The circle of runes was like cracks in the earth itself, from which emanated a sickly green glow. It was pulsating, like the beating of a human heart. The air was so thick with magic he could almost see it. His breath rippled and flowed out of him like a cold winter's day. But the heat of the summer was still in full swing.

Begin

He spun around, fear gripping his heart. That voice… that horribly familiar voice. It sounded like it was right behind him.

Or maybe it was him.

Then another figure stepped from the shadows. And suddenly a flame shot from the end of his wand to ignite the fire beneath a massive cauldron. He'd never seen one that big before! And here he thought his dad owned every size imaginable.

Then his blood ran cold as he realized where they were.

A cemetery.

There was even a freshly dug grave.

He shivered in horror and tried to shrink into himself, praying he wasn't spotted, even though he was standing in the middle of the clearing housing the ritual. Then suddenly the figure stepped back into the light.

Barty Crouch Jr!

So that's where he'd been hiding these past few weeks!

There was something in his arms. A bundle of rags it seemed. Then Harry choked as the man pulled the rags away.

It was the monster from his nightmares! The ones from the beginning of the year! He'd all but forgotten about them by now! Then Barty stepped forward and dropped the thing into the cauldron. Harry felt his skin prickle as the runes around him began to grow brighter and the magic in the air grew that much more pronounced.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given." Barty enchanted. Harry flinched back. A ritual?! No no no no! Whatever was happening, if he stayed in the circle he would be bound to it. He didn't question if such rules still applied in dreams. But when he turned to run he found that no matter how hard or fast he did, the ritual followed him. He was trapped watching this terrible spectacle. "You will resurrect your son."

"Stop!" Harry shouted. He knew it was suicide, but maybe if he disrupted the ritual he'd be able to escape! But Barty Crouch Jr couldn't seem to hear him.

"flesh of the servant, willingly given." Barty continued before he rose up that same knife he'd attacked Harry with last year and his own right hand. Then Harry screamed as the Death Eater brought it down across his own wrist, severing the hand and dropping it into the cauldron. The man let out a guttural scream. But it turned into a victorious cry at the end and he had a mad grin on his face, now smattered with a bit of blood. "You will revive your master."

Harry was panting now, chest rising and falling like a racehorse as he watched the ritual unfold.

"Blood of the enemy," Barty suddenly purred, fishing that vial from his pocket, fumbling slightly as his non-dominant hand shook from incoming shock. "Forcibly taken." Then he tipped it. Harry watched entranced and yet still shivering in terror as the drops of blood fell from their vicious prison, yet that self-same liquid remained behind.

But then the blood hit the surface of the potion bubbling in the cauldron. Harry fell to his knees, clutching his scar with a guttural scream of pain.

"The Dark Lord shall rise again!" Barty snarled with a viscous grin even as his bloody stump continued to drip into the grass below. Harry moaned in anguish as suddenly a figure rose from inside the cauldron. Harry felt bile rise into his throat as terror gripped his body.

It was a man, in shape at least. However, that was where all similarities ended. Its skin was white and translucent, with dark blue veins cross-crossing the surface occasionally. The nose and ears were flat, making its profile inhuman and unnatural. Then the figure opened its eyes, revealing the blood-red serpentine orbs below.

Voldemort.

Harry couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. All there was was fear.

Then slowly Voldemort smiled, baring his fangs to Harry.

"My Lord," Barty purred with noticeable awe on his face even as he dragged himself to the man's side, weak-kneed from blood loss. Voldemort chuckled, leaning down a fraction to run his hand along Barty's face like one might pet a loyal dog. Then he waved his hand. A fantastical iron hand grew out from Barty's stump, stemming the flow of blood. The man flexed his new fingers before giving the man a pleased, but also horrifyingly cruel grin.

"My victory is at hand, dear Barty." Voldemort finally spoke, with a cold voice like something slimy sliding down one's back. "There is just one thing we need."

"Ask it my lord, and I will bring it to you," Barty promised.

"Bring me the boy," Voldemort said. "Bring me…

Harry Potter.

"Harry!" Emmeline screamed. She'd heard his scream and rushed down the hall to his room. She pushed it open just in time to see the convulsing boy suddenly still and begin choking. "Sweet Merlin! Harry!" She rushed to his side. She got closer and realized he was still breathing, but it was stuttering because he was breathing so fast. "Severus! Oh Severus, please get in here!" Then suddenly there was another shout and a loud thump. Emmeline frowned. The man had been as awake as she was, he just hadn't been as quick pulling on a robe. Why on earth-

She rushed out of the room and down the hall and froze. Severus was collapsed in their bedroom doorway, his face pale and sweaty and he was shivering as though it were the middle of winter. But the thing which made Emmeline still with fear was that he was clutching his left arm above his mark, which was pitch black with sinister veins of dark magic streaking out from it. The man was staring at it with bloodshot eyes when he looked up at her, lips quivering.

"Summon the order."