Harry kept his eyes closed as they travelled. He half-hoped that he was wrong and he would land outside of the maze to the thunderous sound of applause…and a lot of consternation from anyone who didn't happen to favor Hogwarts. Sure that would mean that he had no idea what was going on and Voldemort could do worse, but at least then he might manage to face Voldemort without anyone else insisting on accompanying him. He did have the best track record in dealing with the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, after all, save perhaps Dumbledore.
When Harry opened his eyes, though, he was disappointed to find that he was, once again, lying in a cemetery near the Riddle family plot. A quick glance around showed no one else in sight so Fred and Cedric were still under the cloak and Voldemort and his non-Marauder accomplice would be further away, giving them some time.
"Muffliato. You guys there?" Harry asked quietly.
"Yeah," Fred whispered back. "I can't believe you were actually right."
"It does happen," Harry acknowledged. "How about you, Cedric?"
"I think I'm having a panic attack from all of your conditioning this year," Cedric answered honestly.
"Running would be a great idea but it would be a bit difficult with two people under the Invisibility Cloak. Still, you need to get out of the way," Harry told them.
"What's going on, Harry?" Fred demanded.
"We don't have time; I'll explain later. Remember, you need to kill the giant snake. Be very careful with those daggers as I coated them in Basilisk venom and no, I'm not going to explain why now. At some point it will probably look like I'm dead, but if the person who 'killed' me collapses as well, I'll be fine. If not, just grab the Portkey and go. If you have to, silence yourselves. Do you under-Damn," Harry swore as a possible flaw in his plan occurred to him.
"What?" Cedric asked, sounding a little anxious.
"We have brother wands. I'll need to switch wands with one of you or I won't be able to do a thing," Harry explained.
"Here," Cedric offered, holding out his wand. It was a little surreal to see a wand appear out of nowhere and floating in midair. "It won't work as well as your wand since it didn't 'choose' you or whatever, but at least it doesn't have an unfortunate connection to…whoever it is you're going to be facing."
"Thanks Cedric," Harry said gratefully, accepting the wand. Ash wood with unicorn hair, if he remembered correctly. It was maybe an inch, inch and a half longer than his. He held his own wand out for Cedric to take. "Please try not to die. You too, Fred."
"You're awfully morbid, tonight," Fred noted. "It's beginning to scare me."
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well, this could all go to hell really quickly. Remember, you're not here so don't draw attention to yourselves if you can help it."
"Got it," Cedric said. "You sure about this?"
Harry shook his head. "Not nearly, but we're kind of a little late for second-guessing."
"You don't die either, Harry," Fred said seriously. "Because let me tell you that if I let you die, my family…well, I'd probably be better off throwing myself between you and an Avada Kedavra."
"I'll try not to," Harry promised.
"Let's go," Cedric said.
Harry waited until he was fairly certain that his friends were not in his general area anymore before cancelling the Muffliato. "Oh God!" he cried immediately, jumping to his feet. "A graveyard? They never told us there was ANOTHER part of the third task!"
"That's because there isn't," a voice said from behind him. Harry turned around to see who it was. He could just vaguely recognize him, whoever it was, but God help him he didn't know who it was. "Stupefy."
----
Harry opened his eyes slowly and took stock of his surroundings. He was tied to a grave, which was not good. The fair-haired man who'd stunned him was standing in front of a large stone cauldron while a giant snake slithered around and Voldemort – who was currently resembling a very ugly baby – was lying next to the cauldron. That was surprisingly a good thing but Harry hoped that Nagini wouldn't either take notice of or see fit to inform Voldemort of Fred and Cedric's presence.
"I activated the Dark Mark and called your Death Eaters, my Lord," the strangely familiar man said. "And it looks like Potter's waking up."
"Good," the little bundle of evil said, sounding pleased. "Let's hurry this up, Crouch. It wouldn't do for any of my less loyal servants to see my rebirth."
Crouch? That was it. He'd first seen this man in person exactly one lifetime ago when he was so busy alternatively pressing for details about Voldemort's return and trying to kill him that he'd neglected to take his Polyjuice.
"Of course, my master," Crouch Jr. bowed before picking little Voldemort up.
Harry watched quietly as Crouch almost reverently unwrapped his master, revealing what was still the ugliest baby he had ever seen. It actually looked like one of those hybrids straight from out of a Greek myth with its lack of hair, undersized appendages, scaly skin, lack of a proper nose…and to top it off, the creature was a reddish-black. In short, it was a very ugly, very snake-like, very possessed child.
Crouch gently lowered Voldemort into the cauldron, a look of utter devotion and slight insanity on his face. Of course, Harry might be biased, but how could anyone looking so thrilled about carrying that possibly be sane?
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" Crouch said, raising his wand and pointing it in Harry's general direction.
Harry watched as the surface around his feet cracked and a fine trail of dust floated up into the air and landed gently in the cauldron. The water immediately started hissing as it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vibrant, deadly-looking blue. Harry hoped that was how the ritual was supposed to go because otherwise Sirius's plan of switching the bones out would be for naught and he would probably need all the help he could get.
Crouch was looking almost eager now as he pulled out a long silver dagger from his cloak. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master," he said before casually lopping off his left hand. Once the severed flesh made contact with the concoction, it turned a bright red. True to his image as fanatic, Crouch didn't even scream, but he did pause to cast a spell to staunch the bleeding before beginning to approach Harry.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe," Crouch said, kneeling beside Harry. Harry knew that intent was very important in spell-casting and made a split-second decision to try to further weaken Voldemort's new body. He subtly shifted his body closer to the dagger than Crouch was bringing down on him. How's that for 'forcibly taken'? He kind of needed the ritual to succeed in order to be able to destroy the Horcrux in himself relatively safely, after all. Harry winced, but didn't cry out. It wouldn't do to look pathetic when Crouch – insane or not – hadn't made a sound when losing his hand.
"Oh God, couldn't you have at least cleaned that or something?" Harry couldn't help asking, wrinkling his nose in distaste. He hadn't been planning on taunting Voldemort until after the ritual was complete, but this was extremely unsanitary.
Crouch rolled his eyes. "Don't complain, Potter. You're getting a chance to partake in a ritual to bring back the greatest wizard who ever lived. It's an honor many would die for. As a matter of fact…it's an honor you will die for."
"Did something happen to Dumbledore?" Harry asked innocently.
Crouch ignored that and held out a vial to catch droplets of Harry's blood. "You're about to have bigger problems than an infection, little boy."
Once Crouch deemed he'd collected enough blood, he hurried back to Voldemort's side and carefully poured the blood in. Instantly the liquid in the cauldron turned such a blinding white that it was difficult to make out anything else.
All too soon, the light show was over and a thick pillar of smoke billowed from the cauldron. When the mist cleared, Harry got to see first-hand the results of the ritual as the dark outline of a tall and emaciated-looking man emerged from the cauldron.
"Robe me," Voldemort demanded, apparently too triumphant to be bothered to do it himself. Or possibly he never bothered and always relied on his minions? It was kind of disturbing either way.
Crouch nodded curtly. "Right away, my Lord." He bent down, picked up the black robes that Voldemort had been using as swaddling clothes not ten minutes before, shook them out, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.
Voldemort scarcely paid this any attention as he only had eyes for Harry. Harry stared back, wondering what he was supposed to do until the Death Eaters showed up. He really hoped Voldemort wasn't about to start monologuing again. He had been too traumatized last time to say anything, but he really didn't care about the family history of the man who had murdered his parents. He cared even less this time now that he already knew the story.
"You look like a snake," Harry offered at last.
Voldemort looked faintly pleased. "Indeed? Such a noble animal. What do you think?" he asked Crouch.
"The resemblance is uncanny," Crouch said loyally.
Voldemort turned his attention to his brand-new body as if searching for the resemblance. In the course of his inspection, he drew a wand and pointed it at Crouch. The supposedly-dead Death Eater was lifted off the ground and hurled against Harry's headstone. Crouch didn't react to that, either, but he did quickly scramble to his feet.
"Hold out your arm," Voldemort ordered.
Obediently, Crouch rolled up his sleeves and presented both of them to the newly revived madman. Voldemort carefully eyed the Dark Mark. "They will be hear soon and then…then we can hear their excuses."
Voldemort spun suddenly to face Harry. "You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he announced. "A Muggle and a fool…very like your dear mother."
"My mother was a witch," Harry pointed out. "And from what I understand, you only ever met your father on the day you killed him. Whatever his faults, it really wasn't his fault your mother dosed him with a love potion and deluded herself into believing he really loved her. After that kind of enslavement, of course he left. If he'd stayed, she might have done it again."
"Crucio!" Voldemort said, stabbing his wand at Harry.
Harry bit his tongue so hard it started to bleed, but managed not to cry out. "Oh, real mature," he said, turning his head and spitting out the blood.
"My mother did not dose my father with love potions! She told him she was a witch and he left! He returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born and she died giving birth to me, leaving me alone to be raised in a Muggle orphanage during the worst depression in living memory! He could have found me, SHOULD have found me, but he did nothing. Nonetheless, I took vengeance on that fool who gave me his name…Tom Riddle…" Voldemort trailed off.
Harry knew he really should quit while he was ahead, but all he could think about were the people Voldemort would go on to kill if he wasn't stopped here. Two of them were hidden somewhere in this very graveyard, even.
"How was he supposed to find you if your mother just disappeared?" Harry asked reasonably. "And since your father left before you were born, it was really your mother who gave you his name. Seriously, you could have just changed it. Starting a war because of your daddy issues…kind of lame. And why on Earth are you advertising your status as half-blood, anyway? Doesn't that kind of go across your message of Pureblood Supremacy?"
That earned Harry another Crucio but he swore it was worth it.
"Listen to me, reliving family history," Voldemort mused. "One would almost think I was growing sentimental."
"If one didn't know you were a raging sociopath," Harry muttered.
Voldemort ignored him in favor of watching the arrival of his minions. Harry could only hope Fred and Cedric had gotten back far enough as to not be in the way as they were suddenly surrounded by Death Eaters.
Harry had seen more than enough of full-grown men bowing and scraping to the psychopath before him and automatically tuned the groveling and 'I knew you'd be back!'s.
Harry jolted back to attention as a stinging hex was fired at him.
"Pay attention," Crouch hissed. Harry noticed he had a nice new silver hand. Harry would bet this ghostly appendage wouldn't end up strangling the man it was attached to. And speaking of…he still wasn't even remotely glad he'd saved Pettigrew. Yes, that moment of weakness and deception-sensing hand might have let them escape, but if it hadn't been for him, Voldemort might not have come back so soon. Although his current predicament suggested he might have found a way.
And sure enough, Voldemort was done terrorizing his servants for the moment and had returned his attention to Harry.
"Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party," Voldemort was saying. "One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor."
"Guest of honor?" Harry repeated. "I think this just goes on to further prove that Riddle here can't actually distinguish between 'allies' and 'enemies.'"
There was a dead silence as the Death Eaters stood frozen in shock that someone would dare speak to their master like that. It was a good thing Bellatrix wasn't there; she would probably have tried to kill him.
"Crucio," Voldemort cast again. Harry idly wondered how many times the Longbottoms had undergone that curse before snapping and hoped he wouldn't find out. "Don't call me that, Potter."
"What else am I supposed to call you?" Harry demanded when the curse was let up. "You-know-who? He-who-must-not-be-named? The Dark Lord? I'm not a Death Eater and I've met you before so I have no desire to use any of those appellations."
"What about my chosen name?" Voldemort replied.
"No one would actually tell me what that was and Dumbledore always called you 'Riddle'," Harry lied apologetically.
"Voldemort," Voldemort introduced. "I believe that everyone should know the name of the man that kills them."
"I'll make sure to do that," Harry said agreeably.
"Master, we crave to know… we beg you to tell us… how you have achieved this… this miracle… how you managed to return to us…" Lucius simpered as he figured he was the least likely person there besides Crouch – who already knew – to get Cruciod for asking.
"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius," said Voldemort. "And it begins - and ends – with my young friend here. You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall? You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him – and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen… I could not touch the boy." He raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek. "His mother left upon him the traces other sacrifice… This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it… but no matter. I can touch him now."
Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch him, and thought his head would burst with the pain. "That's quite an accomplishment," he managed to say. "Of course, everyone else save Quirrell managed it just fine, but way to aspire to such mediocrity."
Voldemort just chuckled darkly and began to explain his journey from the night he failed to kill Harry to where he was now. "And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last… a witch stumbled onto me. She was foolish and flighty and had suffered some brain damage as the result of an overzealous memory charm. In short, she was perfect. Perfect to possess, perfect to free my loyal servant." He nodded at Crouch. "Bertha Jorkins. She had never been so useful in her life. She was travelling in Albania and passed through my forest alone. Her body did not last long and her mind lasted even less, but I got what I needed: passage back to Britain and the knowledge that a loyal servant was within my grasp."
"Bartemius Crouch may have denied me at his 'trial' but years of enslavement first in Azkaban and then in his own home by his own father hardened his resolve and turned him into someone whose loyalty to me is absolute. Dear Bertha arrived at the Crouch house one day and encountered a House Elf and Crouch. Crouch Sr. panicked and cast the strongest memory charm he could on the girl. When I broke it, she was lost to me but no matter. I went to the Crouch house and I retrieved my servant."
So that was how it was. Crouch had been freed because of Bertha again. He didn't know why he was so surprised. After all, he hadn't seen any of the major players in that little drama aside from Voldemort before the Quidditch Cup.
Voldemort stepped in front of Harry, apparently done with his little speech for now. "And here he is…the boy you all had thought to be my downfall. Crucio!"
That was, what, four times that night? He went through too many more and he wouldn't be able to help screaming. He waited a moment after Voldemort let up in order to make sure he could keep his voice steady before saying, "Yes, you can torture an unarmed and restrained opponent. Clearly this proves you're better than me. Of course, I've never gotten my ass handed to me by an infant, but I'm sure that's not as absurd as it sounds."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed into angry slits. "I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left with no doubt which of us is stronger. Untie him, Crouch, and give him back his wand."
"As you wish, master," Crouch said, pointing his own wand at Harry. The ropes attaching Harry to the gravestone loosened and fell away. "Catch," he said, tossing Harry Cedric's wand.
Harry caught it nimbly and stoop up slowly, discreetly using the headstone for support. After four Crucios, Harry was pretty shaking on his feet. It's a good thing he wasn't the one who had to be responsible for taking care of Nagini or he'd be seriously screwed.
"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked softly.
"I've been taught to drop my wand and summon snakes," Harry replied. "Our dueling club was kind of substandard."
"Do you at least know you're supposed to bow to each other?" Voldemort asked.
Harry shrugged. "I don't think we really got around to that, no."
"Well come now, the niceties must be observed. Dumbledore would like you to show some manners. Bow to death, Harry," Voldemort coaxed.
"I'll bow to death only after it bows to me," Harry said firmly.
"I said, bow," Voldemort raised his wand and Harry felt his spine start to curve. Harry threw himself to the ground. Granted, that didn't stop the Death Eater's laughter of Voldemort's amusement, but he did not bow to the man who had killed so many of the people that he loved.
Then, of course, he had to climb back to his feet, which was a daunting prospect indeed. He managed it, but not nearly as quickly as he would have liked.
"I see living with Muggles has left you tragically bereft of manners," Voldemort shook his head ruefully. "Not that I'm surprised, of course. Still, you might well be able to face me, straight-backed and proud, the way your father died. And now – we duel. Crucio!"
As Harry underwent the Cruciatus Curse for the fifth time that night and was seriously wishing he'd taken whoever's suggestion of just throwing a rock at the damn Cup. When the Curse was lifted, Harry was appalled to discover he'd cried out. Still, one in five wasn't too bad, he supposed.
"That hurt, didn't it Harry?" Voldemort taunted. "You don't want me to do it again, do you?"
Harry didn't reply, trying to keep focused.
"I asked whether you want me to do that again," Voldemort said softly. "Imperio!"
"Fine," Harry snapped. "I clearly must on some level or I'd stop provoking you."
That was not what anyone was expecting and there was nothing but silence as the crows tried to process the fact that a fourteen-year-old had just broken Voldemort's Imperius Curse.
"Well," Voldemort said quietly. "Who am I to deny a dying man his last request?" He raised his wand again but Harry managed to throw himself behind the headstone he'd been tied to earlier. The stone cracked as Voldemort's Crucio hit it and Harry winced.
He took out his mirror. "Sirius, I need you," he whispered.
"Harry?" Sirius whispered back. "We're ready to mobilize. Where are you? George said Fred and Cedric are with you. Are they alive?"
"I'm in the graveyard," Harry answered. "Cedric and Fred are somewhere but I haven't seen them in awhile. They should be fine. Hurry!"