Still haven't been able to find chapter 3. Lovely, guess I'll just have to start over. Oh well I suppose, no use crying over spilled milk I guess.

Or so the saying goes if I remember right. Either way, hope you enjoy!

His senses came back to him abruptly, and Harry found himself falling forward as his injured leg gave way beneath him. The black haired teen sat there for a moment, only supported by his two arms pressed as hard as he could against the grass covered soil beneath him, breathing deeply with his eyes closed behind his glasses.

His stomach lurched and the teen was barely able to keep the bile rising up from his throat, the blood loss from his fight with the Acromantula and the sudden nausea he felt from the surprise Portkey trip doing a number on his constitution.

He looked up after another few moments, his breath coming in long deep pants, "W-where am I?" Harry muttered lowly to himself. The grass all around him was overgrown and in the darkness of the night he could barely make out the figures of tombstones all around him and what looked to be a church a bit off in the distance.

A graveyard then, lovely.

His stomach finally settled a bit, enough for his thoughts to not be so muddled on him through the uncomfortable feeling and he wondered, just why was he in a graveyard?

Slowly, he pushed himself shakily to his feet, his wand still clasped loosely in his right hand. He looked down at the gleaming silver cup at his feet before surveying his dark, dank surroundings again. He'd won the tournament, he'd grabbed the bloody cup so why the heck wasn't he currently enjoying the celebrations with his friends and getting the medical attention he so desperately wanted and needed?

Could it be another final Task? One hidden in the shadow of the Third Task to see if he was worthy of being the Triwizard Tournament Champion?

That had to be it, he decided almost desperately. But still, even though he thought that he couldn't quite stop himself from looking around the darkness of the graveyard warily, half expecting a Dementor or something to jump out at him and suck out his soul.

His eyelids were beginning to feel heavy and all he wanted to do was get some sleep at this point. So Harry forced himself to start moving, best to find whoever Dumbledore had waiting here and claim his win or whatever he was supposed to do.

He had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. And then he heard it, the soft rhythmical footfalls of someone walking over grass. Harry almost sighed in relief when he saw a short shadowed figure just a bit taller than he was slowly making its way over towards him.

Harry lowered his wand slightly that he'd raised on instinct alone as he took the figure in. Like he thought as they got closer, they weren't much taller than him and whoever it may be, was wearing a dark hooded cloak pulled up over their head and in their arms they looked to be carrying what seemed to be a... baby?

Harry raised one eyebrow in sudden curiosity, and then the curiosity was gone. Suddenly he was on his knees again as an agony like nothing he'd ever felt before seared intensely behind his scar.

Even as he twitched and spasmed on the ground while clutching at his scar though, an all too familiar fear was beginning to spread through his body. Even through the pain he could piece it all together, after all there was only one person in the entire world his scar flared up in pain around.

Voldemort, he was here!

Through glossy eyes, filled with many unshed tears due to the pain he was currently going through Harry looked up. And he met the eyes of a traitor.

"You!" The raven haired teen growled out, a sudden rage filling his entire being. Suddenly Voldemort didn't matter, the blinding pain behind his scar didn't matter. Here was one of the reasons his life was so hellish. Here was the reason Voldemort found his parents in the first place, here was the person responsible for his godfather spending twelve years in Azkaban with the Dementors slowly being driven mad!

His arm began to slowly lift up as if of its own accord, twitching and spasming along with the rest of his body. Harry ignored his arm though, he only had eyes for the ugly rat like face of the man who betrayed his parents, Peter Pettigrew.

"Hello Harry, it's nice to see you again," The rat of a man suddenly spoke up, smiling at him as if they were old pals. It was an ugly smile Harry thought, an ugly smile for an ugly pathetic man.

Harry's breathing picked up. How dare he even speak his name, as if he had the right to with what he'd done! There were no words to describe his rage, his sheer hate of this balding ugly excuse of a man. Last year he saved his life in hopes of getting Sirius freed, but this time Harry could not feel it in him to try for it. He just wanted to see this piece of filth dead!

Through the blinding, searing pain raging out at him from his scar Harry saw the tip of his wand begin to glow with an ominous green light, "Avada-" He began with a rage filled hiss, sounding almost like he would slip into Parsletongue at any moment.

There was still some hope in the situation. Maybe, just maybe, if he brought the body back with him to Hogwarts they could finally see that Pettigrew hadn't been blown to pieces by Sirius and the Ministry could finally give him that trial he deserved.

But before he could even finish the two word incantation for the spell that would reap vengeance for Sirius and his parents, and avenge the rat man's betrayal of them, he was suddenly hit by a powerful bolt of red energy rocketing from a wand held within one of the tiny fists of the baby Pettigrew was holding.

And then all Harry saw was darkness.

He stirred and the world came back to him in a whirlwind of pain and blinding colors behind his eyes. His scar throbbed harder than any headache he'd ever experienced in his entire life and his arm sticky with fresh blood felt as if it was on fire.

Through woozy half-lidded eyes, Harry locked onto a tall figure standing in front of him and almost recoiled in disgust when his vision cleared enough for him to get a good look at the figure.

Like a snake taken on a human form was the best way the man in front of him could be described. With a body whiter than a human skill and gleaming red slitted eyes. Clad in a robe of the darkest black, hanging from his tall frame like a gliding shadow.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Wormtail knelt off to the side of the Dark Lord, cradling a handless arm and whimpering softly. Harry barely even noticed the traitor of his parents, no his attention had been completely enraptured by the monstrosity of a man standing in front of him.

Voldemort's slitted red eyes peered at him, filled to the brim with amusement and the snake like man let out a high, cold laugh. "How nice of you to join us Harry Potter." He said, his voice sounding almost like a pleased purr.

Harry shivered in both sheer terror and revulsion.

Red met green and a staring contest between the two took place. Voldemort eyed him with a certain murderous gleam in his eyes that terrified Harry to no end and it took all the teen had to not let his terror show upon his countenance.

The staring contest was interrupted by Pettigrew's whimpering, "My Lord... please... you promised..."

Voldemort eyed the balding little man lazily from the corner of his eye, idly spinning his wand slowly between long spindly fingers, "Your arm, Wormtail." He instructed with a droll, but Harry just knew that it was more of a demand than anything else.

"Oh... thank you master...thank you!" Pettigrew continued, softly sobbing. His small beady eyes were secreting a flow of tears and Harry began to feel sick just by looking at him, he looked like some overgrown and excruciatingly ugly baby.

Voldemort laughed coldly once again, "Your other arm, Wormtail." He demanded softly.

Pettigrew sputtered slightly and began to beg and plead once again, but Voldemort was having none of it. With a rough jerk of his arm, the Dark Lord grabbed him by his non-disfigured arm and dragged the sleeve up over his elbow exposing a vivid red tattoo, a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth as a tongue.

With a start Harry realized just what it was. He'd seen it before, at the Quidditch World Cup when those Death Eater's had caused such a riot. The Dark Mark.

"It is back." Voldemort intoned softly, "Now we shall see, now we will know who is brave enough to return to my side and who is so cowardly and foolish that they stay away."

Then he pressed one long spindly white finger against the tattoo and Harry felt his scar sear with pain. Wormtail howled all the louder from some fresh new bout of pain and through pain filled eyes, Harry could make out the tattoo turning from a burning red to cold, shadow-like black.

The snake-like man then began to pace softly in front of Harry, his eyes watching him intently and gleaming brightly with a sort of fascination and satisfaction.

It was a look that sent shivers down his spine. The idea that he was going to die here was a very possible thing here and now.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my father," Voldemort suddenly began.

Harry jerked in surprise at that, twisting slightly as he attempted to instinctively look at the tombstone he was bound tightly to.


There, just a bit underneath his legs was the name he'd learned back in his second year at Hogwarts. "Muggle, and a fool just like your dear mother, but he proved useful in the end, better late than never I'm sure," Voldemort continued onwards, hardly pausing at all as Harry attempted to get a better look at where he was bound.

The insult against his mother stung though, his heart constricted painfully in his chest. "My mother was a great witch!" Harry hissed out at the man, if he could even be called that any more, a familiar anger beginning to blossom in his chest and without realizing it he embraced it.

How dare this monster look down upon his mother!

His head suddenly rocked to the side from the painful backhand he received courtesy of his cheek. The raven haired teen growled lowly, green eyes flashing with murderous intent as he tasted the coppery metallic taste of blood swirling around inside his mouth.

"Now now Harry, do not interrupt your betters when they are speaking." Voldemort chided him softly, wagging one long finger in front of his face as if scolding a naughty child. "But still, the reminiscing of the past is not needed. Watch Harry, as my true family returns to me."

Then, as if out of nowhere they came. From the shadows they appeared, circling all around Voldemort each one covered in hooded black robes and silver masks. Slowly they approached, looking to Harry as if they couldn't quite believe Voldemort was standing in front of them, returned from the grave.

One of them fell to his knees, crawling over to Voldemort like a faithful dog and began to kiss at the hem of his robes. Harry felt his insides turn with revulsion – this was a Death Eater? The monsters Ron and others who grew up in the Wizarding World talked about in such fear? Harry almost wished he was free so he could kick the man as hard as he possibly could, if he wanted to act like such a useless little dog then he should be treated as such. He reminded Harry of Aunt Marge's dog Ripper and that made him want to hurt the man all the more. A submissive little psychophant for sure.

"Master... Master," He murmured breathlessly as if in awe of his lord's form.

Slowly, one by one the other Death Eater's followed his example and they all began to crowd around Voldemort on their knees, each one attempting to get ahead of the other and kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes.

It was disgusting. These were the so called pure of blood? The elite of society? Harry couldn't believe it at all, that they bowed like such willing slaves to a man they were supposedly better than. Even Harry himself had more magical blood in him than Voldemort did! At least his mother was a witch, Muggleborn or not.

It was utterly pathetic and Harry was filled with contempt at the sight of them. His earlier fear of Voldemort pushed aside, but hardly forgotten at the site of these pieces of misbegotten... trash.

Yes, Harry decided suddenly. That word fit these men to a tee, they were trash.

"Welcome, my Death Eaters," Voldemort suddenly cut them off softly, "Thirteen years... thirteen years since we last met, yet you answer my call as if it were merely yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark then, or are we?"

He lifted his snake-like face almost haughtily and sniffed through the slits that acted as his nose now, "I smell guilt, guilt and fear. The stench of both waft through the air like something foul."

Voldemort suddenly looked down at them, red slit eyes filled with contempt, "I see you all, whole and healthy with your powers intact and I find myself wondering why not one of you came to the aid of their weakened master whom they swore eternal loyalty to."

Voldemort continued onwards, his voice almost that of a furious whisper carried throughout the graveyard by the wind, "I find myself asking did they believe I was broken? Defeated? They who knew the steps I had taken to guard myself against any mortal death, they who had seen the proof of how my power towered far above any wizard alive, and then I answered myself perhaps they believed still a great power could exist, perhaps they have deserted me to join the side of the champion of commoners, Mudbloods and Muggles alike – Albus Dumbledore."

There was short cry of denial from one of them as whispers spread around the group of kneeling Death Eaters, "No Master! We would never! We are loyal! Please, Forgive us Master!"

Voldemort raised his wand, "Crucio!"

There was a flash of red light and before the man could react, it impacted against his chest area and he fell to the grass covered soil beneath him screaming his lungs out to the heavens above, twitching and jerking along the ground he lay on.

Harry almost wished someone could hear the loud echoing scream and possibly phone the police. But there was no point, what could a small group of Muggle Police Officers do against Voldemort and his Death Eaters?

The answer was nothing, they'd be slaughtered. So Harry kept his wishes to himself, if he was going to die here he would not drag innocent people down alongside him.

And then Voldemort, after a few more seconds, let go of the curse and the man in Death Eater robes fell stiff and near silent. The only sound coming from him being little, high pitched sobs.

Harry wondered if it was wrong that he felt a surge of vindication that this murderer was feeling the pain of retribution even if it was at the hands of his evil master.

"Get up Avery, all of you get up!" Voldemort commanded sharply.

They were all quick to jump to their feet as fast as they could, only the now named Avery and Wormtail slowly staggering behind from the pain they were no doubt going through from losing a hand and being put under the Cruciatus Curse respectively.

"You ask forgiveness?" Voldemort hissed coldly, "I do not forgive, and I do not forget. I want thirteen years, thirteen long years of repayment before I forgive any of you." Then he paused and looked down over his slitted nose at Wormtail, "I do suppose you came back to me Wormtail, though not out of loyalty but out of fear of what your old friends and Potter would do to you should they catch you."

The Dark Lord smirked, "You deserve this pain, do you not, Wormtail?" He inquired.

Pettigrew was quick to nod his head like a good little minion, hand or no hand. "Yes Master...but please...I beg you Master."

Voldemort looked him over again, his smirk inching up slightly, "I suppose you do deserve a reward of some kind, after all you did help return me to my body and that is much more than I can say about these traitorous fools." He said, gesturing to the crowd of Death Eaters who once again erupted in whispers of denial and pleas for forgiveness.

Again, Harry felt the disgust well up inside him. How could anyone with a semblance of pride in themselves bow down like a lowly dog to anyone nevermind such a murderous being as the dark lord?

Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist.

Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into splinters.

"My Lord," He whispered, almost reverently. "Master, it is beautiful... thank you... a thousand times thank you my Master!" He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"May your loyalty never waver again." Voldemort said, "For if it does, death shall be a mercy." He said it while looking at Wormtail, but the message was clear. It was a statement they were all to abide by or they would wish for death at the treatment he would them by his own hand.

He dismissed Wormtail with a wave of his hand and the rat looking man was quick to obey and jump to his feet, taking his place among the circle of gathered Death Eaters.

Voldemort then moved on, walking slowly his way around all of the Death Eaters. He stopped short at the left empty between two of the Death Eaters, a gap big enough for three people. "The Lestranges should stand here. But they are entombed within the depths of Azkaban, they were faithful, unlike you all and went to to Azkaban rather than announce me, when I tear down the walls of that wretched prison they will be rewarded beyond their dreams," He said, "The Dementors," He continued, "Will join us, they are our natural ally after all and we will recall the banished giants...I shall have my devoted servants once again and an army of creatures whom all will fear to stand against."

Despite himself, Harry shivered in at the thought. He watched silently through half lidded eyes - the blood loss from his wounds on both his leg and arm making him light-headed and woozy - as the murderer of his parents talked on in his grandiose manner, he barely batted an eye when he talked about his imprisoned servants and the giants. But the Dementors were another thing entirely, even now he could feel the chill in his bones from when they were close.

Voldemort walked on. Some of his Death Eaters he passed by silently, until he came to a stop in front of a tall man. "Macnair, destroying beasts for the Ministry of Magic now I hear? You shall have better victims soon my servant, Lord Voldemort will provide."

Recognition jolted through Harry's head. Macnair, that was the guy who was brought up by Minister Fudge and Lucius Malfoy to execute Buckbeak.


"Thank you Master, thank you." The tall Death Eater murmured lowly.

Next, Voldemort stopped infront of three more Death Eaters. Two large hulking Death Eaters, while the third, much skinnier and shorter was practicaly hidden in their shadows. "You will do better this time won't you, Crabbe, Goyle?" Voldemort asked.

The two clumsily bowed to their lord, muttering on drolly about how they wouldn't fail him. And then Voldemort turned his attention on the third hiding in their shadows, "That goes double for you Nott, I won't have your ineptitude failing so royally again, are we understood?"

Nott practically leaped into a bow, "My lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful-

Voldemort snorted, "That will be all Nott," He dismissed and continued on his way. Harry found himself somewhat amused as the smallish man slumped forward in what looked to be dejection. It was best to get all the amusement he could out of this before he got a killing curse to the face, there was very little chance he would escape this he supposed.

Harry shivered again involuntarily, he was going to die. He was trying to make light of it, but the cold feeling at the pit of his stomach was beginning to cloud his mind as well. He didn't want to admit it, even to himself. But he was terrified.

So much for the high and mighty Gryffindor. He tried to psyche himself up, he came from where the brave of heart dwelt did he not? He'd put his life on the line before hadn't he? So why couldn't he find that surge in him to stand up like a man and banish the fear?

He couldn't explain it. There was just something about Voldemort that unsettled him mightily. Inspired such terror that even the Basilisk or Dementors could not compete.

Harry couldn't even manage to get his hopes up. If he even got a fair fight out of Voldemort for the chance to fight for his life, could he even do anything at all? Sure he'd beaten Cedric but this wall a whole other kettle of fish, Voldemort could probably defeat Cedric and kill him in under ten seconds in a real fight.

With his eyes closed and without a wand.

Not to long ago he'd been blinded by his rage at the betrayer of his parents and had very nearly let loose a killing curse on the man. Harry swallowed hard... he could do it again if he had to, he was sure he could.

Maybe, just maybe.

It was too bad he couldn't Apparate though. If the Death Eaters arrival was anything to go by, there was nothing set up to block Apparition.

Harry was interrupted by Voldemort making his way back over towards the start of the circle of Death Eaters, standing in front of the one at the lead of the circle, "Lucius my slippery little friend," He whispered, his voice hissing slightly. The Death Eaters stirred at the sound, but Voldemort ignored them as he continued on, "I am told you still like to take a little jaunt out in my name every now and then, if your actions at the Quidditch World Cup were anything to go by despite the little farce you put on for the public, like to partake in a little bit of Muggle torture do we?"

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," Came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me-"

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" said Voldemort lazily, and Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. . . . You have disappointed me. ... I expect more faithful service in the future."

Harry honestly could not help himself. The sheer fact that it was Malfoy's father licking at Voldemort' heel like an eager puppy lit aflame his earlier thoughts. The rave haired teen snorted, "Trash."

There was a sudden quiet that overtook the graveyard. The Death Eaters seeing him and going silent and for the first time noticing he was there. Voldemort on the other hand whirled around and practically glided over to him, there was a smirk on the Dark Lord's face as he stared down at harry through red slitted eyes, "Oh? And why do you call him trash young Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked softly.

Harry glared right back at him through his own green eyes, "Because he's a pathetic waste of space just like his failure of a son," Harry replied with a growl, he heard shout of anger coming from Lucius' direction but ignored it, why focus on the peon when he had the attention of the master? "I have no idea why you want a man who couldn't even beat his own House Elf in a fight."

Lucius went quiet at the revelation, and hushed whispers broke out between the other Death Eaters. Voldemort though, again ignored them instead his eyes stayed on Harry and he erupted into a high cold laughter of pure amusement, "Beaten by his own House Elf you say?"

It felt good Harry decided, to have Lucius humiliated in front of his peers and master. It was about the only up-side that happened this night, he got one over on the Malfoy family. After all the vile man had done, he deserved some comeuppance.

Voldemort stopped laughing after a few moments and looked down upon Harry once again, "My young Harry you have quite the viscous tongue on you. If I weren't going to kill you tonight, I dare say you could have gone far in my service," That said, he whirled around and turned his attention on his Death Eaters again.

"My Death Eaters, story of Lucius' pathetic combat prowess aside, please give Harry Potter here a warm welcome. He is, after all, the guest of honour tonight," He told them. They happily tittered at his words and Harry felt the need to snort again, he wasn't sure if they were laughing at him or Lucius.

Voldemort continued onwards, undeterred by the sniggering of his Death Eaters, "You know of course that they have called this boy my downfall, do you not?" He said softly, his eyes turned towards Harry, resting upon his scar and the raven haired teen felt it begin to burn anew, so fiercely that he almost screamed out at the sudden agony, ""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."

Voldemort 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. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters.

The pain stopped suddenly and Harry found himself panting deeply. He closed his eyes, attempting to will the pain away to no avail, but still he strained his ears in order to listen to Voldemort speaking. He knew very little of what happened that night, only Voldemort would seeing as he was there and the only one either not dead or a baby at the time, "I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost. But still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked ... for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself... for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand." Voldemort continued softly.

"I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist. I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited. Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me. . . one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body," His slitted red eyes narrowed in anger, "But I waited in vain!" He suddenly hissed in rage.

The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing, as if to inspire more guilt and terror within his servants. "Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals - snakes, of course, being my preference - but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic . . . and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long."

"Then, four years ago," Voldemort started again after a short pause, "The means for my return seemed assured. A wizard -young, foolish, and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school, he was easy to bend to my will, he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Philosophers Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted . . . thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter. …" His voice crawled to a slow stop, letting that piece of information

Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Harry.

"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been," Voldemort continued. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't then fear that I might never regain my powers. Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour... I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess and I had given up hope, now, that none of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me." One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice, he was far too busy reliving his memories once again of his pain filled existence as a spirit.

"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last...a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends, and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumored I was hiding," Voldemort said.

"He was helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them," The Dark Lord continued, "But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic." He trailed off softly.

"Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail - displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him - convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her he brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams for - with a little persuasion - she became a veritable mine of information," The Dark Lord told them all. And they listened on in silence still, enraptured by his tale.

"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 only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things. But the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her,"

Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless. "Wormtail's body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth a spell or two of my own invention a little help from my dear Nagini," Voldemorts red eyes fell upon a massive snake slowly slithering around the graveyard and Harry caught sight of it for the first time upon his awakening and jerked slightly at the sight of it, the thing was bloody huge! "A potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel."

"There was no hope of stealing the Philosophers Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality. I set my sights lower I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strength. I knew that to achieve this - it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight - I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant," Harry's eyes opened slightly at the mention of his revival. He listened intently as he could, little hope or not. If he could somehow get the information to Dumbeldore the Headmaster could probably put a stop to Voldemort by undoing the ritual or whatever he done to get his body back, couldn't he? There was nobody as gifted with magic as Dumbledore was after all.

"My father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe,Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen," Voldemort told them, idly twirling his wand again, "I wanted Harry Potters blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too."

"But how to get at Harry Potter?" Voldemort seemingly question, "For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. Not even I can touch him there. Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup. I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt kidnap in the midst of a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him?" Protections? Harry wondered. What protections? Did he mean the one Dumbledore set up using his blood relation to his aunt Petunia, or where there more protections he did not know about?

"Why by using Bertha Jorkins's information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament - that he touched the Triwizard Cup first - the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is, the boy you all believed had been my downfall," Voldemort trailed off once again, spreading one arm out and indicating to Harry in a grandiose manner.

He really had a thing for the theatrics Harry noted snidely in his head.

Voldemort looked him over for a moment, as if studying him carefully, "The boy is talented of course, not as talented as I at his age but talented nonetheless," He told his Death Eaters. Harry felt disgusted with himself when he felt a bit of pride surge in his chest at the compliments, "Dangerous too, indeed he is in fact if I did not intervene when the boy arrived Wormtail would have been felled by a Killing Curse from the boy and all my plans would be in ruin, it is lucky that I managed to stun the boy before he fully completed the incantation of the spell."

Voldemort paused here again, but continued onwards a moment later after appraising Harry once again for a moment, "If I were not going to kill the boy, he indeed could have risen up the ranks of my Death Eaters and would surely replace one of you," The snake-like Dark Lord said, "But alas, it was not to be, but fear not young Harry I shall give you the chance to fight for your life."

Voldemort waved his wand idly and the ropes binding Harry to the tombstone of his father vanished. Harry staggered as his feet hit the ground, wincing at the jolt of pain that shot through his injured leg.

His chest swelled, breathing deeply he eyed Voldemort as the older – man? - reached into his dark robe and extracted Harry's wand, eleven inches, Holly and Phoenix feather.

Hope swelled in Harry's chest. He had a chance, slim as it may be. His mind worked a mile a minute as he tried to remember any and all spells that would help him out here. He glanced idly at his left hand, specifically the glove on it which was still coated by a layer of stone thanks to his Duro charm earlier. Good, that would help if he got close to anyone.

Voldemort tossed Harry the wand, and by the time he caught it in his right hand they were both already moving.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort bellowed. From his wand, rocketed a large bolt of ominous green energy.

After catching his wand, Harry immediately fell into a crouch and allowed the green light of Voldemort's killing curse to sail over his head, strike the tombstone behind him and reduce the statue of it to a fine powdery mist.

He completed the wand movement for his spell as he went down, "Fumos!" The raven haired teen incanted with a spiral motion of his wand. Smoke swirled out from his wand as he went through the motions of the spell, and a moment later with a final jab of his wand he called forth a large blinding cloud of dark smoke.

"Crucio!" Was Voldemort's next choice of spell from what Harry heard from inside his smokescreen.

He rolled to the side, feeling the sizzle of energy from the spell. He done his best to put it out of mind though, coming out of his roll he winced as he forced himself to quickly stagger to his feet with his momentum.

He continued on with that momentum and used it to spring into a sprint. Using the smokescreen as cover, he ran deeper into the graveyard.

The chase was on.