Harry staggered slightly as his feet hit ground again and he drew his wand. Cedric rose to stand beside him and they both looked at their surrounding

Instead of standing in the middle of the hedge-maze on the Quidditch pitch, they were in the middle of a dark graveyard.

“Well,” said Cedric blandly, “this doesn’t look like Kansas anymore.”

Harry looked at him oddly and he said, “The Wizard of Oz.”

“Never seen it.”

“Right. Did you know the cup was a Portkey?”

“Not unless someone Obliviated me after I found out,” quipped Harry. He then looked around and hissed, “Someone’s coming.”

And indeed someone was. A short figure carrying something in its arms walked through the gravestones, a smaller figure following it. As the first one came nearer, it became apparent that the bundle in its arms was – a baby?

Suddenly Harry’s head exploded with pain, a pain like none he had ever felt before. And he had felt a lot of pain in his life.

Harry then realized who this was, who this had to be, but he couldn’t speak. The pain in his head was so fierce…

Then he heard that cold voice, that familiar cold voice that sometimes haunted his nightmares…

“Kill the spare.”

CEDRIC!

“Avada Kedavra!”

Something fell to the ground beside Harry and he knew what it had to be. The pain blazing from his scar rose for a moment then faded to a dull pulse.

Harry opened his eyes and saw Cedric lying on the ground beside him. His gray eyes were wide and glassy and Harry knew he was dead.

Suddenly he was jerked to his feet and dragged over to a marble headstone. He had enough time to read the name before he was lashed to it, his body not responding to his brains cries to move.

TOM RIDDLE

As the cloaked man stepped away, Harry saw one of his fingers was missing, which confirmed that he was where he thought he was. And that sent a cold shiver up his spine.

Wormtail (for that is who the cloaked figure was) stuffed a piece of fabric into Harry’s mouth then disappeared from sight. A gigantic snake appeared in his place, circling him and the headstone.

Then Wormtail reappeared, dragging a stone cauldron full of water to the foot of the grave. As Harry watched, he used a wand (Harry’s nonetheless) to light a fire under the immense cauldron. The bundle that Harry thought was a baby twitched as the liquid in the cauldron began to heat up, sending off fiery sparks. The little boy that had been following Wormtail stood beside it, his blue eyes as blank as Cedric’s now were. He couldn’t have been more than five.

“Hurry!”

The water looked as thought it were afire now.

Wormtail’s mouth moved then but the words came out of the little boy’s mouth.

“It is ready, Master.”

“Now…”

Wormtail bent and opened the robes on the ground, a look of revulsion passing across his face. Harry saw it and let out a yelp that was muffled by the fabric in his mouth.

It looked like a human child, but it wasn’t. Hairless and scaly-looking with dark, reddish black skin, it had feeble looking arms and legs. And its face – its face had never belonged to any child – flat and snakelike with gleaming red eyes.

Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron and Harry heard its body hit the bottom. As he watched, Wormtail lifted his wand (still Harry’s) and mouthed the words, which came out of the little boy’s mouth.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”

The grave at Harry’s feet cracked and a trail of dust floated out of it and into the cauldron, which turned a poisonous blue.

Now Wormtail pulled a silver dagger from his robes. The voice from the boy’s mouth faltered as Wormtail lifted the blade.

“Flesh – of the servant – w-willingly g-given – you will revive – your m-master.”

He stretched his right hand out before him – the one with the missing finger – and lifted the dagger high in the other hand. Harry knew instantly what he was doing.

A scream erupted from both Wormtail and the boy’s throats as the severed hand splashed into the cauldron. The water was now red, blazing and bright.

“B-blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will…resurrect your foe.”

Wormtail came towards Harry, panting heavily. The teen pressed against his bonds as the silver dagger came close but it was no use. Its point ripped opened his shirtsleeve and penetrated the crook of his and blood began to flow. Wormtail fumbled for a vial, then held it to the cut so a bit of blood dribbled inside.

Staggering back to the cauldron, he poured Harry’s blood inside. The liquid turned a blinding white. Wormtail sank to the ground, he and the boy sobbing as one, his task done.

The light emanating from the cauldron grew even brighter…then it stopped.

Harry peered into the smoke now billowing from the cauldron and saw the outline of a tall, skeletally thin man.

“Robe me,” said the man.

Wormtail, wounded arm clutched to his side, rose and grabbed the robes from the ground, pulling them one-handed over his master’s head.

The man stepped out of the cauldron and Harry looked up into the face of the man who had murdered his mother and had a hold on his father’s soul. Face whiter than a skull’s, a snake’s flat, slitted nose, and eyes the color of newly shed bloody…

Next headline for the Daily Prophet: Lord Voldemort Has Returned.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry watched as Voldemort ran his spidery hands over his own body. On the ground, Wormtail twitched and bled his life into the grass. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the rat. But he felt even more sorry for the boy. He had a feeling the child would not live to see another sunrise.

Then Voldemort drew out a wand from one of his pockets, raising it and pointing it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the tombstone Harry was tied to. The boy issued forth a cry of pain, Wormtail’s pain. And Voldemort laugh, cold and mirthlessly.

“My Lord…” said Wormtail, through the boy’s mouth. The stump of his arm was wrapped in his robes, turning them even darker than they were. “My Lord…you promise…”

“Hold out your arm.”

“Oh thank you, Mater…” He extended the bleeding stump.

“The other arm, Wormtail.”

“Master, please…”

Voldemort bent and grabbed Wormtail’s left arm, pulling up the sleeve to reveal the blazing red of the Mark. He examined it slowly, carefully.

“They will all have noticed it…but now we shall see…”

He pressed one long finger to the Mark.

Harry’s scar let out another fresh whiplash of pain in joint with Wormtail (and the boy’s) howl. As Voldemort moved back, Harry saw the Mark burning black as pitch.

“Now,” said Voldemort, “how many will be brave enough to return when they feel it? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?”

Now he’ll know, thought Harry. Now he’ll know that Voldemort has returned.

Voldemort smiled cruelly and turned to Harry.

“So we meet again, Harry Potter. Here we stand, above the grave of my father, a Muggle and a fool…much like your mother.”

“You shut up about my mother,” growled Harry, spitting out the fabric Wormtail had stuffed in his mouth, his eyes blazing.

Voldemort threw back his head and laughed.

“I strike a cord I see. Shall I play on it?” mused Voldemort. “Ah what a sweet conversation family is. But look! Now my true family returns!”

And so they did. Cloaked wizards, hooded and masked as at the World Cup, Apparated into the graveyard. They paused when they saw the Dark Lord, then moved forward slowly.

One Death Eater fell to his knees and kissed Voldemort’s robes.

“Master…”

One by one the Death Eaters did this then formed a circle around the grave, Voldemort, Harry, the heap that was Wormtail, and the glassy-eyed little boy. Harry saw gaps left in the circle, as though more were expected. But Voldemort obviously did not expect them.

“Welcome, Death Eaters. Thirteen years have passed since we last met. Yet…you answer my call as though it were yesterday. We are still united under the Dark Mark…or are we?” He looked around the circle. “I smell guilt…”

“You all are here, healthy, with your powers intact – yet I ask myself…why did this band of wizards, sworn eternally to their master, never come to his aid?”

A shiver went through the group but no one spoke. In the silence, Harry tried to free his hand enough to reach his pocket, where he’d put the pocketknife.

“So I answer myself – this band of wizards thought me gone, broken and done. They slipped back among my enemies and pleaded innocence…”

“Yet why would they do such a thing when they knew the steps I had taken to prevent myself from dying a mortal death? Or perhaps they thought a mere babe had destroyed what even Albus Dumbledore could not?”

Voldemort looked about the circle.

“I confess…I am disappointed…”

One Death Eater suddenly flung himself forward at Voldemort’s feet.

“Master! Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!”

Fool! thought Harry as Voldemort lifted his wand and laughed.

“Crucio!”

The Death Eater began to writhe on the ground, screaming. As the screams went on, Harry used it as a diversion to cause on of the ropes binding him to snap. He had learned from one of the other children at Argil’s that enough pressure on anything will break it. So now on of his legs was mostly free. Hip-hip-hoorah.

Voldemort lifted his wand and the Death Eater lay still, gasping.

“Get up, Avery. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive; and I do not forget. I want thirteen years repayment before I forgive you.”

He looked down at Wormtail.

“Wormtail here had already paid some of his debt. He returned to me, not out of loyalty, but of fear of his old friends. Yet, traitorous as he is, he has helped me return to my body. And Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…”

“Yes, Master,” moaned Wormtail’s voice from the boy’s mouth, “please, Master…”

“Indeed he will be rewarded. But first…Avada Kedavra!”

The little boy fell to the ground and Harry winced. Then Voldemort raised his wand and whirled it through the air, a streak of molten silver shining in its wake. Then it writhed and formed into a shimmering hand, which swooped down like a bird of prey and latched itself onto Wormtail’s bleeding wrist.

Wormtail’s sobs ceased as he lifted his head and stared at the silver hand now fixed seamlessly to his arm. He flexed the fingers then picked up a twig, crushing it into powder.

“Master,” he said soundlessly, the boy now dead and the spell that had given him voice broken. “Thank you…thank you…” He kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robes.

“May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail.”

Wormtail shook his head furiously then rose and joined the circle of Death Eaters as Voldemort began to turn to the members of the circle.

“Lucius, my slippery friend… I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. I heard of your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup…but your energies might have been better spend finding and aiding your master.”

“I was on the alert, my Lord. Had there been any whisper of your whereabouts…” said Lucius Malfoy’s voice from underneath a hood and Harry felt a fresh wave of hatred for the man.

“Yet you ran from my Mark when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky… You have disappointed me, Lucius… I expect more faithful service in the future.”

“Of course, my Lord…”

Voldemort moved on, to a place where two people might stand.

“The Lestranges should stand here but they are entombed in Azkaban. When it is broken open, they shall be well rewarded for never renouncing me.”

Harry felt another flash of anger as he remembered that he had read that the Lestranges had been two of the Death Eaters who had tortured the Longbottom’s (later turned in by an anonymous source) and left Neville parentless. And Amanda tortured by the memory.

Voldemort walk on, passing some Death Eaters in silence. Others he spoke to.

“Manair…destroying dangerous creatures for the Ministry…”

“And here we have Crabbe…and Goyle. I trust the two of you will do better this time.”

“The same goes for you, Nott,” said Voldemort to a figure cowering behind Goyle.

Voldemort now reached a gap that may have held six people at one time.

“And here we have six missing Death Eaters. Three of them are dead in my service. One is too cowardly to return…he will pay. One has left me forever, I believe…he will be killed…”

Da! thought Harry, heart jumping in his chest. His greatest fear besides a dementor had just been voiced.

“…and the last, my most faithful of servants. He had already returned to my service and is the very reason our young friend is here tonight.”

Harry blinked. Someone at Hogwarts had sent him and Cedric here!”

“Yes,” hissed Voldemort, as all eyes in the circle fell upon Harry. “Harry Potter has deigned to honor us with his presence.

“Master,” said Lucius Malfoy. “Master, we crave to know…tell us – how you have managed to return to us…”

Voldemort laughed.

“Why, Lucius, it begins – and ends –with out guest here.”

“You all know that this boy has been gifted with the honor of being the cause of my down fall. You all know on the night I tried to kill him, I lost my powers and my body. His mother died to save him – and provided him a protection. Her sacrifice enforced one of the old magic’s…and I could no touch him. But that matters not now…now I can touch him.”

One white hand caressed Harry’s cheek and the teen bit his tongue to keep from crying out at the pain in his scar. Blood pooled in his mouth as Voldemort continued.

“I miscalculated, I admit it. My curse was deflected by a woman’s foolish sacrifice and rebounded onto myself. Such pain it was. I was ripped from my body, less than a spirit or the meanest ghost…but I was still alive.”

“I settled in a forest and waited…surely one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me…would find me and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body…but I waited in vain…”

Voldemort paused and Harry could practically taste the fear in the air, it was so thick.

“Only one power was left to me. I could possess the bodies of others. I dared not go near populated area, not with the Aurors abroad and looking for me. Animals were my prey at first – but they never last long.”

“Then – four years ago – my way to return with within my grasp. A young, foolish wizard wandered onto me. He was easy to bend to my will and he was a teacher at Dumbledore’s school. I was so close to my goal and then I was thwarted once more by Harry Potter.”

“The servant was killed by the very curse that felled me and I never saw the caster. I fled back to my hiding place, and then, then I did fear that I might never regain my powers.”

Harry blinked. So he had heard someone say the words of the Killing Curse that night! And it hadn’t been Dumbledore.

“But then, a servant returned to me at last. Wormtail, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was discovered by his once friends and decided to return to his master. He sought me out, helped by the rats along the way – he has a strange affinity with rats, Wormtail. But then he decided to stop at an inn for some food…and who should he meet there but a Ministry witch, one Bertha Jorkins.”

“Ah but Bertha was more important than she seemed. And Wormtail – displaying an intelligence I would never have supposed he had – overpowered her and brought her to me. And the stories Bertha had to tell!”

“She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be all too willing to help me, if only I could reach him. But alas…the mean I have to use to break the Memory Charms upon her was powerful and after I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were damaged beyond repair. I disposed of her.”

“Of course, I could no possess Wormtail, so I was forced to acquire a body of sorts to travel in. And with no hope of setting my hands on the Sorcerer’s Stone, as Dumbledore would have seen it destroyed, I set my sights lower. My old body and strength would do until I could seek immortality again.”

“To achieve this – the potion that revived me tonight is old Dark Magic – I needed three powerful ingredients. One, of course, was ready at hand. Flesh given by a servant…”

“My father’s bone meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe…ah, a harder thing to find. Wormtail would have had me take any wizard who hated me, but I want the one who had stripped me of my power. I wanted Harry Potter’s blood.”

“But how to get him? Perhaps at the World Cup…but no. Yet how to reach him at Hogwarts, to snatch him right out from under that Muffle-lover’s crooked nose? Why, to use Bertha Jorkin’s information. A faithful Death Eater stationed at Hogwarts to make sure his name was placed in the Goblet of Fire. A Death Eater who would make sure the boy won the tournament and turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey. Which brought him here, out of Dumbledore’s reach. Here is the boy all believed to be my downfall…”

Voldemort lazily turned towards Harry, lifting his wand.

“Crucio!”

Pain beyond anything he had ever felt ripped through Harry. Argil’s beatings were Heaven next to this – even the pain from his scar when Voldemort was near. He writhed against the ropes still binding him, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. Voldemort would not hear him scream…

Then the pain stopped. Harry sagged against the cool marble of the headstone. The Death Eater’s laughter rang in his ears.

“You see how foolish it was to think this boy could be strong than me? But let us make sure that there is no mistake. Harry Potter escaped me by luck. And I’m going to kill him, in front of all of you, to prove it. I will give him a chance to fight, a change to prove which of us is stronger.”

“Now, Wormtail, if you would untie him and return his wand.”

Harry lifted his head at those words and spat out the blood that had pooled in his mouth. He straightened as well as he could as Wormtail approached. The short man lifted his new silver hand and cut the ropes binding Harry with one swipe. He then shoved the teen’s wand into his hand without looking at his face and rejoined the circle of Death Eaters.

“I presume you have been taught to duel?” said Voldemort.

Harry spat out another mouthful of blood then clamped his hand hard on his wand. Eyes blazing, he looked up at Voldemort and smirked.

“Bow, Harry,” said Voldemort, bending only slightly. “The niceties must be observed.”

Harry tilted his head slightly and smiled coldly. As the Death Eaters shifted slightly, he thought, Well, if that’s the way he wants to play this…

“Of course they must,” said Harry, bowing slightly, keeping his eyes on Voldemort’s face. “After all…we wouldn’t want to disappoint the adoring public.”

Voldemort smiled at him but it was not the same confident smile he’d had before.

“And now you face me like a man…to die the way your father died.”

Oh, if only you knew, thought Harry, lifting his wand.

“Now – we duel.”

Voldemort lifted his wand and before Harry could get the words of his Shield Spell off, he had fallen under the Cruciatus Curse again. He writhed on the ground, his entire body feeling as thought it was being scored by a thousand white-hot brands. He bit the inside of his cheeks again to keep from crying out and when the curse was lifted, more blood pooled in his mouth.

Spitting onto the ground, Harry took a deep breath before getting to his feet. He narrowed his eyes at Voldemort and hissed, “Praecipito!”

The curse rushed towards Voldemort – and he sent it spiraling away into a Death Eater with a weak shield. As the Death Eater was thrown down onto the ground, he said, “A good attempt, Harry. But not good enough.”

“Abrumpo!”

Harry threw himself onto the ground and heard something whistle above his head. As he hit the ground, long locks of dark hair fell around him. He reached up and felt nothing but a cluster of feathery hair where his ponytail had been. Shaking his head, he got up and looked at Voldemort.

“Did you mean to miss my head or were you actually aiming at the ponytail.”

Red eyes narrowed and Voldemort hissed, “Crucio!”

But this time Harry was ready. Just as Voldemort lifted hi wand, he cast his Shield Spell.

“Adamans Defendo!”

Unfortunately Harry hadn’t had enough time to strengthen the shield and it collapsed. And he once more fell under the Cruciatus Curse.

Then, as he started to rise again, Voldemort hissed, “Imperio!”

Harry’s mind was wiped of all thought for a moment but just when a voice, Voldemort’s voice, had started to whisper in his head, he shook it. Voldemort’s eyes widened and Harry smirked. He had completely thrown off the Imperius Curse.

Then Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his wand again. Harry lifted his in the same instant and they both spoke curses at the same time.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Excorio!”

The two spells, one green and one a violent orange, collided and became one glowing golden strand, connecting the two wands. Harry’s hand seized up around his wand and, try as he might, he couldn’t let go. Voldemort too was trapped. Both of their wands were shaking violently.

Then their feet left the ground and Harry clamped his hand hard on his wand. Quite suddenly they were moved, from above the tombstone of Tom Riddle Sr. to above a patch of ground that was clear. The Death Eaters followed, as well as the snake. They reformed the circle about Harry and Voldemort, a few of them drawing their wands.

The golden thread connecting the two wands suddenly splintered, a thousand more beams arching off of the one, crisscrossing around them into a dome-shaped web. The Death Eaters circled in like jackals around a kill.

“Do nothing!” shouted Voldemort to them. Harry saw him trying to break the beam of light connecting them and he held tighter to his wand.

And then quite suddenly Harry heard a song he’ only heard once before in his life. Phoenix song, the song he’d heard in the Chamber of Secrets when he’d face the Tom Riddle from the diary. Some like a voice whispered in his ear, Don’t break the connection.

As if someone had to tell me that, thought Harry, clutching his wand tighter as it began to vibrate harder. As he watched, the beam of light connecting him and Voldemort changed. There now seemed to be beads of light sliding up and down it. Harry’s wand shuddered violently as the beads of light began to slowly slide his way…

The wood beneath his fingertips and palm grew unbearably hot but he held tight. As the beads came closer he eyed it angrily. It felt as though his wand would shatter if that bed connected.

Then Harry turned his head slightly and saw Cedric’s body lying beyond the circle of Death Eaters and the dome of light. Red rage filled him at the sigh, not only because Cedric has been his friend, but because his death would hurt Niamh. Harry turned his eyes back to the bead moving towards his wand and began to concentrate on moving it back towards Voldemort. If anyone had been able to see, they would have seen his eyes go completely black.

And the bead began to move back along the beam. Now Voldemort’s wand was the one shaking violently. Harry’s eyes narrowed to slits of darkness as he concentrated, forcing that bead back along the thread until it connected with Voldemort’s wand.

Screams immediately issued from Voldemort’s wand, echoing screams of pain – then a shadow, a gray shade of a little boy – then a ghostly hand that flew off and vanished. More screams issued forth and then something much larger, a grayish mass that appeared to be a head…and a chest and arms…of one Cedric Diggory.

Harry’s eyes widened in shock and only his already tight grip on his wand kept him from dropping it. He watched as the ghost of Cedric (if it really was a ghost) squeezed out of the wand and dropped to the ground. He looked at the beam of light then at the boy, who stood silently with sad eyes. Then he looked at Harry.

“Hold on, Harry,” the shade said, its voice echoing.

Harry nodded and looked across at Voldemort. Judging from the look on his face, he didn’t know what was going on anymore than Harry did.

More screams issued from the wand – then another head, followed by the arm and torso…it was the old man, the one Harry had seen in his dream during the summer – his ghost, or whatever it was, fell next to Cedric’s and surveyed the battlefield…

“He was a real wizard, then?” said the old man, eying Voldemort menacingly. “Killed me, that one did… You fight him, boy…”

Another shape was emerging from the wand now…but this one was a woman… As she emerged, Harry had to clamp both hands on his wand as it began to shake violently. The darkness that permeated his eyes swirled like storm clouds as he fought to hold it. Something told him he had to hold it, no matter what.

The woman (who he guessed was Bertha Jorkins) cried, “Don’t let go, now! Don’t let him get you, Harry!”

The four shadows circled the duelers, three of them whispering encouragement to Harry and hissing words he could no hear to Voldemort. The little boy only watched, his eyes so very sad… Harry felt a dark rage at Voldemort for that death. He had only been five! And now he would never know the rest of life. Never.

Now another shape began to blossom from the wand…a woman, beautiful, with long hair… She fell to the ground then straightened and moved towards Harry. The teens, arms shaking violently from his fiercely vibrating wand, looked up into his mothers face for the first time that he could remember.

“My baby,” she whispered, shadowy hand reaching toward him then pulled back to her chest. “Hold on…he’s coming…just hold on…”

Another shape blossomed from the wand…this one a man, tall with hair that flew everywhere. James Potter straightened beside his wife an came close to Harry…there was something in his eyes…then it hit Harry. He had known. James Potter had known that he, Harry, was no his son.

Now James whispered so Voldemort could not hear…

“When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments…but we will give you time…you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts…do you understand, Harry?”

Harry nodded slowly and his mother slid into his sight again.

“Be careful…oh my son…my beautiful little boy…”

Harry’s eyes abruptly snapped back to green at those words and he whispered, “Mum.”

“Harry…” whispered Cedric, “take my body back…take my body back to my parents…”

“I will,” promised Harry.

“…and tell Niamh…”

“I know,” whispered Harry.

“Do it now,” hissed James. “Be ready to run…do it now…NOW, HARRY!”

Harry let out a wordless cry and wrenched his wand to the side with all his strength, breaking the connection. The cage of light vanished, the phoenix song faded, but Voldemort’s victims did not. They surrounded him – even the little boy, who turned bright eyes on Harry – blocking Harry from his view…

Harry ran like he’d never run in his life, dodging headstones then curses as the Death Eaters got back their wits. The teen bared his teeth and focused on Cedric’s body. He had to make it…he had to.

“Stun him!” bellow Voldemort from behind him.

Harry dived behind a headstone as the jets of red light shot over his head. He glanced at Cedric’s body, not teen feet away… Then he threw himself to his feet, running backwards so his wand faced the Death Eaters and let loose a curse, putting all his pain and rage into the spell.

“COMMOVEO!”

The first lines of Death Eaters were thrown violently backwards by the curse and the ranks of them went down like dominoes.

He suddenly tripped over something, saw Cedric’s body under him…jets of light flew over his head as he hit the ground…

“Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!”

“Not today,” snarled Harry. He arched backwards, hooked fingers around the handle of the Cup, and threw himself onto Cedric’s body as the Portkey activated.

Voldemort’s scream of fury was the last thing Harry heard as he and Cedric’s body were whirled back to Hogwarts.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry smelt grass and lifted his head. He saw the maze around him and sat up, releasing his hold on the Cup, throwing the object away from him in a violent motion. That object had not only cause the death of one of his friends this night, but the death of a little boy who’d never done a thing but perhaps get caught up in the workings of wizards.

As he sat up, regaining his bearings, a hole was burnt in one of the hedges and a familiar figure leapt through before the fire had even faded away.

“Harry!” Then… “No…Cedric!”

Harry staggered to his feet as the figure ran towards Cedric’s body. He met them halfway and held them close as they screaming in his ears and pounded on his chest and arms with their fists. As he held them, they broke down into sobs and the two of them sank down onto the ground. Harry pillowed his head against Niamh’s feathery dark hair as she sobbed into his chest and whispered, “I’m sorry. Oh gods, Ni, I’m sorry.”

Footsteps thundered in Harry’s already pounding ears and he looked up to see Dumbledore and his father at the head of a crowd. Dumbledore went to Cedric’s body as Severus walked over to Harry, who still held the sobbing Niamh in his arms.

Harry looked up at his father and whispered, “He’s back. Voldemort.”

Severus nodded grimly.

“I know.”

Harry nodded and closed his eyes against the dull pain in his scar, leaning his head against Niamh’s.

“What’s going on? What’s happened?”

There was Cornelius Fudge’s voice. Dumbledore’s grave voice answered him.

“Cedric Diggory is dead.”

Niamh broke out in new sobs at that and Harry tightened his hold on her. He heard voice rings in his ears and felt people jostling close around them.

“Severus, go find Minerva – try and calm the crowd. Harry…on your feet…”

Harry let Dumbledore pull him up and he pulled Niamh up, keep her close. He had no intention of letting her go in this crowd.

“Dumbledore, Diggory’s parents, they’re here, in the stands…” said Fudge.

“I’ll take them, Dumbledore…” said a new voice.

“I would prefer…”

“Dumbledore, Amos Diggory’s running… Don’t you think you should tell him – before he sees - ?”

“Harry, stay here…”

Dumbledore moved away and Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, son…let’s get you two to the hospital wing…”

“Dumbledore said stay,” murmured Niamh in a teary voice, even as whoever it was began to steer the two of them through the screaming, panicked crowd. It wasn’t until they’d reached the castle that either of the fourteen-year-old’s realized who they were with.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. “What happened, Harry?”

“Cup was a Portkey,” said Harry through the pain in his head. Merlin, wouldn’t that damned scar stop? He clutched Niamh tight against him as Mad-Eye Moody pulled them across the entrance hall. “Took us to a graveyard…Voldemort was there…Cedric…”

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Up the marble staircase…

“Diggory?”

“Killed him…Voldemort made a potion…got his body back…”

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Down a corridor…

“Not..the way to the…hospital wing,” murmured Niamh.

“The Dark Lord got his body back?”

Harry nodded.

“Death Eaters came…we dueled…got away though…wand did something funny…”

“You dueled with the Dark Lord?”

“Not…hospital wing,” murmured Niamh again, sagging against Harry as they were sat down. A cup was pressed into Harry’s hand but he wouldn’t take it, wouldn’t let go of Niamh. Moody tipped the stuff down his throat and Harry’s head cleared. He looked around and saw that they were in what he guessed was Moody’s office.

“Voldemort’s back, Harry? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” growled Harry, closing his eyes and rubbing his scar with one hand.

“The Death Eaters returned?”

“He Called them.”

“Did he forgive them?”

Why does he want to know that? wondered Harry, then said, “No. And there’s a Death Eater here at Hogwarts – they put my name in the Goblet of Fire…”

“I know,” said Moody.

“You know? Then why…” Harry gaped. “It was you!”

Moody grinned ferally and growled, “And they say kids don’t know anything these days.”

“Unfortunately, you made it very hard for me to get my job done. You are a very nosy Slytherin.”

“Thank my mother,” growled Harry, reaching for his wand. Then he remembered dropping it when he’d stopped Niamh from getting to Cedric’s body. Moody laughed as shock spread across the teen’s face.

“Left your wand, did you? I’d have thought that the great Lord Hex would have known better.”

Harry glared at him then saw in the Foe-Glass over Moody’s shoulder the shadowy figures of three people. He then fixed his eyes on the grizzled face and growled, “I care more about my friends than my reputation.”

“Well,” said Moody, “you won’t have to worry about either of them for much longer. The Dark Lord so wanted to kill you – but since you escaped him, I’ll do it for him. And send your most precious friend with you for company!”

Moody’s wand lifted. Harry felt a wand press into his hand and he used it, throwing up a shield about himself and Niamh. Moody, a mad glint in his real eye, opened his mouth –

“Stupefy!”

The door splintered and tore apart under the force of the curse and Moody was thrown back onto the floor. Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall appeared in the shattered doorway, the older wizard in the lead and with a look of terrible anger on his face. As Dumbledore walked to Moody and rolled him over onto his back, Snape went to Harry and Niamh as the teen dropped the shield.

“He was going to kill us,” said Harry.

“I know,” said Severus, touching his son’s shoulder.

“Dumbledore, we should get Potter and O’Feir to the hospital wing…” said McGonagall.

“No,” said Dumbledore sharply.

McGonagall opened her mouth but Severus said softly, “Be quiet. There are things here we all have to understand.”

McGonagall gaped in confusion but Dumbledore nodded.

“Well spoken, Severus. You see, Minerva, this is not the real Mad-Eye Moody.”

McGonagall’s jaw dropped.

“Wh-what?”

“It has never been the real Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head. “The real Moody would no have take Harry – and Niamh – from my sight tonight.”

“Then,” whispered McGonagall, “who is it?”

“Barty Crouch,” said a voice.

All eyes turned on Niamh, who was sitting up now, leaning against Harry’s side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. McGonagall stared at her and hissed, “I can’t be him! They were seen together.”

Severus shook his head, looking from Niamh to Harry to Moody. “That’s not the Barty Crouch she’s talking about, McGonagall.”

“What other…no! Surely not! Crouch wouldn’t have…He couldn’t have done such a thing.”

“I’m afraid he may have, Minerva,” said Dumbledore gravely. “And it cost him his life. Now, if you would go find the house-elf Winky in the kitchens. Severus, please fetch me your strongest Truth Potion. And send a note to the cave at the edge of Hogsmeade. I believe you know who to send it to.”

“Yes, Dumbledore.”

“Of course, Albus.”

The two Heads of House left and the two Slytherins watched as Dumbledore knelt by Moody’s body and drew his hip flask and a ring of keys from his robes. He took the ring of keys and walked over to a trunk fitted with seven locks. Both teen’s were surprised when each respective lock revealing different contents in the trunk.

When Dumbledore reached the seventh lock and opened it, he revealed a pit of some sorts. Harry pulled Niamh up beside him as he stood and walked over to the trunk, peering inside. Lying curled up on floor, wooden leg and magical eye gone, was the real Mad-Eye Moody.

Dumbledore slowly lowered himself into the trunk and knelt by Moody.

“Stunned,” said Dumbledore straightening. “Very weak but still alive. Harry, throw down a cloak – he’s freezing.”

As Harry turned to get the other Moody’s cloak, Niamh shook her head and fumbled for the clasp at her throat. She flicked it open and swung the heavy fabric down into the trunk.

“Use mine, professor. Its probably warmer than Crouch’s.”

“Thank you, Miss O’Feir. Now step back you two. I’m coming back up.”

Harry pulled Niamh back to the trunk they’d been sitting on and asked, “How do you know its Crouch?”

Niamh closed her eyes and replied, “I don’t know. But…somehow – I got in his head. I saw his thoughts, Harry! And I don’t know how!”

“Shh,” said Harry, “we’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

“I – I keep seeing him.”

“Cedric?”

Niamh nodded and Harry softly said, “He really loved you, you know.”

“I know.”

Niamh leaned against Harry again as Dumbledore clambered up out of the trunk. He picked up the hip flask from where he’d set it on the desk, unscrewed the top, and turned it so a think, glutinous liquid Harry recognized spatter on the floor.

“Polyjuice Potion.”

Dumbledore smiled at the teen and said, “As brilliant with potions as your father, Harry. Yes. Polyjuice Potion. It works quite well, Moody never does drink from anything but his hip flask. Perhaps…”

“…with everything tonight, he forgot to take it,” finished Harry.

Dumbledore nodded and the three of them sat there staring at Moody until he began to change. The scars were vanishing, the skin was becoming smooth, the mangled nose became whole and shrank. The long grizzled gray hair withdrew into the scalp and became straw-colored. The wooden leg fell to the floor with a clunk as a normal leg grew its place. The magical eyeball followed it a moment later.

Now a man: pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair lay on the floor. Harry had no idea if Niamh was right and this was Crouch’s son – but his father suddenly reentered the room and confirmed it for him.

“Crouch!” Severus stared at Niamh, who mumbled a barely intelligible “I told you so.”

McGonagall entered a moment later, a filthy, disheveled Winky at her heels.

“Good heavens!”

“Master Barty, Master Barty!”

Winky flung herself onto the young man’s chest and cried, “You is killed him! You is killed Master’s son!”

“He is simply Stunned, Winky,” said Dumbledore. “Severus, you have the potion?”

Severus nodded and handed him a small bottle of clear liquid, which Harry recognized as Veritaserum. Dumbledore pulled Crouch’s son up into a sitting position against the wall and poured three drops of the Truth Potion down his throat. He then pointed his wand at him and said, “Ennervate.”

Crouch’s son’s eyes fluttered open. His expression was slack, like a person Harry had once seen hypnotized when he was seven. Or that boy…

“Can you hear me?” asked Dumbledore.

“Yes,” muttered Crouch.

“Tell us how you escaped Azkaban.”

“My mother,” said Crouch in a flat voice. “She was dying, so she persuaded my father to save me as a last favor to her. He loved her more than he ever loved me. He agreed and they came to visit me; my mother and I took Polyjuice Potion with the others hair in it. We traded appearances.”

“Say no more, Master Barty!” cried Winky.

But Crouch continued. He had to. The Veritaserum forced him to.

“The dementors never knew. They sensed on healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban and the same leaving it. My mother died in Azkaban, buried under my name and appearance.”

“What did your father do with you?” asked Dumbledore. “What did he do when he got you home?”

“Staged my mother’s death – had a small, private funeral. The grave’s empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health and then I had to be concealed, controlled. My father put my under the Imperius Curse. But when my strength returned, I was determined to find my master.”

“I had to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. The house-elf was always with me; my keeper. She even persuaded my father to give me occasional treats.”

Winky began to sob.

“Did anyone ever discover you were alive?” asked Dumbledore.

“A witch – Bertha Jorkins. She came with some papers for my father’s signature but he wasn’t there. Winky showed her inside then returned to the kitchen, to me. Bertha followed her. She heard enough of the conversation to guess who I was and waited, confronting my father when he returned. He place a powerful Memory Charm on her; too powerful. I damaged her memory, he said.”

Winky continued to sob as Dumbledore said, “Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Winky talked my father into it. She spent months persuading him and he conceded. He planned it all very carefully, my father. Early in the day, he led Winky and I up to the Top Box. Winky’s excuse was she was saving a seat for my father. We would leave the box after everyone else had gone. No one would know.”

“But I had begun to fight my father’s Imperius Curse. Winky didn’t know. There were times I was almost myself. If happened in the Top Box. I found myself in public, in the middle of a match. And there, just a seat down form me, was a wand sticking out of a girl’s pocket. I had to wait so long, but I got it. I stole it when she got up to leave the box. Winky never saw. She had her face hidden.”

“Master Barty, you bad boy!” said Winky.

“What did you do with the wand?” asked Dumbledore.

“We went back to the tent. Then we heard them. All those Death Eaters who have never suffered for my master, who had never sought him, thought they were free. It angered my. I took the wand to attack them. Winky stopped me. She worked her own brand of magic and bound me to her. She pulled me out of the tent, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to stop her. I wanted to punish those Death Eaters. I sent the Dark Mark into the air. Ministry wizards arrived and shot Stunning Spells. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken and we were both Stunned.”

“When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby so he searched the bushes and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry workers had left, then he came back, put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me home. He dismissed Winky because she failed him. She had almost let me escape.”

Winky let out a moan.

“Then it was just Father and I in the house. But then my master came for me.” A crazed grin spread across Crouch’s face and Niamh shivered, shaking her head and muttering.

“You poor fool…”

Harry looked down at her in confusion then turned back to Crouch as the man continued to speak.

“He arrived late at night in the arms of Wormtail. My master had found out I was still alive from Bertha Jorkins. That’s how he learned the old Auror, Moody, would be at Hogwarts.”

“My master place my father under the Imperius Curse. He was forced to go about his business and I…I was freed.”

“What did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?” asked Dumbledore.

“He asked me to risk everything for him. I was ready. He told me he needed a faithful servant at Hogwarts; a servant who would ensure Harry Potter reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey that would take Potter to my master. But first - ”

“You needed Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore, eyes blazing.

“Wormtail and I did it. We have the Polyjuice Potion. We went to his house. Moody put up a struggle but we finally got him locked in a compartment of his own magical trunk. I drank the potion and became him, just in time to deal with Arthur Weasley. Then I packed up Moody’s things and set off to Hogwarts. Then I remembered. Moody had a son. I couldn’t have him at Hogwarts with me. He’d ruin it all. So I went after the boy’s mother. I knew she was the one who wanted the boy at Hogwarts. So I put her under the Imperius Curse and off the boy went.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly then said, “What became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?”

“He returned to my father’s house to care for my master and watch my father.”

“But your father escaped,” said Dumbledore.

“Yes. He began to fight the Imperius Curse as I had. Sometimes he knew what was happening. My master deemed it unsafe for him to leave the house and had him send letter instead. Then he escaped. My master guessed he would go to Hogwarts. He was going to Dumbledore to confess.”

“My master sent me word of this. I was to stop him at all costs. So I waited. Then one night I heard Potter talking to McGonagall. I hurried to the place before he and Dumbledore could return. I Stunned Diggory. I killed my father.”

“Bastard,” breathed Niamh as Winky wailed, “Master Barty, what had you done?”

“What did you do with the body?” asked Dumbledore.

“Carried it into the forest. I waited until Diggory had been awakened and Hagrid summoned before I showed myself. I told Dumbledore I’d heard McGonagall muttering something.”

“Dumbledore told me to go look for my father. I went back to his body. After everyone had gone, I Transfigured my father’s body. He became a bone – I buried him in front of Hagrid’s cabin.”

“And tonight…” said Dumbledore.

“I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner. I turned it into a Portkey. My master’s plan worked. He had returned and I will be honored by him above all.”

Crouch grinned insanely as he finished. Winky sobbed loudly as Niamh bent her head and cried softly into Harry’s shoulder.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Dumbledore rose from where he’s been kneeling by Crouch, disgust written clearly across his face. He pointed his wand at Crouch and ropes flew out, binding the man tightly.

“Minerva, would you stay here while I take Harry and Niamh upstairs?”

“Of course,” said McGonagall, looking slightly sick. But her wand was aimed true and her hand was steady. Harry had to give her that.

“Severus, please tell Madam Pomfrey to come here; we need to get Alastor into the hospital wing. Then go find Cornelius Fudge. I’m sure he’ll want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing if he needs me.”

Severus nodded and started to leave when Dumbledore added, “And send an owl to Miss Davids. I am certain that she had broken the hold of the Imperius Curse by now. Also contact Professor Kurvoltz at Durmstrang and tell him to send Mika Davids back to Hogwarts through the secure Floor in my office. With all his belongings. I daresay Mr. Davids will want to see his father and to stay here.”

“Yes, Albus,” said Severus and with a glance at Harry and Niamh, was gone.

Dumbledore then motioned the two teens to rise and gently pressed them out of the room. As they walked towards the hospital wing, Harry half-carrying Niamh as she sagged against him, all energy spent from her crying, Dumbledore asked the Potion Master’s son a question.

“Harry, could you tell me what happened?”

Harry looked at the older wizard for a moment, then nodded slowly and began to speak. When he mentioned Cedric, Niamh made a little noise and pressed herself further into his side.

When Harry told of Wormtail taking his blood, something like surprise flashed in the old wizard’s eyes. It faded quickly but Harry had caught it. He wondered what it meant.

Then Harry reached the part about the wand connecting, which Harry now had the slightest idea of what it was.

“Priori Incantatem,” muttered Dumbledore.

“The Reverse Spell effect,” said Harry, nodding slowly.

Dumbledore smiled at him.

“Very good, Harry. As you probably know, your wand and Voldemort’s share sores – each had a tail feather of the same phoenix. My phoenix in fact.”

“Fawkes?” mumbled Niamh, lifting her head from where it lay on Harry’s shoulder and blinked glassy eyes.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “The moment you and the Weasley’s walked out of his shop, Harry, Mr. Ollivander wrote to me, telling me that you’d bought the second wand. Do you know what happens when brother wands meet?” Dumbledore eyed Harry curiously.

“They don’t work against each other,” said the teen. “Voldemort’s wand…it looked like it started working the spells it’d performed – only backwards. And they were more…ghostly.”

Dumbledore nodded and said, eyes flicking to Niamh, “Which means some form of Cedric appeared.”

Harry only nodded.

“And I guess that other such forms appeared.”

Harry nodded again and said, “An old man…and Bertha Jorkins, I think. That little boy. Then…then my mum and…” The teen glanced around them before he finished, “…and James.”

Dumbledore nodded again.

“The last murders that wand performed in reverse order. There would have been more had the connection held. Did these…shadows do anything Harry?”

Harry quickly told of how he’d escaped with the shadows help. He left out the part about James Potter having known about his parentage and what his mother had said. If there was anything good that might possibly come of this horrible night, it was that he had seen – really seen – his mother. Even if she had just been an echo, a shade, an illusion.

“You are quite a young man, Harry,” said Dumbledore as they neared the hospital wing. “Quite a young man.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry with a vigor he didn’t feel.

Dumbledore smiled and patted his shoulder before walking in the direction of his office. Harry watched him go then entered the hospital wing, giving up Niamh as Madam Pomfrey descended upon them in a swift swoop. He was then immediately entrapped in the warm embrace of Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, Harry, dear. Are you alright?”

Mrs. Weasley held him back at arms length, her blue eyes sweeping over his long, exhausted frame. Harry idly wondered if his mother might have been like the woman who had taken a ragged, dirty street urchin – himself – off the streets and into her home.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley.”

“You most certainly are not! Your barely standing! Sit, sit. There, on the bed. Hermione, dear, hand me that blue vial there.”

Hermione looked skeptical for a moment but snapped into action when Madam Pomfrey said, “Give her the vial, Miss Granger. Molly had four years experience under me here at Hogwarts and she is a certified mediwitch.”

Hermione looked abashed as she handed the vial to Mrs. Weasley. The older woman peered at the potion inside then said, “You still put Sleeping Potion’s in the blue vials, don’t you, Poppy?”

“Of course, Molly,” came the reply as the mediwitch poured a bit of potion from another blue vial down Niamh’s throat.

Mrs. Weasley nodded and pressed the vial into Harry’s hands.

“Drink it. You look like Severus did the day after Lily left him.”

Harry didn’t have enough energy to think about what had just been said. He swallowed a mouthful of the potion, gagged, then immediately keeled over. His vision grew hazy as the potion took effect and someone pushed and shoved his long limbs onto the bed. Voices chattered in his ears, reminding him of the sparrows in the roof of the old building he’s grown up in. They’d battle sometimes.

Then another voice bid them be silent and a blanket was pulled over him. The last thing Harry sensed before the cool darkness of sleep took him was a hand brushing hair from his face and a kiss being planted on his forehead.

Then Sleep opened her arms to him and Harry fell into her warm embrace without argument.