Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't profit from my writing.
Chapter 13: The Graveyard
Harry woke, tied to a stone monument. His head hurt and he felt dizzy. He looked out and saw Wormtail, wearing a cloak, but with the hood thrown back. He suspected Wormtail had stunned him as soon as he'd come to a stop after bouncing off every stone in the graveyard. On the ground nearby, a bundle lay wrapped in a blanket. Harry initially thought it might be a baby, but as soon as Harry looked at it, he felt searing pain erupt from his scar, like nothing he'd ever felt before. Perhaps one time he'd felt pain of this magnitude from his scar… when he'd faced Quirrell. He suddenly knew it was no baby and nothing he wanted unwrapped. As he looked around more, trying to get his bearings, he saw a giant snake slithering through the grass, circling him where he sagged, tied to the stone monument.
Wormtail pushed a giant stone cauldron, something the size of a bathtub, towards where the wrapped bundle lay squirming. Harry was disoriented, having slammed into headstones after a flying portkey and a stunner, but even he was alert enough to realize the cauldron must be very heavy and to wonder how the pathetic rat animagus didn't think to levitate it. The bundle began squirming more restlessly the closer the cauldron got. Wormtail finally pulled out his wand to start a fire underneath, probably only because he didn't know how matches work, Harry thought.
The liquid in the cauldron heated very fast. Steam and fiery sparks rose from the cauldron mouth. A high pitched voice, the voice from Harry's nightmare, rose from the bundle,
"Hurry!"
The whole surface of the cauldron sparkled.
"It is ready, Master." Wormtail groveled.
"Now…" said the nightmare voice.
Wormtail unwrapped the bundle and Harry had to use his occulomency to keep from screaming. The thing was the size of a human baby, but that's where the last of the humanity ended. It was reddish black, like old blood and rot. It was ugly, slimy, and would have appeared blind except for the gleaming red snakelike eyes. The thing was scaly and hairless with a flat face, thin feeble arms and legs. Even Wormtail looked repulsed.
Harry had read some few Lovecraft stories and he had always doubted there could be anything evil enough to drive men to madness just by sight, but now he knew he'd been wrong. He thought if he hadn't had a strong mind to begin with and if he hadn't learned to shield it, he might have gone insane already. Even Wormtail looked repulsed. The evil rat lowered the thing into the cauldron, dropping it beneath the surface where it landed on the cauldron bottom with a thud. Harry hoped it drowned.
Harry's scar burned, almost past enduring. Wormtail spoke. His voice shook, his eyes quivered and he looked on the edge of madness himself… if he wasn't already beyond.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The ground cracked and a fine trickle of white dust rose and settled into the cauldron. The sparks grew heavier and the color changed to bone white.
Wormtail looked even more distressed, pulling a knife from his cloak. He said the incantation in sobs.
"Flesh… of the servant… w-wilingly given… you will… revive…your master."
He swung the knife in his left hand, lopping off his right with one stroke. Harry was secretly surprised the rat had managed to do it so cleanly despite his shaking and his cowardice. It might have been magic, helping the pathetic man along. The hand splashed into the cauldron.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!"
Harry could do nothing, he was tied too tightly. Wormtail cut the inside of his elbow and captured a trickle of blood in a vial. When he poured it into the cauldron, the liquid changed to a blinding white color. Earlier the liquid had looked sickly, but with the last change it looked cleansed. The diamond like sparks were back, more thickly than ever.
Harry hoped the sick thing had drowned, but he knew it hadn't. The liquid had seemed to clear of the taint on it for two reasons. Harry's blood was pure, drawn from an innocent who served the light. Second and probably more important, the foul evil of the cauldron had condensed, had precipitated, and began to extend out of the cauldron. A tall, skeletally thin body of a man began to form.
"Robe me." Said the nightmare voice.
Wormtail, moaning and sobbing, picked up black robes while still cradling his mutilated arm. He wrapped them one-armed around his Master's form. The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, his eyes locked with Harry's. Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for years. Whiter than a skull, with glowing scarlet eyes, and a snakelike nose.
Lord Voldemort had returned.
H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr
At the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, the stands had erupted in murmurs as Harry had summoned his broom. Since he had done the same thing in the first round, Hermione had a hard time understanding why anyone would be surprised he did it again. In fact, this thought had almost made her retract her initial suggestion of what she called the Daedulus-strategy, since she felt it likely the tournament designers may have analyzed the Champions' performance on earlier tasks and tried to counter the strengths. Harry, the youngest Seeker in a hundred years, was a legendary natural flyer. Viktor was also a legendary flyer. Hermione had thought those facts alone might cause the designers to counter this strategy, but two things caused her to continue to recommend it. First, she knew how hidebound and slow to innovate the wizarding world was. She suspected the tasks were designed well in advance. Given that the tasks were always so similar, she very much doubted they would change them in the middle. Secondly, summoning his broom would take Harry a minute, two minutes at most. Even if it didn't work, that was a small delay to risk in exchange for possibly circumventing the majority of the unknown obstacles in the maze.
So they had planned on the broom as plan A. Hermione had still endlessly researched the likely obstacles and they'd trained against all of them. She brought the invisibility cloak and if Harry had to enter the maze on foot, he would summon it to help him. They were prepared, because she wasn't content to stop with plan A, not when her Harry was at risk. She would do anything to protect him. That was true since the first year, when she had lied to Professor McGonagall and was the central truth of her life now.
Hermione watched as he flawlessly summoned the broom, leaped on, and was flying before most of the observers had a chance to realize what was happening. It looked like he was going to crash into the hedge, but he'd skirted the top with his customary natural flying, accelerating so quickly she knew he might have set records had he been timed. He zigged around something she hadn't seen and zagged around a glowing cloud, before going into a dive. She expected him to come back into view immediately after, climbing above the maze and circling back to her. When he didn't, she grew concerned, especially when she felt panic over the bond. Panic, followed by focused flying, followed by pain and blackness.
"Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping to her feet.
Many eyes turned to her, given her shout. Many of those then looked to Fudge, Bagman, or Dumbledore, to make sense of what happened.
Dumbledore was walking quickly towards her. She thought about walking towards him, but decided she didn't have time. She took a deep breath and immersed herself in a deep occulomentic trance. Her mind leaped forward, analyzing and discarding options.
Phoenix. Phoenix couldn't find Harry, discard. Dumbledore. One look convinced her that the Headmaster was looking to her for information. He couldn't find Harry, discard. Portkey. She didn't know how to set a Portkey for an unknown location, discard. Apparation. She wasn't licensed to apparate. She couldn't apparate to an unknown location. You couldn't apparate from Hogwarts….
She was tired of saying can't. She'd researched apparition when she and Harry had studied magical means of transportation while training to make the Portkey. She would never have attempted it without meticulous practice with short jumps first in the Ministry approved manner if she was in any normal situation.
This was not a normal situation. Harry was in danger. He might be dying. She couldn't feel him over the bond and she had definitely felt pain before the blackness. She knew she could tell where he was at any given time. She didn't know if she could jump there, but she wasn't willing to take no for an answer.
Deeper in her trance, she dug deep into her core and let her magic flare around her. Normally, Hermione was the epitome of discipline. She'd studied Harry's aura and how it was bigger and stronger than hers, but she'd been slightly proud of the fact that hers was more ordered, more disciplined. After a year of training, her core was almost as powerful as his, but both were extremely tightly controlled and she doubted anyone other than the Headmaster, who was teaching the auramancy and carefully monitoring the auras and their cores, had realized what progress they'd made. She realized. She had calculated and graphed it. She never thought about it, but in later years, the Granger modification of the standard magical power indices would become the accepted arithmetic calculations.
She knew she might have enough power to blow through the wards, out here on the edge. She would have never tried from the castle, but on the edge, it might just be possible.
The old Hermione wouldn't have tried. She would have gone to the Headmaster and appeal to his authority, but she was almost as much Harry as Harry was, now, with all of Hermione's protective instinct towards him. There was no way in hell she was waiting.
Now many eyes turned towards her. The few wizards who were skilled enough to know what they were feeling realized something inconceivable. This little 15 year old muggle-born witch was manifesting mage-level power, something only Professor Dumbledore would be expected to show amongst this group. Dumbledore started walking very fast, almost running.
Hermione felt the wards as she gathered her will. Destination - she had known where Harry was when he became unconscious. She couldn't find it on a map, but always knew in her soul where he was. Determination - there were few beings more determined than Hermione looking to protect her soul mate. Deliberation - perhaps her one weakness at the moment. She felt the wards begin to resist her, but then felt something odd. Something almost human seemed to recognize her, feeling bonded to her much as Harry was bonded to her, but not nearly so tightly. She recognized Hogwarts. The castle was not sentient, but it was powerfully magical and near-sentient. The wards recognized Hermione through the power she had poured into the castle's defenses and the power Harry had contributed. It recognized Harry's magical signature intertwined with hers both through his time at the school and also as the echo of the Headgirl and Headboy who were his parents, powerfully magic students who had devoted seven years of their lives to the school. Years of Potters had attended Hogwarts and their magical signature was well-known. The wards recognized her and they recognized her need. She was leaving, not entering. The castle made an exception.
Hermione felt the wards relax as she disappeared. She was glad not to have to use all the energy she had planned, since she knew the effort, even if successful, would have drained her and left her almost helpless at the other end. She was able to pull her core in, using only a tiny fraction of the power she had planned. In her hurry, her effort was not perfectly efficient and she disappeared with a crack like an explosion. Everyone within twenty feet of her was knocked down.
Hermione popped into place in a graveyard. She appeared with a good size pop, but nobody seemed to notice. She pulled the invisibility cloak from her bag and quickly wrapped it around herself. She whispered "silencio" and silenced her shoes. Then she quickly moved away from where she had apparated into the graveyard, staying behind gravestones as much as possible. She moved, circling to where she would be able to see Harry and assess the situation. She could feel him beginning to wake, so she knew he was alive.
H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr
Harry watched as Voldemort examined his new body. He stretched out long pale fingers, flexed them, and appeared satisfied. He looked at Harry and then away.
"Come here, Wormtail. Give me your arm." Voldemort hissed in his high pitched nightmare voice.
"Oh, thank you Master." Wormtail groveled, extending his stump.
"No." Voldemort said coldly, "Your other arm, fool."
Wormtail stretched forward his other arm. The sleeve fell back and the Dark Mark was visible.
"How many will be brave enough to respond to my summons?" Voldemort mused.
Then he touched his finger to the mark, which turned jet black. Harry's scar burned.
Voldemort turned back to Harry.
"Do you know where you are? You stand on the remains of my father. A Muggle and a fool, much like your mother. But they had their uses. Your mother saved you. My father died by my hand and his bones helped in my return."
Harry bit his tongue to keep from shouting that his mother was nothing like Voldemort's family. He strengthened his shields and remained alert, hoping for a chance to save himself.
"My father's family lived in that house, on that hill. That's where my mother, a witch, saw him. It's where she made him love her. He didn't like magic and when she relaxed her control, hoping he would still love her, he left her. She killed herself and I grew up in an orphanage. You understand being an orphan, don't you Harry?
Enough family history, though. Here come my real family."
Dark robed figures in masks had apparated into every dark shadowed crevice, between trees, in the lee of tombstones. They formed a rough circle before the first fell to his knees and crawled to his master, kissing the hems of his robes.
Voldemort told of his return. Described how he'd been banished from his body and how he had been the architect of his return. Harry listened and was disgusted. Of course, he'd been there for much of it.
Harry listened as Voldemort described his faithful servant still at Hogwarts. His first thought… Snape, twisted in his mind like a poisoned dagger, but he quickly questioned that. He didn't think anyone could be that good an actor. If it was Snape, though, he wouldn't rest until the man was dead.
Hermione also listened, noting the same facts as Harry. She had kept her occulomency shields as strong as she ever had, blocking even her bond with Harry, unsure how much Voldemort could sense. Carefully, slowly, gently, she sent a trace thought along the bond, letting Harry know she was there and she was ready.
Harry straightened. Fear filled him at the thought she was also at risk, but he knew that even if she was safe at Hogwarts, with the extent of their bond, his death could mean hers no matter where she was. Having her there gave him a chance and he would use it.
Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair… they learned the identities of many of the Death Eaters.
They learned the fate of Bertha Jorkins.
Voldemort turned to Harry.
"Crucio!"
Harry writhed in pain, pulling against his bindings. He could focus on nothing.
Hermione writhed in shared pain. Physical pain and mental pain, seeing her loved one being tortured. She wondered in that moment which had driven the Longbottoms crazy. Being tortured or seeing the one they loved tortured in front of them?
Voldemort ended the spell.
"Give him his wand and release him. You do know how to duel, don't you Harry?"
"Bow"
Harry thought of the dueling club. He remembered when his biggest worry was dueling Malfoy. He knew if he survived this, he would dedicate himself to being ready for the inevitable confrontation. He would be ready.
Voldemort waved his bone white wand, forcing Harry to bow.
"Crucio!" Voldemort cried, again sending excruciating pain throughout Harry's body, before ending it.
"That hurt, didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you? Well? Answer me!"
"Imperio!" Voldemort called.
Harry felt a wash of peace and contentment come over him. Of course he wanted to do anything Lord Voldemort asked of him. Immediately, though, an insistent voice told him he didn't want that. His mother's voice. Then Hermione's voice. Finally, his own shields protected him from the full force.
"No." Harry said.
"No?" Voldemort replied.
Harry heard a murmur go through the gathered Death Eaters. A 14 year old boy had just defied the Dark Lord.
"Obedience is a virtue, Harry. A virtue I'll teach you before you die. Maybe a little pain will help with the lesson."
"Crucio"
With the reflexes of a born seeker, Harry rolled behind the headstone of Tom Riddle.
"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry." Voldemort said, in his high pitched voice, "You can not hide from me. Does this mean you are done with our duel? Do you want to end it? I'll make it quick. It might even be painless. I wouldn't know. I've never died."
Harry doubted he could beat him. He didn't know, but he doubted it. The one thing that he knew was he was not going to die crouched behind a tombstone. He would die on his feet, standing tall, like his father did. He took a deep breath, preparing, then stood, his wand stabbing towards Voldemort. Voldemort was ready, too, his wand pointed at Harry.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
A red burst of light from Harry's wand met the sickly green burst from Voldemort's. The two connected and a golden thread of energy formed between the two wands.
The Death Eaters were stunned, as was Voldemort. They circled the two, some drawing wands as if prepared to enter the battle.
Additional threads of golden energy burst from the thread connecting the two and formed a cage, with Harry and Voldemort inside. Harry heard a sound he'd heard before, a sound that strengthened him; phoenix song. He heard Hermione's voice in his head.
"Hold on, Harry! Don't let go. I've got a plan!"
Harry resolved to hold on. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he felt he had a chance now. No sooner than he resolved to hold on than it got much more difficult. His wand started vibrating as pulses of energy traveled back and forth. He found if he concentrated, he could force them towards Voldemort's wand.
They struggled, each willing the energy towards the other. The power pulsed back and forth. Harry had to face the power and will of an immortal Dark Lord, a wizard who knew esoteric magics Harry might never comprehend. He had a strong will and he wouldn't quit, though, and it was enough. He forced the energy back towards Voldemort.
When the first pulse hit Voldemort's wand, a shadowy shape came forward, squeezing from the wand. Harry recognized it was the shadow of a person, an old man Harry did not recognize.
"So he was a real wizard? Hold on, boy. Fight him!"
A second shadow emerged, a woman unknown to Harry.
"Harry Potter? You've got to fight him."
The next form began to leave the wand and Harry had to focus to hold his attention on the struggle. He recognized his mother before she was all the way out.
"Hold on, Harry. Hold on for your father. He'll be here."
Harry focused all his power on the struggle. A man came from the wand, messy black hair the mirror of Harry's.
"That's it son. We're here to help you. When we say so, break the connection. We'll give you time to get away. Get to the Portkey. It will take you back."
Harry could feel Hermione through the bond. She heard his father's plan. They were ready.
The ghosts gathered around Voldemort.
"Now, Harry!"
Harry jerked his wand skyward, breaking the connection. The cage shattered.
Hermione flew towards him on his firebolt, snagging him by the arm as she came in at insane speed. He could have torn her off the broom, would have if she flew like she'd flown before. They could have dislocated their arms. It worked perfectly. He swung his leg over and was behind his invisible bond mate.
Curses flew towards them, poorly aimed because of their speed. They stayed low, weaving between the larger headstones. Hermione dipped the broom and Harry made a grab as if for the snitch, catching the Cup once more by the handle. They felt the tug of the Portkey and were gone.
H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr H/Hr
A/N: I like this chapter. Let me know what you think. I don't like the part coming up, because it's all wrap up that's already written in canon. I might be awhile with it, although I have a good start.