Ch. 26: The Return of the Dark Lord

Harry strolled the labyrinth with a sense of trepidation, his heart pounding vigorously in his chest. Moments ago, he had witnessed Fleur, who had been trailing behind him, consumed by the maze's insatiable madness.

Moreover, he had spotted Krum, his eyes vacant and ghostly pale, aimlessly wandering the maze. His wand was clutched tightly in his hand, poised to strike at the slightest provocation.

Harry traversed the maze's winding paths, his eyes scanning for the elusive Triwizard Cup. The outcome of the game was of little consequence to him now. However, having come this far, he was determined to see it through to the end. To do otherwise would render all his previous struggles meaningless.

As he pressed on, a figure popped out of nowhere before him. It was Diggory, his wand at the ready.

"Get down!" Diggory commanded.

Instinctively, Harry complied. As he ducked, a streak of blue light whizzed past his head. Diggory's spell had narrowly missed him, instead finding its mark behind him. Turning, Harry saw Krum crumpled on the ground.

Krum's vacant gaze, which Harry had observed earlier, suggested he was under the influence of some enchantment within the maze.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Diggory swiftly advanced, kicking Krum's wand out of reach. He was about to cast another spell on the fallen Krum when Harry intervened.

"No, Cedric!" Harry shouted, lunging forward to prevent him.

"He's under a spell!" Harry clarified.

Diggory shrugged Harry off and darted off in the opposite direction. The task at hand was evidently still at the forefront of his mind. Realizing this, Harry gave chase.

In their frenzied pursuit, they rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt.

"The Triwizard Cup!" Harry exclaimed.

A gleaming trophy stood before them. Without a word, they both lunged for it. Ultimately, Harry's reach prevailed, and he was the first to lay his hand on the Triwizard Cup.

The moment his fingers brushed the Cup, a burst of blue light erupted, and the space before him began to warp and whirl, as if he had been thrust into a temporal vortex.

After what felt like an eternity, Harry found himself sprawled on the ground, the Triwizard Cup lying discarded beside him.

Gasping for breath, Harry rose from the ground, taking in his surroundings. The atmosphere was dark and foreboding, reminiscent of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.

As he slowly rose to his feet in the enveloping darkness, the caw of a crow sent a shiver down his spine.

The crow perched on a wooden signpost. As he approached, the words etched into the wood came into focus.

'Riddle's Cemetery.' The sight of these words sent a jolt of surprise through Harry.

Recognition dawned on Harry as he read the name. It was Voldemort's family name, his original identity being Tom Riddle.

He treaded cautiously, noting the gravestones scattered around him. This was a graveyard, the final resting place of the Riddle family.

'Why am I here?! I merely touched the Triwizard Cup. Shouldn't I be basking in applause and awaiting my award ceremony? Why am I here?!' Harry pondered as he passed one gravestone after another, finally halting before one.

The gravestone bore the inscription, 'Tom Riddle'. It was clear that Voldemort despised this name, a remnant of his Muggle father's lineage. He had not only changed his name but had also eradicated this identity entirely.

Turning, Harry spotted a decrepit house. As he wondered about it, a light flickered on within.

A short, rotund man emerged from the house.

Harry recognized him instantly, a face he would never forget.

It was Wormtail, the man responsible for imprisoning his godfather Sirius, the traitor who had betrayed his parents, leading to their tragic demise at the hands of Voldemort.

"Pettigrew!" Harry spat out Wormtail's name through gritted teeth.

Wormtail remained silent, revealing the bundle in his arms.

The sight of it made Harry's heart sink.

The creature resembled a baby, but its skin was so withered it was grotesque, akin to a mummified infant.

It was Voldemort, in a form barely recognizable as a human.

The horrifying creature looked up at Harry, and then there was a loud bang as if something had ignited.

Harry turned towards the sound, spotting a large cauldron, the size of a bathtub, filled with a repulsive green sludge that bubbled ominously.

Wormtail waved his wand, and the dead branches surrounding Harry began to move, inching towards him as if intending to ensnare him.

Harry's eyes hardened, and with a swift motion, his wand sprung from a hidden compartment on his wrist.

"Expelliarmus!"

Wormtail was caught off guard, unable to discern where Harry's wand had appeared from.

A flash of blue light struck Wormtail's wrist, causing his wand to clatter to the ground.

"What...what's happening?!" Wormtail stammered, his surprise evident.

Upon witnessing the scene, Voldemort, cradled in Wormtail's arms, couldn't contain his fury. "You imbecile, Wormtail, you can't even handle a child!"

Harry advanced, his face contorted with rage, pressing his wand against Wormtail's forehead.

"You despicable traitor! Sirius, whom you betrayed, was imprisoned in Azkaban, and my parents were murdered!"

Wormtail raised his hands in terror, pleading, "No, Potter, let me explain..."

"Expelliarmus!"

Just as Harry was closing in, another familiar voice echoed, a blue light striking Harry's wrist, causing his wand to tumble to the ground.

Harry turned in shock, only to see a limping figure slowly approaching.

"Professor Moody?!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief, "You're here?!"

Jon ignored Harry, instead addressing Wormtail coldly, "I gave Potter that device as a precautionary measure. I didn't anticipate you'd be so incompetent that you couldn't handle a mere boy, even with such a device!"

He struck the ground with his cane in frustration.

Jon hadn't expected his backup plan to nearly result in Harry killing Wormtail, jeopardizing his scheme.

"Barty Jr.?" Wormtail looked at Jon in equal shock, then retorted, "This is none of your concern. You should be at Hogwarts. This is my task! Let me handle it!"

"Oh, really? Am I supposed to stand by and watch you get killed by a boy, and let the Dark Lord in this state fall into Harry Potter's hands?" Jon retorted.

Listening to their exchange, Harry interjected in shock, "What? Professor Moody, what are you saying? Why are you involved with them? It can't be..."

"I'm sorry, child, I'm afraid I've disappointed you!" Jon said regretfully to Harry.

"No, it can't be, why you? Why? Dumbledore trusts you, and so do I..." Harry growled in disbelief.

"Enough!" the infant-like Voldemort shouted, "Cease these pointless arguments, begin now!"

At Voldemort's command, Wormtail trembled, then meekly responded, "Yes, master!"

With that, he moved towards the cauldron, dropping Voldemort's infant form into the repugnant potion.

He then used the dead branches to bind Harry, before adding a bone to the pot, slicing flesh from his own arm, and adding it as well. Finally, he approached Harry, drawing blood from his arm with a knife and dripping it into the cauldron.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son! Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." These were the three prerequisites for the Dark Lord's regeneration potion.

As the final syllable of Wormtail's ominous proclamation echoed through the air, the cauldron's concoction began to churn and roil, birthing a grotesque spectacle of sinew and blood, writhing in a dance of the macabre.

Without warning, a conflagration of unparalleled intensity erupted, consuming the cauldron in its fiery maw, and shrouding the scene in a veil of obsidian smoke.

As the inky fog dissipated, a figure of nightmarish proportions emerged, swathed in robes as black as the void.

His visage bore the marks of a firestorm, features blurred into an eerie mask of obscurity. His form towered, gaunt and skeletal, a grim specter of death.

He rose, a phantom in the night, his stygian robes undulating in the spectral wind.

In the heart of the light-forsaken graveyard, the embodiment of terror, Voldemort, the Dark Lord, had made his chilling return!

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