-The Graveyard, Chapter One-

Adapted from Chapter 32 of the Goblet of Fire

This story is based off of the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. Other rights apply.

This story starts after Harry and Cedric took the cup together. They are in the graveyard.

HARRY POV

I felt my feet slam into the ground; my injured leg giving way. I fell forward, and I gratefully let go of the Triwizard Cup. Slowly, I raised my head.

'Where are we?" I asked Cedric. He shook his head, got up, and pulled me upright. We both cautiously looked around.

We had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; having obviously traveled miles-perhaps hundreds of miles-for even the mountains surrounding the caste were gone. Instead, we were in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to our right. A hill rose above us to the left. If I squinted, I could just make out the outline of a fine old house on that hill.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then back to me. 'Did anyone tell you that the cup was a Portkey?" He asked. "Nope," I said, looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?" I wondered out loud.

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?" "Yeah…" I said after a minute, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion instead of me.

We pulled out our wands. I constantly looked around me; I had the strange feeling we were being watched. "Someone's coming." I said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, we watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward us between the graves. I couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, I could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And-several paces nearer, the gap between us closing all the time-I saw that the thing in the person's arms looked like a baby…or was it merely a bundle of robes?

I lowered my wand slightly and glanced at Cedric, who shot me a quizzical look. A sound that sounded like chains made us both turn our heads to watch the approaching figure. It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, we only looked at the figure, and he looked back.

And then, without warning, my scar exploded with pain. It was more pain than I have ever felt in my life; my wand slipped from my fingers as I put my hands over my face; my knees buckled; I was on the ground and I could see nothing at all; my head was about to split open. I felt Cedric shift beside me to glance my way.

From far away, somewhere above my head, I heard a high, cold voice say, 'Kill the spare." A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light blazed through my eyelids, and just before I heard something heavy fall beside me, I heard the chains again, grating. The pain in my scar reached such a pitch that I leaned over and retched. It diminished then, and terrified of what I might see, I opened my stinging eyes.

Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside me. He was dead. For a second that contained eternity, I stared at him, the chains clinking in my ears. His open grey eyes, blank and expressionless like the windows of the abandoned house; at his half-opened mouth, which looked slightly surprised.

Before I could accept what I was seeing, before I could feel anything but numb disbelief, I felt hands pulling me roughly to my feet. The short man had put down the bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging me toward the marble headstone. I got a fleeting glance of the name before I was forced around and slammed against it.

TOM RIDDLE

The cloaked man was quickly conjuring tight cords around me, tying me from neck to ankles to the headstone. I could hear his shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; and I immediately began to struggle.

The man hit me square in the jaw, with a hand that had a finger missing. I realized who it was under the hood. It was Wormtail. "You!" I gasped, trying to think. But Wormtail, who had finished binding me to the headstone, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots.

Once he was sure that I couldn't move an inch, he drew a length of black material from inside his cloak and stuffed it roughly into my mouth; then, without another word, he turned from me and hurried away.

I couldn't make a sound, no matter how hard I tried, nor could I see were Wormtail had gone; I couldn't turn my head to see beyond the headstone; I could only see what was directly in front of me.

Cedric's body was lying some twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glittering in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. My wand was at Cedric's feet. I tried to snap my head to the left, but to no avail when I heard a ringing slap echo into the night, and the chains again.

The bundle of robes that I thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully; and as I watched it, my scar seared with pain once more. I suddenly knew that I didn't want to see what was in those robes…I didn't want that bundle opened.

Despite the chains, I heard noises at my feet. Looking down, I saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where I was tied. Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing reached my ears after another slap echoed into the night. It sounded like he was forcing something heavy across the ground. He came back into my range of vision, and I saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave.

It was full of a liquid; I could hear it sloshing around. The cauldron was larger than any I had ever seen, or used; a great stone belly large enough for a full grown man to sit in. The thing in the bundle of robes began to stir more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself as the sound of chains got louder.

Now Wormtail was busing himself at the bottom of the cauldron, with a wand. Suddenly there was crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away in the darkness, and I faintly heard it in the direction of the chains.

The liquid in the cauldron heated fast, the surface bubbled and sent out fiery sparks. Steam was thickening, almost obscuring Wormtail as the bundle of robes became more agitated. I heard the high, cold voice again: "Hurry!"

The surface of the water was alight with sparks now, which looked like diamonds as Wormtail said: "It is ready Master." 'Now…" said the cold voice. As Wormtail pulled open the robes, I couldn't help but yell that was strangled by the wad of material blocking my mouth.

The thing was the shape of a human child, but it looked anything less than a child. It was hairless and scary looking, a dark, raw reddish black. Its face was flat and snakelike; no child ever alive could have a face like that. Its red eyes gleamed. Wormtail carried it over to the cauldron and dropped it in. I heard its body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

Let it drown, I thought, my scar burning almost past endurance, please…let it drown… Wormtail was speaking. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" The surface of the grave by my feet cracked, and horrified, I watched a fine trickle of dust float over to the cauldron and drop inside. The water turned blue.

"Flesh-of the servant-w-willingly given-you will-revive-your master." Wormtail's voice was coming in petrified sobs. He had a silver dagger in his left hand, and he swung it upwards, over his left. I only realized what he was doing the second before he did it. I closed my eyes, but could not block the scream that pierced the night.

I didn't realize Wormtail was in front of me until I felt his anguished breath on my face as he gasped with agony. "B-blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will…resurrect your foe." I could do nothing to prevent it, I was tied to tightly. I squinted down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding me as the silver dagger shook in Wormtail's hand as he advanced.

I felt it penetrate the crook of my right arm and blood seeping down the front of my robes. Wormtail caught some of it in a glass vial and poured it inside. It turned a blinding white, sending diamond sparks in all directions.

The chains rattling in my ears, I watched mist surge up from the cauldron, and with it, the dark outline of a man. Icy terror filled me as the high, cold voice commanded, "Robe me."

Wormtail managed to do this one handed, and scrambled away as the man crawled out. The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at me. I stared at the face that has haunted me for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils…

Lord Voldemort had risen again.