Honey Bee

Chapter 40

For a second that contained an eternity, I stared into Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised. And then, before my mind had accepted what I was seeing, before I could feel anything but numb disbelief, I was being pulled to my feet.

The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging me toward the marble headstone next to a tied up Harry. I saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before I was forced around and slammed against it.

TOM RIDDLE!

The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around I, tying me from neck to ankles to the headstone. I could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; I struggled, and the man hit me - hit me with a hand that had a finger missing.

"You!" Harry gasped. "Wormtail!"

But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, rumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry and I were bound so tightly to the headstone that we couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth before getting another piece, I just spat at him and made it so he could get it inside my mouth; then, without a word, he turned from us and hurried away. I couldn't make a sound, nor could see where Wormtail had gone; I couldn't turn my head to see beyond the headstone; I could see only what was right in front of me.

Cedric's body was lying some twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. Harry's wand was on the ground at Cedric's feet. Mine behind the rock. The bundle of robes that I had thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave.

It seemed to be stirring fretfully. I watched it, and my scar seared with pain again... and I suddenly knew that we didn't want to see what was in those robes... I didn't want that bundle opened...

I could hear noises at my feet. I looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within our range of vision, and I saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water - you could hear it slopping around - and it was larger than any cauldron I had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.

The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling names beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness.

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And I heard the high, cold voice again.

"Hurry!"

The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

"It is ready. Master."

"Now ..." said the cold voice.

Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and I let out a cry of pure horror and shock.

It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind - but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that I had never seen anything less like a child, it was nothing like cute little Addie. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and I saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, I saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; I heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

Let it drown, I mutter, my scar burning almost past endurance, please... let it drown...

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The surface of the grave at our feet cracked. Horrified, I watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master. "

He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.

I realised what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened - I closed my eyes as tightly as I could, but nothing could not block the scream that pierced the night. I heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail's anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. I couldn't stand to look... but I did. The potion had turned a burning red...

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. I shut my eyes to stop the testers that were going to heavily flow. Not until I felt Wormtail's anguished breath on my face did I realise that Wormtail was right in front of us.

"B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe... and hair of the dark one... taken with force..."

I could do nothing to prevent it, we were tied too tightly... Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding us, I saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtails remaining hand. I saw its point penetrate the crook of the right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of Harry's torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it. He then turned to me.

"Stay away you monster." I growled at him, who gave me a slap before reaching to part of my hair and ripping it out making me scream.

He staggered back to the cauldron with Harrys blood and my hair. He poured and chucked it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened...

Let it have drowned. I thought, let it have gone wrong....

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of me, so that I couldn't see Harry or Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air... It's gone wrong, I thought... it's drowned... please... please let it be dead...

But I took this moment to my advantage. I used my dark magic to burn away the ropes tying me before running and making my way back to the rock and hiding behind it.

But then, through the mist in front of me, I saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry and where I should be... and Harry stared back into the face, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils...

Lord Voldemort had risen again.