Harry ran his fingers through Hedwig's snow-white feathers as he read the latest letter from Sirius. He grinned at the old dog's descriptions of the beaches in whatever Mediterranean country he was currently hiding in.

Sirius had originally wanted to stay in Britain, but Harry had been quite adamant that he didn't want to be forced to save the escaped convict from the Dementors again. It hadn't exactly gone well the last time; they didn't have a time turner at their disposal to fix it this time. Sirius had eventually agreed, and from his occasional letters, it sounded like he had been enjoying his vacation.

Harry liked Sirius, but he had no need for a parental figure. He still wasn't sure how to feel about his own parents, but the aching emptiness could not be filled by another adult trying to curtail his freedom. He was too accustomed to acting with impunity to return to being a child now.

If he had ever been a child, for that matter. After discovering his power, Harry had gone to the run-down library near #4 Privet Drive and tried to find out what it was that he could do. Why there were monsters in the streets and why he could channel emerald green power through his hands. He hadn't found many answers, but at least he had found information.

After his encounter with the demonic wolves, he had found that he could infuse his mind just as he could enhance his body. He was finally able to understand, able to remember everything he read about the nature of the universe. Even if it did not explain his power or his demons.

Occlumency, the books in the Hogwarts library called it. The use of magic to shield and enhance the mind. The tomes talked about ways to catalog your memories and defend your mind from intruders.

Harry had been using something similar to occlumency since he was eight years old. He had no idea what the effects of his actions had on his emotions and thoughts as he had grown. Children were not supposed to be able to control their mind, to be able to remember everything and process it with supernatural speed and clarity.

It was no wonder that all of the children except Hermione had felt petty to him. He was something other, some blend of childish elasticity and adult cognizance.

No wonder he was broken.

He sighed and pocketed the letter. He would work on a reply later. Hedwig cooed softly at him as he stroked the soft feathers around her neck, her amber eyes piercing as he felt the bond in their souls sing a content but melancholy tune.

…

"It's a maze."

The champions and Bagman stood on the edge of the Quidditch pitch, looking out over the sprawling sea of hedges.

"Yes!" Bagman crowed excitedly. "We'll have it over twenty feet tall within the month. The Triwizard Cup will be placed at the center, and the first one to touch it will receive full marks for the task."

Harry felt that he needed to ask the obvious question.

"Can we just… fly over it?"

"You'll only be able to use your wands for the task, no brooms allowed!"

Harry wondered if the bludgers had scrambled Bagman's brain.

"Mr Bagman… I don't use a wand. And I can fly without a broom. You were there for the last two tasks."

"Oh, ahem, of course," Bagman coughed. "Now that you mention it, we will be putting wards in place so that the maze cannot be exited from below."

"Fantastic. So, we just have to get through it?"

"Oh, there will be obstacles!" Bagman was back to being excited again. Lovely. "Hagrid is providing us with a number of creatures, and there will be spells and traps along the way! It should be lots of fun!"

All of the champions deadpanned, although for different reasons.

Harry turned invisible and flew away.

…

Harry sat in the very familiar plush chair across from the ancient headmaster in his office. Between them on the desk sat the Marauder's Map.

"We will monitor every available avenue, without significantly interrupting the task or tipping our hand. Voldemort surely knows that we know that he is planning something. That was the whole point of this game. We are both planning around the other, but in truth we are running blind. He is making the offensive play here, and we must get as much information as we can before the trap closes. We cannot prevent it from closing entirely, because up-ending the game board now would only serve to set us back while allowing him to plot anew."

Harry nodded. "I will move directly from the entrance to the maze to the cup. Voldemort will expect nothing less. If he is planning to use the maze to trap me, he will do so somewhere during that time. If he does not, then we must assume that there is some blade in the dark that we are missing. I will take the cup and hope for the best."

Dumbledore looked down at the map between them.

"I will give this map to Alastor and allow him to monitor everyone in the castle and grounds with the Eye of Fjolnir. We will locate and determine the identity of Voldemort's current followers while you act as bait."

"My favorite pastime."

…

"For the record, I do not like being left behind to wait for you like a helpless war widow."

Harry grinned into her wild hair. "But then who will be my motivation to fight the good fight against all odds."

"I'll show you the good fight when I freeze your-"

Harry kissed her as she continued to grumble into his lips.

They lay side by side in their clearing by the lake, the spring air pleasantly cool and the stars bright overhead.

"I know. Keep an eye on Albus and Moody. When the trap springs, I'll be counting on you to come and save me."

She snorted. "Sure you will. As if you won't dive headlong into whatever fight comes your way."

"You said it yourself, I'm a creature of habit."

She sighed and tugged on the edge of his black vest. "I like the additions to your standard attire. Did you decide it was finally time for an upgrade?"

"I liked the vest that I conjured for the Yule Ball, even if the jacket was a bit much for everyday wear."

She hummed and pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he gripped her waist.

"Remember, you're not allowed to leave me alone. I don't care what happens."

"Never. I'll always find my way back."

"You'd better. I can't handle Luna's crazy all on my own."

"I love you, my Queen."

"As I love you, my Knight in conjured armor."

…

"Now, are you sure that-"

"Luna, I definitely can't entice the Dark Lord to the side of good with treacle pudding or whatever other tricks you're planning."

"It doesn't hurt to try!"

"It really might, Angel."

…

Harry looked around the packed stadium, the sparks of the hundreds of spectators dancing to his magical senses. He wondered if Voldemort was already here, hiding in the soul of one of the many attendees.

At least the ministry hadn't messed up the spectator aspect this time. The Quidditch stands were tall enough that the audience could see into the maze from above. Kind of.

He admired the green hedges in front of him. They were thick and gnarled, magical and resistant to any spells.

He doubted they would be able to resist being broken down at a molecular level without an identity and a soul aware enough to protect them.

Deep in the maze, Harry could feel the potent magic of the Triwizard Cup. It wasn't anything special, but it was still an ancient magical artifact.

Bagman bounced over, as excitable as ever. "Isn't this exciting? If you run into too much trouble in the maze, just send up red sparks and we'll get you out. Is everyone ready?"

The other champions looked nervous. Harry just stared at the overzealous ministry head.

"Here we go then!" Bagman cast a Sonorous charm on himself and announced the current points to the stadium. Harry let his magic extend and caress Hermione's brilliant, powerful soul, shining brightly amid the sea of lesser sparks.

Good luck, Death Walker.

He sent back his feelings of love and admiration before refocusing on Bagman.

"On my whistle, Harry! Three… two… one…"

The whistle blew, shrill and sharp, and Harry flew into the maze. He didn't have time for games now. He would get to the center and dare Riddle to attack him along the way.

Harry flew straight forward as he condensed his magic around him, letting it permeate and thread through the darkest underlying parts of reality. He could feel the very air around him, the atoms that bounced and collided in their never-ending dance. He could feel the forces that bound them, could feel the energy inherent in their very existence. He churned his magic into a cyclone in a sphere around him, shredding anything that entered down to its fundamental building blocks.

He flew straight through the hedge without stopping.

He wondered if Bagman would call it cheating.

Whatever the obstacles were, none of them seemed to hinder him as he flew. He only faltered for a moment when he felt the sliver of Dark within a Boggart, and he caught sight of the skeletal figure of Voldemort through the hedges.

"Come to me, my Nemesis."

Harry reached out and shredded the fragment of Dark within the spirit, but his stomach clenched.

He flew onward, past any remaining obstacles and the shining soul of what he guessed was a sphinx. An acromantula tried to leap at him, but he caught it with his power just as he had the dragon.

Before the next whistle had even sounded, he floated before the cup.

It was a twisted matrix of magic to his senses, and it felt like several spells were threaded through it. He couldn't begin to parse what they were without significantly more time.

Voldemort had not attacked. The trap was not here. Whatever was about to happen, it could not be predicted by him. Maybe Luna, but she hadn't told him anything of importance.

He reached out and let the trap close upon him.

He knew that he was right the second that he touched the cup. The magic of a portkey activated along with several other spells. He felt one pierce the flesh of his hand, drawing out a small amount of blood. He felt another seal the blood away and stop him from interfering with it as he and the cup appeared in an unknown graveyard.

Harry leapt backwards into the air as quickly as he could. He could feel powerful wards the likes of which he had never seen extending in every direction. He wondered if the cloak and sword together would allow him to bypass them.

He took in his surroundings in the blink of an eye, magic infusing his mind and body. The graveyard was dark and foreboding, with a ritual altar at one end. On it was Pettigrew, his eyes wide as he strained against the chains that bound him. Above him floated an ornate ritual dagger, its blade pointed downwards.

That was unexpected.

To one side stood an unfamiliar man. He was thin, with light brown hair, wild eyes and a manic smile. His tongue flicked spastically in and out of his mouth, and he had the most powerful soul of any Death Eater that Harry had encountered so far. Not quite at Moody's level, but potent nonetheless despite it being warped and broken. In his arms was the homunculus that Harry had seen Voldemort inhabiting, in the dream so long ago.

Before Harry could act, a huge surge of magic swelled in the graveyard. Ritual runes came alive on the gravestones, carved into the rock and into the ground in great circles around the altar. The disturbing body in the man's arms that housed the Dark Lord's soul rose into the air and hung in the middle of the circle. Harry's first thought was to disrupt the ritual, but the magic of the runes had been well established and it would not be moved even as he threw his immense power against it.

Bone of the Father.

Dust from a nearby grave drifted upwards.

Flesh of the Servant.

The ritual knife plunged into Pettigrew's heart and his body dissolved while he screamed.

Blood of the Enemy.

Harry watched helplessly even as he tried to break the magic of the ritual while his blood from the cup floated upwards.

Live again.

Harry was thrown backwards by the explosion of raw magic, brilliant lights dancing in the center of the graveyard as the ritual components were consumed and the body that held Voldemort's soul grew. He had the long, skeletal limbs that Harry had seen on his Boggart, the same pale face and glowing red eyes that he saw in Riddle's twisted and malevolent soul.

Harry watched in horror as he felt the ritual bind the Dark Lord's soul into the new flesh, making it one and the same. A complete body, with access to his full power.

Lord Voldemort had returned.

…