Greater Than, Lesser Be / Part Four, B
Greater Than, Lesser Be
Part Four, B
Previously...
**
Summer, 1994.
Remus and Jonathan met Sirius across from 12 Grimmauld Place a few weeks after the end of the Hogwarts school year. Harry had written Remus the night before, asking if he could “ask Mr. Houdini for another Chatter mirror,” due to giving his previous one to Sirius. Harry also mentioned that Neville had tickets with his Great Uncle Algie to attend the Quidditch World Cup in a few weeks, and asked Harry to join him with Hermione.
Remus gave his approval, and Harry sent a custom-designed Chatter mirror to his mini-version personally with a typed letter as an early birthday present. The mini-Harry’s brief note to Remus, thanking him for forwarding his request to Harry Houdini, was the last contact the Marauder had with the teenager since. It was clear Harry was holding a grudge against Remus for withholding information on Sirius - especially the role of Sirius as his godfather - from him.
“Remus,” greeted Sirius carefully, under hooded eyes. “Who’s this?”
“Sirius, meet Jonathan Randolf,” said Remus, motioning towards the young wizard, who gave a nod in reply. “He’s one of my employees at Cloak & Dagger. He also knows about your innocence.”
Sirius remained guarded but accepted Remus’s word as they travelled back towards the Black London home.
“We’ll need to go in quietly,” said Sirius, although both Remus and Jonathan knew about Mrs. Black. Harry readily shared his memories of the place with the two for this mission.
The Black home was as dark and foreboding as Harry’s memories portrayed it and its name proclaimed. Sirius, grumbling, led them through the main hallway and towards the room Remus asked to see: the drawing room with the Black Family tapestry.
The three men silently stood, looking at the large tapestry spilling from the ceiling to the floor and curling over it in spots. Sirius knelt and brushed tenderly against a blackened spot on the tapestry, where a line joined Orion Black and Walburga Black. He traced it down to a faded red Regulus A. Black, and where his name should be.
“Please call him, Sirius,” asked Remus quietly, after a few minutes of silence.
Sirius grumbled, stood on creaky knees and shouted, “KREACHER!”
A pop signalled the house elf’s entrance into the room, where he paused upon seeing Sirius and his companions.
“Nasty blood traitor returns! Mistress would be so horrified at his filthily friends,” the insane house elf began muttering, wringing his hands and glancing around the room with his beady eyes.
“Kreacher,” stated Sirius, fighting to control old urges of anger and disgust at the house elf, “As your master, I am commanding you to listen to Remus Lupin and obey his every word. Do you understand?”
Kreacher began spewing more abuse at the head of the Black family, but Remus interjected quickly. He knelt in front of the tiny house elf, shutting Kreacher up quickly as he did so.
“Kreacher,” began Remus, quietly, “I know what happened to Regulus that night when he went with you and the Dark Lord to the cave.”
Kreacher’s eyes locked on Remus, and the elf turned from a dark green hue to pasty celery. Jonathan watched from the doorway, ready to defend his friend and boss if the elf didn’t full listen. He needn’t worry.
Remus had both Sirius’s and Kreacher’s attention as he continued. “Regulus was a very brave man, and he entrusted something to you, didn’t he? A locket?”
As Remus spun the tale and won over Kreacher, Jonathan watched as Sirius Black cried for a brother he never got the chance to tell how proud he was of him.
**
November 1, 1994
“Harry’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire last night,” was the first thing Remus said as he entered the boardroom at Cloak & Dagger.
He glanced at those sitting at the table: Sebastian, Edith, Yui, Justine, Camilla, Jonathan and Piers, then at Harry. None had looks of surprise and Remus knew he wasn’t surprised either.
Harry sighed, tapping at the old edition of the Daily Prophet on the table. The Dark Mark hanging above the Quidditch World Cup stadium flickered and hovered in an unseen wind, lopping continuously. “It seems Voldemort is back to his tricks and Pettigrew and Crouch are at his call.”
“We knew this would happen, Harry,” said Sebastian, folding his hands on top of the table genially. “We have planned for this for quite some time.”
Edith nodded from beside her co-worker. “Everything you’ve asked of us, we’ve done without question. We’ve helped you plan for this - from gathering the Horcruxes to creating the technology we need to be compatible with magic.”
Camilla smiled gently. “Edith and Sebastian’s improved Wolfsbane has guaranteed the werewolves to be neutral at the very least in the upcoming war. We’ve had thousands of letters come in since we marketed the formula after our trials.”
“And we’ve got the Ministry right where we want them,” added Justine, happily in her Australian accent, blue eyes bright. “We’re signed on for the Third Task. We’ll be exclusively broadcasting the final task of the tournament for the entire world to see. No matter what happens that night, Voldemort can’t escape the media.”
Jonathan and Yui shared a smile. “We finally worked out the pinhole cameras and the communication earbuds. We tested it in the test run at Little Hangleton scenario and it went through smoothly. Everything worked according to our calculations.”
“And I’ve got the Joe’s up and running at the crack of dawn, going over the various plans we came up with for the Third Task,” finished Piers shortly. “I’ll run them into the ground before we send them out in June.”
Harry looked at his employees, his friends and those he shared his burden with. His emerald green eyes met theirs, then travelled to his werewolf friend, standing at the other end of the room and at the foot of the table.
“We’re ready for this Harry,” said Remus quietly. “We’ve got the ring. The diary. The Cup of Hufflepuff. Slytherin’s locket. We’re targeting Voldemort and Nagini in June. All we need to do now is get Harry in for the ritual.”
The ritual.
Harry grimaced at the thought. While he went to face Voldemort as a martyr, as Dumbledore intended, he promised that this version of himself would never have to feel like he was a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter. He would always have a choice. Facing Voldemort in the original timeline allowed the Avada Kedavra to release the Horcrux that shared Harry’s body, but it was a risky gamble.
So was the plan Piers came up with.
When Justine and Jonathan were searching the world for more information on the spell that sent Harry to this alternate dimension, Piers was doing some quiet searching of his own. While Harry never completely knew what the man did for the South African government, Harry had an idea, as the man’s reflexes were as good as Moody’s and the dossier Harry had on Piers indicated he worked more along the lines of Harry’s previous job. His lowly position was a cover-up.
It also meant that Piers had numerous friends who owed him favours. Favours he called in.
And someone had the information Piers needed. Not only did they find the spell that sent Harry back in time, but the contact also had information on how to extract a soul from a body.
It was dodgy, it was Dark magic, and so old that Piers’s contacted warned the man against trying it unless it was absolutely, save-the-world necessary.
Piers said it was and the man agreed to perform the ritual.
Harry sighed. “Then contact Harry, Remus, and pull him out of Hogwarts tonight. We’ll send the company Concord to Piers’s contact and have him complete the ritual as soon as he can.”
“No need to send the jet to Mexico,” answered Piers. “I’ve had Javier in England since he came back with the information we needed. He’s currently happily vacationing with our werewolf friends at the Cornwall house.”
Edith and Sebastian made startled noises at that, worried about the safety of their werewolves.
Piers sent them a look. “I honestly don’t know which you’d have to be worried about, but let’s assume the werewolves can look after themselves and Javier is more than capable of handling them.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get this done with, shall we?”
**
Camilla joined Remus in travelling to Hogwarts in order to pick up Harry. While they were gone, Piers retrieved Javier Morandez, his contact, and brought him to the Cloak & Dagger headquarters.
“I like your company name,” was the first thing the short Mexican said in a thick accent. Harry expected him to be oily and feel dirty, but the man was rather pleasant and rather jolly. He wore washed out jeans and a comfortable looking button up with cowboy boots. Harry was certain he would mistake the man for a non-magical easily.
“Thank you,” replied Harry automatically. “So what do we need to get you for this ritual? And why tonight for the ritual?”
Javier produced a list from his pocket and passed it to a waiting Jonathan. “It is not much. Some purified water. Salt. A container.” The man eyed Harry speculatively. “Piers says you used iron containers in the past to hold the soul?”
Harry nodded.
“Good,” answered Javier. “Then all we need is the four symbols of our world: earth, fire, water and air. The subject of the ritual will be the soul.”
“Why tonight?” asked Yui, echoing Harry as she watched Justine dart down the hall for the herbology wing for earth; Sebastian went off looking for water, and Edith began muttering about finding a lighter.
Javier smiled thinly. “It’s the Day of the Dead. November 1st is also known as the Día de los Inocentesi… the Day of the Innocents, or children. In our culture, we celebrate the dead by remembering the departed fondly on these days. Why should we not, on the Day of the Innocents, help protect a child from an evil soul inhabiting his body?”
“Will the ritual work?” interjected Harry quietly.
Javier paused. “I am not certain. I’ve read about the ritual succeeding before in the past… but things were different then. The Gods were remembered and the sacrifices were plenty. We had more reason to be thankful for our living relatives and more reason to fear and honour the dead through the unknown. We can hope.”
Harry’s stomach tightened into knots. Hope, indeed!
Remus and Camilla returned with the young Harry Potter with three hours to spare before the Day of the Innocents ended and the Day of the Dead officially began. While Harry Potter had no idea there was a piece of Voldemort’s soul holding onto his body, Harry did know that Remus was offering a way for his visions to end.
After the Quidditch World Cup, Harry felt Remus had suffered enough from his grudge of withholding information and confessed to the werewolf that he had a strange dream about Voldemort a few weeks before the Cup.
He described an old mansion located on top of a hill and overlooking a cemetery. He was floating along the scene, until he came upon an older man - not magical, he assured Remus - who was intrigued by the light in one of the mansion’s windows when the building was supposed to be empty.
Harry followed along in the dream as the man explored the empty building until he reached a first-floor drawing room. A fire was going in the hearth and a short, rat-like man was kneeling in front of a battered armchair. Another figure, dressed in dark robes was speaking to someone in the chair.
There was some dialogue and a large snake - then an Avada Kedavra. Harry knew that the man was dead.
Remus, at the time, hung his head. Frank Bryce was as tied to the Riddle Mansion as the Riddle family was… and as much as Voldemort was tied to the place.
Instead, Remus said he would send out some ‘feelers’ about Harry’s visions and see if they could come up with a way to stop them, so that he didn’t feel incapacitated by them. The feeling of helplessness and despair was evident as Harry retold the story, aching to help the man but unable to.
As such, Harry bolstered his courage. He was a Gryffindor! He was not afraid of a ritual that would end his visions. He trusted his Uncle Remus.
It was Harry’s first time to Cloak & Dagger as well, so he was excited at the prospect of seeing his uncle’s workplace. Unfortunately, they arrived through an Apparition point rather than outside, but Harry was still in awe as armed guards patted Remus, Camilla and Harry down and searched them for tracking spells and devices.
They found three, all with Dumbledore’s signature on it.
They were quickly disposed of and Remus led his young charge through the corridors and then towards the gym where the Joe’s trained. The room was similar to that of the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, able to mimic and become whatever training scenario the Joe’s needed.
In this case, they needed a ritual room.
Yet, when Remus and Harry arrived, it was like nothing Remus had ever seen. He expected a ritual room to be cold and hard, filled with heavy rock and metal composites. Instead, the training room was a barren desert, with a few shrubs and cactus here or there, barely littering the eerie landscape.
The elder Harry was standing a bit away, talking with Piers and another man Remus assumed was going to lead the ritual.
“Stay here,” he told Harry, walking off towards the men.
“Hello Remus,” said Harry the elder as the werewolf was within hearing distance. “No problems at Hogwarts?”
“A few tracking spells but nothing our Joe’s couldn’t handle,” answered Remus tightly. He glanced at the unknown man. “Remus Lupin. I’m Harry’s guardian.”
The man nodded politely. “I am Javier Morandez. I will do the ritual. Is your Harry ready?”
Remus licked his lips. “Yes.”
Javier smiled gently. “Good. Let us begin. Mr. Houdini, does your ceiling open to the sky? It would help to be open to nature for this ritual.”
Harry nodded and glanced at Piers, who turned and waved up at the catwalk above the training area. Jonathan, who was wearing the communication earbud he and Justine designed, waved back at hearing the suggestion. Moments later, the roof began to pull back, opening from the middle.
“I will need room for this,” explained Javier. “Would you mind waiting up there with the others, Mr. Lupin? Mr. Houdini?”
“Of course,” agreed Harry quickly, grabbing Remus’s sleeve. Turning to the werewolf, he said quietly, “We’ve done all we can. Piers vouches for this man. We now leave everything in his hands.”
Remus wasn’t happy with that, but followed Harry out of the training area with Piers and towards a set of nearby stairs, which would take them to the catwalk. Once there, Remus and Harry joined Jonathan, Justine, Sebastian, Edith, Camilla and Yui. Piers had left to collect the things Javier needed for the ritual, which the others had brought down from their departments and left in convenient bags by the training room entrance.
The Cloak & Dagger employees and owners watched as Javier approached a rather fidgety Harry, speaking to him quietly. None thought to give Javier an earbud in case anything went wrong, but whatever the man was saying was enough to calm Harry Potter.
When Harry nodded, Javier clasped him on the shoulder and turned to wave at Piers. The South African handed Javier several small bags containing the pieces he asked for, and then stepped back. Moments later, he joined the others on the catwalk.
Silently, they watched as Javier directed Harry to stand in a cleared, sandy area of the desert scenario the room created. A few words later, Harry was lying down in the sand, squirming as he tried to get comfortable.
Using salt, Javier created a circle around the teenager. He said something else, but instead of verbally responding, Harry held up a hand and made a thumb’s up sign. Remus chuckled.
Javier went to the bags and extracted a bowl. He placed it at Harry’s right, near his hand, if it were extended at shoulder height. Using a lighter Justine found him, he ignited the coals in the bowl. Across, at Harry’s left, he placed a bowl and poured water from the metal container. At Harry’s feet, he placed a clump of earth from the Herbology department.
“Fire to bind, water to soothe, earth to ground, and air to cleanse,” intoned Javier in a clear, loud voice. He turned and retrieved the last item from the bags: an iron container, etched with protective runes.
“A container of the earth, forged in fire, cooled in water, and bound by air to capture and contain the soul,” the Mexican continued. He placed it at Harry’s head. Then, as he slowly began to walk around Harry’s prone body, he began to speak.
It didn’t sound like Spanish. It didn’t sound like Latin. The words pouring out of his mouth was something Harry had never heard before but once before-the night Ginny cursed him back in time.
The language was dirty, the accent heavy on Javier’s tongue as he spoke. In the salt circle, the young, teenaged Harry began to tremor. Then, he began to shake and those shakes turned into writhing. His hands dug into the soft sand, clenching against some unseen force and his back bowed, lifting him from the ground.
Javier continued to speak, walking around the teen, never breaking in his voice. Yet, Harry could see sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and drip down onto his shirt. Whatever hold Voldemort’s Horcrux had in the teenager, it was tight.
Slowly, as the minutes bled together and midnight approached, an inky black mass began to creep out of Harry’s lightning bolt scar. It was slow, resisting the call and chant of Javier, but the Mexican persisted.
The inky black mass began to form and join, parts and pieces of it merging until it became a ghastly skull, teeth chattering in anger and eye sockets burning with black fire.
The bowl of water churned and the fire across flickered and nearly died out; but Javier gave one last, mighty shout and the inky spirit was forced upwards and into the container. The iron lid slammed shut and tightly latched.
Javier slumped, spent, and Harry calmed.
All was silent on the catwalk, until Remus turned and raced down the stairs, the others footsteps behind. The werewolf raced across the uneven sand, his steps faltering here and there, but he skidded to a stop and slid down next to Harry, breaking the salt circle.
A shaky head reached out to touch the teen, but retreated briefly. He tried again and this time smoothed back Harry’s damp black hair. The scar that plagued Harry from October 31st, 1981 was faded, a dull red that was easing off to a shade lighter than Harry’s natural colouring.
The teen was breathing evenly, deep asleep. Across, being checked by Harry Houdini and Piers, was Javier, watching Remus with dark, steady eyes. “He will live,” the Mexican said softly, smiling at Remus. “The ritual worked, and your Harry Potter lives.”
“Thank you,” murmured Remus, reaching and gathering Harry into his arms. “Thank you.”
**
The Third Task. June 24, 1995.
Harry had to swing some serious weight to convince Fudge that he should be allowed at the Third Task of the TriWizard Tournament, but after much wheedling and some threats, Fudge agreed. Although Harry was planning on staying as far away as he could from the younger version of himself, he felt that there was enough of a difference now that the two were only the same through their DNA.
That being said, Harry waited patiently in the Champions tent as Ludo Bagman went over the rules for the maze. Harry distinctly remembered being outside for the rules and cannon blast, but this did give more privacy and kept the champions in anticipation.
“…now, before we finish, someone would like to speak to all of you,” finished Bagman, sounding pleased. Harry bit back a smile.
“Who?” questioned Fleur in a light, French accent.
“Mr. Houdini, the CEO of Cloak & Dagger,” answered Bagman, cheerily. “He is a major sponsor in the Tournament. It is only natural he would like to see the Champions before the Final Task.”
“Vot vor?” grumbled Krum, but Bagman ignored him. Instead, the man stuck his head out of the back of the tent, spotted Remus and Harry standing there patiently, and beckoned them in.
“Mr. Houdini, Mr. Lupin, so pleased to see you here,” the man gushed. “Allow me to introduce our four Champions: Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons…”
The French girl who would grow up to marry Bill Weasley gave a small curtsey and smile. Harry leaned over her extended hand and kissed it.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle,” the time travelled smiled. He straightened and reached into his suit pocket for the small velvet case he knew was located there. He found the one with the embossed Beauxbatons crest in silver on the outside and held it out for the French girl to take.
Fleur tittered, opening the case. “Oh!” she gasped.
By this time, Harry Houdini had moved on to Krum, shaken his head and offered him the Drumstrang case.
Remus presented Harry and Cedric with theirs.
“What are these for?” asked Cedric, looking down at the Huflepuff crest pin that he received.
“Goodwill,” replied Harry with a tight smile. “I couldn’t make a Hogwarts crest for two Hogwarts champions, but I figured house affiliation would suffice.” Turning to Fleur and Viktor, he handed two small velvet boxes, each with a Beauxbatons and Durmstrang crest pin.
Harry Potter took his and eagerly affixed it onto his TriWizard Tournament standard uniform/robes.
“Thanks Mr. Houdini, sir,” said Harry Potter, smiling widely.
A tired, older Harry smiled tightly back at his younger self, wondering how the boy and those around could not notice the similarities. Perhaps, thought Harry, he changed too much in the decade he’d been in this dimension.
Nodding, Harry accepted the sincere thanks from the other champions and left the tent, giving Remus a quick moment with the younger Potter and a few words of encouragement for all the champions.
Remus parted the TriWizard tent, stepping into the fading light of a setting sun. Harry was looking up at the quickly darkening sky, frowning.
“Are you ready?” asked Remus quietly. “It’ll only be a few hours of wait until…”
“I know,” replied Harry softly. “And I wasn’t ready the first time this happened. But I’ll be damned if I let Potter go through this. I’ll be ready, Remus.”
Remus nodded, and together the two left the transformed Quidditch pitch, heading towards Hogsmeade where they would Apparate back to Cloak & Dagger.
Just after they passed through the gates, Harry stopped Remus with a hand on his arm. The werewolf turned to his friend questioningly.
“I made my will, Remus,” said Harry, firmly. “I want you to know that. I’ve prepared for this moment and whether or not I die, I still want you and mini-me to have everything.”
“You’re not going to die,” argued Remus, rather weakly. The inner wolf in him had been restless the past month, causing stomach ulcers and heartburn. Remus knew something was up; he had a bad feeling about tonight.
Harry smiled gently, the silver in his hair by the temples gleaming in the dusk. “I’ve escaped death once before, Remus. I can’t cheat him a second time.”
“You’re the Master of Death,” argued Remus back, hissing the title. “Of course you can cheat death!”
Harry looked up just as the last rays of the sun dipped beyond the horizon. The moon was slowly appearing, the sun’s rays bouncing off the rock and lighting it up in the darkened sky. The sun’s rays, however, tinged it a blood red.
“I’m not going to cheat this time, Remus. Not anymore,” declared Harry firmly, and then Apparated away.
Remus closed his eyes in defeat. When he opened them, they were filled with determination. He may not be able to save Harry Houdini, but he wasn’t going to fail his best friends’ child.
He, too, Apparated away quietly in the night, just as cheers went up in the stadium behind him at Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch-the third task of the TriWizard tournament had begun.
**
Harry Potter was wondering why, every time he came across a difficult task that he managed to defeat, the crowd roared its approval. It took him nearly half an hour into the task to realise that Prestige Studios was contracted to film the final task and that the pins that Mr. Houdini actually gave the champions were mini cameras! High above him, the crowd was seeing everything as Harry was seeing it!
This meant they were also seeing Cedric, Fleur and Krum’s advancement. Harry, spurned on by this, was turning the corner of the maze cautiously-who knew what was around the corner?
Nothing, it turned out; just several options for him to take. As Harry paused and considered which route to take, he heard a scream and the crowd jeer, voices meshing as they shouted out in fear and anger.
Another noise caught Harry’s attention, causing him to look up. Fizzing red sparks blew and wavered in the evening sky, indicating that one of the champions needed to be rescued. Judging from the scream, it was Fleur.
Swallowing a heavy dose of fear, Harry pushed through a random direction. He immediately regretted it as he swerved into the path of Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewt, dodging the fire that propelled it in his general direction.
Harry rolled, hurting his shoulder against pebbles and stones on the maze floor; the Skrewt’s stinger, similar to that of a scorpion’s, jabbed forward and nearly caught Harry’s leg. Breathing heavily, Harry rolled out of the way quickly, but not quickly enough for the second attack, which sliced his leg as he rolled.
His trousers were ripped, blood seeping out quickly along the lengthy gash. Pain exploded as Harry clutched at his leg, hissing. He wasn’t sure if he could get up and dodge again.
A snort and warm huffing had Harry look up. The Skrewt was hovering above him, its stinger ready to pierce him a third-and final-time. It was in that moment Harry was transported back to Hagrid’s class, where he said the Skrewt’s defences were laid bare by their soft underside.
Somersaulting forward in a roll, Harry ignored the chafe of dirt getting into his bleeding cut and lay flat on his back under the Skrewt.
“Impedimenta!” shouted Harry. The Skrewt above him wavered and then held, unable to move. Harry, on the other hand, scampered out of the clearing as quickly as his injured leg could carry him-and nearly ploughed into Viktor Krum, his ears ringing from the background noise of the crowd and the screams.
It only took him a moment to realise who was screaming-Cedric Diggory was on the ground, twitching in the dirt under the Cruciatus curse as Krum stood above him, wand held out.
Surprised, but with his quick reflexes, Harry stunned Krum. The Bulgarian teen fell face-first into the dirt, the glassy look in his eyes disappearing.
“Are you okay?” asked Harry, helping Cedric to his feet. The older Hufflepuff breathed heavily for a few moments, looking pale and shaking as his nerves adjusted.
“I… I will be,” the older wizard said, glancing down in disgust at Krum.
“He didn’t mean it,” argued Harry, following Cedric’s train of thought. “He wasn’t in control. Didn’t you see his eyes? He was under the Imperius.”
Cedric scrunched his face up, not liking the answer, but agreed. Instead, he sent up a flare of red sparks.
“Who would cast the Imperius on him?” asked Cedric, glancing down at the Quidditch star’s limpid form. A quick glance at the young Gryffindor had Cedric discounting Harry-he was bleeding heavily from a leg wound, pale with dark circles under his eyes and blood and grime smeared around one side of his face.
“I dunno,” replied Harry quietly. “But someone did.”
The two looked in opposite directions, shivering and wondering what to do next.
“Well…” began Cedric, scratching his neck hesitantly. “I was going to go this way…”
Harry nodded, jerking his thumb in the opposite direction. “I was going this way…”
Together, they both looked at Krum, again, and Harry blurted out, “How about we stay together?”
A sheepish and slightly hysterical laugh pushed from Cedric’s mouth as he agreed quickly, “Okay! That sounds good.”
Both looked at each other and began slowly in the direction Cedric wanted to go. They didn’t encounter anything, and after ten minutes finally made a right turn into a clearing. The TriWizard cup stood on a pedestal.
The two wizards stopped, warily looking at the shiny cup.
“Take it, Cedric,” began Harry. “You’re the real Hogwarts champion.”
Cedric shook his head. “No, you’ve done way more than I have. It should be yours.”
The shared a grin and realised the stupidity of their arguments.
“How about together?” asked Harry. “That way it’ll still be a Hogwarts win.”
Cedric smiled. “I think that sounds good.”
The two turned to face the pedestal when a clicking noise caught their attention. Harry turned partway, and saw the huge pinches begin to descend.
“Reducto!”
Harry leaped out of the way, closer to the cup, as Cedric had his wand out and sent several quick blasts from his wand, hoping to drive the large spider away from them.
Rising to his feet, Harry added to Cedric’s spell fire, even if his repertoire of spell knowledge wasn’t nearly as large as the other boy’s. They slowly drove the Acromantula away from the cup and its clearing, but it hovered just around the large maze greenery, waiting for a lapse from Cedric or Harry.
The two backed up slowly, towards the cup, as the spider moved forward, matching their pace.
“On three?” mumbled Harry, glancing briefly behind him at the cup.
“On three,” agreed Cedric. They were steps away.
Harry stowed his wand at the same time as Cedric; the elder boy latched onto Harry’s robes and Harry grabbed the cup as the Acromantula surged forward-but they were gone in a swirl of light and the familiar feel of a Port-Key.
Seconds later they were deposited onto the hard ground; silence overcame them.
Harry looked up, frowning from his position, on his belly. He was surrounded by large block of rock and marble, some standing straight and tall and others leaning precariously or chipped. The stone slabs on the ground were engraved and etched with words and designs, while others were broken into pieces or falling into hallowed out, leaving rectangular holes in the ground.
Cedric was a few feet away, on his back and moaning. One hand was behind his head, rubbing it achingly.
“Alright?” asked Harry, glancing around, squinting behind his smudged and dirtied glasses.
Cedric replied, “I’m fine,” as he rose to his feet. He too, was looking around.
Harry bit his lip as his eyes focused. The vague shapes around him were tombstones.
Harry’s breath caught. Ever since his visit to Cloak & Dagger, Harry did not have visions anymore. One of the first, though, was of the graveyard he and Cedric were standing in.
“Wands out, you reckon?” asked Cedric, his voice tense.
Harry nodded and slipped his wand, just as Cedric did his-but his eyes were focused on something else.
A shape emerged from the darkness, small and huddled. It looked like it was cradling something, protecting something in its arms as the figured carefully made its way towards the two students.
The figure stopped, as though it was watching the two teens. Harry wanted to scream at Cedric to run-he was getting an ill feeling that began in the pit of his stomach and was working its way up to his throat, catching his warnings and efficiently muting him.
“Kill the spare,” a high-pitched voice emerged from the figure’s arms.
The figure raised an arm. A wand with a glowing tip lit the figure’s face up, revealing Peter Pettigrew.
Harry snarled in anger, but froze as his parents’ betrayer shouted: “Avada Kedavra!”
The light erupted from his wand, not aimed at Harry, but the handsome Hufflepuff a few feet to his left.
Horror enveloped Harry, but just as the curse neared its target, something caught the Hufflepuff’s robes and yanked him backwards just as the curse sailed by. From Harry’s point of view, the curse missed but Cedric was lying flat on the ground, seemingly dead from the spell.
Yet…
His chest was moving up and down, and a trickle of blood slowly oozed out from under him, indicating he cracked his head on the fall down.
Harry turned back to Wormtail, who smirked before aiming his wand at the Boy Who Lived. The man shouted, “Stupefy!” and Harry sank into unconsciousness.
**
Harry, Remus, Piers and Quentin were watching the third task from four monitors in their security vans, parked at the bottom of the graveyard in Little Hangleton. They were close enough to the mansion to be in contact with the Joe’s who were going in to capture Nagini, but they were, more importantly, closer to the graveyard where Harry and Cedric would be transported to soon.
The men were watching tensely. Harry didn’t seem to realise that his pin was actually a camera, capturing his journey through the maze in first-person perspective. Fleur and Krum figured it out immediately after their first encounter in the maze as the crowd reacted to their moves; Cedric took some time but shrugged it off and continued with his plan.
The men watched on their screens as Krum, under the Imperius curse, attacked Fleur. The half-Veela witch put up quite a fight, screaming French obscenities at the Bulgarian, before he hit her with a stupefy-but only after hearing her scream for a few moments under the Cruciatus. Whoever was controlling him was kind enough to send up red sparks, though.
The remaining three contestants lulled between challenges. Harry remembered enough of what he went through the first time to ignore what was occurring and begin gearing up. He was in his Hit Wizard uniform, wearing the accessories and weapons he had with him the night Ginny tried to send him back in time to relive his life at the Dursleys and the second Blood War.
He was tightening the straps to his Kevlar vest when Cedric began screaming. He glanced up to see Krum standing over the twitching boy, and from Cedric’s camera angle, saw Harry appear around the maze hedge.
There were three views of the same scene, and then time and history changed: Harry Potter and Cedric teamed up.
“We split up,” said Harry said, frowning. “I went to see the sphinx and had to solve a riddle. Met the Acromantula and then Cedric and I made a mad-dash to the cup.”
The others frowned.
“Let’s go, boys,” said Quentin into his communicator. “I want everyone into position in three minutes.”
There was some noise as the Joe’s in the other security vans around them opened their doors and hatches, climbing out and crunching the soil and gravel beneath their feet. Their weight and the added weight of their armour made their steps heavier, but the Joe’s knew how to handle this moment. After all, they had been training for it specifically for the past three years.
Harry finished tightening his Kevlar straps and then slipped his Holly and Phoenix wand into one loophole; the Elder wand was hidden on a wand holster. His gun rested comfortably at his back; spare bullet casings and his boot dagger were primed and ready to go.
Remus nodded at Piers, following Harry out of the van and into the dark. Piers was going to coordinate the two attacks at the same time; the Joe’s were split between the attack group on the mansion, where Nagini was resting and waiting. Heat seeking goggles were adapted for the mission.
The rest were going into their positions with Harry, Remus and Quentin, to face Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
“Ready?” asked Harry, receiving nods from the Joe’s. Harry’s trained eye searched every face he could see. He then nodded and strode towards the graveyard, frowning as he heard Piers’ voice in his ear.
“Potter and Diggory are at the cup,” he said. The Joe’s were all on the same frequency, able to hear Piers, while the two attach teams were on a different sending frequency so their voices and words would not overlay each other.
“I estimate you have about five minutes before Voldemort and Pettigrew make a move at the graves,” the man continued.
Harry nodded and with a few hand gestures, a group of six Joe’s broke from the contingent and made their way around the far end of the graveyard and its hill. Their task was Cedric Diggory.
Harry and the other Joe’s slowly moved up the hill, from behind the cauldron and where most of the mausoleums were, giving them cover. A few hid behind larger tombstones and statues.
“Potter and Diggory are gone!” snapped out Piers, just as Harry settled into position near where he remembered the cauldron to be, and behind a large tombstone.
A muffled pop caught the Joe’s attention and they tensed. Someone moaned, and after a few moments of silence, a young teen’s voice queried, “Alright?”
A few short seconds later, a deeper voice answered. “I’m fine.”
Harry sighed in relief and worry. Harry and Cedric arrived safely, but they weren’t out of danger yet.
“Team A, target Diggory. Use the tug and get him to the ground at the sign of AK,” instructed Piers from their earbuds. “Team B and Houdini are to engage Voldemort and his Death Eaters, only after he has given Potter his wand back. Repeat: engage Voldemort and his Death Eaters after Potter has his wand back. Team C is now in the Riddle mansion.”
A shrill voice shouted out the Killing curse in the dark night, causing those around Harry to tense.
A brief crackle and then Piers’ voice said, “Team A has Diggory and he is unharmed. Repeat: the boy is unharmed.”
Harry let out an inaudible sigh and peaked around the mausoleum, just in time to see Pettigrew stupefy Harry and levitate him towards the tombstone that he knew to be the elder Tom Riddle’s. Harry was revived after Pettigrew tied him to the grave. The ritual began.
A sparkle of dust in the air from the grave below Harry Potter indicated the bone of Riddle, senior; a flick from Pettigrew’s wand had it deposited in the large cauldron. Pettigrew turned his knife towards Harry, who tensed and struggled against his bonds as the man dug the knife into his uninjured arm, cutting it and collecting the blood.
After that was added to the cauldron, Harry Potter watched in morbid fascination as Pettigrew cut off his hand to add to the ritual. The Voldemort-baby was lowered into the cauldron, which began spitting, and frothing and hissing.
From his position, Harry signalled the Joe’s to get ready. Piers crackled into his earbud again: “Update: Team C has located Nagini and is currently engaged in battle. Team B is reviving Diggory.”
As Piers finished his report, the cauldron exploded and steam swirled around where the cauldron used to be, creating a thick smoke. Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the fog, unnaturally pale and naked.
“Robe me,” the high voice commanded.
Lord Voldemort had returned.
**
Harry Potter was scared. The man who murdered his parents was standing before him, instructing Wormtail to give him back his wand so that they could properly duel. Harry was sure that the only thing he wanted to do was turn tail back to Cedric and the cup, hoping it would take them back to Hogwarts.
As Voldemort began the long speech about Harry and their previous ‘meetings’, Harry glanced back at where Cedric was lying on his back-only to see that the Hufflepuff was gone!
Panic engulfed Harry as thoughts began piling on one another in his head. Had Cedric left him? Were there Death Eaters in the forest and the graveyard, waiting to capture him if he ran away? Did they catch Cedric? Was Cedric hiding, waiting to jump out and help Harry?
Eventually, black clouds swirled into existence and tiny pops of Apparition rang in Harry’s ears, signalling the Death Eaters. Voldemort postured to them, calling them by name, torturing one here or there if they spoke out of turn.
Finally, Wormtail returned Harry’s wand. Harry stared down at it, wondering what his first move should be.
“Surely Dumbledore taught you the proper etiquette of a wizards’ duel, Harry?” simpered Voldemort, teasingly. “First, we bow.”
When Harry did not, Voldemort’s red eyes narrowed and his wand flicked-a crushing force began pushing at Harry’s back, urging him to bend in a low, seemingly courtly bow.
Gritting his teeth, Harry did so, pushing up against the force. Just as suddenly as it appeared, the force disappeared and Harry stood straight, eyes firmly planted on the Dark Lord.
“And now… we begin,” smiled Voldemort, opening his mouth to begin a curse.
Then all hell broke loose.
A force slammed into Harry, sending him sprawling across the ground, far away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, who were shouting and screaming in the background.
Harry looked up from his back and saw Remus above him.
“Remus? What--?” began Harry, but his honorary uncle shook his head.
Remus dragged Harry away, pulling him from the fight and off near a cluster of tall standing tombstones. There, surrounded by six men in black, was Cedric, rubbing at the side of his head.
“Cedric!” gapped Harry, woozy in relief and from blood loss.
Cedric looked up at his name and smiled.
“Clark, Higgins, Harry’s lost a lot of blood. Check him out,” instructed Remus in a tone of voice that Harry had never heard before.
Looking up at his honorary uncle, Harry saw something change in the kind, gentle werewolf that he affectionately knew as ‘Uncle Remus’ to the fierce and strong werewolf his friends knew when he was in his prime. Harry couldn’t focus, though, and his eyes kept drifting to Voldemort and a man who was standing proud and defiant in front of him.
Distantly, he could hear Remus shouting at one of the men next to him, over the noise of spellfire and shouts of injured Death Eaters and the men in black.
“-get them to headquarters, Quentin!”
A man in all black nodded, leaning over Harry. Quentin reached down and ripped off Harry’s Hogwarts pin, just as another black-clothed man did the same to a startled Cedric.
Remus had turned back to the battle, and Harry did too, ignoring the sting of the pin ripping his robes and cutting briefly into his skin; the antiseptic on his leg cut, or the burn from the ritual cut on his arm.
There, he saw a tall man, standing firm in front of Voldemort, whose mouth had dropped open briefly in surprise, before rage overtook his features.
“JAMES POTTER!” he snarled, causing Harry’s heart to skip a beat.
Dad? He thought dizzyingly, the world tilting off to the side. Seeing Harry beginning to falter, Quentin clasped Harry’s uninjured arm. Harry felt the nauseating tug of a Port-Key, but before he left, he saw something that made his heart leap into his throat and burn the image into his mind forever.
Voldemort swung his wand arm out in an arc, a violent green light erupting from it as the Killing curse cut through the air in dizzying speeds.
The man didn’t move as the Killing curse struck him-instead, Harry saw, the man’s wand was out and resting comfortably in his hand and the killing curse was ferociously fighting against the orange spell from the man’s wand.
Yet, it wasn’t the wands and their spells that had Harry fixating on the man; instead, he focused on the way the spells lit up his face. Harry greedily drank the man’s features in, memorizing his father’s face.
He had a strong jaw and blunt chin, thin lips set into a firm line, light reflecting off his glasses and flyaway black hair, just like everyone said James Potter looked like. But that’s when Harry noticed something off: he had brilliant emerald eyes behind his glasses.
And a faint, but visible, lightening bolt scar on his forehead.
**
Next: Part Five