Melody Riddle and the Goblet of Fire

Chapter 35: Rebirth

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?" Lord Voldemort had just risen from the contents of the cauldron and called his followers to him using Wormtail's Dark Mark, recently having turned jet black with his own return to power.

He finally stood in his own body. With skin whiter than a skull's, scarlet red eyes, and the nose of a snake; he was tall and skeletally thin. Utter perfection.

Wormtail stood off to the side, whimpering over his bloodied arm. He'd willingly cut off the hand with the missing finger and dropped it into the potion. Harry Potter was tied to the headstone of Voldemort's father, Tom Riddle, by cords tightened around him from neck to ankles. He had a cut in the crook of his right arm that still gushed dark red, his blood also having been used for the potion.

The Dark Lord paced in front of them, his eyes sweeping across the graveyard. How long it had been since he had his own body! His strong magic! Melody would be praised for her incredible work. Indeed. She and Barty did their part well.

He returned his gaze to the boy, and gave a cruel smile.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father. A Muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child... and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death...."

Voldemort laughed harshly. The boy would be dead soon, finally, so he might as well tell him about his parents... his own mother's sacrifice and his father's foolishness.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was... He didn't like magic, my father...

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage... but I vowed to find him... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name... Tom Riddle...."

He continued pacing, wondering how the sad story about his mother could work him up so much. The betrayal of his father felt like a knife to the back. He didn't remember such strong feelings before. There was always anger, yes, but never so much of it that it hurt... oh, but here came his followers....

"Listen to me, reliving family history..." he said softly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental.... But look, Harry! My true family returns...."

Wizards Apparated into the graveyard, all hooded and masked. Though he couldn't see their faces, he could feel the awe and fear that overcame them as they rushed forward to see him. He, himself, stood still, waiting for them to do what he knew they would after his long absence. Matter of fact, what was expected of them.

Each of them fell to their knees, one after the other, crawling over to him and kissing the hem of his robes. Then, they stood up and backed away, encircling his father's grave. Gaps were left where other Death Eaters were missing, some of whom were stuck in Azkaban... and others who were obviously afraid to return to him. Fools.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," he said, looking around at the hooded faces. Some of them had quite a bit of nerve to come back to him. "Thirteen years... thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday... We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?" He sniffed the air, noticing the extra emotion that each of them absolutely burned of. "I smell guilt. There is a stench of guilt upon the air."