Harry Potter: The Making of a Dark Lord

June 24th, 1995 – Little Hangleton Graveyard

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Harry," the high-pitched voice called out mockingly. "Do you think we are playing hide-and-seek?"

Crouching behind the headstone of Tom Riddle, Sr., Harry Potter knew he was about to die.

His leg was injured badly and his body was still trembling from Voldemort's cruciatus curse. Outnumbered over 20 to 1 and unable to run away, his only option was to die with dignity.

Harry rose slowly from behind the headstone and glared defiantly at the red-eyed creature standing twenty feet in front of him. It was like something out of a nightmare, a macabre marriage of human and snake, with small slits for nostrils and pale, skeletal limbs.

Voldemort smiled menacingly at Harry as he rose.

"So the child has chosen to die on his feet, just like his father. He would be so proud, Harry, so proud…"

Chuckles of laughter echoed among the ranks of the Death Eaters as they spread out behind their newly resurrected Master.

"Nothing to say?" Voldemort inquired silkily. "Very well, then. Goodbye, Harry Potter."

As Voldemort raised his want to strike Harry down, Harry raised his own and shouted the first offensive spell that came to mind.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry was stunned when the spells they fired collided in midair. Instead of an explosion, there was a sudden burst of what sounded like phoenix song, and Harry was heartened by the sound. A thin beam of golden light now connected his wand with Voldemort's, and it began vibrating erratically as Harry struggled to control it. He gripped it with both hands and focused on maintaining this connection.

Voldemort, too, seemed shocked by the result. He gripped his wand with both hands, staring intently at the beam of light that connected him with Harry. Harry noticed that a bead of bright green light was moving slowly toward him on the beam, and that Voldemort seemed to be willing it forward.

There were sudden shouts and questions from the ranks of the Death Eaters, but Harry ignored them. Voldemort screamed for silence and told them to do nothing. His pride demanded that he finish the boy before him without aid from his followers.

As the bead slowly approached him, Harry realized that this was somehow a contest of wills. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew he didn't want that bead of light touching him or his wand. He focused all of his concentration on the bead, willing it forward, and he was astonished when it did exactly that.

As the bead steadily approached him, Voldemort's wand vibrated violently, and Harry saw his red eyes widen in disbelief as it made contact with his wand.

There was a bright explosion of light, and everyone but Harry was thrown violently to the ground. Though knocked off his feet, Voldemort maintained a grip on his wand.

Despite the strangeness of the whole encounter, it was what happened next that Harry would later be unable to explain.

Green beads of light, much thicker than the bead he had been pushing towards Voldemort, rushed toward him from Voldemort's wand. His wand still extended, Harry felt locked in place. There was no question of stopping them.

As the beads entered his wand, Harry sucked in a shocked breath and closed his eyes. His scar exploded in sudden pain, doubling him over in agony. It felt as if his head were being cleaved apart with an axe. Just as suddenly the pain stopped, followed by a sensation unlike Harry had ever experienced. A wave of intense euphoria nearly overcame him, and he had to resist the urge to laugh. Pulse after pulse of what felt like raw energy flooded through him.

Finally it stopped. Harry collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

He felt as if he had just been destroyed and then remade in a matter of seconds. It was blissful and intoxicating. Suddenly lightheaded and no longer cognizant of the danger he was in, Harry staggered to his feet.

He surveyed the scene before him curiously, noting absently that only a handful of the Death Eaters had begun to stir. Voldemort himself seemed to be unconscious.

Harry had enough presence of mind to stumble towards Cedric's body, thinking that they had to get away somehow. It did not occur to him how he might accomplish such a thing.

As it turned out, no ingenious escape plan was required. The moment that Harry grasped Cedric's cold hand, a bright flash of fire erupted around him and he heard the comforting sound of phoenix song again. Strong talons gripped him by the shoulders, and the next thing Harry knew he was staring into the twinkling, disbelieving eyes of his Headmaster.