Chapter 45: The graveyard goes kaboom! P1

Harry slammed into the ground forcing him to roll on his back to arrest the momentum. His head spun for a moment but he had the presence of mind to stick to the plan. He immediately dropped his Holly wand beside his leg on the soft grass before covertly taking out the second-hand wand he nicked from the Room of Requirement. It was a shoddy wand with a brown surface completely alien to his magical senses. He doubted he could produce even sparks using this piece of wood.

The immediate surroundings around Harry were covered under a blanket of darkness. He adjusted the Horus glasses and his vision shifted to one akin to daylight. He was kneeling on a hilly grassland. A few paces from his position he could see a graveyard with a run-down church nearby. There was a large hill up ahead with an old manor made of stone and mortar. The night sky was blank like a blackboard. There was neither the moon nor the stars present in the night sky. It was as if the celestial bodies were hiding away.

A movement caught his attention in the graveyard. Squinting his eyes he found Peter Pettigrew making his way toward Harry's position. Wormtail was doing a poor attempt of covering his face with a cloak's hood drawn over his head. More importantly, Harry's eyes trained on the homunculus being carried in Wormtail's arms.

'Did Voldemort possess a baby or is that body a magical construct?' Harry wondered.

The only way to get to the truth of the matter was to ask Voldemort or get inside the Dark Lord's head.

"Yeah, not happening." Harry muttered.

Harry threw one last look at the Tri-wizard cup and then at the place he dropped his wand. The cup was nearby but his wand had disappeared into thin air.

'Good.' Harry smiled, turning away from the cup and choosing to wander about aimlessly like a confused teenager.

It didn't take long for Wormtail to catch up.

"You!" Harry acted surprised and allowed Wormtail to disarm him.

That useless stick in his hand flew into Wormtail's hands and Harry found himself bound by ropes.

"Harry Potter. We meet again." Voldemort rasped from beneath the bundle of robes in Wormtail's arm.

Harry could feel pinpricks on his scar. He also felt what appears to be an attempt to shoot pain into his mind. But, his defenses held firm. For some reason, Voldemort was not forcing his attack. Either the Dark Lord was too weak to perform a strong psionic attack or the guy was not attacking his mindscape intentionally. It could be a reaction from the Horcrux in his head.

Dismissing those thoughts from his mind Harry focused on the disgusting physical form of Voldemort. The body of the Dark Lord looked like it was deteriorating. His nose twitched at the foul smell emanating from the homunculus. While the atrocious odor assaulted his senses Harry nearly missed the fact that his feet were rising from the ground. He realized with a start he was floating thanks to Wormtail.

Harry felt himself move floating in the air beside Wormtail and Voldemort. They passed many graves along the way until finally, Harry felt himself stop. There, before his eyes, lay a white tombstone with a familiar name.

TOM RIDDLE

Wormtail jerked his wand arm and Harry was slammed against the headstone on his back. He hissed as pain shot through his back.

'You are so going to regret doing that you filthy rat.' Harry thought with gritted teeth.

The ropes binding him grew and began to tie themselves around the headstone. Harry grunted as he was wound up tightly against the piece of marble. His wrists were tied together on his back and the ropes were quite painful as they locked his limbs together rather hard.

"I always knew you were a disgusting slob Riddle. It's good to see it with my own eyes." Harry quipped, mocking the Dark Lord's current appearance.

"Brave even in the face of death. Your parents were just like you. Where are they now?" Voldemort mocked.

"Dead...just like you will be one day." Harry retorted.

"Me...? Ha! I'm beyond death, boy. Even now, reduced to this pitiful state, death holds no dominion over me. You may have won the Triwizard tournament but you hold no candle to the greatest wizard of all time. In a few moments, you'll stand witness to my rise and I shall show you the true depth of my power. Wormtail!"

"My master." Pettigrew whimpered.

"Begin the ritual. I'm eager to teach Potter and his filthy muggle-loving idol Dumbledore the true extent of my power."

"As... as you will, master." Pettigrew said simpering, setting the homunculus form of Voldemort on a nearby tomb before leaving presumably to make preparations for the ritual.

"Tell me something Voldemort. Why declare yourself a Dark Lord? You have obviously subverted many Pureblood families to your cause even knowing your muggle lineage. So, why do you try to take over Britain by force when you could have controlled everything from the shadows?"

"Because I have nothing to hide Harry. Why should I, Lord Voldemort, pretend to be something else? I'm not a weakling to bend my knees to the Ministry or its authority. My magical power gives me the right to rule over the whole of Britain. And in time, the whole world."

Harry looked at the Dark Lord with some amusement in his mind. The sheer ego this 'thing' displayed was quite unprecedented.

"Do you really believe that you'll be able to take over Britain?" Harry asked, keeping Voldemort engaged while his plan was slowly unfolding.

"Yes. For those with real power, anything is possible. Why Harry? Are you reconsidering my offer to join me?" Voldemort laughed creepily.

"No. I'm good. I just want to make sure you know what you are doing. That's all."

"You seem unbothered despite your current situation Harry. Why is that?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes gleaming inside the bundle of robes.

"I suppose I'm not worried 'cause you're not the only wizard with great power." Harry drawled, his eyes jumping away from Voldemort to the massive snake that was now slithering towards the tomb Harry was tied to.

"Your hopes are wasted, Harry Potter. Dumbledore will not be coming to your rescue. I've seen to that." said Voldemort.

It took some courage for Harry to not stare at the massive snake and shift his attention back to the Dark Lord.

"Don't tell me the Boy-who-lived is scared of a snake?" Voldemort mocked, letting out a chortle at his reaction to Nagini.

"Fear can be useful." Harry shrugged, or at least attempted to shrug given the constraints his body was put under.

"Pah! An excuse for the weak. Someone like me does not need to fear anything.." Voldemort snorted.

"That explains so much." Harry muttered.

"What was that?" Voldemort hissed.

"Nothing. Just wondering why you have such an incompetent underling like Wormtail working for you."

"For once I agree with you, Harry. Wormtail! You witless worm."

"My lord. I apologize. Everything is ready." Wormtail pleaded, managing to fetch a gigantic cauldron filled with a viscous potion near the grave.

"Don't make me reconsider feeding you to Nagini. Now, prepare for the ritual if you value your life."

"Yes, master." Wormtail bowed low, before lighting the bottom of the cauldron on fire.

Harry remained silent and chose to watch as Voldemort stirred restlessly inside the bundle of robes.

"You see Harry. Wormtail may be incompetent but he is useful. You, on the other hand, were foolish to spare him last year. Your morality made you weak and allowed the traitor who betrayed your parents to escape. Your weakness has become your undoing. If it wasn't for Wormtail, Bertha Jerkins would not have fallen into my grasp. Through her, I was able to find my most loyal servant who now serves me at Hogwarts." Voldemort let out a dark chuckle. "Yes, Harry. It was I, Lord Voldemort, who made sure you'd compete in the Triwizard tournament right under Dumbledore's nose. You see, even in this reduced state, my power extends to even Dumbledore's castle."

Harry felt like he was in some kind of anime where the villain just drones on and on about how evil he was and his evil-genius master plan to rule the world. Also, Voldemort has so far spoken as if he was a lunatic disengaged from reality weighed down by an Everest of ego.

"Faster you simpering fool!" Voldemort growled impatiently.

"It is ready master." Wormtail whimpered, stuttering in fear as Nagini hissed threateningly before slithering away into the grass disappearing from Harry's view.

"Good. You survive yet again Wormtail. Now, watch my rise, Harry." Voldemort said coldly.

Harry saw the viscous liquid in the cauldron turn into a dark oily goo-like substance. The liquid began to bubble and dark fumes began to escape the cauldron. Wormtail stepped away from the cauldron and parted the robes covering Voldemort. The smell became unbearable for Harry and the sight of Voldemort's body was not something he'd wish his worst enemies could see. The flesh of Voldemort's current body was decomposing and the skin was almost completely peeled off.

'At this rate, I'll die because of this horrible smell.' Harry thought, wishing his hands were free so that he could use a bubble-head charm on his head.

Wormtail carefully picked up Voldemort and dropped the Dark Lord into the bubbling liquid inside the cauldron. Wormtail's hood slipped down and Harry could see the revulsion shown on the traitor's face. But, Harry took his eyes away from Pettigrew and looked around.

"Now is the time Dobby." He whispered.

Suddenly, he felt the ropes around his wrists vanish and felt a familiar presence in his palm. He could feel his magic thrum in joy being reunited with his Holly wand. He quickly willed the ropes to stick to his body so as to keep up appearances of his bound state.

"Thank you, Dobby." Harry whispered, the wind carrying his words away into the cold night.

Wormtail, on the other hand, was totally ignorant of Harry's escape from the ropes. The potion began to hiss and boil over. Harry could feel a distinct tint of magic surging around him giving him a sense of impending doom.

Wormtail visibly took a deep breath before raising his wand. His voice shook and the traitor was sweating bullets. Looking into the cauldron, Pettigrew chanted.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given. You will revive your son!"

Harry moved his foot as the tomb on which he stood cracked open. The smooth stone parted ever so lightly and a human bone floated out of the grave. The parted stone came back together and sealed shut. The bone floated away and dropped itself into the cauldron. The dark potion sizzled as the bone fell into it. Blue sparks shot out of the potion and the dark cloud of the potion gave way to a dark blue colour.

Wormtail now fished out a dagger that gleamed under the light of the fire burning beneath the cauldron. Placing his wand in his pocket Wormtail extended his right arm over the cauldron letting out pitiful whimpers.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given." Wormtail sobbed. "You'll revive your master!"

The dagger in Wormtail's left hand came down severing his palm. The right palm of Wormtail with a whole of four fingers fell into the cauldron. The screams the traitor let out were quite heart-wrenching to Harry's ears. Harry would have pitied the man if it wasn't for the present circumstances and knowing what was about to follow. The potion inside the cauldron turned blood red.

As Wormtail struggled to control his sobs and painful whimpers, Harry was shoring up his Occlumency barriers for what was about to follow. His limited reading on the nature of most rituals keyed him to a simple fact. Magical rituals require emotional involvement of some kind to be a participant. Some rituals are fuelled by fear while some are fuelled by love. Almost all emotions played some part in the completion of a ritual. Similarly, the current ritual that was being performed in the graveyard required the unwilling cooperation of a dead father, the willing sacrifice of a servant, and the fearful but also unwilling presence of an arch-nemesis. One of the easiest ways for Harry to screw over the ritual and remove himself from the equation was to keep his mind totally disengaged from what was happening.

So, when Wormtail finally managed to get a hold of his pain and move towards Harry with the intent to take his blood, Harry occluded his mind. Keeping his mind sharp, he pictured a long tongue of flame burning at the tip of a candle in his mind. As his mindscape facilitated the construct he opened his eyes but his focus was on keeping the flame steady in his mind. So, he stood atop the grave of Tom Riddle unmoving and totally unbothered by the dagger closing in.

Wormtail pulled Harry's sleeve back with his remaining good hand. Harry kept his focus on the image of the flame as the Confundus charm took its effect on Wormtail. Pettigrew hardly noticed anything amiss as he pushed the tip of the dagger against what he assumed was Harry's skin on his right arm. Fresh blood dribbled down from the pierced skin which Wormtail collected in a glass vial.

Harry remained totally impassive at what happened but Pettigrew was either too engaged with his pain to notice or he was completely bamboozled by the Confundus charm. Either way, Harry maintained his discipline by focusing his mind elsewhere.

Wormtail wobbled his way to the cauldron and poured down the blood into the potion. The blood-red liquid turned pearly white the instant the blood mixed with the potion.

"Blood of the enemy unwillingly taken. You'll revive your foe."

Harry watched dispassionately as Wormtail let out a choked sob and dropped to his knees, proceeding to drag himself back against a nearby grave.

White sparks shot out of the cauldron for a time before they turned poisonous yellow. Some of the liquid in the cauldron began to boil over and the ground scorched as the liquid touched down. A thick yellow cloud of smoke escaped the cauldron followed by a painful shout. From within the cloud of yellow vapor, an outline of a man emerged. Long bony hands with pale skin could be seen outside the cauldron.

Harry watched the Dark Lord Voldemort rise out of the cauldron looking no worse for wear.

"Robe me." said Voldemort, his voice cold and smooth.

Wormtail painfully climbed to his feet and procured a black robe for his master.

Voldemort stepped out of the yellow vapor dressed in a flowing dark robe, his eyes shining like twin red stars. There was no hair left on Voldemort's head with his face taking many serpentine qualities. Harry stared back at his nemesis, who was now finally in a physical form with a flat nose, blood-red eyes, and thin lips.

"We meet properly at last after fourteen years, Harry Potter. I, Lord Voldemort, have risen."

Harry barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes. He was a bit surprised to see Voldemort standing straight without any visible effects of taking in the blood he provided. After all, he had Dobby procure blood from a muggle HIV patient. That same blood was now running in Voldemort's veins. Either way, sooner or later he hoped Voldemort would be feeling the true consequences of this ritual.

However, Harry's plan didn't depend on the blood somehow weakening Voldemort. Oh, no. The plan was just about to start.

Harry tilted his head and addressed Voldemort.

"Are you sure the ritual worked? Maybe you should take a look in the mirror. You look hideously inhuman."