Harry stopped tugging at his bindings. Draco had to have lost his mind.
Voldemort was dead; destroyed by the power of love the Ministry had kept in a sealed room in the Department of Mysteries. Harry had watched with his own eyes as everything that made Voldemort what he was had been melted away by a force he could not comprehend, let alone hope to battle.
Harry himself had barely survived the encounter.
In the end, it was only fact that he had an enormous capacity for love that kept him alive. Raised by unloving guardians, tormented and isolated for most of his childhood, Harry had found love, only to have it torn from him repeatedly by murder. He could still love, even after that, but Voldemort did not have that ability.
Harry had accepted the overwhelming emotion instead of fighting it. It had filled him beyond full, and threatened to burn him out like a candle in a furnace, but it did not kill him.
Voldemort could not have survived that. All the parts of his soul that he had ripped out and hidden were destroyed, along with the evil flesh that Wormtail’s magic had raised and Voldemort’s spirit had inhabited.
“What are you talking about, Draco?” snapped Snape. “What madness has gotten into you?”
Draco laughed, almost hysterically.
“What’s the matter, Severus? Afraid to face the Dark Lord again, since you failed him last time?”
Harry kept pulling at his bindings. He was sure one hand was working free. He could feel the rope loosening slowly as he worked at it.
“I am afraid you have finally lost your mind completely,” answered Snape, in the venomous voice Harry remembered so well. Snape had used that same tone on Harry almost daily for the six years they spent at Hogwarts as student and teacher. It made him want to leap up and strangle the arrogant git.
The two figures that Harry now knew were Nott and Goyle mumbled angrily and took a step towards Snape. Obviously, they too still held feelings about Snape’s manner, or maybe they were just reacting to the insult Snape had directed towards their leader. In either case, Malfoy didn’t seem to be affected by it.
“Possibly you are right, Severus,” Malfoy laughed, “but I have not spent my time wandering the world looking for a place to live out my days in peace like you have, oh no!”
Snape hissed venomously at these words, but Malfoy continued his gloating.
“I have found out more about the Dark Lord’s experiments to avoid death than anybody else could possibly have, even Dumbledore,” he said, obviously wanting to flaunt his superiority.
Harry’s hand was almost free. He could feel his wrist bleeding from the cuts the rope had made while he struggled. The blood was working as a lubricant and his thumb was almost out.
One good heave should get it, Harry thought, panting with effort.
He still did not know what he was going to do even if he did get his hand free. At least the pain in his head had subsided, or he was getting used to it. Pain had been a stranger to Harry for years now, and his tolerance had dropped considerably since his Quidditch playing days.
“Among his many desperate, and sometimes pathetic attempts, I found an object he had created to be used if the unthinkable should happen, which it did, thanks to POTTER!” Malfoy shouted the last word and pointed his wand at Harry.
There was a flash of light, and suddenly thick ropes bound Harry from head to foot. He lost control and screamed in anger and frustration at losing his only chance.
“You fool, Malfoy. Didn’t you learn anything from the last time? If you bring him back he will just kill you, LIKE HE DID YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER!”
“SHUT UP, POTTER!” screamed Malfoy, waving his wand angrily. A cloth gag appeared in Harry’s mouth, silencing him.
Harry was ready to sob in despair.
He had suspected the Horcruxes were not the only safeguard Voldemort had prepared to avoid death. Now Malfoy was confirming his worse fears, and Harry didn’t doubt him. Voldemort had left something behind that would bring him back from the dead, and there was nothing Harry could do to stop him.
Everybody was pointing their wands at Harry now, except for the smaller figure that had stayed behind, the one that had questioned the Dark Mark.
Harry slumped back down on the ground, forgetting the repeated blows he had already taken, and immediately regretted his carelessness as pain again shot through his head.
“So, Draco,” said Snape, lowering his wand. “You found the Resurrection Ring, did you?”
Harry heard Draco and the others gasp. Obviously, they had not expected Snape, or anybody, to know that name. Harry had no idea what it was, but the name seemed to speak for itself.
“You know, of course, that it is useless without a hand to put it on, don’t you?”
“How do you know about that, Severus? Nobody could know. Nobody!” declared Malfoy, pointing his wand at Snape again.
“My dear boy,” continued Snape in his most patronising tone, “I was not called the Dark Lord’s favourite for nothing. He told me many of his most cherished secrets. After all, it would be pointless to go to all of the trouble of making such an artefact, if you don’t tell somebody how to use it, wouldn't it?”
Harry could tell Malfoy was taken aback, but he didn’t let it slow him down.
“I bet he didn’t tell you where to find it though did he, Severus?” smirked Malfoy.
There was a slight hesitation before Snape answered, and Harry wondered how deeply Malfoy’s barb had struck. The best he could hope for now was that the two of them would start fighting and kill each other. It was a bit much to wish for, but it was all he had.
He twisted his head and started to look around. He was lying close to where he had Apparated, on top of Tom Riddle’s grave, with the headstone near his feet. Harry could just make out an arm of his glasses a few feet away. Desperate to do something, Harry began concentrating on it.
Accio glasses, he thought. The arm didn’t move.
Although he had mastered the summoning charm years ago and used it almost daily, he had rarely done it without speaking the words, and never without his wand.
“No, Draco, I must congratulate you on finding it. I believe the Dark Lord had intended on divulging the location to me, but was interrupted by his untimely demise.”
Harry did not know if Snape was lying, and he did not really care.
ACCIO glasses! he thought with more force. The arm sticking up into the air twitched slightly.
“Draco,” said Goyle, speaking for the first time. “It’s getting close to time.”
Draco glanced at his watch, and then to where Harry was lying.
“Get the cauldron and the other stuff. We’ll do it here, on the stroke of midnight as I planned,” he ordered. Goyle and Nott nodded and walked out of Harry’s view, but Harry did not turn to watch where they had gone. Instead, he concentrated on the glasses.
ACCIO GLASSES, he screamed in his mind, and mouthed through the gag.
His glasses sprung up and landed on his face!
“Why tonight, Draco?” asked Snape, “and what is Potter doing here? Surely you can’t be planning on getting around the inconvenient fact that you don’t have the Dark Lord’s body by using Potter’s corpse?”
Harry could not help himself, and looked directly at Malfoy. Was that it? Was he planning on killing Harry, then using his body and some strange artefact to bring Voldemort back to life?
“No, Severus, not his corpse, but his blood!” laughed Malfoy, not looking at Harry.
Snape was about to say something but stopped himself. Nott and Goyle had returned and were carrying a large cauldron between them.
Harry thought he recognised it from the last time he had stood on this very spot fourteen years ago. It was the cauldron Wormtail had used to return Voldemort to his body the first time.
“Very clever, Draco,” said Snape, “but it will not be enough.”
“SHUT UP, SNAPE!” screamed Draco, suddenly infuriated. “YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT I AM DOING, SO SHUT UP!”
With his glasses on Harry could see that Draco did not look well. The skin of his once handsome face was drawn tight over his high cheekbones, and his eyes had an unremitting look of madness in them. Nott and Goyle stepped back, and Harry thought he could see panic in their eyes through the Death Eater masks they wore. The third Death Eater still hung back, as if afraid to take part, but more afraid to run away.
If Harry was still hoping for an all out brawl, Snape’s next words crushed that hope.
“You are right, Draco,” he said almost humbly, bowing his head. “This is your party, and I am here only to help you in anyway I can.”
Draco did not lower his wand, but looked thoughtfully at Snape.
“Excellent, Severus, excellent,” he said, in voice that was far too calm when compared to the raving he done just moments before. The insane look had not left his eyes, but he seemed in control now. “Then I have a task for you. Stand Potter up and tie him to the stone.”
Snape bowed his head again, and walked over to where Harry lay.
Desperately, Harry started searching for his wand. Since he had managed to summon his glasses, he might be able to get it and somehow fight his way out of this situation. It had been in his hand just before he was hit, so it should not be too far away.
Snape reached Harry, and bent down over him. He fumbled at Harry’s back for a second, apparently tightening the original ropes that bound Harry’s hands, and then he roughly grabbed Harry and hauled him upright.
Harry didn’t pass out from the vertigo brought on by the sudden motion, but he deliberately let his legs go limp so that Snape would have to hold his whole weight. He didn’t know why, but he figured the weaker they thought he was, the more chances he might get to do something.
Snape grunted at Harry’s unexpected weight and called Nott and Goyle over to help. With the two of them holding Harry by his arms, Snape removed the thick ropes, and then retied them around the headstone, to hold Harry upright. Harry slumped in the ropes, hoping to be able to gain some slack when he took his weight onto his own feet.
Malfoy was working the cauldron, casting spell after spell. The water in it began to bubble and glow with a green light that shone onto Malfoy’s face, making it look even more sinister. Harry could see the third Death Eater standing behind Malfoy with a box in his hands. Now and then, Malfoy would hold his hand out behind him, and the Death Eater would put something into to, which Malfoy then added to the potion. Sometimes it looked like plants. Other times it was obviously something dead. The whole time, Malfoy was chanting under his breath.
Snape, Nott, and Goyle had moved to stand to one side of Malfoy while he stirred the contents of the cauldron. Snape watched with an almost clinical interest, as if they were back in school and Malfoy was preparing a potion for an exam. Nott and Goyle looked on excitedly and occasionally added a spell of their own.
Harry dropped his head, as if barely able to hold it up, and searched the ground for his wand. At the same time he started trying to work his hands loose again. As he had hoped when Snape had tied him up, leaning his full weight against the ropes had given him the tiniest bit of slack to work with. The gag in his mouth was drying all of his spit and making him desperately thirsty, his head still pounded, and something sharp was sticking into his back, but he had to keep trying.
Suddenly the cauldron gave out a loud crack, and a cloud of smoke rose into the air, enveloping Malfoy’s head. Harry’s heart leapt for joy and he looked up automatically. Something had gone wrong!
Then the smoke cleared, and he could see Malfoy still chanting and holding something above the cauldron in both hands. Smoke was flowing out of the pot and rising through the thing he held before disappearing into the sky. The Death Eaters stirred nervously as the chanting grew louder.
The light from the boiling pot turned a deep red, making Malfoy’s face appear demonic. Then he smiled, and then took his hands away. Floating in front of him was what looked to Harry like a shining metal ring about the size of a man’s wrist. Malfoy stepped back from the cauldron and stopped casting spells.
“See, Severus,” he said, not taking his eyes off the floating object. “In a short while I will complete the summoning and the Dark Lord will stand before me.”
“Why wait, Draco? Moreover, do you really need Potter? Is he here just to witness, and then run off and warn the world, like last time?” asked Snape.
Malfoy tore his eyes from the cauldron and shot Snape a purely malevolent look.
“No, I am not that arrogant. Potter is here for a very important task, and I need to wait until midnight on this night because, as you well know, Halloween is when the veil between life and death is at its thinnest.” Draco’s voice drawled in an almost normal manner as he spoke these words, but he was obviously enjoying explaining his plan.
Glorying in his victory before it happens, thought Harry.
Draco raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
Harry tried to scream as the surface of the grave at his feet cracked.
It was happening again, almost exactly as it had over a decade ago. He could not believe Draco was going to try the same spell that Wormtail had used to bring back Voldemort’s adult body.
Harry struggled to free his hands as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air and then fell softly into the cauldron. Sparks flew in all directions, and the light turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.
Nott walked over to Harry holding a silver dagger and a glass vial.
Something pointy was still poking into Harry's back. As he squirmed, it dug into his flesh painfully.
Again Harry was helpless to prevent it. The dagger penetrated the crook of his arm, and blood flowed into the glass bottle. He looked into Nott’s eyes, and was surprised to see fear so great it verged on panic. He had never known him well while they were at school together, but he had not expected to see fear, not when Harry was bound and helpless.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."
Nott returned to the cauldron and emptied the blood into it. The ring still hovered about a foot above the lip. As the blood hit the surface of the liquid, the light turned a burning red again.
Harry thought he knew what came next. Draco was doing things a little differently to Wormtail, but it was close enough for Harry to be panicking.
He pulled at the ropes even harder and felt his hand start to slip free. The thing poking him the back was painful, but Harry kept pulling. As he started to get his hand free, he managed to grab it. Then he nearly fainted from shock; it was his wand!
The Death Eater who had stood back the whole night walked towards the cauldron, but before he got there, Malfoy held out an arm and stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“Draco what…?” he began to ask, but Malfoy turned to Snape.
“Severus,” he said. “I need a hand for-ah-with, the next step. Jorkins here had volunteered, but I think you are better suited for this part,” Malfoy asked with feigned politeness.
Harry stopped his efforts to get a better hold of his wand. Did Snape know what he was being asked? Had he caught Malfoy’s slip? Harry did not think so. He doubted if Snape had ever heard, or read, the full story of Voldemort’s first return.
“Of course, Draco. Any way that I can be of assistance,” answered Snape, oblivious to what he was been asked.
“Good,” said Malfoy, and then without warning snapped his wand at Snape.
A red light shot out and hit the unprepared man in the chest and he crumpled to the ground. The three Death Eaters dragged his body closer to the cauldron. Nott and Goyle held him, with one arm over its lip, as the third Death Eater raised the silver knife above it.
Harry worked his hand free enough to close fully over the butt of his wand. He could not move it much, but it was better than nothing.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master.”
Harry watched transfixed as the knife slashed down and cut Snape’s hand off just below the wrist. Snape screamed and slumped to the ground as his severed hand fell into the pot.
The light coming from the potion turned a burning white.
This is it, thought Harry. This was when Voldemort had risen from the cauldron, naked as a newborn, but alive.
Last time, Wormtail had a part of Voldemort's soul in a deformed baby-like body. This time, Harry had destroyed Voldemort’s soul in their last, decisive battle, so there was nothing to fill the body, even if Malfoy managed to conjure a ghost.
Harry decided not to wait to find out what Malfoy was hoping to achieve; he had to put a stop to this, now. There was no help coming soon, and he had no time to go get any.
The three Death Eaters were watching the cauldron intently, and Snape was lying on the ground, apparently unconscious.
Closing his eyes, Harry concentrated, and tried to Apparate.
The Return by bajab
Chapter Notes: For the first time I have gotten to the fourth chapter without loosing the whole story ( touch wood).
Many thanks to those who take the time to leave feedback.