The Dark Lord's Offer

The next morning, the Great Hall was slack-jawed. Harry Potter, a person none of them had ever seen smile for more than a few seconds at a time, a person who always had an impassive look on his face, was actually smiling the whole time! No one knew what caused the sudden change. Harry's friends were giving his speculative looks; a few questions revealed that there was nothing out of the ordinary, but they knew something was different. If someone spotted Madam Pomfrey giving him knowing looks, they never realised why that was.

After putting up a strong privacy charm, Dylan smirked at the older couple. Astoria was doing her best not to giggle every time she saw her sister and future brother-in-law.

"So," said Dylan elaborately. "Is there something you both would like to tell us?"

"No, nothing," said Harry.

"Are you sure?" piped in Astoria. "There's nothing new or important that you would feel the need to tell us about?"

"No," repeated Harry, but he cursed himself for not being able to stop smiling. What the hell was wrong with him? "Why would you ask such a strange question?"

"Well, you both have a certain – glow – about you today," said Dylan, trying to hold back his laughter. "Harry, you look a lot more relaxed than you did last night. Did Daphne's relaxation technique help?"

"How much do they know?" Harry whispered in her ear.

Daphne grimaced. "Everything," she muttered. "They knew what I was planning last night; I told them."

"Oh," said Harry, his face turning pink when he saw his brother giving him a knowing grin.

"Harry! You dog! I'm surprised your brain didn't explode from feeling so many intense emotions last night!"

Astoria couldn't control herself any longer as she began giggling hysterically.

"I'll have you know he was amazing last night," said Daphne, her nose in the air, smirking slightly as she saw Harry's face turn further pink in embarrassment. "He certainly made me feel intense emotions."

"Wow!" Dylan grinned. "Way to go, big bro! I'm proud of you!"

Harry coughed as he drank water to cool the temperature of his body. He was blushing madly – why couldn't he control himself?

"Oh, how I wish I had a camera!" Astoria laughed. "I would love to take a picture of Harry blushing like a little girl."

"I was telling the truth," whispered Daphne. Harry smiled fondly as he bumped his shoulder against hers. The dam burst as he let his happiness shine through and a wide grin formed on his face.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

At the office of the Minister of Magic, the Floo suddenly burst into emerald green flames, revealing a teenage boy. Stepping out, the boy flicked his fingers to remove the ash and spotted his godfather sitting behind the elaborate desk.

"Hey, kiddo," said Sirius, smiling at him. "Are you ready?"

Harry nodded and followed his godfather towards the golden lifts. After exiting at the appropriate level, they entered the office of Madam Marchbanks, the Head of the Department of Education.

"Ah, young Harry Potter," said Madam Marchbanks, looking at him fondly. "It seems just like yesterday when you were here with your godfather requesting permission for the accelerated program and here you are, ready to take your N.E.W.T.s at the age of fourteen! Shall we get started?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry with a small smile on his face.

For the next seven days, Harry had to endure one brutal exam after the other. All his exams had both a theory and practical component. He managed to stun his examiners in practical Ancient Runes by showing his knowledge of warding and enchantment, using a series of Rune clusters in the process. Arithmancy and Potions were amazing; after the second task, Harry had patented the Amphibian Potion and released it to the market. It was quite successful as there was no limit on the amount of time one could stay underwater after drinking the potion.

Companies who employed witches and wizards to collect potion ingredients from the sea or lake bed were the first to begin using them. Then the various commercial establishments like hotels and resorts began stocking the potion because it was easy to supply to their guests if they wanted to go exploring underwater. Magical governments were the biggest consumers as they used it to track those who tried to smuggle illegal goods underwater, a problem they had never truly tackled. Harry had never expected it to become such a hit in the international market and the returns he got from it were substantial. He certainly was not complaining.

In his Arithmancy and Potions exam, Harry told the examiners how he had arrived at the formulae and how he integrated it into the potion; needless to say, they were most impressed.

His Charms exam was easy in his opinion as he demonstrated the Patronus Charm and several other charms which they asked for, all non-verbally. His glamour charms and space expansion charms were very well received.

The Transfiguration exam left his examiners gaping in shock and Madam Marchbanks beaming in pride. He was able to conjure a large gilded carriage, conjured a tiger which roared and chased a conjured deer, and finally, his concept of Battle Transfiguration had them applauding for him.

His Defence exam might have made a few of the 'pro-Dumbledore' examiners queasy as he explained and demonstrated accurately various dark curses and exactly how to counter them. He reasoned with them saying that unless you knew the curse itself, you could never identify it, so where did the question of defence come from?

Herbology was also good and by the time Harry returned to Hogwarts, he was exhausted. Daphne ensured that he was plenty relaxed for several days after the exams.

As the date of the third task rolled in, Harry could feel his excitement building up. He had survived for this long and he was confident he would do well in the third task as well. He could just picture himself holding the Triwizard Cup. After going through all this, he did not feel bad about wanting to win. He definitely had worked harder than the other three champions – combined!

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

Harry looked at the maze speculatively, not listening to the sounds made by the band or the hundred thousand people milling around the stands. He was standing with the other champions at the entrance, thinking about various ways to counter wards or break curses or how to defend against magical creatures. The Greengrasses had already hugged him and wished him the best of luck and were sitting in the front row, smiling encouragingly at him – Harry did not even want to ask how much they had paid to get front row seats, but he did appreciate the gesture.

Daphne and Dylan were on either side of him, both of them looking queasy. Daphne was standing still, staring into the distance, but Dylan was mumbling to himself that it was going to be fine.

Fifteen minutes later, the stands were full, and the live broadcast began. The tiny crystals were surrounding the champions and the four appeared on the large mirrors. Millions of witches and wizards around the world were watching the final task of the very popular Triwizard Tournament.

The Triwizard Emergency Squad came over to the champions and one of them said, "We'll be patrolling the perimeter of the maze and monitoring your progress. If you run into any trouble and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, understood? If you are in a life-threatening situation, we'll be there immediately to rescue you."

Mr Bagman pointed his wand to his throat and began. "Sonorus! Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament! This task is very straightforward – it's a maze, filled with different traps, wards, spells and magical creatures. The Triwizard Cup is at the centre of the maze, and the champion who reaches for it first will win the Tournament, earning him or her eternal glory and twenty-five thousand Galleons! The cup is a Portkey that leads them directly here. So once any one of them touches the cup, they will be transported out of the maze and be declared the winner!" he said as the crowd cheered.

"Let me remind you how the points currently stand – in fourth place is Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy with 68 points! In third place is Mr Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute with 81 points!" he said and the crowd roared in approval for their respective champions.

"In second place we have Mr Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts School with 82 points!" he shouted as the crowd screamed.

"And finally, in first place, we have Mr Harry Potter also of Hogwarts School with 98 points!" he shouted, and the noise from the audience was deafening.

Harry breathed deeply; it was time. He turned around and hugged Daphne tightly, giving her a soft kiss.

"Good luck, Harry," she said softly. "I know you can do this. Stay safe."

"Thanks, Daphne."

He turned towards his brother, only for Dylan to grab him in a death grip, his body trembling. "Dylan, I'll be fine," said Harry, smiling slightly. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Just – just be careful, please," said Dylan desperately. Harry smiled as he kissed his brother's forehead affectionately. Breathing deeply again, he walked to the entrance of the maze; something made him turn around and he couldn't help but smile back at his adopted parents – Sirius and Amelia were looking at him in determination, each of them trying their best to remain strong for the boy they considered their own son. Harry sent a reassuring smile to Amelia whose face looked pale.

"Good luck, Harry," whispered Amelia softly as she watched him in the large mirror. "Come back safe and sound."

"Lumos!"

Lighting his wand, he walked forward, using a spell to check where he was going. Harry turned north at a corner, only to suddenly scream; his voice echoed throughout the maze. He was falling from the top of a tower. Uncle Vernon was punishing him again, locking him in his cupboard at Privet Drive, leaving him broken and hungry. Hundreds of Dementors were closing all around him. A giant Basilisk was lunging at him. The tortured, mangled bodies of Daphne and Dylan were looking at him with empty, dead eyes. The shade of Tom Riddle was becoming clearer as he raised his wand. Lily Potter screamed in agony and there was a blinding flash of green light ...

"Riddikulus!"

"Bombarda Maxima!"

Panting loudly and still shivering, he walked forward, cursing himself for not expecting such hidden traps; it had been a powerful boggart coupled with an illusionary enchantment hidden under several advanced concealment wards. He reached a dead end, so he turned back, only to be assaulted by hundreds of Cornish pixies. Waving his wand over his head, Harry conjured a full-body shield to protect himself, followed by a wide area stunner. Leaving the stunned pixies behind, he walked forward, checking the direction he was taking using the Point-Me spell.

Just as he took another bend, he felt oppressive coldness envelop him. Bad memories started to form in his mind, as he saw two Dementors in front of him, inching closer. Harry pointed his wand at the Dementors, thought about Daphne and how much he loved her and mentally said, "Expecto Patronum!"

The enormous silver thunderbird shot out of his wand and attacked the Dementors, driving them away. The sound of his boots against the hard ground echoed throughout the path as Harry made his way forward, disabling more wards and curses. It would have been difficult had he not been so well versed in the subjects. Dumbledore was right; anyone under the age of seventeen would stand no chance in this maze. It was only because of what he had learnt in the N.E.W.T. curriculum and also from Voldemort's memories was he able to use his warding and curse-breaking skills effectively.

"Looks like Viktor Krum too has encountered the illusionary ward," said Bagman. "As you remember, Harry Potter encountered one as soon as he entered the maze. He seemed to have fallen victim to it until he blasted the ward to pieces."

"Harry Potter has gotten past the Dementors, but no surprises there," said Bagman as the crowd cheered. "His Patronus takes the form of a thunderbird; very unusual, I must say."

When he turned in another direction, Harry was suddenly pushed from the back, making him fall on the ground several feet away, scraping his knees. His shirt was smoking as he was attacked by the Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry fired spells, but it was no use. The end exploded, making him wince in pain. His eyes darkened in anger; a ripple of magic left his wand and the armour wasn't enough to stop the curse this time. The skrewt shrieked in pain as the curse tore through its body, cutting it into several dozen pieces.

After battling the skrewt, Harry was surprised to find three Thestrals in the middle of the path. Harry smiled at them. Conjuring a dead animal, he tossed it at the creatures as he moved forward to pet them. They really were fascinating creatures and Harry was honoured that he could see them. Giving them one last look, he moved forward.

"Harry Potter can see the Thestrals?" asked Bagman in disbelief. "Oh my!"

Harry realised now that he was close to the cup. He could see the dim light coming from the middle of the maze. He encountered a Sphinx, but he was able to get past it by answering her riddle. Harry smirked. The Triwizard Cup was just twenty feet away. As he began walking, in his excitement, he didn't notice an Acromantula that was silently inching closer to him from behind. With a screech, the large spider lunged at Harry when it was close enough. Harry grimaced in pain as he twisted his leg in avoiding it; he had lost patience and with a furious slash of his wand, he decapitated the Acromantula, killing it. He closed his eyes in pain as he realised that he had a sprained ankle, making it difficult to walk. Looking at the severed pieces of the large spider in disgust and anger, Harry walked towards the Triwizard Cup, trying not to limp. He smirked in triumph. This was the moment. His enemies had underestimated him as he had won the tournament without being killed in the process.

"Harry Potter has reached the Triwizard Cup!" yelled Bagman as people yelled and cheered in delight.

Just as Harry grabbed the handle of the cup, he felt the usual jerk behind his navel. As his feet touched the ground, he had barely even managed to get a glimpse of the place he was in before a jet of scarlet light impacted him as he fell down to the ground, unconscious.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

"Bind the boy," said a high, cold voice. "He can perform wandless magic, so be sure that he cannot escape."

"Yes, my Lord," said Rabastan as he levitated Harry to the gravestone. With a flick of his wand, heavy metal chains appeared, binding Harry's hands and body to it.

"Rookwood, re-check the wards around the graveyard," said Voldemort. "We don't want any surprises."

"Yes, my Lord," said Rookwood, bowing as he scurried into the darkness.

Rodolphus and Wormtail pushed the giant stone cauldron to the place where it would be kept, ensuring the runes drawn around it were perfectly charged. Once done, the fire began cackling at the bottom.

"Now, Bella," ordered Voldemort.

Bellatrix opened the blanket and released the baby-like creature into the depths of the cauldron. Pointing her wand at Harry, she said, "Rennervate"

Harry's eyes jerked open and he panicked when he realised that he was tied up. His eyes widened when he saw the escaped Death Eaters and he was too shocked to speak.

"Hello, little Harry," said Bellatrix, grinning at him. "Welcome to the Dark Lord's rebirth party."

Oh, fuck!

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The gravestone cracked and the long bone dropped into the cauldron as it hissed. Peter hesitated but removed a long dagger.

"Flesh — of the servant — w-willingly given — you will — revive — your master."

Harry watched, horrified, as Wormtail cut off an arm and dropped it into the cauldron. Harry had read about rituals, but never had he come across something like this! When Wormtail came towards him, Harry began struggling again as the knife cut into his right forearm. No, this couldn't be happening! Not his blood!

"B-Blood of the enemy ... forcibly taken ... you will ... resurrect your foe."

Harry could do nothing to prevent it; he was tied too tightly. He watched as the potion churned a blinding white colour. Bright sparks emerged from the cauldron as the tall, thin man stepped out. Harry's eyes were wide with terror for the first time since the basilisk incident.

"Robe me," he said coldly as Rodolphus quickly scrambled to cover his master. Voldemort turned and smirked at Harry's struggling form. Oh, how wonderful it was to see the boy like this! He had gathered a lot of information about the boy over the past year. He had not been idle – no, he was Lord Voldemort. As soon as the boy was killed tonight, they would begin their assault on the Ministry of Magic. Without the boy who was prophesied to kill him, not even Albus Dumbledore or Sirius Black could stop him from claiming power.

Of course, there was an alternative ...

Harry stared back at the face of the man who had murdered his parents.

Face white as skull; eyes red with vertical slits like a cat; no nose and with slits for nostrils ...

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

"What is going on? Where's Harry?" demanded Sirius angrily.

"Contact the Emergency Squad," said Amelia to the nearby Auror. "Tell them to check the centre of the maze where the cup was placed. Was there something wrong with the Portkey?"

Neither of them paid any attention to Dumbledore as they were busy with the Ministry employees. The Headmaster was staring at Snape and Karkaroff as both of them clutched their left forearms in pain. Dumbledore closed his eyes as he realised what had happened. Voldemort had returned – and he was calling his inner circle Death Eaters to him. When he opened his eyes, there was a rare fire seen in those blue orbs. He was beyond furious, his magic leaking around him, aura palpable. How could this have happened right under his nose?

Where was Harry?

Barty Crouch Senior had a maniacal grin on his face. The grin seemed very out of place on the usually perfectly composed wizard.

Their plan had worked perfectly. The Dark Lord was back!

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

"My Lord ... master ... please," begged Wormtail.

Voldemort smirked as he threw Peter to the gravestone behind him and again to the ground with a lazy flick of his wand. Wormtail cried in pain, but Voldemort paid him no mind.

"Master ... I beg of you ..."

"Traitorous as you were, Wormtail," said Voldemort coldly, "it was still you who freed my servants from Azkaban, without which I would not have returned to my body. You have helped me, and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers."

A silvery fluid flew from the tip of Voldemort's wand and curled itself around Wormtail's hand. All five of the Death Eaters were now kneeling before him.

"Bellatrix, your arm," said Voldemort. Bellatrix leapt up like a devotee serving her God as she extended her hand, showing the Dark Mark. Voldemort pressed his hand to it and all five of them hissed in pain.

"Now we shall see," said Voldemort softly. "We shall see who has the courage to return ..."

Voldemort walked over to Harry who was still struggling, using liberal amounts of wandless magic in the process, but it was no use. Harry had by now fully regained control of his emotions as his face was cold and impassive. Voldemort had to give it to the boy – his Occlumency shields were most impressive.

"Hello, Harry Potter," said Voldemort softly. "Do you remember the last time we met?"

"I was just a year old when we last met," said Harry calmly. "How do you expect me to remember that?"

Voldemort laughed softly. "I was not talking about that incident, Harry," he said. "I was talking about the time when you murdered Quirrell in your first year at Hogwarts. Smart boy; even Dumbledore did not know that I was possessing Quirrell, but you figured it out ... murder at the age of eleven; I must say I did not expect that from you back then."

If Harry was shocked, he certainly did not show it. How the hell did Voldemort know that? Voldemort had not made an appearance after Quirrell's death, had he? How did he know that I was the one who killed Quirrell?

Voldemort smirked as he heard cracks of Apparition. The Death Eaters were looking at Voldemort as though they couldn't believe their eyes. Moving forward, they kissed the hem of his robes and backed away, standing in the circle. The five escaped Death Eaters from Azkaban stood proudly amongst the others, looking smug.

"Welcome Death Eaters," said Voldemort coldly. "Thirteen years ... thirteen years it has been and yet you all appear before me like it had only been yesterday since the last time we had gathered under the Dark Mark. I see you all hale and healthy ... unlike our friends here who broke out of Azkaban to find me. When they could do so, why couldn't you?"

"Nothing to say?" said Voldemort angrily, enjoying the trembling forms of his servants. "Lord Voldemort demands an answer from you all! Let's start with you, shall we Avery? Crucio!"

Harry tried to escape, but there was nothing he could do. Even his Animagus form wouldn't work because of the tight chains. If there was even the smallest of space, the chains would tighten around him. If he turned into an eagle, the chains would kill him within seconds. He tried to block out the screams he heard from the Death Eaters as Voldemort identified each of them.

"– Bertha Jorkins was very useful to me. I broke her mind and she gave me information about one more servant who had been chained by his own father. Barty Crouch Junior has been in my service for a year now. He is currently at Hogwarts, enjoying the reactions of everyone, disguised as his father. Using the information about the Triwizard Tournament, Barty confunded the Goblet of Fire into accepting Harry Potter's name so that he could be brought here – it worked."

"Stop struggling, Harry," said Voldemort silkily as he approached the boy. "You should be honoured to be here. I must say you are nothing like what I expected."

"Then what did you expect I would be like?" asked Harry quietly.

"Well ..." said Voldemort, smirking. "I certainly did not expect the Boy-Who-Lived, Dumbledore's pawn and secret weapon against me, to be a dark wizard!"

Several of the Death Eaters inhaled sharply at those words. If the Dark Lord said it, it must be true.

"I'm not a dark wizard!" said Harry, still not losing control of his emotions. They were locked tighter than a Gringotts vault, deep within him. "And I'm most certainly not Dumbledore's pawn."

"Yes, I know, you're not Dumbledore's puppet," said Voldemort, laughing softly. "But you and I both know you are a dark wizard, Harry; I can sense it! You were capable of committing cold-blooded murder at the age of eleven when you killed Quirrell; the first time I killed was at the age of sixteen. That's why you're not a light wizard; you do what needs to be done. You knew I was a threat to your life and you took action, even if it meant killing another person. Admit it! You're a dark wizard."

Harry refused to answer. In his mind, there was no such thing as light and dark. There was only magic in its purest form, nothing more.

"Dumbledore miscalculated, my friends," said Voldemort, turning to his Death Eaters. "He wanted a pawn, a weapon against me when I returned, so he sent little Harry Potter away to his Muggle relatives. That's where the old man's plans backfired. I found out later that Harry Potter was abused by those filthy Muggles; it was so bad that he ran away, never to be controlled by the old fool again. But it also made him hate Muggles, didn't it, Harry? He believes in our agenda; he hates Muggles and distrusts Muggle-borns and yet, people strangely believe him to be the beacon of the light!"

"I have spies in different places, Harry," explained Voldemort, smirking at the boy, having observed the look of surprise in the boy's eyes which had flashed for an instant. "I was able to gather a lot of information about you over the past year. Everything you have done – your adventures, your relationship with different people, your skills, everything. We are so similar, Harry. We are so similar, it is quite unnerving, isn't it?"

Voldemort grabbed Harry's face in his hand. "I shouldn't have tried to kill you," he hissed in his ear. Seeing the flicker of surprise on Harry's face, he laughed. "No, I should have kidnapped you instead. I should have raised you as my son, both of us having Salazar's blood running through our veins. How would you react to that, Harry? I can feel the conflict within you ... I don't need Legilimency to know what you're thinking; you wouldn't have minded such a life, would you? Imagine what your life would have been like had you been raised as the son of the Dark Lord himself ... you would have grown to admire me instead of hating me. The prophecy would have been rendered useless ..."

"I never said I hated you," said Harry quietly, speaking for the first time.

Voldemort laughed softly in his ear. "Good ... you know of my past from that incident in the Chamber of Secrets. I know how much you hate Muggles, Harry. I also know how much you crave knowledge. I can offer you more knowledge and power than you could ever imagine. You could be the ruler of the world, Harry! The prophecy will never come to haunt us again, and I will not kill you. You can pay Albus Dumbledore back for all that he has done to you. Magical power such as yours should not be wasted, young one. I can personally teach you the most arcane branches of magic. I am willing to accept you as my son, an honour which has never been bestowed upon any child in the world! I should have raised you as my son, forever negating the effects of the prophecy; you can see the advantages of this, don't you? Think like a Slytherin, Harry, for Salazar's noble blood flows in our veins! Had I made the right choice, I would never have lost my body all those years ago. No matter, it's a mistake I am willing to rectify. Will you, Harry Potter join me, Lord Voldemort?"

All the Death Eaters sucked in a breath, but the Dark Lord paid no attention. More than a year ago, Harry would have laughed in Voldemort's face, but after seeing the Dark Lord's memories, he could not bring himself to hate the man. It was easy to hate a monster but difficult to hate a human. In fact, he respected Tom Riddle. Tom was his teacher, his guide, his mentor. Harry had learnt so much from him from watching his memories. Tom was the man talking to him, telling Harry that he would give a place as his own son ...

"You and I both know that you are conflicted Harry," said Voldemort, walking around the boy. "You also share the same goals as me. Granted, you are more lenient towards Muggle-borns, but if you could have it, you would exterminate the Muggles completely. I can sense the darkness in you, young one. Embrace your true self ... will you join me?"

Harry remained silent. Having been raised in a traditionalist pureblood environment by his ancestor Alfred Potter, wizarding culture and tradition were ingrained in him even before he entered Hogwarts. Wizarding culture demanded that all teachers be respected; they were beacons of light who parted their knowledge of magic with their students and were held in very high esteem in the minds of witches and wizards. They deserved respect, and this was the reason why no matter how much Harry hated Dumbledore, he had never disrespected the old mage to his face – not once, always addressing him by his title; of course, he didn't respect Snape, but the man could not be called a teacher at all.

That was also the reason he didn't talk back to Voldemort. The Dark Lord, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, was Tom Riddle, the same Tom Riddle who was his teacher, and thus, Harry couldn't bring himself to disrespect Voldemort. However, it did anger him; this monster was the one who stole his parents from him, and yet here he was, doing his utmost best to turn Harry to the dark side. What was startling was how convincing Voldemort truly was. Had Harry not accepted Sirius and Amelia as his adopted parents, had he not escaped the Dursleys at the age of seven with no one to truly care for him, he knew in his heart that he would have accepted Voldemort's offer.

But that was not the case, for he was the proud son of James and Lily Potter and the adopted son of Sirius and Amelia Black. No one else had room to take that spot in his heart, for it had already been filled.

"No," said Harry quietly.

"No?" Voldemort repeated the word dangerously. "Well, this should give you a reason as to why you should change your mind, Harry. I think you all have heard about Rabastan's illegitimate son?" asked Voldemort to the Death Eaters. Rabastan stiffened but didn't say anything.

"I have information that Harry here is very close to young Dylan Lestrange. Close enough that they consider each other brothers, siblings. I know that you deeply care about Dylan, Harry. But what would happen if Dylan were to join me? You know that it is not impossible. His father, uncle, aunt, and grandfather all served under me. What would you do if your beloved little brother were to join me?"

Harry again had no answer.

"You would never harm a hair on Dylan's head, would you, Harry?" asked Voldemort, grabbing the boy's face in his hand. "Would you actually join me if Dylan asked you to?"

"I will not join you," said Harry softly but firmly. "The reason I will not join you is not due to your goals – it is your methods. You are responsible for the deaths of thousands of witches and wizards. Your goal is to tear down the International Statute of Secrecy while mine is to enforce it more rigidly. You want to kill all Muggle-borns but I want to bring them completely into the magical world, cutting them off from Muggle influence. Your methods would bring about our destruction. My conscience will not allow that. I respect you and may even care about you in ways you will never understand, but you will always consider me a threat because of the prophecy that is handing over our heads. Even if I accept you as a father or a mentor, you would always be paranoid that I would kill you and seize power. That paranoia would lead me nowhere. I will not insult my parents by accepting your offer."

Voldemort stared at the boy speculatively. "Very well," he said coldly. "If this is the fate you want, Harry, then I will give it to you. By the end of this session, you will be given a choice – join me or face death. I hope you have the sense to choose the right path!"

Harry waited for the inevitable to come. Sure enough –

"Crucio!"

Harry gritted his teeth and tried to fight the pain. His body convulsed as he felt like someone was stabbing him with a million hot knives in every inch of his body. His nerves were on fire, but he didn't utter a word. The metal chains cut into his flesh, releasing blood. A lone tear slipped down his pale cheek.

"Not a screamer?" said Voldemort lightly. "Well, I always like a challenge!"

"Crucio!"

This time, Harry couldn't handle it. Throwing his head back, the proud young boy screamed in a manner he had never screamed before. He couldn't take it. It was going on for too long! Anymore pain like this for the rest of the night and he would end up next to the Longbottoms!

"Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it Harry?" cooed Voldemort as he saw the panting and twitching teen. "A full minute under the Cruciatus and yet you look at me with defiance. Well, I do like entertainment. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, show our young guest what happens to those who defy me ..."

"Yes, my Lord!" they said in unison as they walked forward, grinning with glee.

The rest of the Death Eaters stepped back to form a large circle. Voldemort conjured a throne for himself. Nagini slithered to his lap as he stroked the large snake. Bellatrix and Rodolphus removed the chains and for a moment, Harry considered running for it, but he knew there was no way out. The Cruciatus Curse ensured that he couldn't walk much and he didn't even have his wand; wandless magic would only do so much. Apparition or Portkey wouldn't work either – he had already tried it. They had been prepared.

"Well," said Bellatrix cackling. "Let's get started, shall we? Crucio!"

Harry had never been in so much pain ever in his life. He was tossed around the graveyard, tortured by the several different curses cast by the Lord and Lady Lestrange. His shirt was ripped apart and his upper torso was covered in blood from where Bellatrix had used him as a knife sharpener. Several deep gashes dominated his upper torso when finally, Rodolphus decided to show his nasty side as well by cursing him in the groin. Severe pain immediately shot up his body from his testicles.

"Have you made your decision, Harry?" asked Voldemort, raising a non-existent eyebrow. "Join me, and I'll tell them to stop."

"Go to hell," hissed Harry from his place on the ground, his anger making him switch to Parseltongue.

Voldemort's red eyes hardened. "Fifty lashes, Rodolphus," he said calmly. "Harry needs to understand that disobedience would only lead to punishment."

"Yes, master," Rodolphus grinned. He gripped the end of the whip. With those numerous cuts Bellatrix had made on the boy, even the slightest contact would cause unending pain. Forcing Harry to stand up as he tied the boy's wrists with invisible ropes, making his arms rise above his head, Rodolphus slashed the whip across Harry's bare back.

Harry grimaced but did not utter a sound. The Death Eaters watching were unnerved by the nearly fifteen-year-old boy's pain tolerance. He had suffered multiple Cruciatus Curses by the Lestranges and Voldemort himself, had been the subject of numerous other torture curses, had his entire upper body covered with deep cuts from where Bellatrix had used a knife, and now, he did not utter a sound as Rodolphus whipped him?

Rodolphus frowned. He increased the strength of the whip as the whip impacted Harry's body again.

Harry grunted, more tears rolling down his cheeks, but did not say anything. He took two more whips before he began screaming in pain as the whip hit him in the chest. Deep gashes formed on his back, chest and stomach as the whip impacted him. Harry was sure he would die from the excruciating pain and his heart filled with emotion at the thought of never seeing Daphne and Dylan again. Unending, irrational hatred filled his heart and he vowed to kill Voldemort one day ... if he survived the night.

"It is done, master," said Rodolphus, ignoring the bloody, beaten, unconscious boy on the ground.

"Good, take your place," ordered Voldemort. He got up from his throne and pushed Harry on his back. Touching the boy's face with his foot, he shook his head.

"Such power, such intelligence, such handsome looks ... tsk tsk ... what a waste. If only you had decided to join me, Harry. Maybe I should have held back on the torture. I did want to duel you; see what the Duelling Champion is made of."

Just as Voldemort turned around, he heard a groan. All of them watched in disbelief as Harry tried to get up. For two whole minutes, he was unsuccessful, but he finally managed to stand on both feet, supported by a large gravestone.

"I'll d-d-duel you," he rasped out, the effects of the Cruciatus Curse causing him to stutter. "If t-that's what you want, I'll duel you. I won't go d-d-down without a f-fight."

"My, my," said Voldemort, smirking. "You certainly have quite a tolerance to pain, Harry. Fine, I'll humour you."

Removing Harry's wand from within his robes, he tossed it in the air. Harry wandlessly summoned it to his left hand, his right still helping him lean on the gravestone.

Holding his wand tightly, Harry looked around the graveyard which would help him fight Voldemort, but he doubted he would be able to perform any complex charm or transfiguration or even move, for that matter. His strength lay in his ability to dodge and move around, but that was impossible considering his present state. However, there was one particular spell he knew he would be able to use effectively.

"First we bow to each other," said Voldemort teasingly. "Come now, Harry. Sirius and Amelia would want you to show manners. The godson of the Minister of Magic couldn't be found lacking!"

Harry bowed slightly but remained stationary.

"Very well," said Voldemort. "Now, we –"

Before he could finish, a very familiar jet of green light came towards him. Snarling, Voldemort cast his own Killing Curse, mentally amazed that the boy was able to use the Killing Curse silently even after being so badly injured. The Death Eaters scrambled for cover as the jets of light flew in all directions from where the two curses met. Harry began moving back as Voldemort gained ground. He could see a hint of blue just ten feet away – the Triwizard Cup! That Portkey had been keyed to the wards!

Just as Voldemort moved closer, Harry released the curse, dived out of the way and summoned the cup. Just as it connected with him, he saw Voldemort's red eyes and heard a scream of anger and rage as he was whisked away.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

Harry impacted the ground amidst cheers, but it soon turned into gasps and screams when they saw the state he was in; it was pretty bad. He was lying on the ground, shirtless, his pants were torn in several places and he was bleeding everywhere. Harry knew that he would fall unconscious soon, but he needed to tell someone, anyone.

"Harry!" yelled Sirius as he moved forward, holding the boy's shoulders to support him. People were now surrounding them, muttering about what could have happened. "Harry, please, talk to me, son. Someone get a healer, NOW!"

"S-S-Sirius," he choked out. "V-V-Voldemort is back. B-B-Barty Crouch is an imp-p-poster!"

That was all Harry said before he fainted in his godfather's arms.