice that was imbued with power. No longer did the voice sound like it was on the verge of death. Wormtail, still 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 man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry. . . and Harry stared back into the face of the man that had haunted his nightmares for three years. It wasn't Voldemort as he was known when he died. This man more closely resembled the Tom Riddle that Harry had met in the Chamber of Secrets. Instead of the snake-like ghostly face he had upon his death, indeed Voldemort appeared no older than 40. His tan, albeit red tinged from the heat of the potion, skin was a sharp contrast to what once was. He stood just over 6 feet tall and well built albeit lean. The only thing that still resembled his wraith form was the eyes. His eyes that were scarlet red and glowing with power.
Lord Voldemort had risen again.
XXX XXXXX XXXXXXX
Voldemort took a moment to examine his new body, moving his limbs back and forth and eyeing what he could see.
"It would appear that the ritual went even better than I had hoped." He spoke to nobody, or everybody; whichever you prefer to think. He then looked directly at Harry and continued. "On the fateful night of our previous encounter, I had performed the steps necessary to use your death to complete the ritual creating my seventh horcrux. It would seem as though I had miscalculated on my arithmancy, though. You see, I had envisioned 7 horcruxes as 7 is the most magically powerful number; but upon creation of the 7th horcrux my soul split into 8 pieces instead. I had intended to place that fragment of myself into my own wand, to always have close by; alas, when the 8th part was created the whole system became unstable. The closest pieces of soul remaining, being the one inside me and the one prepared for the ritual were torn from me resulting in my destruction. The spare piece, with no container to enter as the ritual was left incomplete, latched on to the nearest thing it could find which happened to be the baby Harry Potter. The fragment that remained my own was left incorporeal and yet still damaged. I was worse than dead in my condition, deformed, deluded, and deranged. However it would appear that the fragment inside you recognized the original on this night and broke apart to rejoin, thereby causing my soul to be back to the intended 7 parts. The world may now fear Lord Voldemort once more in my full and righteous glory!"
The dark lord then reached into his pocket and drew out his wand. He caressed it almost lovingly for a moment before pointing it at Barty Crouch. With no movement, not a sound uttered, Barty Crouch ceased to exist.
Harry's eyes widened even further at that display. It wasn't like a blasting curse that blew the man up, or a killing curse that dropped him with no marks; Voldemort had simply used his magic to erase another human being completely. Harry then realized just how fucked he was currently and how outclassed he had been, and would be. Not only did the man have decades more experience but he had obviously enhanced his strength with some sort of rituals. This man had ascended beyond the realm of mortals; he was basically a god walking amongst men. Harry could never hope to wield that kind of power. Of course this was assuming he survived the night, which didn't look likely. He felt betrayed by that fact. The sphinx had told him he would be in danger, yea, but she didn't say he would simply cease to exist- gone without the slightest trace.
"Oh yes! How good it feels to have magic course through me once more!" Voldemort yelled out in an uncharacteristic near screech. He then whipped his wand in a loop above his head like a lasso and laughed aloud as a ring of flames white in their intensity spewed into the sky.
"Wormtail. Your arm." Voldemort said as the shaking mess got up and stumbled towards him.
"Oh, thank you Master. Thank you so much!" Wormtail said as he held out his bloody stump.
"No, you fucking imbecile! Crucio!" Voldemort watched with a sick grin as Wormtail's muscles contracted so hard that one of his femurs broke with a loud crack that was audible even over the man's cries of pain. He then stopped the pain curse and bent over to the man and touched his wand to the Dark Mark on his left arm, ignoring the crying and shaking.
"I have to wonder how many will return when they feel it?" Voldemort muttered to himself. "For their own sake every fucking one of them better."
He paced back and forth for a moment. Impatient as he was he understood that after more than a decade it would take a minute to gather the gear and return to service. He finally stopped pacing and turned to face Harry.
"You stand upon the remains of my father, Harry." He said softly as he moved to stand only inches from Harry. "A muggle and a fool, much like your own mother. Though they did both have their uses, yes? Your mother died to defend you as a baby, while I killed my father; oh how useful he turned out to be in death."
He then loosened the bindings on Harry's head and removed the gag. "You see the house on the hill there? My father lived there. My mother, a witch in this village, admired him from afar and fell in love with him. She used a love potion on him until I was conceived and then stopped. Naturally when he stopped the potion he did not have feelings for her and left. She gave birth all alone and didn't survive the ordeal.
For a long while I blamed my father, and thought it his fault that I lived in that shitty orphanage. I vowed to find him and revenge the bastard who gave me the name… Tom Riddle. Lo and behold, I did. I killed him when I was 17. I killed him and his entire family, and framed my uncle for the crime. I was then truly rid of all of the filth that could claim relations to me."
He paused a minute and chuckled. "Look at me, getting all sentimental. I guess it doesn't hurt to tell you this story, as it will be the last you ever hear. Now then, my old family is long dead; but my true family returns!"
As he finished the air was filled with swooshing cloaks as a large contingent of Death eaters apparated into the graveyard. Every one of them was wearing the normal black cloak and a mask.
In short order, each and every one of them were fighting for position to fall to their knees and kiss the hem of his robes before backing away and assuming a spot in a large circle. Harry noticed that there were gaps in the circle; apparently, they had assigned positions and some of them decided not to show.
Once the last of them had kissed his robes and returned to the circle, he began to slowly walk around the circle.
"Welcome back, my most loyal Death Eaters. Thirteen years it has been since we last met, and yet you answered the call as if it were yesterday." And then his voice went from calm and charismatic to low and cold as ice, transitioning into a yell by the end. "I smell guilt in the air. It fucking reeks of guilt here!"
Harry was certain that several of the Death Eaters just soiled themselves, but to their credit nobody flinched as he walked around eyeing each of them carefully. Harry supposed that they knew that to flinch was to die.
"You have all returned whole and healthy; your powers intact. You answered so quickly when called even after thirteen years." He had dropped his voice back to the cold tone by this point. "So I ask myself." He paused to scratch his chin for a moment in a thinking gesture, then exploded with anger. "Why the fuck did none of you, not one single fucking person who swore eternal loyalty to me, not come to my aid?!" He then stopped and silence reigned again. The only noise was Pettigrew's whimpers, which had dropped to a low volume now as he neared unconsciousness. Voldemort seemed to not be happy with that though. "Crucio!" He nearly hissed and grinned as several more loud cracks rang out signifying more broken bones as Pettigrew screamed once again until his throat was hoarse. Voldemort dropped the curse and watched as Wormtail seized and shook a few more times before growing eerily still.
"The only one who bothered to even look for me was that disgusting fat fucking sack of human goddamn filth! And he didn't do it of loyalty! It was always fear with him. Wormtail was never loyal to anybody but himself, the little fucking rat." He then turned and spat upon the body for good measure.
"M-M-M'Lord, I am-" One of the Death Eaters started before being cut off as he joined Barty Crouch in the land of non-existence.
"Do not speak unless spoken to!" You dogs have no right to speak to me! No! You're not even dogs. Pettigrew was a rat and you are all below even that. Goddamn roaches is what you all are! Crucio!"
The entire circle of people, including Harry this time, were simultaneously hit with the Cruciatus. And even though he had cast it on more than 30 people at once, it was still far stronger than anything else Harry had ever felt. He gritted his teeth and took it, while several of the Death Eaters collapsed to the ground in violent shakes.
He calmed his voice again now. "The Lestranges. Bellatrix, Robastin, and Rudolphus. Instead of standing before me like cockroaches, forsaking their master, they stood true. Right now they sit in Azkaban, never renouncing their master. Rest assured, when Azkaban falls they will be honored beyond their wildest dreams. Lord Voldemort rewards loyalty and honesty!
Lord Voldemort does not, however, forgive and forget. You all owe me for thirteen years of disloyalty. Wormtail made his payment. You've all made a tiny part of it, but there is plenty more to come as we make up for all these years."
He then turned back to Harry. "And you, Potter. We have some unfinished business I believe." He slowly walked up and traced the scar on Harry's forehead. "This is where it all began for us… And here" he waved to the graveyard around them, "Is where it shall all end for you." Harry did the only thing he could at the moment and spit in Voldemort's face. The man roared and backhanded Harry so hard his head snapped back into the marble and he nearly lost consciousness.
"Avery. Untie Potter and return his wand."
The Death Eater moved to follow the command quickly without uttering a sound. Soon enough Harry stood in front of the stone with his wand in hand once again, facing down Lord Voldemort. A ritually improved Lord Voldemort who could literally erase every trace of a person. Fuck.
"You see, Harry, the wizarding world hails you as some sort of hero or a god. The boy who lived! But you're nothing compared to Lord Voldemort! My own folley was the cause of my downfall I'm wizard enough to admit that. All the years since that I have tried to finish what I started; I was foiled by my deranged state with the aid of Albus-too-many-fucking-names-Dumbledore! You aren't even worth a pile of hippogriff shit on Lord Voldemort's boot, Potter!"
Harry continued to stare silently. He hazarded a look around at the ring of Death Eaters who were staying well clear lest they catch their Lord's wrath again. He spotted the cup behind them and realized that it was the only way he would make it out of this situation alive, and he had no idea how he would get to it. He'd need to cause the death eaters to move so he could summon it, he would never be able to physically make it to the cup.
"Now Potter, we stand face to face. No mother, no headmaster, no interference. Just the Boy-Who-Lived and Lord Voldemort in his true form. We shall show the world tonight once and for all who is truly the better wizard."
With a wave of Voldemort's wand the circle of DE were all violently expelled backwards to open up a wider area. To Harry's astonishment the cup was now inside the ring. He couldn't believe his luck. Now it was just Voldemort between him and cup. Yea. Just Voldemort. That sounded pretty stupid when he stopped to think about it.
"Now we duel. First you bow to your opponent." Voldemort shouted so that all of his followers could hear. He was really making a spectacle of this. The most feared Dark Lord Britain has ever known should not be so proud to duel a 14 year old honestly.
Voldemort ever so slightly bowed, more of mocking gesture than anything else. Harry repeated his action, barely tilting his back but keeping his eyes trained on Voldemort and beyond to the cup.
"Crucio!" Voldemort yelled out as he flagrantly whipped his wand about. Still making a spectacle. Harry quickly jerked his wand and caused a slab of dirt to jump out of the ground and absorb the spell before banishing it at Voldemort who redirected it around and behind him with little effort. Harry took a small bit of satisfaction in seeing it smash into an unknown DE but made sure to let nothing show on his face.
"I'm actually impressed. I figured that would be the end of the duel. I'm not ashamed to give credit where it is due. No matter." Voldemort said with a chuckle before he waved his wand causing several of the marble and other stone headstones to break into large chunks. "You seem fond of transfiguration to conjure the earth like you did. Let me show you how it's really done."
As he finished speaking the floating stones all rushed together and formed into a large snake that rushed towards Harry at an alarming speed, its mouth poised open as if striking.
Harry spun his wand around in his palm rapidly as a blue sheen enveloped around him. A shield taught to him by Dumbledore that was particularly useful against physical attacks. The stone snake crashed into the shield, turning to water droplets as it passed through. Harry then jerked his wand around as all the water formed into another snake, a spellchain, if you will. The shield turns whatever substance into water that you then turn into a counterattack.
He whipped his wand around his side and towards Voldemort directing the water snake at the Dark Lord. Voldemort grinned with a near mad glint in his eye and responded by pointing his wand straight at the attack and calling out "Fiendfyre!"
The circle of DE were amazed at the level of the duel they were watching between their master and a 14 year old boy. No 14-year-old should be performing magic on this level. And for some of them, though they'd never tell anyone, not even their own mother, they realized that Harry might actually be able to defeat Voldemort one day.
The snakes of fire and water began to clash, near boiling water spraying everywhere causing a fog to cover the makeshift arena. "This may be my chance to escape." Harry thought as he noticed that his vision was beginning to be obscured. "Just need to make more steam."
That thought running through his mind, Harry poured more power into his water snake with a thought. He then pointed his wand at Voldemort and uttered his own "Fiendfyre."
A large stream of fire poured from Harry's wand and took the shape of a lion as it charged towards the Dark Lord.
"Dark magic, Potter? What would the wise old headmaster think of 'the champion of the light' using such an unsavory spell?" Voldemort's voice was full of obvious mirth as he conjured a water whip and split the lion in half before bringing it back around and cutting the beast in half again. He had a twisted smirk on his face as the creatures all dispersed into steam.
"You see Potter? Even with the dark arts you are no match for Lord Voldemort. I've been a practitioner of the darkest of the dark since your parents were in nappies. I've done things that no man before me ever has ever done." At this point he was screaming out into the fog as he turned slowly in a circle because he could no longer see where his enemy was located. "I've done the impossible, things that would make the darkest of souls cower in fear. I have defeated even death itself! I am the greatest Dark Lord that has ever and will ever live, Potter; you are no match for me!"
"Now's my chance… Where is he at?" Harry thought as he looked and listened for any signs of movement. He was unable to find anything so he fired a few spaced out blasting curses and hoped for the best but to no avail.
"Avada Kedavra!" he heard from within the steam. He wasn't able to see the spell good enough to dodge or block it so he did the only think he could think of. Hoping for the spells to resonate together and seek one another out, He thought of the intense hatred he felt for Voldemort for ruining his life, taking away his family and friends and everything. He really wanted to kill this man and be done with it. "Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted back as he aimed in the general direction he had heard the incantation from, willing his magic to guide the spell to it's destination.
Every DE present and even Voldemort's eyes widened briefly. He couldn't believe that the champion of the light, Dumbledore's protégé would cast the killing curse. Fiendfyre was one thing but the killing curse was considered to be the darkest commonly known spell out there. It was no matter though, this was Lord Voldemort's bread and butter curse, there was no way the boy could match his own.
Green collided with green and there was a large shockwave of energy where they met, carving a crater in the ground. Harry could feel his wand begin to heat up and vibrate like electricity was running through it. His hand was locked onto the wand; he didn't think he could let go even if he wanted to. The green beams surged and sparked and ripped up large chunks of earth as they fought for dominance. Both Harry and Voldemort were surprised that Harry's killing curse was able to put up a fight like it was.
Harry could barely see Voldemort on the other end of their connection, and he noted with trepidation that the steam he relied on for cover was quickly dissipating. "I really need to get out of here quick."
Suddenly, to his immense surprise, Harry felt his feet leave the ground. He began to float upwards and was able to notice that Voldemort was doing the same. He then noticed that the green beam had turned into a thinner strand of shimmering gold energy. He had no idea what was going on right now, all he knew was that he was unable to stop it.
The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now
"Stay Back! I said we were dueling with no interference!" Voldemort yelled out, strain clearly on his voice.
Harry's wand had grown so hot it was burning his hand now, and he wondered if Voldemort's was reacting the same when his thought was cut off by an unearthly and beautiful sound. It was coming from the golden light, making it seem as if it was coming from everywhere. He listened for a moment and for some reason began to feel more confident that he would make it out of this. Then he recognized it; from another time he was seemingly dead with no hope to survive. In the Chamber with basilisk venom coursing through him. Phoenix Song.
It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Just hearing it inspired hope and confidence in him. He felt like he could almost hear someone whispering motivations in his ear.
"Don't break the connection."
"I know." He whispered back. It must have interfered with his concentration though, because he immediately felt more strain on his wand. The burning pain was intense by now. He then noticed that a bead of light was travelling towards him on the golden thread, and he wasn't sure how he knew, but decided he should force the bead away.
He concentrated all he was worth on willing the bead away. That's what this was now; not a battle of spells or knowledge but a battle of willpower. Did he want to live more than Voldemort wanted him to die? "You're goddamn right I do." He whispered to himself as he willed the ball away. It was slowly but surely moving towards Voldemort now.
He lost track of the bead in the steam but continued pushing it, thinking of all he had to live for and how much he wanted to see his friends again. He wasn't sure how long he stayed that way; time seemed relative in this… whatever they were in. Soon enough though he felt something in his mind telling him to make one more push and with a grunt of exertion and a flood of happy thoughts he did.
The bead jumped the last inch into Voldemort's wand, causing the wand to emit a horrible shriek like hundreds of people screaming in pain at once before it was interrupted as Voldemort's wand exploded into nothing but splinters and a large cloud of smoke. Instantly the steam was blown from the clearing, as were all the DE, by the backlash from the explosion. Harry could now see the wide eyed look of horror on Voldemort's face. A true, honest, fear of dying. Before Harry could celebrate that small victory though, his own wand exploded in his hand.
If he thought the burning was bad, now he had splinters buried into the bone and pieces of his hand were just gone, it looked like it had been in a blender and the pain was staggering. Not on Cruciatus level, but enough to remind you it was there.
Harry returned his attention to Voldemort when he heard the horrible screaming noise start up again to see the large cloud of smoke begin to form into figures. The first he was able to recognize was the DE that he had erased. Then Pettigrew, followed by Crouch and then several more figures. Finally, Harry heard a voice that he remembered only from the deepest recesses of his mind and then couldn't believe his eyes
The smoky shadow of a tall man with untidy hair fell to the ground as the others had done, straightened up, and looked at him. . . and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his father.
"Your mother's coming… " he said quietly. "She wants to see you… it will be all right, son. Just hold on."
And she came. . . first her head, then her body. . . a young woman with long hair, the smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like her husband. She walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear.
"When the connection is broken, we only have a few seconds left here… but we will give you time… you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts. . . do you understand, Harry?"
"Yea." He said in disbelief. It wasn't pleasant circumstances, but he was getting to see and talk to his parents.
"Harry, listen." His father said again, bringing him back to reality. "Tell Sirius thank you for everything. Never let anyone or anything hold you back. We love you Son. Now go!"
When his father yelled go, the connection between himself and Voldemort severed and disappeared. He looked at his parents one last time as he stretched his remaining good hand towards the Triwizard cup. It jumped off the ground and began sailing towards him and he heard Voldemort roar in anger as the spirits kept him from stopping Harry. "Thanks Mom, Dad. I love you both." Harry said with a sad smile as the cup reached his hand and he felt the hook behind his navel before disappearing.