Caught

Author's Note: Some parts are quotes or paraphrases taken from 'The Goblet of Fire', like the riddle of the sphinx and basis of Voldemort's little ritual. Parseltongue is in italic.

Four – Human After All

“Is everything set up?” Harry asked Barty the night before the Third Task.

Barty nodded. “I will only need fifteen minutes to setup the Triwizard Cup tomorrow morning. I already carry my personal Portkey with me. Thank you, by the way, for reminding me to make one, I would have forgotten myself with all the excitement.”

Harry smiled thinly. “I know.”

“Will you remain with the Dark Lord after his resurrection or will you return to this place?”

“While I don't like this place,” Harry frowned, “I don't think it would be wise to stay away. This Tournament is a highly publicized event, if I were to disappear during it, expect nationwide searches. Especially since Dumbledore is still hoping his little plan will succeed. I will ask him tomorrow.”

Barty nodded. Either option held merit. “I will probably depart a couple of minutes after the Dark Mark starts burning; if you return to Hogwarts, can I pick you up somewhere on the second day of the holidays?”

“My relatives live in number Four, Privet Drive in Little Whining. What time do you think you could get there?”

“I will bring along an owl and send you a message when I'm be near.”

“Fine by me,” Harry said, embracing the older man tightly. “Don't get caught,” breathed Harry.

“I won't,” Barty answered. “You sure you don't want my help during the Task?”

Harry smirked. “I'll tell you some of the interesting facts I learned since Easter when all of this is over. The only competition I really expect to be from would Krum's. Feel free to take over his mind if you really want.”

“Wouldn't be hard,” Barty reasoned. “He came in handy when dealing with my father.”

“I should go,” concluded Harry. “Attention is a bit too focused for our talk to be longer. See you soon.”

“Be sure of it,” Barty whispered into the empty room a couple of seconds later. He shook his head. The moment he'd been working for was approaching. Soon his Master would be revived. Soon he could drop this Moody disguise forever.

---

Harry ran into the maze, his wand clutched tightly in his right hand. The high hedges, mist and dusk made it difficult to see, but Harry was attuned to darkness. Many hours of sitting in his cupboard with only a light bulb whose switch was located outside the closet did affect his growth. Even at Hogwarts, he was more comfortable in darker corridors. The cold breeze wasn't pleasant, but nobody ever said the Triwizard Tournament would be easy.

The hedges moved, Harry barely made it before they closed. He was about to go on, when a gigantic shadow fell upon him. Turning around, he was greeted by the sight of a ten foot long scorpion-like creature. A full grown Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry sighed. Maybe he should have accepted Barty's help.

The hybrid of a manticore and fire-crab was a fearsome animal, except for its belly, it could withstand any magical and non-magical attack. The Skrewt blasted to his side and immediately started his attack. Harry jumped, stepped aside and bend his body in an uncomfortable position. For a hybrid creature, Blast-Ended Skrewts were dumb. Its underbelly was in plain sight. Harry cast an Impediment Curse, paralyzing the Skrewt temporarily. Harry ran into a corridor straight ahead. Halfway through it, Fluffy the Cerberus made a reappearance into Harry's life. Harry made Fluffy sleep by transfiguring a twig into a flute and awkwardly play a melody on it. The next object blocking his way was a scroll of parchment filled with questions he had to answer in order to go further. The quill used blood as ink, but Harry ignored the scratches appearing on his left hand. Injuries caused by a hot pan hurt more than them. It took a couple of minutes for him to find all the answers though Harry was glad he read extensively about wizarding myths and legends.

A monolith blocking another corridor ended up being transfigured into a five foot long statue of a cobra with raised head. The last obstacle was a sphinx.

“Can I hear the riddle?” Harry asked. He had heard Fleur let out a scream and had no doubt Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory would be dealt with accordingly by Barty. The Cup was near.

“First think of the person who lives in disguise,
“Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.”

“A spy?”

“Next tell me what's always the last thing to mend,
“The middle of middle and the end of the end?”

That had Harry stumped for a moment. “D?” answered Harry finally.

“And finally give me the sound often heard
“During the search for a hard-to-find word.”

“Er...Er?”

“Now string them together, and answer me this,
Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”

“Spider,” breathed Harry. He had a feeling the sphinx just told him a hint of what was to come.

He ran straight ahead, through the fog he saw the Triwizard Cup blinking. Masculine screams emitted from a different corridor, but Harry ignored them. What Krum and Diggory did to each other weren't his affairs – even if Barty orchestrated them. Warily he approached the Cup. His suspicions were proven correctly when an acromentula jumped in front of him making clutching sounds.


He wasn't an inexperienced Second Year anymore though, he knew a lot more hexes, jinxes and curses now. And spiders feared Basilisks. Harry spoke Parseltongue.

"Run before I kill you, filthy animal,” Harry said, “Fear me like you fear the King of Snakes, for I conquered your enemy." Maybe it was over the top, but Harry didn't care. Harry really despised spiders whose legspan reached twelve feet.

The effect was immediate, where the acromentula previously posed to attack, it now cowered in fear. It mightn't understand the words Harry spoke, but the threat and intent was clear. Harry stepped forward. The overgrown spider scurried aside and left as soon as he could. He took the Cup and experienced Portkey travel for the first time in his life. It was a peculiar feeling.

---

The graveyard he landed in was eerily quiet, fog obscuring most tombs, the old abandoned Riddle house to which the family graves belonged fitting nicely into the décor. It was terribly cliché in some aspects, but Harry supposed any ritual having to do with death performed better in an area of the dead. Harry stood still and straight, his wand held closely to his body, waiting for the arrival of Peter Pettigrew and Lord Voldemort. He didn't have to wait long for whispers to be heard.

“I have heard some interesting things about you, Harry Potter,” Lord Voldemort's temporarily high-pitched voice exclaimed. Pettigrew entered the small clearing carrying the baby-like body of the Dark Lord. Peter looked nervous.

Harry glanced at the two others, master and servant, and inclined his head. “Depending on whom your source was, I'm sure what has been said was mostly true.”

“Then you will join my cause fully?”

“The world out there is changing,” Harry answered, “despite several opinions you have, I agree with your general stance. When you have regained a body and adjusted to your situation, I would like to discuss several things with you. The nature of our relationship is a peculiar one that needs explanations about possibilities and limits.”

Voldemort glanced at his Animagus servant briefly. “I see where you and I meet. We will arrange a meeting later on.”

“There is a reason I let you live, Pettigrew,” Harry affirmed. “Can we begin?”

“Of course, Harry,” Peter confirmed, more assured the younger wizard held no malice towards himself. He turned his attention to the large cauldron boiling at the side of the clearing. “In the original ritual I was going to perform, blood forcibly taken of an enemy, you, was the second step. Since the Dark Lord announced your allegiance several months ago, I have been working on an adjustment to the rite. If I'm correct this adjusted ritual should work better. The second step still needs your blood, but it will have to be willingly given.”

“I expected something along those lines,” Harry murmured thoughtfully.

Peter put the frail form of the Dark Lord in the cauldron and summoned some bones whilst commanding: “Bones from the father, you will revive your son.”

The substance in the cauldron burbled and boiled. A knife was handed over to Harry, Pettigrew holding out a vial to catch the blood. Harry cut the palm of his right hand swiftly and held it above the vial. Seven drops of blood went in.

“Blood of the equal, you will revive your adversary.” The added blood made the mixture glow blood red. Pettigrew then took a larger and sharper knife, positioned it above his left hand and performed the last step of the ritual: “Flesh of the servant – willingly given – you will revive your master.” And Pettigrew's hand thumped into the cauldron. Harry stepped back, as did Pettigrew. Steam was rising from the cauldron, the blood red glow grew brighter, liquid boiled over. Half a minute passed by in silence, both men entranced by the magic at work.

The glow disappeared and the steam blew away, leaving behind a pale, bald figure of six feet two inches with dark red eyes.

“My robe, Wormtail,” the Dark Lord ordered. Pettigrew bowed briefly before scampering off in search of Voldemort's clothes. A naked Dark Lord wasn't really an intimidating sight. Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron, regarding Harry curiously. Harry in turn looked extensively at Voldemort. In his daze Harry stepped closer, giving into his 'truth' instincts and rose his hand to touch the Dark Lord's face. Voldemort let him. That boy carried a piece of his soul after all, no wonder he was acting strange.

Harry withdrew his hand. “Human after all,” Harry concluded. It seemed that besides his eyes, the Dark Lord wasn't influenced terribly by feeding of Nagini's milk for over a year. Even his nose resembled the one of Tom Riddle.

Voldemort didn't get much time to answer, because Pettigrew arrived carrying a black hooded robe and his wand. Voldemort took it reverently, like a dream come true. His temporary body hadn't been able to carry it. He gestured it at the place where Peter's left hand used to be and created a silver new hand.


“Consider this my gift to you as thanks for your service this past year.” Pettigrew bowed deeply. “Now, Mr Potter, what am I to do with you? You offered your service in trade of two things, your life and companionship, but I cannot give you my Mark, can I?”

Harry smiled faintly. “I believe you already gave me a mark when I was a toddler, one with far more reaching consequences than any tattoo you could give me.”

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully his head. “True. How did you discover?”

“That, I believe, belongs to that meeting we need to set up.”

Voldemort wanted to know, wanted to be sure no deception went on, but he was a patient man – and he felt the presence of a piece of his soul. in the younger man. It probably was for the best only the two of them knew the complete truth.

“What is Barty planning to do?” Voldemort continued their conversation. It was best these technicalities were dealt with before he sent for his Death Eaters.

“He has a Portkey on his person that he will use several minutes after the Dark Mark starts burning. He also charmed the Portkey to return to Hogwarts, should we agree to go through with that.”

“What would you do should you return to the castle?”

“Tell them Death Eaters turned the Cup into a Portkey in order for them to perform a ritual to bring you back to life, but that they failed and I escaped in the aftermath.”

“And what of your friends?” Wormtail spoke up.

Harry shrugged. “They aren't my friends, though they once were. They are human, I am wary. I think I've been doing an excellent job at bringing my friendship with them to a more professional level.”

Voldemort nodded approvingly; why waste time with silly emotions when there was more at stake?

“I will join Barty in Crouch Manor from the Fifth of July onwards, any time after that is fine for a meeting. I will probably accompany Barty a couple of times when you send for him.”

“I find that an agreeable proposition,” Voldemort said. “Is there anything I should be aware of or should do before I sent my followers?”

“There is,” Harry said. “If you can do it, avoid sending for Snape and call him separately to you. His allegiance lays with my mother, not with you or Dumbledore, so he will need some working.”

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, before his expression blanked. It wouldn't do for him to act out rashly with his followers. He needed each of them for his plans after all.

“Barty might have mentioned Karkaroff as a lost cause, I'm not sure. He betrayed a lot of people in the 80s in order to save his own ass, which should be reason enough to kill him. He is in an interesting position though being Durmstrang's headmaster. All I'm saying is that you should consider your options carefully. Only Barty and the Lestranges confirmed their loyalty to your cause, the rest turned tail and hid. Now onto the next subject, I need you to put me under the Cruciatus Curse for a while.”

Voldemort frowned. “I assume this is to prove a point when you return to Hogwarts?”

Harry nodded. “And to allow you to let lose some of that excess energy of yours.”

“Crucio!” Voldemort cast. He held Harry under it for fifteen seconds before breaking the connection. A trembling Harry rose from the ground.

“That hurt,” Harry concluded, watching his fingers trill.

Voldemort looked closely at the younger wizard before reaching a decision and conjuring a black hooded cloak, an aluminium skull mask joining it. “Wear these. Wormtail, your arm.”

Harry clasped the cloak around his neck carefully and put the mask on his face. It felt weird, wearing a physical mask, especially a metallic one. Harry understood its purpose though: if nobody knew who their fellow Death Eaters were, the Death Eaters remained an unknown entity. Knowing of each other proved to be fatal during the trials in the early eighties, some only escaping by claiming to be under the Imperius Curse, a favored method of the Death Eaters to control key elements of the Ministry of Magic.

It took up to ten minutes for about thirty wizards and witches to arrive wearing their Death Eater cloaks; they quickly aligned themselves in a circle around Voldemort and bowed low for their Lord. Harry himself joined the circle, carefully checking each individual's state of mind. A lot of them were in their twenties and thirties when the Dark Lord fell and now had children attending Hogwarts, their goals had to have changed over the years. Surprisingly though, each person still held faith in their Lord, some even appreciating Lord Voldemort's effort in organizing a reformation better, having attempted to continue the Dark Lord's legacy, Lucius Malfoy being one of them.

“Almost fourteen years ago I made a terrible mistake,” Voldemort began, “that I have come to regret several times when I was nought but a spirit. I strode to immortality where others only took steps and I forgot that when you march, when you run towards something, there's a greater chance of tripping. I fell and helped myself to stand once more. Nevertheless years of possessing Muggles and animals out of survival went by without seeing one of you. And while my loyal followers in Azkaban have an excuse, none of you have. It took a man pushed into a corner, frightened to death, and a loyal servant breaking free from the strains put upon him by his father before I could set in motion a plan to get my body back. Where were you, Goyle, when your lord needed you? Crucio! Or you, Nott? Crucio! I will not be merciful a second time, and that counts for every one of you!”

A quiet thud behind him made Harry turn his head. It was becoming clear that while Voldemort was a ruthless man that didn't care for a lot of sentiment, he was surprisingly lean towards his followers. The arrival's eyes looked at the scene in front of him briefly, searching. When the Death Eater glanced in Harry's eyes, a brief nod confirmed each others identity. Alastor Moody's imposter had left Hogwarts permanently. Barty chose to stand next to Harry.

“As you can see, my plan has worked,” Voldemort continued, indirectly addressing his followers' confusion concerning Harry and Barty's anonymous presence. “I have gained a new body as well as a new addition to the Death Eaters. Until you have proven your loyalty however his identity will remain a secret. Over the following weeks, I will call each one of you separately so you can tell me what you have done for our cause and what actions we might take to further it, before we hold a complete meeting. You might notice the absence of several among you; those who publicly betrayed me and those that need to be reminded that I am their master. They will be dealt with. After tonight you will probably hear stories of how some Death Eaters tried to revive me using Harry Potter, but failed. I needed Harry Potter for the ritual Wormtail performed, so I Obliviated him and made him think so. Nobody except you, my servants, know that I am back. As long as they don't, we hold an incredible advantage. Now go and think carefully about your lot in life.”

When all followers except Barty and Wormtail had left, Harry took off his mask. “They are going to be looking for signs of a Memory Charm if show up claiming I don't remember,” said Harry.

Barty nodded. “What do you want to forget? Those dokumanties?”

Harry shook his head. “Those helped me be whom I was today. I'd rather you remove my memories of Halloween 1981.”

“You remember that night? Peculiar,” Voldemort questioned.

“Or not,” Harry answered. “It mustn't necessarily mean that I remember them, but...” Harry paused for a moment. Why hadn't he thought about it earlier? “They were the last moments the soul piece held in mine really lived, which seems a more logical explanation then them being mine.”

Barty glanced between his lover and his master contentedly. Following Harry and Voldemort's plan proved to be a major success.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Barty asked.

“I am.”

“Obliviate! You can't remember Halloween of 1981 anymore, though you know that your parents died and something happened between the Dark Lord and yourself.”

Harry frowned. “That's strange.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I should return to the castle. It's already been an hour since I left.”

Voldemort paused his observations. “I will talk to you on the fifth dusk of the next moon cycle. There's a lot I need to be told it seems. If I discover you lied to me, not even Merlin will be able to save you.”

Harry inclined his head to show he understood. He addressed the Animagus of the rather odd group of wizards: “The past is history, start to live in the present.” To Barty he smiled faintly: “I'll ask Winky if she wants to return, last I heard she was very loyal to her master.” Harry unclasped his new cloak, folded it, placed his mask upon it and carefully gave it to Barty, before casting a whirlwind of spells upon his person. By the time Harry touched the Portkey, he looked exactly like a wizard escaping the clutches of several frustrated fools.

The Dark Lord observed his remaining servants carefully. Wormtail obviously took pride in the words spoken to him by the Boy-Who-Lived, like a young child wanting attention, while the Potter heir obviously earned Barty's trust. It was an interesting experience that made him aware that Potter would have made a dangerous enemy were the circumstances different.

“He's different,” Wormtail noted.

“Nay, he's grown up and starting to show his true character,” objected Barty.

“If he always was like this, then why did he stop me twice before?” Voldemort questioned.

Barty seemed to realize who his company was. “Well, er, I didn't mention this before, my lord, because I didn't understand it well enough, but you have to know that Harry Potter is something like an oracle in ancient Greek civilization. He doesn't see into the future or even the past, but he knows the present. His Inner-Eye you might say, knows every person's intentions, desires and, if spent enough time near him, their whole character. It works constantly on a very subconscious manner; when he entered Hogwarts he was overwhelmed. Took a while to get out his funk, Harry says. He described it to me and well I researched it thoroughly in my spare time. He differs of the Greek and even Egyptian oracles in that he acts upon his knowledge instead of handing out advise and hasn't learned any set way to deal with his talent.”

If Voldemort had eyebrows, they would've reached new heights. That tidbit of news could be very important indeed.

“In the future, I don't want you to withhold such information anymore, do you understand?”

“I won't, my lord,” Barty meekly said.