More than 3k words here we gooo!!!
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As the curse courses through her body, Alexia's world narrows to a singular point of searing agony. Every nerve screams in protest, her muscles contorting uncontrollably as waves of torment wash over her like a relentless tide. It feels as though her very essence is being torn apart, shredded by the relentless attack of pain.
But amidst the chaos, amidst the blinding agony that threatens to consume her, Alexia clings to a single, solitary thought: resist. The whisper in her mind grows louder, urging her to fight back, to defy the darkness that seeks to engulf her.
And then, as suddenly as it began, the pain stops. Alexia lies gasping on the cold ground, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her ordeal. The echo of her screams still rings in her ears, a haunting reminder of the horrors she has endured.
But there is no time to dwell on her suffering, for Voldemort's voice pierces the silence like a dagger to the heart. His words send a shiver down her spine, his presence looming over her like a dark shadow.
"You have potential, girl," Voldemort hisses, his voice dripping with malice. "You are the wielder of the Ancient Magic, a power that could tip the scales in my favour. You will serve me well, Alexia Jackson. You will serve me or you will perish."
The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, suffocating in its intensity. Alexia's heart pounds in her chest, her mind racing as she grapples with the gravity of Voldemort's threat. But even in the face of such overwhelming darkness, a spark of defiance flickers within her, a stubborn refusal to surrender to the evil that seeks to claim her.
Alexia's senses reel as she hears the distant sound of a blast, the ground beneath her feet shaking with the force of the impact. Her heart lurches in her chest as she struggles to make sense of the chaos unfolding around her, her mind racing with a jumble of thoughts and emotions.
Through the haze of pain and confusion, she sees Harry and Cedric, their expressions mirroring her own bewilderment as they take in their surroundings. The Triwizard Cup lies tantalizingly close.
Desperation floods Alexia's veins as she tries to scream for Harry, to warn him of the danger lurking nearby, but her voice catches in her throat, choked off by the searing pain radiating through her body. Every inch of her aches with a fierce intensity, a relentless agony that threatens to consume her whole.
But then, through the haze of her suffering, she sees Harry's eyes lock onto hers, a flicker of recognition sparking in their depths. With a sense of determination born of sheer willpower, he rushes towards her, his movements slightly laboured from the ordeal of the third task.
As Harry reaches her side, Alexia feels a surge of relief washes over her, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of chaos that surrounds them. With trembling hands, he works to free her from the confines of the tombstone, his touch gentle yet urgent as he strives to ease her suffering.
But as Alexia struggles to rise to her feet, she feels a wave of dizziness wash over her, her strength drained by the ordeal she has endured. With a shaky breath, she manages to warn Harry of the danger lurking nearby, her voice barely a whisper as she speaks.
"Wormtail... he's here," she gasps, her words a grim reminder of the peril they face.As Alexia's warning leaves her lips, Harry winces in agony, a sharp cry escaping him as his scar blazes with searing pain. Cedric, alarmed by Harry's distress, rushes to their side, concern etched across his features as he seeks to understand the source of Harry's suffering.
Before Harry can respond, their attention is drawn to the sight of Wormtail returning, Voldemort's frail form cradled in his arms like a grotesque parody of a parent with a child. A chill runs down Alexia's spine as she locks eyes with the dark figure of Voldemort, his presence a palpable menace that hangs heavy in the air.
With a cruel command, Voldemort orders Wormtail to "kill the spare," his voice dripping with malice as he dismisses Cedric as nothing more than an obstacle in his path. Horror grips Alexia's heart as she watches in helpless terror, her limbs frozen with fear as Wormtail raises his wand, the air crackling with dark energy.
In an instant, the curse is unleashed, a blinding flash of green light illuminating the darkness as Cedric falls to the ground, his life extinguished in a heartbeat. The echo of his final breath hangs heavy in the air, a haunting reminder of the brutality of their enemy's power.
Alexia feels bile rise in her throat as she struggles to comprehend the enormity of what has just transpired. Cedric, a fellow Quidditch player, lies motionless at their feet, his young life snuffed out by the merciless hand of Voldemort and his followers.
Grief and rage course through Alexia's veins as she stares at Cedric's lifeless form, her heart heavy with sorrow for the loss of a brave soul who dared to stand against the darkness.
Harry is dragged to a large marble headstone with the name Tom Riddle engraved on it. Once he's tied to the thing, he realizes that the figure doing all of this is Wormtail. He is not speaking. Harry is gagged, bound so tightly that he can see only what's directly in front of him: Cedric's body.
As Alexia struggles to her feet, determination burning bright within her despite the searing pain coursing through her body, her focus remains fixed on Harry, her friend and ally in this harrowing ordeal. With every step she takes towards him, she can feel the weight of Wormtail's malevolent gaze upon her, his silent menace a chilling reminder of the danger that lurks in the shadows.
But even as she draws nearer to Harry, a surge of dark magic erupts from Wormtail's wand, a vicious curse aimed squarely at her. Agony lances through her once more, a tidal wave of pain that threatens to overwhelm her senses as she stumbles backwards, her vision swimming with the intensity of the onslaught.
Gasping for breath, Alexia grits her teeth against the pain, her muscles tensing as she fights to remain upright in the face of Wormtail's cruelty. Through gritted teeth, she manages to choke out a defiant retort, her voice laced with determination despite the agony that threatens to consume her.
"Is that all you've got?" she taunts, her words tinged with defiance as she locks eyes with her tormentor. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to stop me."
Voldemort's voice echoes, talking to Wormtail, saying he should leave her, as she's too weak to even stand by herself, with a malicious grin stretching across his face, Wormtail heeds Voldemort's command, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he sends one final hex hurtling towards Alexia. The curse strikes her with a forceful impact, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from her lips as she staggers backwards, her weakened body unable to withstand the onslaught of dark magic.
With a sense of urgency permeating the air, Wormtail hastens to unwrap the bundle, revealing a grotesque, snakelike infant creature squirming within. Its raw, malformed form sends a shiver down Alexia's spine as she watches in horror, realizing the true extent of the dark magic at play.
Without hesitation, Wormtail lowers the abomination into the cauldron, its writhing form disappearing into the bubbling potion below. With a grim determination, he gathers bone dust from the surrounding graves, each scrape of his hand against the weathered stone echoing through the silent night. The bone dust joins the swirling concoction, adding to its ominous potency.
But Wormtail's dark ritual does not end there. With a sickening resolve, he raises his blade and severs his own hand, the metallic scent of blood mingling with the musty air of the graveyard. With a pained grimace, he deposits his severed appendage into the cauldron, the crimson liquid merging with the bubbling potion in a macabre dance of dark magic.
Next, Harry's arm becomes the unwilling sacrifice, the blade slicing through his flesh with a sickening sound. Alexia's heart lurches as she watches the crimson droplets fall, her mind reeling with horror at the sight of her friend's blood being spilt for Voldemort's resurrection. With each drop that falls into the cauldron, the air crackles with bright light and sparks, illuminating the darkness with an eerie glow.
As the ritual reaches its crescendo, the brilliance of the light intensifies, bathing the graveyard in an otherworldly radiance. Then, as suddenly as it began, the light fades, dissipating into a swirling mist that envelops the cauldron in its ghostly embrace. Alexia watches in stunned silence, her heart pounding in her chest as she realizes the true extent of the darkness that now threatens to consume them all.
In the dimly lit graveyard, surrounded by the silent spectres of tombstones, the air crackles with otherworldly energy as Wormtail completes the dark ritual. The mist emanating from the cauldron swirls and coils like serpents, weaving a sinister dance in the night air. Suddenly, a palpable sense of anticipation hangs heavy, as if the very earth itself holds its breath in anticipation of what is to come.
Then, from the depths of the cauldron, emerges a figure shrouded in shadow, its form obscured by the swirling mist. Slowly, the mist begins to dissipate, revealing the unmistakable silhouette of a man. His features are twisted and contorted, bearing the unmistakable visage of Tom Riddle, but warped by the darkness that now envelops him.
As Voldemort steps forth from the cauldron, his presence seems to cast a shadow over the entire graveyard, suffusing the air with a sense of dread and foreboding. His mere presence is a testament to the dark power that now courses through him, a power that threatens to consume everything in its path. Alexia realizes with a sinking heart that the world will never be the same again.
Voldemort has returned.
As Voldemort's cold, calculating gaze falls upon Alexia, a shiver courses down her spine, a primal instinct warning her of the imminent danger. She watches in horror as Voldemort, with a casual flick of his wand, draws attention to Wormtail's arm, where the sinister Dark Mark lies branded.
With a touch as delicate as it is ominous, Voldemort's wand tip connects with the twisted mark etched into Wormtail's flesh. In an instant, the night sky above them is rent asunder by the dark magic, the once serene heavens now marred by the unmistakable shape of the Dark Mark, glowing with an eerie green light.
The sight sends a chill through Alexia's soul, the ominous symbol serving as a grim reminder of the evil that now walks among them. It looms overhead like a spectre of doom, casting its shadow over the graveyard and all who stand within its reach.
As Voldemort approaches Alexia, his presence exudes a palpable aura of malevolence that seems to suffocate the air around them. His crimson eyes bore into hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine, his twisted lips curling into a chilling smirk as he spoke.
"It is truly an honour," Voldemort's voice is a sinister hiss, dripping with malice and dark intent, "to stand before such potent magic as yours, young one. I must admit, the only thing missing the last time I was in power... Was your magic, but now, you have returned."
Alexia's heart races, her mind reeling at the sheer audacity of Voldemort's words. Despite her weakened state, a defiant spark ignites within her, and she struggles to her feet, her gaze unwavering as she meets Voldemort's chilling stare.
Voldemort's expression twists into a cruel parody of amusement at her defiance. "How amusing," he sneers, "that you would dare to defy me, the greatest wizard of all time."
With a flick of his wand, Voldemort casts the Cruciatus Curse upon her, the spell's dark tendrils lashing out to ensnare her in a web of excruciating pain, even in more pain than what Wormtail did to her. Every nerve in Alexia's body feels as though it's aflame, her screams echoing through the desolate graveyard as she writhes in agony.
But even as the curse threatens to overwhelm her, Alexia's resolve remains unbroken. Through gritted teeth, she manages to muster a defiant retort. "I will never join your side," she spits, her voice trembling with defiance. "No matter what you do to me, I will never serve you."
Voldemort's laughter echoes through the night air, a chilling sound that sends a shiver down Alexia's spine. "We shall see about that, my dear," he sneers, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "We shall see."
Harry's voice reverberates through the graveyard, a desperate plea laced with defiance as he struggles against his restraints. "Get away from her!"
Voldemort's smirk widens into a malevolent grin as he turns his attention towards Harry, his crimson eyes alight with cruel amusement. With slow, deliberate steps, he glides towards the marble headstone where Harry is bound, his gaze fixated upon the trapped young wizard.
"Ah, Harry Potter," Voldemort purrs, his voice dripping with contemptuous delight. "How delightful it is to see you once again."
Harry's heart pounds in his chest as Voldemort draws closer, his presence radiating a chilling aura of menace. Despite the fear gnawing at his insides, Harry refuses to back down, his emerald eyes blazing with defiance as he meets Voldemort's malevolent gaze.
As the Death Eaters apparate into the graveyard, their dark robes billowing ominously around them, Voldemort's crimson eyes gleam with satisfaction. With a wave of his wand, he unleashes his wrath upon those who had doubted his return, their agonized screams filling the night air.
"You thought me gone forever," Voldemort hisses, his voice laced with icy fury as he surveys the cowering Death Eaters before him. "But I have returned, more powerful than ever."
Pettigrew, kneeling before Voldemort, trembles with anticipation as the Dark Lord rewards his loyalty with a new silver hand, a symbol of his unwavering allegiance. With a grateful nod, Pettigrew accepts the gift, his eyes gleaming with fervent devotion.
A Death Eater, bearing Lucius Malfoy's voice, dares to question Voldemort's absence and sudden reappearance. With a cold, disdainful smile, Voldemort recounts the tale of his survival, his voice dripping with malice as he describes the intricate machinations that had led to Harry's presence in the graveyard.
"I have returned from the shadows, stronger than ever," Voldemort proclaims, his voice resonating with chilling authority. "And now, with the boy who lived at my mercy, victory shall soon be mine."
With a dismissive gesture, Voldemort commands Pettigrew to release Harry from his restraints and return his wand. The Death Eaters watch in awe as Pettigrew obeys, his trembling hands fumbling as he offers Harry back his wand, a silent testament to the power of the Dark Lord.
Voldemort asks if Harry understands how to duel. "First, we bow," and Voldemort forces Harry to bow. Voldemort then Curses Harry, to show how it is done.
As Voldemort commands Harry to bow, a sense of dread fills the air, heavy with the weight of impending doom. Harry obeys, though every fibre of his being rebels against the submission.
With a flick of Voldemort's wand, a curse is cast, its dark energy crackling through the air like lightning. Harry, anticipating the danger, throws himself behind the cover of a nearby gravestone, his heart pounding in his chest as he braces for the inevitable.
But in that moment of peril, a fierce determination takes hold of Harry. He refuses to cower in fear, choosing instead to stand tall in the face of adversity. With a defiant resolve, he emerges from his hiding place and wanders at the ready, prepared to confront the Dark Lord head-on.
As Voldemort utters the dreaded words of the Killing Curse, Harry's mind races with thoughts of survival. With lightning-fast reflexes, he casts a Disarming Charm in a desperate attempt to thwart Voldemort's deadly magic.
Meanwhile, Alexia, her body still weak from the torturous curses inflicted upon her, struggles to rise to her feet. Though every movement is agonizing, she knows that she cannot stand idly by while Harry faces Voldemort alone. With determination blazing in her eyes, she searches for a way to aid her friend, her mind racing with thoughts of courage and sacrifice.
As the golden light binds Harry's and Voldemort's wands together, they are lifted into the air and set down at a distance from the watching Death Eaters. A dome of shimmering light forms around them, isolating them from the jeering crowd and creating a stage for their duel.
Harry's wand trembles in his hand, vibrating with an ominous energy that sends shivers down his spine. Beads of light begin to form along the golden link between the two wands, and Harry senses instinctively that they pose a grave danger.
With a fierce determination, Harry focuses all his concentration on diverting the beads of light away from his wand and towards Voldemort's. Each movement is a struggle against the overwhelming power of their connection, but Harry refuses to yield.
As the first bead of light is redirected towards Voldemort's wand, a chilling scream echoes through the air, emanating from the twisted wood as if in agony. Then, from the tip of Voldemort's wand emerges the shade of Cedric Diggory, a ghostly apparition trapped in eternal torment.
Confusion reigns among the Death Eaters outside the dome, their shouts and cries drowned out by the chaotic scene unfolding before them. They hesitate, uncertain of what to do next, as the power of the duel intensifies within the shimmering barrier.
Suddenly, without warning, a blinding blast of light erupts from Alexia's outstretched hands, engulfing the Death Eaters and sending them flying in all directions. Their cries of pain and surprise fill the air as they are thrown back by the force of Alexia's magic, their dark intentions thwarted by the unexpected intervention.
In the chaos, Harry and Voldemort remain locked in their duel, their wands still joined by the band of golden light. But now, with the Death Eaters scattered and disoriented, Harry senses a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, knowing that they are not alone in their fight against the forces of evil.
As the brilliant light fades, Alexia's strength wanes, leaving her feeling drained and weary as she stumbles to the ground. She watches with a mixture of relief and exhaustion as the Death Eaters groan in pain, their dark intentions thwarted by her intervention.
Struggling to regain her composure, Alexia casts a wary glance around the chaotic scene, her eyes settling on Harry and Voldemort locked in their deadly duel. Despite her fatigue, a surge of determination courses through her veins as she realizes that the fate of her friends and the wizarding world hangs in the balance.
With a determined grit, Alexia spots her wand lying nearby, discarded amidst the chaos of the battleground. Ignoring the groans of the fallen Death Eaters, she retrieves her wand, feeling its familiar weight in her hand as she rises to her feet once more.
As the shades of the fallen gather around Voldemort, providing a crucial distraction, Harry seizes the opportunity to break free. With a swift upward motion of his wand, he shatters the link between the wands, causing the golden dome to vanish in an instant. Without hesitation, Harry sprints towards Alexia, his heart pounding with urgency as he navigates through the maze of headstones.
Reaching Alexia's side, Harry finds her summoning the Triwizard Cup with a determined focus. Without a moment to spare, Alexia's magic whisks them away, along with Cedric's lifeless body, transporting them back to the heart of the Third Task maze.
One chapter left!