tradition

16

"Three."

The boys grunted as the ground beneath their feet lurched and the sky shuddered ominously. A gust of wind howled, and Harry squinted through the turmoil, slowly standing up with Cedric at his side. "You okay?" Cedric asked, his voice tinged with concern. Harry nodded, extending a hand to help his friend up. "Where are we?" Cedric questioned, placing his hands on his hips in bewilderment.

Cedric knelt and examined the Triwizard Cup that lay innocuously on the grass. "It's a Portkey..." Cedric said, a mix of amazement and trepidation in his voice. Harry's gaze shifted to the surrounding gravestones, his eyes widening in recognition. "I've been here before... in a dream." He spotted a particularly large gravestone, larger than the others, and flinched backward when he saw the name inscribed upon it.

Tom Riddle.

"Cedric! We have to get back to the Portkey! Now!" Harry shouted, panic rising in his voice. "Why?" Cedric questioned, his brows knitting in confusion. Harry cringed and shouted in pain, clutching his lightning-bolt scar. "Get back to the Portkey, Cedric!" Harry repeated, his desperation evident. His eyes widened further as he saw Peter Pettigrew clutching an oily bundle. Harry dropped to his knees in agony, the searing pain in his scar nearly unbearable. Cedric, sensing the imminent danger, held his wand at Wormtail, his teeth gritted in defiance. "What do you want?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"Kill the spare," a low, chilling voice whispered. Wormtail pointed his wand at Cedric, and a flash of green light erupted, striking Cedric's body. "Avada Kedavra." Harry stared in horror as Cedric's body crumpled to the ground. "No!" he screamed, his voice echoing in the eerie silence.

Cedric lay motionless on the grass, his lifeless body twitching sporadically. Wormtail jerked Harry off his knees, roughly dragging him to the statuary fronting Tom Riddle's headstone. Stone hands folded over Harry's arms, imprisoning him against the cold, unyielding marble. A large cauldron bubbled and hissed ominously, and Harry grunted, straining futilely against his restraints.

"Do it now!" the same low voice commanded. Harry's eyes darted to the bundle in Pettigrew's arms, watching in horror as something pale and grotesque dropped heavily into the roiling potion. Wormtail raised his trembling wand and pointed it at the large gravestone. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given," he recited, his voice quivering with fear and anticipation. The ground beneath Harry ruptured, and a withered bone rose from the earth, dropping into the cauldron with a hiss. "Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed," Wormtail continued, lifting a dagger from his coat pocket. He cried out in agony as he sliced off his own hand, which fell into the potion with a sickening plop. "And blood of the enemy, forcibly taken," he stammered, walking over to Harry.

Harry's eyes snapped open in horror as Wormtail approached, the dagger glinting menacingly. The blade pierced Harry's forearm, and blood flowed freely, dripping into the cauldron. Harry screamed in agony, his body writhing uncontrollably as the potion raged and a shadowy figure emerged from the mist.

Voldemort.

The shadow transformed, smoke turning into skin, and Harry stared in disbelief as Voldemort stood before him, fully resurrected. Voldemort studied his hands and face, a look of feral delight spreading across his features. "My wand, Wormtail," he demanded, approaching the cowering Animagus. Wormtail shuffled forward, handing Voldemort a gleaming wand with trembling hands.

"Hold out your arm," Voldemort commanded, his voice dripping with disdain. Wormtail whimpered, holding out his bleeding stump. "The other arm, Wormtail," Voldemort sneered. The man complied, extending his uninjured arm. Voldemort grinned as a skull glowed on the pale flesh of Wormtail's forearm, a serpent protruding from the skull's mouth. A howling wind whipped through the trees, and the air sizzled with the snap of cloaks as one by one, Death Eaters appeared, encircling Voldemort.