"Pew."
A faint, almost inaudible sound came from right in front of Cedric, but no one else noticed it.
Because the Killing Curse was already about to hit him.
"Bang!"
A tremendous force sent Cedric flying backward like a discarded rag doll.
"Cedric!"
Harry finally found his voice, shouting hoarsely, his eyes filled with disbelief.
"Cedric…"
Fleur clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.
Viktor's eyes were red, his wand clenched so tightly that his short nails dug painfully into his palm.
The pain only sharpened his focus.
"Expulso!"
Without hesitation, he flicked his wand and dragged Fleur behind him, both of them diving behind a massive tombstone.
Whoever this was, the Killing Curse had been fast and precise. It was far beyond anything they, still students, could handle.
"Take cover, Potter!" he shouted urgently at Harry, who was still frozen in place.
Voldemort blocked the explosive spell with mild surprise, though the dust it kicked up gave Viktor just enough time to hide.
"So, you're not all complete fools."
He let out a soft laugh, but his already eerie face twisted into something even more grotesque.
"Master, I… we should hurry and complete your resurrection. I'm worried… worried someone might come…"
Peter Pettigrew looked increasingly anxious, his eyes darting everywhere.
He was terrified that the Dark Lord would start slaughtering them now. If that happened, Professor Fawley would never spare him.
"Silence, Peter!"
Voldemort snapped, flicking his wand and blasting apart the tombstone where Viktor had been hiding.
"But… Barty Jr. said we only have half an hour at most!"
Peter forced himself to speak up.
That was indeed what Barty Jr. had said. The planned time window was around half an hour, depending on how quickly Professor Fawley dealt with the others.
Voldemort hesitated.
Viktor and Fleur had reacted faster than expected. He still had some strength left, but dealing with Tver, capturing Harry under interference, and completing the resurrection at the same time was unrealistic.
"Fine. Then I'll leave those two rats to you."
He turned his wand toward Harry, who had just started trying to retreat. A rope appeared out of thin air and wrapped tightly around him.
"Let me go!"
Harry snapped out of it, but with his pounding head and Voldemort's magic binding him, he could not break free.
He could only walk forward step by step, like a puppet on strings.
Viktor and Fleur tried to help, but Peter's spells forced them back.
Coward or not, Peter was still a proper Hogwarts graduate, and he had learned quite a bit of magic from James and the others.
"This is the magic of your beloved Professor Fawley. Not bad, right?"
Voldemort grinned, but on his gaunt, hollow face, it looked utterly inhuman.
Because he was inhuman.
"Professor's magic is a hundred times better than yours!" Harry shot back angrily. But as he got closer, the pain in his scar only intensified.
"Ah… thinking back, I looked rather pathetic the last few times we met. But that will change very soon."
Voldemort sounded almost cheerful as he spoke, turning his back on Harry and walking toward the only source of light in the darkness.
To Harry, the words were chilling.
Has he gone mad?
But what Voldemort did next left him even more speechless.
He took out a large ladle and casually stirred the boiling potion in the cauldron, as if he were preparing a meal.
Then he brought out bones.
Not one. A pile of them.
"Ah… the bones of the father, given unknowingly, may restore the son…"
He tipped them in all at once. The potion immediately boiled more violently.
Next, he produced something even more horrifying.
A severed lower leg. Still attached to the foot.
The cut had been frozen shut, but the dark red blood and the purplish-black skin from long storage made Harry gag.
"Ugh—"
"Did Tver Fawley never teach you manners, Potter?" Voldemort said, admiring the leg with satisfaction. "A loyal servant, who came from afar to offer this to me."
Then, as if bored, he tossed it into the cauldron.
"Though he did it to test his Portkey…"
"The flesh of a servant, willingly given, may restore the master."
"Yeah, I'm sure he was very 'willing'," Harry shot back, forcing himself to mimic Malfoy's mocking tone so he would not sound weak.
"Don't worry. You're next."
Voldemort suddenly turned around. The red and yellow in his eyes looked even more unnatural.
"The blood of an enemy… I doubt you would give it willingly."
He clenched his hand. The rope snapped tight around Harry's head.
"Taken by force… will bring your enemy back to life."
In his other hand, a small silver knife appeared. Under the firelight, its gleam was painfully bright.
Harry instinctively tried to pull away from the approaching blade.
But the rope held firm, and his weakened body could not resist.
The cold blade pressed against his cheek.
A moment later, warmth spread across his skin.
The knife had cut him.
Voldemort avoided touching the blood, raising his left hand to hold a floating sphere of it.
"Young blood…"
He sighed, stepping toward the cauldron.
Harry let out a breath. Even with blood still pouring from his face, having Voldemort a little farther away felt better.
Then he saw what happened next.
Voldemort leapt straight into the boiling cauldron, still holding the sphere of blood.
Boil him alive.
The thought flashed uncontrollably through Harry's mind.
The flames beneath the cauldron suddenly died down. Thick white steam rose up, blocking Harry's view.
Then, slowly, a figure stood up inside the cauldron.
No better than the skeletal form from before.
As the mist thinned, Harry saw it clearly.
Skin paler than bone. Eyes red and yellow like a snake's. A flat, slit-like nose.
Voldemort had been resurrected.
Wait.
Harry's eyes widened in shock.
There were two Voldemorts?!