Harry Potter landed roughly onto the wet ground, soaking his robes with dew. His bitten leg ached but he ignored it in favour of gathering his bearings. He looked at the young man standing next to him, Cedric Diggory.
"Where are we?" Harry asked while slowly standing up.
But as soon as the words left his mouth, Harry's eyes widened as he recognized the field as the graveyard invading his dreams. He quickly drew his wand, searching the night for movement.
Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory had both participated in the Triwizard Tournament, both as Champions for Hogwarts. Unlike the 17-year-old Hufflepuff, Harry Potter did not enter the Tournament with his own free will. Unbeknownst to them, Barty Crouch Jr. put him in, which led to the messy-haired Gryffindor and slightly-messed-but-not-nearly-as-bad-haired Hufflepuff to take the Triwizard Cup at the same time. Which leads us back to our story.
"Cedric! I know this place! We're not safe here!"
"What?"
"Just get down!" Harry called, "I see someone coming! "
Cedric looked at him sceptically, but at seeing the pain starting to appear in the younger boy's face he simply nodded and took the advice.
As the figure approached, Harry finally noticed the bundle in its arms, but as he squinted to get a better look at it, his scar exploded in pain, bringing him to the ground.
Through the pain, he could hear Cedric yelling his name, and a high pitched voice screech, "Kill the spare!"'No!' He was in too much pain to do anything as "Avada Kadavra!" rang through the graveyard.
Cedric rolled out of the way just in time, the green light of the killing curse striking the ground where he had been kneeling seconds before. Shooting an apologetic look at Harry, who was now clutching his scar, wand forgotten in the grass, Cedric dived behind the nearest headstone for cover. From there, he started throwing every curse and jinx his panic-stricken brain could come up with.
"I said kill him!" The high pitched voice spoke again.
"I-I'm trying m-ma-"
"Hurry Wormtail!" The high, cold, voice in the bundles interrupted. "Just stun him now and finish him later!"
Dread filled Harry when he heard the cloaked figure's name. If it was Wormtail, the person who betrayed his parents to Voldemort, then that voice in the bundle could only be...
He was interrupted from his thoughts by a fresh wave of pain through his scar and a loud BOOM near him.
Cedric pointed his wand over the rubble of the headstone he had been sheltering behind towards the man, 'Wormtail' he had been called. Cedric may be no Gryffindor, but the Goblet of Fire chose him for a reason. "What do you want from us?" He demanded.
"Incarcerous" Wormtail yelled in response, and Cedric found himself tied up quite thoroughly. Wormtail wrenched Cedric's ash wand out of his grip before he could even think of the incantation to untie himself. "Hey!" Cedric cried, but his protest was left ignored.
Just as Harry was finally starting to recover from the pain in his scar, he was struck in the back with a curse and found himself unable to move. As Harry was picked up and dragged away from Cedric, his wand, and the cup, he couldn't help but feel a sense of impending doom. It was only increased when he saw the name of the headstone Wormtail was dragging him towards.
TOM RIDDLE
'Shit,' Harry thought to himself. 'Of course I'm here because of Voldemort. What in my life isn't because of him?' Harry struggled against the binds Wormtail was using to tie him to the grave, earning him a slap from Wormtail and a foul-tasting rag stuffed into his mouth.
Cedric watched as Harry was being tied to the grave in horror. 'This can't be good' He thought while struggling against his restraints.
And indeed it wasn't good. They both watched in trepidation as the largest cauldron they had ever seen was dragged into view by Wormtail. As he started a fire underneath it, the once calm liquid inside of it became alight with sparks and bubbles. In any other setting, they may have found it beautiful.
Wormtail picked up the bundle, revealing an ugly, slimy, monstrous thing in the shape of a human child. Harry could have puked at the sight and the pain exploding from his scar, but the fabric in his mouth prevented it. Wormtail dropped the hideous form of what Harry had a hunch was Voldemort into the overlarge cauldron. Wormtail pointed his wand at the ground beneath Harry's feet. Harry watched as the ground erupted below him and a trickle of fine dust rose out of the ground, into the cauldron.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The liquid inside the cauldron turned a toxic looking blue, sending a fresh wave of sparks into the night sky.
As Cedric stood there, bound, he seemed to try to compose himself and tried to move. Unfortunately, he stumbled and fell onto the damp earth. Cursing, he managed to manoeuvre himself so he could see the cauldron again. Just in time to hear Wormtail (almost literally) cry,
"F-Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - y-you will revive your master."
Cedric didn't hear the splash of Wormtails hand falling into the cauldron, as at that moment he spotted a large snake slithered over to him, hissing.
Panicking, he tried moving to the best of his abilities away from the large serpent. While scooting away, his back bumped into the forgotten Triwizard Cup. Cedric felt the telltale pull on his navel as he was portkeyed away, still bound by the ropes.
Now Harry was alone. With no Portkey to take him home.
Wormtail paid no mind to the now missing boy. He had a job to finish. Harry, on the other hand, felt hope rise within him. 'He can get help.. oh please don't be too late... please.. ' He was brought out of his internal pleading by Wormtails pained breaths on his face.
"B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly t-taken . . . you will . . . resurrect your f-foe. "
Harry's bright green eyes widened as he realized what this meant. He struggled against his bindings and spat enough curses through the rag in his mouth to make Molly Weasley faint (not that she wouldn't have already fainted at seeing her not-son-but-might-as-well-be-son in a situation like this. That or she would've AK'd everyone involved) but Wormtail brought up the dagger and cut through Harry's robes and into Harry's left arm.
As the blood started dripping down Harry's arm, his vision started to blur, his eyes filling with unshed tears from his sheer terror. 'Your a Gryffindor, Harry, ' he told himself, 'You've survived years with the Dursleys, faced off against a troll and Quirrelmort in the first year, Aragog and a FUCKING Basilisk in the second year, Dementors in third, and this whole goddamn tournament this year! You didn't cry then, Harry! You can't start now! You can't let him see weakness!'
Nevertheless, he could feel tears starting to pour down his face. Hot tears welling up in his emerald eyes, falling down his face, over his cheek. Maybe it was because, unlike in those previous situations, he felt so helpless. Without his wand or the cup to take him back, he could only hope Cedric relayed the message so Dumbledore could trace the Portkey back to this graveyard. He could only hope it wasn't too late when he arrived. That Dumbledore wouldn't find a body, his body , and an empty cauldron.
Wormtail ignored the small tug of guilt at seeing the boy cry. He'd gotten good at that. He ignored when he first started working the Dark Lord, when he started lying to his friends, when he revealed the location of the Potter's, and when he killed all those muggles and condemned Sirius to Askaban. Over time, it became easier to ignore, and it became smaller. So ignoring his guilt, he took out a vial from his robes and held it up to the blood dripping down his former best friend's son. A lookalike of one of the few people to truly trust him and care for him.
When the vial was filled with Harry's blood, Wormtail walked over to the cauldron. He poured the blood into it. The sizzling liquid inside turned from the sickening red colour it took when Wormtail sliced off his own hand, to a blinding white. It illuminated all of the nearby headstone and trees, causing Wormtail to squint at the light before finally collapsing onto the ground. He finally gave in to the sobs he had been holding back as he cradled his stump of a hand.
Harry still had tears slowly falling down his face, but they had slowed considerably. As Harry watched the cauldron, the bright light was suddenly gone. Pleading to himself that this demented ceremony had failed.
But through the mist rising from the cauldron, Harry saw it.
Rising from the cauldron. It requested its robes from Wormtail, who obliged it. As it stepped out of the cauldron, it made eye contact with Harry, causing a shiver of pain to wash through his scar.
Its eyes were vivid scarlet slitted pupils. Its nose was practically non-existent, flat against its face like a snake. Its skin was whiter than a skull, from its smooth head down to his spidery like hands.
Lord Voldemort had risen again.