"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

"Dialogue"

'Thoughts'

"Foreign Language"

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter XVIII: The Third Task

"How should I call your father?" asked Harry in the direction of the bathroom. "Should I call him Monsieur Delacour? Monsieur Dominique?"

The response back was muffled. "Your pronunciation is terrible! Just call 'im Mr. Delacour! 'E won't mind eizzer way!"

"What about your mother? Madame?"

"For Hera's sake, mon cheri, just call 'er Mrs. Delacour. She'll mind even less! You'll be calling 'er Apolline before ze day is done."

"I want to give a good first impression!" Harry gazed at the imperfections in the mirror. His hair was still a mess regardless of his efforts. He smelled his clothes - they smelled too much like Fleur, her parents might get the wrong impression. Harry sprayed cologne over his champion's attire. "I don't want to make your parents think their daughter is dating a slob."

Fleur stepped out of the bathroom at that moment, her outfit colored in sky blue. "Maman and Papa know I wouldn't date a slob, Eenglish though 'e may be. Don't worry, eet will be fine." She shook in her clothes. "Zis underwear is so uncomfortable."

Harry sent her a serious look. "Don't tell me you're wearing latex lingerie for the Third Task."

"Non! Eet is normal lingerie… well, not really 'normal' for me anymore. I 'ave not worn zese zings in months!" Fleur grabbed at her breasts. "Latex supports my chest better, and ze panties are not tight enough."

He laughed. "You'll get to wear whatever you want, whenever you want, as soon as we finish this task, beautiful." His hand grabbed her shoulder. "Come now, we'll need our breakfast."

The hall went silent as soon as Harry entered with Fleur in tow, just as it did for Cedric and Krum when they showed up minutes after them. There was an empty space next to Hermione and Neville, inviting enough for both.

"Harry! Fleur!" stuttered Hermione, dark bags under her eyes, even worse than previous years. That, and she was incapable of looking at either of them in the eye. "B-Be careful today."

Neville smiled at him. "Good luck, Harry. You too, Fleur."

"Thanks," replied Harry. Fleur also thanked him in French.

Hannah Abbot sat down besides Neville. "Hey, Harry. Hope you don't take it too hard when I say that I have to support Cedric, 'Puff loyalty and all. I still wish you the best."

Harry nodded. "I understand." He hadn't talked to the pigtailed blonde in months. "So… is it forgiven… that thing about Susan? Whatever it was?" Fleur stiffened.

The Hufflepuff sighed. "Yeah, I guess it's forgiven. She's back to smiling at least. Been hanging out a lot with Greengrass, but I can't blame her. I've been busy with Neville." She kissed Neville's cheek and his skin turned red.

Luna came skipping to sit at his other side. She was holding two banners. One was painted red and black with the Potter symbol on it. The other was blue with a golden fleur-de-lis and the words "FD" also painted in gold. "Just to be prepared for either result," chirped Luna as she grabbed some vanilla pudding.

Harry mirrored Fleur's choices for the meal. It was mostly chicken breast and bread, anything heavier would take a toll during the task. He ate in silence, sharing looks with the others surrounding him… except Hermione. She alone refused to meet his gaze.

"H-Harry?" said a timid voice behind him. It was Susan, giving him a sweet smile. "Please be careful. I… I don't want any of you to get hurt." Daphne Greengrass stood behind her, lips pursed and eyes cold in contrast with her companion.

He returned the smile. "Thank you. I'll see you when I get back."

"Potter," said Daphne.

He smirked. "Hey Daph. Going to wish me luck as well? Always knew you cared."

Daphne crossed her arms and huffed. "As if. Even so… do not die, Potter. If you do, then please take Malfoy with you and I will be at peace." Susan squeezed her leg and sent her a pleading look.

"Honestly!" yelled Hermione, suddenly breaking her silence. She was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of her. "Will she never stop?"

Harry gave her a look. "What is it?"

Hermione sent him an incredulous look. "Really? Do you never read this? She hasn't stopped writing about you all year!"

"Skeeter is like a scab, Granger," drawled Daphne. "The more you pick at it, the more it will bother you. If you leave it alone, it will eventually fade. No person above the intellectual level of a second year believes her." She sighed. "Which explains her popularity."

Hermione sent them all a shocked look "Does nobody care about slander?! Is there no concept of privacy in the Wizarding World?!"

Daphne smirked haughtily. "That's quite hypocritical coming from you, Granger."

"Th-That's beside the point!" sputtered Hermione, pointing at the article. "She's coming after you as well, Greengrass!"

The Slytherin narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Hermione started to read the article. "It is no surprise that the presence of Veela has had a corrupting influence in our prestigious school. Truly, the French have no concept of morality. Already this decadence has affected Mr. Harry Potter directly, yet it spreads far beyond that. Every witch and wizard that the scandalous Ms. Delacour has begun to act most inappropriately."

"For one, there is the case of Ms. Granger, who has jumped from what I can only suspect was a three-way relationship with Mr. Viktor Krum and Ms. Lena Romanova, to making advances at Ms. Daphne Greengrass, daughter of our dearly esteemed Lord Cygnus Greengrass, and Susan Bones, only relative of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"As for Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Bones themselves, these reclusive and formerly proper young witches that are connected to Mr. Potter and by extension, to Ms. Delacour, have now taken to entering lonely classrooms with one another and staying there for hours. Most recently, Ms. Granger has joined them. Merlin only knows what sort of depravities they have been influenced to commit."

Everybody stayed silent as Hermione finished reading. Everybody except Luna.

"Depravities are fun!"

Susan shook her head, blushing furiously. "We-We're only training!"

Daphne's face was ice. "I… see." She stood up and grabbed the newspaper. "Granger… come with me. I believe we can at least share one goal, if nothing else."

Fleur grabbed his hand and whispered into his ear. "I'm sorry for zis, 'Arry."

Harry watched as Hermione and Daphne left the Hall, Susan trailing behind them. "Don't be. Feel sorry for Skeeter. I certainly do."

When the meal was done, the students and professors walked out of the Hall, all of them heading to the Quidditch field. The sun was still shining at the moment, but it was slowly making its descent to the horizon. Luna ran to the stands with her banners after kissing both of them.

Fleur caught her friends setting up the banner with her name on it. "I 'ave to talk to zem before we start, mon chéri. I will try to find Maman and Papa as well."

Harry nodded and watched her run to Amelie, Clemence, and Monique. 'One more task… just one more task.'

He heard a voice calling his name. "Harry!" It was Sirius, alongside Remus, but they were not alone. Behind them he saw a familiar witch. She was wearing a Weird Sisters shirt, a denim skirt, torn leggings, and flat-soled boots. Her hair was pink this day, but Harry knew that she liked to change it.

"Dora?"

"Wotcher, Harry!" greeted Nymphadora Tonks. She hadn't changed much in a year. Or it could be that she had and chose not to show him? Harry's thoughts left the tournament and went back in time to his earliest memories. Memories where Dora would stay with him on the weekends. When they rode bikes across town and watched TV together. A mental picture returned of the time when she had gone for her first year and Harry waved her goodbye. Then another of him alongside her in the train four years later, waving at Sirius and Aunt Andromeda.

His body moved without his knowledge to embrace her. "Doing alright?" Harry pulled away with a smirk. "I heard that you went to get an interview with Amelia Bones. So? Did you get accepted into the program?"

Dora coughed. "W-Well… the thing about that is…"

"Oh, I didn't tell you about that, did I?" interrupted Sirius with one of the biggest grins Harry had ever seen. "You see, Nymmie here actually went to the Auror department herself, fully intent on getting interviewed by Amelia –"

"Sirius!" growled Dora.

"– and when she was finally let inside Amelia's office, Nymmie marched in, carrying her papers, put on her toughest look… and fell face-first to the ground!" Sirius laughed until he turned red in the face. Dora's face had by now gone the same shade, except she wasn't laughing.

Harry found himself struggling to keep a straight face. "So? Did you get accepted?"

"I –" stuttered Dora but Sirius interrupted again.

"She didn't even talk to her! Nymmie just got up and ran out of the office… tripped a couple of times as she left." Sirius couldn't keep his footing and sat down between guffaws.

"It's not funny!" Dora's hair had changed color to match her face.

Harry bit back a grin. "It's a little funny."

"It's not!"

Steps on the grass made Harry turn around to see Fleur. "Mon chéri! I still 'ave not seen my parents." He looked at his company. "'Ello, Meester Black, Meester Lupin, and…" She let the sentence hang, looking straight at Dora.

Harry put his arm around Fleur's waist. "Dora, this is Fleur Delacour," he introduced. "Fleur, this is Nympha –"

"Tonks!" finished Dora. "Just call me Tonks. You must be little Harry's girlfriend. Don't worry, I'm just his nanny."

Now it was Harry's turn to feel hot across his cheeks. "Come on, I nannied you just as much as you nannied me."

"You keep telling yourself that." Dora stepped forward to shake Fleur's hand. "Anyway, nice to meet youuaaahh!" It happened like it had so many times before. Dora took a couple of good steps but stumbled on the third. She fell towards Fleur, arms stretched in front to protect from the impact, yet they pushed Fleur instead towards the grass. Both witches tumbled to the ground, Dora on top of Fleur… with her hands firmly planted around each of Fleur's breasts. They both stared at each other for an unending moment.

"Um… can you get off me, s'il vous plait?" If Dora's face had been red before, now it was on fire. Sirius, who had previously recovered from his earlier laughing attack, now howled harder than when he was a dog, acting like it when he rolled on the ground, looking like he was about to pass out. Dora's eyes looked downward to what she was holding and immediately pulled back.

"I-I'm sorry! Just a bit clumsy is all!" she stammered, standing up on unsteady feet.

Harry grinned. "I'm not sure how I should feel about you copping a feel on my girlfriend, Dora."

He offered Fleur his hand. She stood with a quick smile and used a spell to clean herself. "Eet 'appens. Do not worry. Eet's good to meet more of 'Arry's family."

Dora's lips twitched into a grin. "Well, distant family, but we grew up close. Sirius is my mother's cousin."

"Ah, zen you are of ze Black family?"

The grin left Dora. "Not Black, not since my mother was banished for marrying a Muggle-born. I'm a Tonks, proud and true."

"Vairy well, Mademoiselle Tonks. I 'ope to see you more but I need to locate my family. Au revoir!" Fleur waved them goodbye and kissed Harry on the cheek, then walked back to where the Beauxbatons banner flapped against the wind.

Dora turned to Harry. "Mademoiselle?" She butchered the French accent with a laugh. "Merlin's beard, Harry, could you have picked a Frenchier witch? I always thought you'd go with someone like Hermione – you never cared too much for the snooty girls."

"I have a newfound appreciation for snooty girls." Harry grinned. "They're a lot of fun in private."

"Enough about that. What about the tournament, eh? You're going to win, right?"

"That's the plan."

"Best of luck!" Dora looked at the maze. "I wish I had been one year younger. I could have been in the tournament and seen that Weird Sisters concert."

Harry curled his lip. "Jealous? Don't be. Pretty sure you would have tripped even below the lake. Besides, the ball was obligatory and I'd feel sorry for the bloke that would have gotten his feet murdered by you."

Dora ribbed his elbow. "Look at you, dancing. What happened to the old Harry? I swear, you've changed so much in the last time I saw you." Her eyes were distant and she pursed her lips.

He sent her an odd look. "What are you talking about, Dora? I haven't changed at all."

"You have. Maybe you don't notice it yourself, but you look more… in control." She strained a grin. "Maybe you're finally growing up? Thank Merlin. That means I no longer have to hear you boast for hours about House Potter."

Harry smirked and showed off his signet ring. "Did you know that King Tarquin's son, Sextus, was actually slain by my ancestor, Gaiu–"

"Nope! Not hearing it this time! Morgana's tits, Harry! You've told that story hundreds of times!" snapped Dora. They both laughed for a minute and then Tonks resumed her faraway look. "But really, you're different now… is it because of her?"

He knew who he was talking about. "Maybe… she's made me realize a lot of things about myself."

Dora looked at the ground. "So you really are serious about her. Are… are you sure about it?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Nobody can say that they're completely sure about something." He looked at where Fleur had gone and his eyes managed to spot a trail of silvery hair. "But if I'm not sure about her, then I don't think I can be sure of anything. We… err… we have something that has connected us. More than one thing, in fact."

"Aren't you worried that she might be like the other girls? Like Ginny?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I… she's special. If anything, I've taken more advantage of her than she has of me. Her family's loaded – money would not be a factor. Like I said, we have something that connects us."

Dora gave a slow nod. "Alright. I'm still not sure about it, but if you're happy…"

"I am," responded Harry. "I am very happy." They stood for a few uneasy moments until Dora stepped forward – miraculously not tripping – and gave him a firm hug.

"Be careful in there. There's no shame in giving up if it all goes bad." She grinned. "I'll tease you about it, but I'd rather you lose your pride than lose your head."

"Don't worry," Harry responded, his gaze returning to where the Beauxbatons students were. Now he could see Fleur, and she was not alone. A little girl jumped at her side; her platinum hair was the exact same color as Fleur's. The woman trailing behind them was also identical, and looked only a few years older than Fleur. The last in the group was a man. Black of hair and of average height, he was plain compared to his companions, but Veela did not focus entirely on looks. The way he carried himself exuded confidence, and he was unaffected by the suppressed allure of the woman beside him. That, Harry knew, was far more important to Veela than anything else.

Fleur's lips broke into a smile when she saw him again. "'Arry!" she sang, placing her arms on the little girl's shoulders and muttering something to her in French. The girl squealed, a stream of rapid French flowing from her lips. Harry sent Fleur an awkward look.

"Err… hello. Gabrielle, is it? Fleur has told me a lot about you." Fleur's sister didn't seem to understand much of what he said aside from her name. She squealed again and sent another wave of French at him.

Fleur giggled and knelt to whisper something into her sister's ear. Gabrielle made a cute pout and crossed her arms, protesting in her native language. Fleur and the couple burst into laughter. The man had a deep baritone; the woman's was like a song… similar to Fleur's laugh.

"I told 'er zat you were mine,'' whispered Fleur. Harry gave a brief chuckle but regained his posture in front of the couple. " 'Arry… zese are my parents. Dominique and Apolline Delacour. Maman, Papa – zis is 'Arry Potter… my beau."

Harry ignored the chill traveling through his spine. "It's a pleasure, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour." He shook Mr. Delacour's hand and kissed the back of Mrs. Delacour's.

"It's good to finally meet you." Dominique Delacour's voice was firm and deep, and only a faint trace of an accent could be heard. Harry hadn't been told much about Fleur's family, but her father's eyes were sharp and every movement was carefully practiced.

Mrs. Delacour spoke next. "Fleur 'as told us many good zings about you, Monsieur Potter. I am grateful for you looking after 'er." If Harry had been questioned, he would have assumed this was Fleur's older sister, for she didn't appear to be a day above twenty years old. Wizards and witches stared at her like Harry had seen people stare at Fleur, all except Mr. Delacour.

Fleur grabbed Harry's arm. "'Arry is ze top of 'is year and 'as been very kind to me. 'E 'elped and protected me more zan once. Also 'e keeps 'is mind under control and 'is mouth closed in my presence." She said the last part as if it were some great accomplishment.

"I can see zat," remarked Mrs. Delacour with a soft smile. She gave a look to her husband and tapped his leg. "Fleur. Can you take me back to ze carriage? I need anozzer coat for ze cold." Fleur nodded and left with both her mother and Gabrielle. Mr. Delacour stayed behind. Harry knew where this was going. The dreaded interrogation that he'd heard so much about.

"It's an impressive castle," commented Mr. Delacour. "My wife said it was ugly, and so has Fleur in several of her letters. Women of Marseille have a higher standard than the rest of France, and Fleur is one of the most demanding even among them. Quality has always been a focus for her in everything. Colors, clothes, paintings, food… boys."

Harry smiled. "She's… a remarkable witch, Mr. Delacour."

"Please, call me Dominique." He allowed himself a small smile in return. "You're a smart young man. You already know what this is. Don't hold it against me. When you have your own daughter, you will understand."

"I will trust you on that. I ask that you trust me when I say that I have no bad intentions for your daughter. I… it may sound foolish to you coming from someone my age, but I love Fleur."

Dominique took a deep breath. "I do not doubt that, Harry. Fleur is a smart woman, and just like her mother and the rest of her kind, they always know who to choose. I may not know you enough to trust you, but I know Fleur enough to trust that she knows what she is doing. I just wish to tell you… Fleur and Apolline… they may be snobbish to many, yet when they love, they do so truly, fully and deeply, and they will be hurt similarly if that love is broken. My heart would have been more at ease if she had fallen in love with someone not of a noble house… I know that many in this country would not consider her an equal, and have already seen what your 'press' – if it can be called that – thinks on the matter.."

"Not me," Harry responded sharply. "I don't care what anyone says. My mother was Muggle-born, my best friend is a Muggle-born, I grew up with a werewolf close to me. I don't love Fleur for what she is. I'm just fortunate that she's as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside."

Dominique nodded. "Then I approve. Fleur is happy with you, happier than I've ever seen her. Just know that the claims regarding the weakness of the French is unfounded, and if you take the smile from her, then I will do anything in my power to take your smile as well." He smirked after the threat and Harry breathed easier. He turned to look at Fleur coming back to them, just in time for Dumbledore to make his announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will have five minutes to make your way to the Quidditch field for the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. To the Champions, please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium."

Harry saw Fleur give a kiss to her parents and sister. He saw Cedric hug his father and kiss Cho. Krum shook his father's hand and embraced his mother and girlfriend. Spring's leftover leaves crunched on the ground. Harry turned to see his godfather and Remus.

Sirius placed a hand on Harry's hair and made it messier than usual. "One last task, Harry." His face lost its ever-present grin. "If anything goes wrong in there, you quit. Don't sacrifice yourself for that Potter pride."

Harry nodded. "I know." He bit his lip and embraced his godfather. "I'll see you on the other side."

"We'll be here," assured Remus, giving him a hug as well. Harry gave a final nod to both and followed to where the other Champions were being led.

He stepped beside Fleur and held her hand. "Remember our promise." Fleur squeezed in return.

The Gryffindor had lost count of how many times he had been at the Quidditch field in previous years. Harry was sure that after so many rigorous training sessions that he knew every blade of grass. Without that knowledge, he wouldn't have been able to tell now that the maze had been erected in its place.

Massive hedges covered the field. The roots, branches, and thorns were dark even in the setting sun, and thick as a wall. Only a gap at the center gave access to the maze, but little could be seen thanks to wave after wave of thick fog spewing from its maw.

The stands began to fill quickly. Students, family, and the press were all talking excitedly. A warm red sky heralded the night. Already there were several stars shining along the moon. The more the sun sank, the more the maze blackened until Harry couldn't distinguish between trees and walls. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick walked into the stadium to stand beside Bagman.

"We will be patrolling the outside of the maze," announced Professor McGonagall. "If it is your wish to quit from the competition, send red sparks into the air and one of us will come to get you. Know that it will mean your disqualification from the Tournament. Do you all understand?"

The champions nodded.

"Off you go, then!" exclaimed Bagman and the patrollers dispersed.

"Good luck, Harry," whispered Hagrid. He took to the right with Flitwick while McGonagall and Moody went to the left.

Bagman's wand pointed at his throat and he bared his white teeth to the crowd. "Welcome to this very special evening, ladies and gentlemen! The final task for the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! To remind you all where the points stand." He extended his arm towards Harry and Cedric. "Tied for first place with eighty-six points – both from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Mr. Potter and Mr. Diggory!" The Hogwarts students stood up and cheered with the exception of Slytherin. Only Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise gave gentle claps.

Bagman waited for the noise to calm down. "In second place – with eighty-four points – the lovely Ms. Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!" The students from Beauxbatons stood up and cheered, shouting encouragement in French. Loudest of all was Gabrielle, who jumped and screamed Fleur's name.

"In third place, Mr. Viktor Krum from Durmstrang Institute!" Slytherin cheered this time along with Durmstrang. It seemed that they were not deterred even when Krum had mentioned that his girlfriend was Muggle-born. Nevertheless, the Bulgarian seeker waved back stoically at his school, but mainly at Lena Romanova.

"The champions will go inside in the order of their score. The Triwizard Cup has been placed at the center of the maze. The task is simple, ladies and gentlemen. Whoever reaches the Cup first, wins the Triwizard Tournament!" The audience clapped again, gently this time. "Mr. Potter… Mr. Diggory, you go first. On my whistle."

Silence fell on the field. The three seconds felt like an eternity and Harry's heart started to hammer against his chest. He gave one last glance to Fleur and then looked back to the foggy entrance. The whistle screeched and the roaring of the crowd came back to life.

Harry took a deep breath and marched to the entrance, wand held in front of him. "Lumos!" The fog dispersed but it was still dark. The maze suffocated the cheers. He briefly remembered a story Sirius told him as a child of a boy entering a giant wolf's mouth. Harry walked alongside Cedric for fifty yards until they came to a fork in the road.

"I'll go this way," said Cedric, picking the path on the right. Harry nodded and watched him disappear into the dark.

He stepped to the path on the left and he heard the screaming of the whistle. 'Fleur is coming.' He stood still, waiting for her… until the hedges closed too quickly for him to react. "Incendio! Diffindo!" Spells flashed from his wand to cut the obstacles but every part he damaged was magically restored just as the next spell hit.

Harry grit his teeth and turned his wand to illuminate his chosen path. It looked mostly deserted. 'There is only one way this will end.' He gave one last look behind. 'I'll get it as quickly as I can, Fleur.'

The whistle was capped with a final cheer from her school. Fleur took a deep breath and stepped inside. "'Arry!?" she called out. No response. Light shimmered from the tip of her wand as she quickly walked to the first fork in the road. Still no sign of Harry. When the hedges shifted to reveal new passages, she understood why. There was little chance of being able to follow him. Fleur willed herself into running towards the path to her right.

The maze got darker with each passing second. Dew fell from the leaves' edges. Fleur felt the cold humidity hit her flesh and cold sweat made her clothes cling to her skin. The French witch shot a ball of light in front of her and saw another fork in the road ahead. She filled her lungs with the smell of decayed soil and ran forward. "'Arry!?" she called but the air was dead. Not even echoes gave her the courtesy of an answer.

'Left,' Fleur decided. She had gone to the right before and it seemed logical to keep going towards the center… unless the path to the left took her to a dead end. A loud huff left her lungs as she tried to remember the Muggle games on the back of her father's newspaper. 'Don't think about it too much!' She stepped to the left.

Suddenly, the pregnant silence was shattered with shrill giggles that made Fleur reflexively cringe. She looked behind her but saw nothing different. Back to the front… nothing. She then looked above and saw small, human-like beings, their skin was an atrocious shade of blue, and had long ears almost too big for their heads. Cornish Pixies.

Fleur smiled even as the small group of them dove towards her. Just as they were about to reach for her hair, she stunned them with a full blast of their allure. 'Silly little creatures. Just go annoy someone else.' She flicked one of them with her finger and ran towards a crossroads, this time keeping to a straight path, picking up her pace until something coiled tightly around her ankle.

She looked down to see dark vines and tendrils. Fleur aimed her wand at it but didn't have a chance to cast a spell. Another tentacle-like tendril gripped her hand with enough force to make her wand fall to the ground. Heart racing, Fleur tugged her arm back, yet it served only to make more vines come to life. Her limbs were restrained soon after, roots and plants holding her limbs roughly. A particularly thick one wrapped around her throat. 'Devil's Snare!' She'd read about it in classes. The more she struggled, the harder it would hold her. 'I don't have time for this!' Fire sprang from her palm and kissed the plant. The vines screeched and receded as quickly as they had come.

Once the vines were gone, Fleur picked up her wand and huffed at the hedge where the Devil's Snare had disappeared into. "I appreciate ze effort, but ladies like me prefer a gentler approach!"

Down the path she went again. Right, left, and right again until she hit a dead end. Fleur put her wand on her palm and did a Four-Point Spell only to realize that she'd gone too far to the west. The witch walked back to the previous crossroads and took a left instead… another dead end.

"'Arry!?" she called once again. His name made her body regain some warmth. Back at the crossroads, Fleur looked at where she should go this time. Should she go forward… or should she go back to the crossroads before this one?

The silence was broken by the hedges cutting off all the other paths except for the one forward. The choice was made for her. She walked with reluctant steps; lazy winds were the exception to the world once again falling mute. The path led to a misty clearing where Fleur could see the blackened sky clearer than before. The stars were beautiful… the moon was full. Her mind drifted to nights like these. Her first night at the Veela enclave, the day of her puberty… dancing with Harry at the Yule ball. Her mind snapped back to reality when she heard the crunching of grass. "Arry?" she questioned before she even turned around.

It was not Harry… but it was also not Cedric, nor was it Krum. The figure was covered in heavy black robes. Tall and with broad shoulders, his face was covered with a skeletal mask that revealed only sunken, heartless eyes. In his right hand, he held a wand, as dark as his robes.

Fleur gripped her wand tightly. "Who are you?"

The figure stood still. "Name's Macnair if you need to know." He dug into his robes and pulled a long chain. "You're coming with me, Veela."

She grit her teeth at the way he said that word, like she was some creature beneath him. Fleur had heard the sentiment several times before, but never with such malice. "What do you want wiz me?" She squared her shoulders and aimed her wand with the full intention to use it.

"It's not you we want. It's your boyfriend. Come along and this will all be quick."

A chill went down Fleur's spine. She remembered who Harry Potter was... a wizard with many enemies. "What do you want wiz 'Arry?!" she demanded. Her attention was focused on the wand for any movement.

Macnair grunted. "What does it matter to you? All you Veela are harlots, right? You'll find some other wizard to lay with for money all the same." He had finished pulling the chain. At the end there was a circular piece of steel, slightly open… a collar.

It was not like the one Harry put around her neck and made her burst into a smile every time. This one was cold… cold and cruel. The very sight made shudder. She tore her eyes away from it and aimed her wand at the man. "You are not getting to 'im!" A stunner flew from the tip, the man its target.

Macnair didn't bother to move. His wand moved easily to wordlessly summon a shield. "Figures. Creatures always fight… even when it's hopeless." His wand aimed at Fleur to send a dark purple curse. She stepped aside just in time. "Make this easy for yourself. Our Lord may show you mercy if you cooperate."

"Non! Reducto!" The curse met the same fate as the stunner. Macnair wasn't even trying. Fleur knew that he must be older and more experienced than her. If it came to a battle of endurance, she would not win. She needed to be smart. Fleur let go of her allure; the dark wizard simply stepped forward.

"That won't work on me, Veela. I've dealt with many creatures before. Trolls, erklings, kelpies, even got me an unruly young dragon once. I like to keep the heads – they make pretty decorations, you see. Shame about that hippogriff, would've made it the centerpiece. Yours would be the prettiest though."

Fleur felt like her heart was going to burst. She breathed the thick, rotten air and tried to calm herself. 'Smart… you have to be smart. Don't let him get to you.' The French witch waved her wand and shouted, "Altufumos!" Thick smoke was summoned around her. She may not be able to see him now, but neither could he. Fleur pointed her wand on the ground and filled it with charms, jinxes, curses. They could be stronger if she said the words but then the man would be able to hear her.

The smoke dispersed quicker than she expected. Macnair waved his hand once and the rest of her cover was snuffed out. Fleur retreated carefully; eyes set on that ebony wand. He followed with a relaxed stroll, like an arrogant predator knowing his prey had no way of escaping. The chain made a chilling clatter with every step. A step, a clatter. A step, a clatter… until his foot landed right into her trap.

A length of fiery rope wrapped around his leg, smoke rising along with a grunt. Macnair pointed down but Fleur was quicker. Her wand danced and the fire obeyed, coiling around the other leg and up the torso. Once it reached around his neck, he let out a roar and shook until the mask fell off, revealing that Macnair had black hair and a moustache, and he was gritting his yellowed teeth.

Fleur held her control of the fire as hard as she could, almost binding him completely and setting his clothes ablaze. The stench of burning cheap leather filled the air and the smoke eventually made her eyes water. As she turned around to cough for fresh air, her focus broke, allowing Macnair to wave his wand, snuffing out the fire. He turned to her with murderous eyes.

"You damn wench. How dare you attack your betters, creature!?" Whatever restraint that he had before was gone. Curses were spat at Fleur, faster than she could block. She managed to dance around them, mostly easily, but never able to move far. When she tried to do the smoke spell again, Macnair sent a gust of wind to snuff it out.

Fleur kept retreating, but her eyes never once strayed from her opponent and his wand. Macnair was furious; that was good. Anger made people do stupid things, she just had to wait for a chance. Maybe lose him in the hedges? Or perhaps make an illusion? It could work.

Then, Fleur felt a tug on her ankle. She tried to pull away but it was stuck. Tearing her eyes from her opponent confirmed her fears – it was stuck with some spell!

"Didn't think you were the only one with tricks, did you?" Macnair laughed. "Capturing creatures is my job, Veela." Panicked, the French witch sent red sparks to the air.

"That ain't going to work. We made sure of that!" growled Macnair and spat more curses at her. She successfully blocked three of them but the fourth sent her wand flying behind her. Macnair's eyes were ablaze as he pointed the tip at her. "Crucio!"

Fleur's world exploded with agony. It felt as if hot knives were flaying every inch of her skin, digging into her bones. If not for the brief sight of the black sky, she wouldn't have realized that she had fallen on her back. It felt like an eternity.

When the curse was lifted, Fleur could barely open her eyes, but any other muscle refused to move. Footsteps got closer to her form and saw the tip of Macnair's wand blocking the stars.

"Told you to not resist, Veela." His voice was brimming with sadistic glee. "But to be honest, I like it when they fight back. Ain't no fun when they don't struggle… Crucio!"

It hurt even worse the second time. Fleur thought of endless prayers, even if just for oblivion. 'Harry… Harry… where are you?!' His green eyes brought her some comfort amidst the sea of agony. When it finally ended, she could barely just twitch on the ground. When her silver tresses were pulled, there was no pain, only a pressure on her scalp. Something heavy was placed around her neck and despite her addled mind, Fleur already knew what it was.

A boot smashed against her ribs. "Get up, Veela. You don't want to be late for the party. The boys will want something to celebrate the return of our Lord." He forced her to her knees with the chain, cutting off her air. Fleur opened her eyes and looked at the wizard with rage. "Still got some spirit, do you? Well, if I didn't break you, then I reckon Crabbe will. He likes 'em younger, though. Now that I remember, you do have a little sister, right? Barty told me you do."

Fleur gnashed her teeth. Despite the pain in her nerves, she held her hand for a fireball, but a shock of pain from the collar ended her transformation, leaving her panting on her knees.

"Like it? Made for Veela. Promised the guy who lent it that I'd give him what was left of you when we're done." He pulled on the chain again. "Let's go!"

The chain was forcing her to move but Fleur stayed put. She had to resist. She had to. The witch pulled the other way, back to where her wand laid, ignoring how she was cutting off her own air supply. Macnair chuckled, pulling back on the chain, prodding her with stinging hexes, but they were tickles compared to the Cruciatus Curse.

"Stop struggling, Veela!" he growled. Fleur felt the tugging grow limp as he approached her again. "Guess you won't learn your lesson… Cruci –"

Fleur saw her opportunity and took it. She jumped at him, sending him tumbling to the ground, her on top of him, hands clawing at his face and drawing blood. Something Harry told her once had jumped to her mind 'Most wizards expect you to use magic all the time. Especially the pure-blood types. They never imagine you'll get physical.' She grabbed the tip of his wand and ignored her screaming muscles as she broke it. His hand grabbed at Fleur's face. She bit the little and ring fingers until she felt the bone crack. He tasted like rotted flesh. "'Arry! 'Arry!" she screamed her war-cry as her knuckles pummeled his face. She felt them break but the pain was easily ignored. Her onslaught carried on even when he stopped twitching.

Finally, when she could barely recognize the face, Fleur stopped. She looked at her trembling fists and breathed out a sob that was also a laugh. Her battered hands tugged at the cold steel around her neck until her wand caught her eye. Fleur stumbled over to it, her body protesting every movement. As soon as her fingers curled around the wood, she pointed it at the collar, unlocked it, and launched it as far away as she could.

Her entire body surrendered at last, unable to remain standing from pain and exhaustion. Fleur landed on her back to see the sky once again. One by one the stars were consumed, from the corners of her eyes to the center, until only blackness remained.

Harry looked at the Blast-Ended Skrewt. It was on its back, soft belly exposed. "Reducto!" It let out a creaking squeal and twitched furiously for several seconds. The twitching got slower and weaker… then it went limp. Harry walked along the path that the creature had guarded until he hit a dead end. "Merlin's shriveled cock!" he grunted through his teeth. This bloody maze just never ended!

He turned back to the crossroads and did the Four-Point Spell to get his bearing. If he went to the right then he could go too far to the west, but he might also find another crossroad that got him back on track. If he went forward then it would be closer to the center, yet he'd been fooled long enough now

Then he heard it – a scream… Fleur's scream. It barely reached his ears through the hedges but he heard it. "'Arry!" it called. He'd only heard her scream this way once. Harry let go of any doubt. Fleur's voice would be his guide for now. He went right, and then left, then forgot all about his bearings. It mattered little, for the screams were louder with every step he took.

"Fleur?! Where are you?!" he called. His heart threatened to escape through his mouth, yet it did not deter him. The screams got weaker but he was getting closer. When he turned left on a crossroad his eyes were met with a gust of wind and when it was gone, he saw a familiar figure.

"Krum?!" he asked. It was indeed the Bulgarian champion, his wand pointing straight at him. "Krum, have you seen Fleur?! Did you hear her scream?!"

Viktor Krum said nothing. When he walked forward, Harry saw a stony face and cloudy eyes. His wand was pointed at Harry, but there was no intent, like a puppet held by unseen strings that commanded him.

Harry stood still and raised his wand at the Bulgarian champion. "Krum… step aside. Don't make me hurt you." As Krum got closer, Harry realized that he wasn't looking at him, but behind him.

"Get down, Harry!"

He knelt down just as a stunner grazed his hair. Krum summoned a shield against it. Harry turned to see Cedric, clothes bloodied and singed but with determined eyes. The Gryffindor dove to where Cedric stood and covered himself behind a hedge. "What's happened to him?!"

Cedric grit his teeth. "Gone mental! He tried to use the Cruciatus Curse against me!"

Harry frowned. That was not like Krum, knowing what he knew of the Bulgarian. Realization dawned on him. "Did you see his eyes? He's bewitched!" But bewitched by whom? Karkaroff? Was the Durmstrang Headmaster the one that was orchestrating his death all this time?

The Hufflepuff gave him an incredulous look. "Why would anyone possess him?" He peeked through the corner but backed off quickly, a curse flying where his head had been.

"I don't know." Harry peeked out of the hedge. Krum saw him, but didn't attack. Why was he not attacking him? He looked at Cedric. "Look. We can take him two-on-one. Just keep pressuring until he falls. Got it?"

Cedric frowned but gave a careful nod. "On three… one… two… three!"

Both Harry and Cedric sprang from their side of the hedge. Krum sent a couple of spells at Cedric that were blocked. He was so focused on Cedric that he didn't pay attention as Harry aimed his wand and cried, "Expelliarmus!" Krum's wand flew behind him and both Harry and Cedric forced him to the ground.

"Krum?! What has gotten into you?!" questioned Harry. Krum's responses were only a few grunts when he struggled to get both of them off. The muscles were not just for show. Harry pointed his wand. "Sorry about this, mate. Stupefy!" Krum went limp.

Cedric let out a breath and stood up. "He was possessed. Merlin's beard, what's going on?"

Harry shook his head and looked to where he heard Fleur's scream. He raised his wand to the air and cast several red sparks. "I'm going to get Fleur. Get the cup and finish this." Along the way, he met another fork in the road and took the path that led him to a dead end. He went back and took the other path, but by the time Harry reached a clearing, he was breathing heavily and his clothes clung to his body with sweat. "Fleur!?" he called, but heard no response.

Then he saw it, two figures on the ground. One was dressed completely in black and he almost missed him. The other he immediately knew, dressed in light blue and with hair that shone like the moon itself. "Fleur!" Harry ran towards her. 'No, no, please no!' There was blood on her hands, bruises littered her neck. "Wake up, my love. You were going to take me to Marseille, right? And I was going to take you to Potter Manor. Please, beautiful… wake up!" His hands caressed her face… she was still warm! He pointed at the sky and lit up with countless red sparks. "Hang on, beautiful – help is coming." Her hair was as soft as it always was. The scabs and cuts that had until now marred her face and hands were receding quickly. Must be some other thing about Veela that she hadn't told him yet. "I still want to know you more, beautiful… stay with me… please."

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Harry looked behind him to see Cedric walking his way. Krum floated along behind him. "Harry!" he called and gently laid the Bulgarian beside Fleur. "What happened to her?" He looked to the dark figure. "Who is this?"

Harry snapped out of his trance and finally paid attention to the dark robed man. The first thing that came to his mind was that the wizard was dressed in familiar regalia. Harry rolled the sleeve of the left arm and the Dark Mark confirmed it. The face was battered, but Sirius had shown him several pictures of this man before. "Walden Macnair," he voiced. "Death Eater."

Cedric winced. "Death Eaters? What are Death Eaters doing here?"

"I don't know," stated Harry through gritted teeth and looked at Cedric. "But there may be more out there. I'm not leaving her in here. You're the last contestant – go and get the cup."

The Hufflepuff stood still for several silent minutes. "I'm staying with you. If there's more out there… two will fare better than one."

Harry shook his head. "You've won, Cedric. You always should have. You're the real Hogwarts champion. It should be you who wins the Tournament."

"For Helga's sake, Harry. This isn't a Tournament anymore! It all makes sense now, just like you said it did. People are trying to kill you, and they've found the right place to do it." He gave Harry a serious look. "I waited by Krum for the professors to come. When they didn't, I shot more sparks… nothing. Did you shoot sparks for Fleur?" Harry nodded. Cedric shot more red lights into the air and sat down.

Harry sat as well and rested Fleur's head on his arms. "Cedric," he said, meeting his fellow champion's eyes. "Thank you. You didn't need to do this."

Cedric chuckled nonchalantly. "I wouldn't be a 'Puff if I didn't. You're my friends too." He used a spell to bind Macnair's body. "Besides… if it were me and Cho… you'd do the same."

"I would," confirmed Harry. They waited in silence for Moody, McGonagall, Hagrid, or Flitwick to show up… no sign of them. "Somebody's blocking the sparks."

"They must not want you escaping. Do you know of another way to send a message?"

Harry nodded and stood up. "Expecto Patronum!" A small Iceni Black dragon was summoned and he sent it to Dumbledore. There was a snap coming from one of the paths. He pointed his wand and saw nothing. Cedric also pulled himself to his feet to hear a snap coming from another path. Harry peeked and saw mist… then another sound… and a light beyond the fog. "Cedric!" he called from the other side of the clearing and then advanced, wand pointed ahead at anything that might come. Behind him, the sound of moving hedges made him turn around. Cedric was running towards him but could not arrive in time. Harry cast fire against the dark green wall. No use. "Fleur!" He heard Cedric's calls in return.

'I can't go back now… I have to end this.' With any luck, Dumbledore would get the Patronus and come looking for the others. His body turned back to the mist and he walked into it. The light was blurry, yet it was the only light that penetrated the fog. It shimmered almost blue, and when he got past the mist, Harry saw what it was: the cup.

He didn't even think before grabbing it. Instantly, he felt a pull on his navel and his feet leave the ground, before him was a whirl of colors and wind. It was a Portkey!

Eventually, his legs found the ground. Harry stood up, expecting to see familiar faces, or at least familiar sights… but he was completely lost. There were no mountains or hills he was used to seeing in Scotland; Hogwarts was nowhere to be found. Out in the distance, he saw a large manor that jogged his memory. Around him was a gray forest of decrepit graves, those that hadn't been yet conquered by nature had illegible names… all except one. It was made of white marble, and stood taller than the rest. Harry approached it until he could read a name that made his eyes widen:

TOM RIDDLE

A branch snapped and Harry turned around to see the intruders. One behind a giant yew tree, two more from behind the graves and another two that were seemingly summoned out of the dark. All of them were in black robes and skeletal masks.

Harry hardened his face. It all made sense now… the cup… he was always meant to get the cup. His eyes searched for it and found it laying between him and the Death Eaters. "Stupefy!" He cast the spell on the one furthest left but it was blocked. He picked two more targets but then turned on the defensive as the Death Eaters sent their own curses. Eyes fixed on the cup, Harry made a desperate dash for it, his fingertips almost touching it, but then some force stopped his entire body. Soon, all the wizards joined their power. His limbs were pulled to his sides and his wand dropped, but none delivered a killing blow.

A grunting noise heralded the arrival of a sixth figure, much smaller than the others. He was pushing the biggest stone cauldron Harry had ever seen. It was filled with what Harry thought to be water. Once the figure settled it in front of Harry and lit a fire, his face was revealed.

"You!" Harry spat with as much venom as he could. If he had not been restrained, the Gryffindor would have killed him. "Traitor!" Harry yelled at Wormtail, who was retreating back to where he'd come from. When he returned, he did so with a bundle of robes that stirred frequently.

Harry's scar exploded with agony. If not for the spell binding him, he would have nursed it with a hand. As it was, he moaned through gritted teeth, but willed himself to open his eyes and see. Beneath all the covers, he saw a pair of blood red eyes peering back, then at the boiling cauldron.

"Hurry!" croaked a sickly voice from beneath the robes.

"Y-Yes, my L-Lord," whimpered Wormtail as he set his burden beside the cauldron, the surface of which was spitting sparks. When the traitor revealed what was inside the robes, Harry couldn't help but swallow, nausea rising in his stomach.

It was the most horrible sight Harry had ever seen. It was a wretched parody of a child. Bones strained against slimy crimson skin; its spine threatened to sprout from the back. When it raised its hands for Wormtail, Harry saw a flat face. Even Wormtail was repulsed at the sight, and one of the Death Eaters looked away until it was lowered into the cauldron with a hiss.

'It can't be…' Harry strained against the spell. He eyed his wand. If he could just get to it!

"B-Bone of the father, unknowingly t-taken, you will renew your son!" chanted Wormtail. The grave of Tom Riddle cracked open and a trickle of dust flew to the cauldron. The liquid shot violent sparks and turned a sickening blue.

Wormtail began to sob, looking at the rest of the Death Eaters like he wanted to beg. There was no compassion for him, least of all from Harry. He took out a dagger that reflected the moon with his left hand and held his right above the cauldron. "F-Flesh of the servant… w-willingly g-given… you w-will revive y-your M-Master!"

If it had been any other person, Harry would have closed his eyes… but not Wormtail. He willed himself to see every moment, hear every sound. 'I hope it hurts… I hope you bleed out. Suffer, you traitor!' And suffer he did. Blood spurted from the stump and he squealed and cried like a rat, but still managed to muster enough energy to shamble towards Harry, dagger still held with a trembling hand.

"B-Blood of the e-enemy… forcibly t-taken… y-you will… resurrect… your foe…"

Harry tried to move again but the dagger pierced his skin nonetheless. Hot blood trickled down his arm; Wormtail dropped the knife and fished into his pocket for a vial to collect it. Harry spit at the vial, tried to kick it, anything to prevent it from being used, but was still unable to move his body.

Wormtail limped back to the cauldron, sobbing and sniffling. He raised the vial with his remaining arm and dropped its contents within, his job done, he collapsed beside the cauldron, nursing his stump. The liquid became blindingly white, sparks shooting in all directions. When it stopped, thick steam billowed from the cauldron. Harry couldn't see a thing.

"Robe me," commanded a voice. Harry heard Wormtail moan more but stand up. The mist gave way to the dark outline of a man that got closer to him… the scarlet eyes were the first thing he saw, then a flat skeletal face,like that of a snake.

'He's back… he's really back.' Harry put on a brave face, but a chill stabbed at his spine nonetheless. 'At least Fleur is far from here… at least she is safe. Please… let her stay that way.'

Voldemort felt his own face with long, white fingers before digging into his robe for a wand, just as white as its owner. He looked around, and at the Death Eaters that immediately fell to their knees to kiss his robe.

"My friends! Thirteen years… thirteen years it's been. Thirteen years of your absence. Thirteen years of the servants that swore to follow me unto death claiming innocence, ignorance, and bewitchment. Thirteen years of living like a parasite!"

"I beg your forgiveness, my Lord!" pleaded one of the Death Eaters, his voice brimming with terror.

Voldemort's scarlet eyes flared. "Crucio!" The Death Eater writhed and screamed on the ground. "Silence, Avery. You beg for forgiveness after thirteen years – I expect thirteen years of repayment." He finally looked down at Wormtail, who was still moaning pathetically. "Wormtail has already started paying his debt. How… disappointing that it was him and not all of you that sought for me."

"B-But we returned, my L-Lord. W-We aided you as soon as we knew of your return!" begged another.

Voldemort turned to the protestor and ripped off his mask. "Out of fear… Lucius. Fear, not loyalty. It was out of fear that you all came. Why is that? Did you not believe that your Lord would return after a… delay in our goals? Perhaps you thought there were others, more powerful to serve? Was it the champion of mudbloods and blood-traitors, Albus Dumbledore?!"

The Death Eaters shook their heads and knelt down again. "No, my Lord! Never!" shouted one of them. Two figures nodded dumbly.

"Are you sure, Crabbe… Goyle? Was your loyalty always to me?" The two figures, whether out of fear or stupidity, nodded again. "Nott?"

Another Death Eater dropped to kiss Voldemort's robes. "Always loyal, my Lord… always! I prostrate myself before your greatness. House Nott has never faltered! I –"

"That will do." The Dark Lord looked at the space between Nott and Malfoy, wide enough for two people. "The Lestranges should be here, but they are locked in Azkaban. They were the ones that never faltered. I have no doubt that our dear Bellatrix would have immediately sought me after my downfall. They will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams when we storm Azkaban and free them… along with the rest of my followers that chose imprisonment over betrayal."

Voldemort looked at Wormtail. "And yet… I cannot deny that your work, cowardly as it may be, aided in my return. After all, the Tournament would not have been called if not for your work, Lucius… Nott… Avery. Without Wormtail, the ritual would have remained incomplete."

Wormtail let out a weak sob. Blood still trickled on his robes and to the soil. He had turned almost as white as Voldemort. "M-My L-Lord…"

"Treacherous as you all are, you have still helped your Lord." He waved his wand. Molten silver grew from Wormtail's stump, forming an exact replica of a hand. "Lord Voldemort always rewards his servants."

Wormtail stopped sobbing to marvel at his new hand. "Th-Thank you, my Lord… it's beautiful." He knelt down to kiss Voldemort's robe.

The Dark Lord grinned. "May this be a lesson to you all. I will not accept treachery a second time."

"Yes, my Lord," replied the Death Eaters.

Voldemort looked at a missing space. "Where is Macnair? Did he decide to run away?" He shook his head. "No… not now when he aided me so. He has fallen, then. I will discipline him later. It would have been easier to have the creature with us, yet it proved unnecessary in the end."

Harry felt his blood boil at the mention of Fleur. "You keep her away from this!" Suddenly, all eyes were on him, but he only concentrated on the twin orbs of shining blood.

"Harry Potter," drawled Voldemort with a predatory gaze. "Our most esteemed guest of honor. I believe no introductions are necessary. Your name is almost as known as mine these days. Of course, it has little to do with you." He looked at his followers. "You have no doubt heard the myth that the great Harry Potter defeated me thirteen years ago… that was a lie. It was not he, you see, but his mudblood mother that dealt me a serious blow that night. It was old magic. I admit that I should have exercised caution, my friends. His mother's sacrifice protected him. I could not touch him… but now… now I can touch him!"

The finger barely touched the scar yet it felt like a hatchet cleaving into his head. Voldemort and the Death Eaters laughed as he gasped and grunted in pain.

"Release him!" Harry dropped on his front, his wand in front of him. Voldemort grinned at the audience. "After tonight, no wizard or witch will doubt the power of Lord Voldemort." He looked down at Harry. "Such a shame, truly. House Potter, one of the greatest Wizarding Houses, among the oldest of our world, coming to an end. Perhaps if your ancestors had not polluted their blood with mudbloods, outsiders or…" he chuckled darkly "…beasts, then the mighty dragon would never have fallen. Alas, it is not to be. House Potter ends today, and the last dragon – toothless and wingless – will die begging for mercy. Do not worry, Harry. I will make sure that your creature joins you soon enough."

Harry glared at Voldemort, hand grasping his wand as he stood up. He did his best not to show how much he was trembling, or how shaky his breathing was.

"I assume you know how to duel, Harry. After all, you defeated Macnair, and Quirrell before that, pathetic as he might have been. You probably would have defeated Wormtail if he'd been alone. Be assured that their power is nothing compared to mine. Now… first we must bow." Harry stood still. Voldemort glowered and raised his wand. "I said, bow!"

Harry felt the pressure on his spine, pushing him down, but he did not bend, even when he thought his bones were about to shatter. "I do not bow to you, Tom."

Voldemort gave him a murderous glare. He was done playing. "Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!" Harry met the jet of sickly green light emanating from Voldemort's wand with a vibrant red cast from his. The two spells met mid-air, combining into a bright gold. His wand trembled. Voldemort… he'd never felt so much power in his life… and fear… fear that threatened to drown him. He saw the green color get ever closer… closer… closer, until the golden light almost touched his wand. "No!" He put in as much magic as he could muster, pushing with all his will! The golden light pushed forward to the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters pulled out their wands and walked closer, asking Voldemort what they should do.

"No!" roared the Dark Lord. "Do nothing unless I command you!"

A surge of power from Voldemort made Harry's wand tremble so hard that he could only see a blur, yet he could not let go of the connection. The red light that had almost reached Voldemort was quickly returned to its former position. 'I… I can't beat him… he's too strong…' The green light crawled towards him, slowly but never stopping. 'This is it…'

The world seemed to almost stop as a beautiful sound filled the air. He'd heard it several times in Dumbledore's office. It was the song of phoenix; the song of hope. He looked at the ever-approaching bead in the middle of the golden thread. He thought of Fleur and Luna and all of his friends… the bead stopped dead and suddenly reversed course, heading towards Voldemort again… and for once, a very human fear touched Voldemort's eyes. Screams came from the Dark Lord's wand and from it came smoke… or was it a woman? It looked like a woman. A young woman.

He knew her, even if only once, in his dreams. Tortured and killed by the one she called her Lord. She also stood beside him and glared at her murderer. "You're Harry Potter, right? Fight him!"

Another came forth… a man… an old man. "He was a wizard… truly?" asked the ghost. "He killed me, that one. Go on and fight him, boy." The old man stood beside him as another ghost sprang from Voldemort's wand. Dumbledore had told him about her before; showed him a photograph. Bertha Jorkins. These people… they were Voldemort's victims?

"Hold on!" she urged. "Hold on for just a little more!"

Another figure emerged from the wand… a woman he'd seen many times before. Not in person, but in pictures. Vibrant red hair, smooth and beautiful, and her eyes mirrored his own. He looked away from the battle between the wands. "M-Mum?"

"You're doing so well, Harry. Hold on for just a moment more – your father is coming!" Somehow, he felt her hand on top of his shoulder… it was warm.

He saw it happen again. The man was tall and had the same hair as him… in fact, it was almost like looking into a mirror, with the exception of dark eyes. "Dad…" James Potter walked towards Harry, standing besides his mother.

"When the connection is broken, we will hold it for only a moment. Go to the Portkey, son. Go… go back to the ones you love. Take care of them… cherish them… and tell Sirius to stop being so bloody miserable."

"Y-Yes," gasped Harry, his wand almost slipping from his fingers.

"You have found people close to your heart… I could not be happier," said his mother. "Live on, Harry…"

"I will, mum," Harry choked.

"Do it now," said his father. "Run to the cup!"

Harry wrenched his wand from the golden thread, the thread and bead of light vanishing in an explosion. The shadows rushed to surround Voldemort, shielding Harry from the Dark Lord's gaze.

His eyes searched for the cup. It was behind Voldemort… right beside Wormtail. Harry ran towards Voldemort, still obscured and unable to get a curse accurately off due to the shadows. Curling the fingers of his left hand, Harry dodged the green jet of light… and his fist met Voldemort's flat face so hard it made him fall to the ground.

'Steve Rogers… eat your heart out.'

The Death Eaters looked like they couldn't believe what they had seen. By the time they finally regained their senses, Harry was already next to the cup… but he did not reach for it. His eyes were focused on Wormtail… Peter Pettigrew – the traitor.

Wormtail widened his eyes and crumpled to the ground just as Harry jumped on top of him. "Accio!" The cup flew to him and he grabbed it with one hand; the other curled around Wormtail's neck. Something grabbed at his navel again, a feeling he never thought he would love, and both disappeared in a whirl of wind and colors. Wormtail tried to pry away, to run like he always did, but this time, Harry would not let him escape. The world stopped when Harry felt solid ground beneath him again. Cheers and music reached his ears but there was only one thing he wanted to see.

Peter Pettigrew was still crumpled beneath him, hands trying to protect his face. Harry grabbed the arm and twisted it until it broke like a dried branch. Wormtail shrieked and sobbed like a child – a pathetic vision. Harry felt his fists move on their own, landing on the traitor's nose, followed by a crunch. Another blow hit the eye, then the cheek, then the teeth. Harry's flesh tore but he was numb to the pain. He did not see where the other fists landed, only that they landed, on and on until Wormtail could not sob anymore.

"N-No!" begged the traitor. "M-Mercy! Please, mercy!"

Harry heard none of it. "You betrayed them! You killed them!" He felt Peter's throat around his fists as he squeezed. "I'm going to kill you!" Wormtail's face turned crimson red, then a deep purple, almost blue. His eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. There were voices about. Harry felt hands on his shoulders and arms but he did not let go. The neck giving in; Wormtail's tongue spilled between his swollen lips. 'Let it crack… let him die…'

The voices got clearer. "-rry! Harry!" It felt like he hadn't heard those voices in an eternity. "Harry!" Sirius… it was Sirius. Harry turned and saw him. Remus was beside his godfather. At his other side was Dora, holding onto his arm. "Let go, Harry." She was pleading... Dora never pleaded. He looked in front of him last, where Dumbledore was standing.

"Merlin's beard! Is that Peter Pettigrew?!" That was Fudges voices. Camera's started to flash before Harry's eyes, blinding him.

He looked at the sky. "He's back…" He looked around for Fleur. Where was Fleur?!

"Harry!?" Sirius shook his shoulder. "What happened?!"

Harry looked at the sea of people surrounding him. "He's back… Voldemort's back…" He felt his body give in. Dora and Sirius were talking to him but their voices were fading until he only saw their lips moving. Black spider-webs littered his sight, growing until they covered everything.

There we go with another chapter. Quicker than last time. I know it's very similar to what happened in canon, but why mess with it. Voldemort's ressurection is probably Rowling's best work.

If you liked this chapter then you can leave a review on what you liked and what can be improved. If you want to join my Discord server, you're more than welcome to.

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Until next time!

The Metal Sage