Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they were created by J.K. Rowling. I do not take credit for them. Yes, the characters are ooc, I know.


Harry and Cedric raced through the Triwizard maze, both trying to reach the cup before the other.

The cup was 20 metres away… 15 – Harry pushed his legs faster, desperate to beat Cedric when all of a sudden Cedric disappeared from view.

Harry stopped, confused, and looked around to see Cedric on the ground, entangled in magical vines and roots that came from under the hedges. He was reaching out to Harry, pleading for him to help.

"Harry! Please, argh!" He gasped, as a vine started entwining itself around his neck.

Harry just laughed and jogged the last few metres to the cup, roaring with laughter as he grabbed its handle and watched Cedric struggle.

As soon as his hand closed around the cup's handle, Harry felt himself leave the ground, his hand felt as though it was glued to the Triwizard cup, and he realized the cup was a portkey.

He hit the ground and felt his glasses shatter. He quickly repaired them with a spell and looked around to see where the cup had taken him.

He was in a graveyard, and looming above him was a gravestone with the name "Tom Riddle" engraved upon it.

Great, Harry thought. Did he really have to deal with Voldemort again?

Harry heard the sound of a cloak sliding over the ground and looked behind him to see a short, plump figure with its hood pulled down over its head, shadowing its face. In its arms were rags, and Harry didn't know why, but as soon as he saw those rags his scar seemed to set on fire.

Harry pressed a hand to his annoying scar, which had never done him any good. Harry had been teased about his scar since his first year at Hogwarts, because of it's unfortunate shape. His scar was the shape of male genitals, very embarrassing. Why couldn't he have a cool scar, like in the shape of a lightning bolt?

Harry stood up and retreated away from the figure holding the rags.

"Who are you?" He asked, to no response.

The figure came over to Harry, who retreated further back, but then walked into a gravestone.

The hooded figure came over and grabbed his left arm with one hand, and Harry noted that the hand was missing a finger.

"You!" He yelled at Pettigrew.

Pettigrew, acting as though he could not hear Harry, pulled out a knife and made a cut in Harry's arm.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, you fat lump of shit? Get off me you son of a banshee!" He yelled as Pettigrew retreated from Harry and conjured a cauldron out of mid air, a cauldron big enough for a fully grown man to sit in.

He dragged Harry over to the cauldron and dripped some of his blood from the wound on his arm into the cauldron.

"What the hell Pettigrew? Use your own blood you weak idiot. Grow some balls!" Harry yelled at the man, again, to no response.

Harry, who was getting bored, lent against a gravestone to watch Pettigrew as he brewed some weird potion. Harry had never liked Potions. Partly because of his teacher, Snape, who seemed to have a thing for Harry's scar. Whenever Snape saw Harry's scar, Harry always noticed him getting a stiffy. This had always disturbed Harry. What kind of sicko was turned on by a scar?

When Pettigrew finished the potion, he dropped the rags into the bubbling liquid.

"All that bother just to clean your rags?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Harry watched the potion's dark blue colour turn to blood red. Then it started to bubble more furiously, and red steam came from it, blurring the tall dark shape that was emerging from the cauldron.

The smoke cleared and Voldemort got out of the cauldron, naked.

"Ew!" Harry said, "Get a tan, Voldy!"

Voldemort was white all over, as if he had been painted in liquid paper, his eyes were blood red, the same colour as the liquid in the cauldron had been, and his pupils were not unlike that of a cat's.

"Robe me, Wormtail." Voldemort directed at Pettigrew, using his old nickname.

When Voldemort was robed with his wand in his hand, he turned to Harry.

"So we meet again, Mr. Potter."

"Yep," Harry said. "Hey I got a new shirt, would you like to see it?"

With that, Harry took off his robes, leaving Voldemort to stare at his T-shirt which had, in big bold letters, the words:

"Potter: 3

Voldemort: 0"

Voldemort roared in fury.

"Have you forgotten who I am, boy?" He hissed at Harry.

"Of course not, Voldy! You're the Man-Who-Let-The-Boy-Live!" Harry replied, grinning.

Voldemort was not impressed.

"I am the Dark Lord! The most powerful wizard of all time!" Voldemort screamed, directing his wand at an old gravestone, blowing it into a million pieces.

"Awwww, Lookit! Voldy's got a twiggle!" Harry said to Voldemort in the tone one uses when they talk to babies.

This seemed to infuriate Voldemort even more, and he pointed his wand at Harry which sent Harry flying through the air and landing on his backside ten metres away.

"Voldy, that wasn't nice! I'm afraid I'm going to have take a gold star off you." Harry said, waving his wand and producing a "Good Behaviour Chart" on which 3 gold stars were shining. Harry peeled one off and turned to Voldemort.

"Say sorry, like a good boy, and I'll put the star back on."

"Are you mocking me?" Voldemort hissed, steam practically coming out of his ears.

"No, of course not Voldy!" Harry laughed, then waving his wand and conjuring a packet of biscuits out of thin air. Harry opened the biscuits and started throwing them at Voldemort.

"Do you want a snack, Voldy? Come on, catch them!" He mocked, throwing a biscuit that bounced off his bald white head.

Voldemort seemed to shocked and angry to do anything. He stood there, letting the biscuits bounce off him.

"Now, we're going to have to do something about that horrible tattoo on your arm there, Voldy." Harry said, pointing to the Dark Mark which was branded on Voldemort's left fore arm. "So I knitted you this jumper, it'll cover it up!" Harry said, accio-ing a knitted pink jumper from his bag, which lay near the cup, and with a flick of his wand, the jumper was on Voldemort.

Harry took a camera out of his pocket and took photos of Voldemort, who was still standing there, shocked and angry.

"Yes, that's lovely!" Harry was saying, taking pictures. "Oh, we'll make a good model out of you, Voldy!"

Voldemort seemed to like the idea of becoming a model, and posed eagerly for Harry's photos, all previous anger forgotten.

Harry and Voldemort lived happily ever after, and started their own fashion brand called "Voldy" where various styles worn by Voldemort would now be available to all!



Hope you liked it, you probably didn't but oh well! I just thought I should have a story up, considering that's the point of this site. So I wrote this nonsense