The Triwizard Cup glowed in the moonlight, its multitude of rubies, emeralds and sapphires capturing the reflections of two tired, grubby countenances. One face was so pale and pinched that it seemed to be comprised of little more than luminous jade-green eyes, glasses and wayward, espresso-toned hair. The other face was tanned, with chiselled features, raven hair and dark-blue eyes. The reflections shimmered as both boys raised their heads and gazed into each others eyes.

“Take it!” The green-eyed child whispered fiercely, gesturing towards his wounded leg. There was no way he could outrun Cedric in this state: the handsome older boy would beat him to the cup just as he’d beaten him to asking Cho to the Yule Ball.

The Hufflepuff’s expression of surprise hardened “No Harry. I’d have been a goner if you hadn’t warned me about that.” Cedric pointed to the large body of the spider they’d defeated moments before.

Harry shook his head.

“C’mon, you should have had more points for the second task” Cedric persuaded.

“I wouldn’t have even got one point if you hadn’t given me the tip about the egg.”

“It was only fair; after all, you told me about the dragons.”

“I had help with that.”

“So, someone helped me work out the egg.”

“I shouldn’t even be here” grumped Harry “You’re the REAL Hogwarts champion. Someone cheated to get me in- though heavens knows who or why.”

“Take the cup, Gryffindor.”

“Not on your life, Hufflepuff.”

“God, Harry, this isn’t a ‘who can be the most noble’ competition!”

Harry looked at Cedric and sighed. Although Hufflepuff House could do with a bit of glory, no true Hufflepuff would take the cup under these circumstances and, despite his disappointments, Harry had to admit that Cedric exemplified the best qualities of his House.

“How about a compromise?”

“Hmm?”

“We both take it.”

“Really?” Cedric’s blue eyes lit up.

“Yeah. It’d be fair and, anyway, it’d still be a win for Hogwarts.”

Cedric quickly walked over to Harry and grasped the smaller boy’s elbow, allowing him to walk without further aggravating his injury. Harry, refusing to be churlish, accepted Cedric’s help and, together, they shuffled towards the podium.

“Bling, Bling” Smirked Cedric, eyeing the rainbow multitude of stones “Bet Dumbledore designed it.”

“Nah, if he did, it’d be chocolate and studded with sherbet lemons.” said Harry, rolling his eyes.

“True. So, we touch it on three?”

“Sure.”

“One” Cedric whispered.
“Two” Harry murmured.
“Three” both boys said, simultaneously clutching a handle each.

Harry felt a jerk in the region of his navel and, for a moment, everything went black.

OoOoO

Harry collapsed on his backside, the cup falling with an audible prang in the silent churchyard. Harry glimpsed at Cedric, whose navy eyes were just as round in surprise as Harry’s.

“Anyone told you the cup was a portkey?” Ced whispered, as they glanced around the dark landscape of graves and yew trees.

“No.” Harry whispered back, the cold fingers of fear twisted his gut. Something was very wrong.

“You figure Dumbledore would have permitted the Tournament to use a graveyard, a muggle graveyard, as a playground?”

Harry drew his wand, his eyes searching the shadows. “No”.

There was a flash of green light and a thud. Harry whirled round to find Cedric limp on the ground, his open eyes wide with shock. “Cedric!” A sudden pain blossomed in Harry’s back and he knew no more.

OoOoO

“Hurry Wormtail, the boy stirs!”

Under the depths of unconsciousness, Harry few alert brain cells told him they recognised that voice. And that name. His dozing brain struggled for a moment: with whom did they belong? Voldemort? Yeah, that’s right! The voice belonged to Volde… OH SHITTING HELL!

Harry’s eyes flew open. A few feet in front of him stood an obese, sandy haired wizard, who was fussing beside a gigantic stone cauldron. Harry attempted to jump to his feet but his body was useless: he couldn’t so much as move a finger.

“Too late…” a voice sighed from the depths of the cauldron. “Bring me my robe, Peter. I don’t want Albus to add ‘paedophile’ to my list of epithets.”

Peter scurried over to a large, open suitcase rested against the side of a substantial alabaster tomb, grabbing a long bundle of deep-purple cloth.

There was a disgruntled hiss *“Ssstupid ratman. Nagini was sssleeping. Buckle hurted my head”.* A green snake poked her sleek head out of the bag. Harry’s eyebrows rose. This pretty little snake was nothing like the black mamba he’d seen in his visions of Voldemort. As Peter Pettigrew scurried back to the cauldron, the snake cried out in a plaintive voice.

*“Tom! Tom! Ssstupid ratman hurted my head!*

*“Hush Nagini, Rat-wizard didn’t intend it. Rat-wizard is clumsy and forgetful. Soon not hurt.”*

Harry’s eyebrows were almost meeting his hairline. Tom? And this wizard, if he were indeed Voldemort, sounded, well, like Mr Weasley actually; that time when Ginny was complaining about Ron sitting on her broom and breaking it. His attitude was paternal, measured and fair… all the traits that Harry would least associate with Voldemort!

An elegant pale hand reached out of the cauldron and snatched the robes. “Thank you Peter.”

There was a brief rustling of silk on silk and a man rose up from the depths of the cauldron, tying a wide, silver sash around his narrow waist. Harry’s round eyes took in the wizard before him: a tall and slender man with long, wavy raven hair and handsome, regular features. Only the wizard’s long-cut eyes and attire appeared unusual by wizard or muggle standards: his irises were a shimmering crimson and he was garbed in a deep purple, knee-length jacket-ty thing with flowing sleeves and strange baggy trousers. Much to Harry’s befuddlement, the man began to attach an opalescent sword to his belt.

“You’re not Voldemort” Harry stammered, confused beyond belief.

“Oh I am, Harry.” The wizard replied in a sad, sibilant voice. “I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, widely known, if not spoken of, as ‘Voldemort’, son of Merope Gaunt-Riddle and Tom Riddle of Little Hangleton.” He pointed to a tombstone. “He was a worthless father but he gave me life; twice, now, actually.”

“And you killed him!” Spat Harry, anger overcoming his shock. “Just like you killed my parents! Just like you killed Cedric!”

“I plead guilty only to the first count Harry. But, look my true family approaches.”

In the silence of the graveyard, the pops heralding apparating wizards sounded like gunfire.