The Resurrection
Like waves on a ship, Harry found his consciousness dipping in and out, finding himself dumped on a stone floor and his body heat being leached into its depths. He could feel the tickle of grass on his nose and a penetrating darkness not just in the sky, but also emanating from whatever those men were shouting about by the…was that a cauldron? Feeling a sharp stinging pain in his arm and then his HEAD! His head was on fire, and he was screaming and rolling, and he wasn’t Harry he had a body once more, he had returned finally and could feel overwhelming relief and pain, so much pain.
Harry drifted back, his body trembling but the nausea kept his eyes firmly shut, and he could pick out voices, a cold, clear, calm voice was the most distinct, and horrifyingly something solid and heavy was beginning to slide its way across his body, but he could find no strength to move.
“-as a reward for your loyalty, Barty. Loyalty above all others,”
“I seek no reward master, only to serve you,” another, lower voice said. Presumably Barty.
“Lord Voldemort rewards those who are faithful,” returned the calmer, almost soothing one.
“As you wish my Lord,” Harry fought a wave of pain to remain conscious. Voldemort, it was Voldemort, the man who killed his parents and who he’d faced in the mirror room only a few weeks ago. Was it Voldemort who had stepped out of the cauldron? No, it couldn’t be, Voldemort had no body, Harry had seen that, but then who else…. the thing on his back was somehow getting heavier, if he didn’t think it would be bizarre Harry would have thought it was a snake.
“Did anyone see you? It is important none know of my return tonight, especially Dumbledore. The longer we can act unnoticed the better.”
“I was quick and careful. I killed the family and set the car on fire to destroy any possible hint of magic.” Barty said, describing in such a methodical, apathetic voice the murder of Harrys last remaining relatives. He could feel his face, the dried blood caking it and the fresh blood oozing down from his forehead, which seemed to be the epicenter of his pain.
“And the boy?” the higher voice inquired as the sound of material turning and shifting over the grass became apparent in Harrys ears as his hair began to stand on end.
“Alive,” said Barty “He tried to get away, but he’s alive”.
“And listening to every word.” Harry felt his heart begin to pound faster. “But you certainly made sure he didn’t cause any trouble,” Voldemorts cold voice mused, for Harry was certain now that this was Voldemort, and if he wasn’t already freezing and beginning to tremor violently, he would think his blood would run cold at that thought.
Another voice chimed in to the conversation, this one female and…strange somehow, ”The boy is cold, cold. He will be dead soon master, will I eat him then?” the voice coming from right next to Harry said.
“Will you kill him now, my Lord?” Barty asked. Harry was certain his death was coming, but he was surprised to hear a pause and Voldemort did not respond straight away. He heard the rustling of robes on grass drawing near and struggled to push his eyes open, to move his leaden limbs, anything to protect himself. He saw the bottom of dark robes stopping a slight distance away from his face, and as he blinked his eyelids heavily the robes were suddenly crouching and he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder and push him onto his back. The female voice letting out a slightly disgruntled hiss as his body moved. Harry let out a pathetic sound at the jostle, no matter how gentle or, wary? And could finally see the man crouched next to him; a lean, somewhat handsome face with dark hair and blue watchful eyes, but with something sinister and deadly and wrong about it.
“Harry Potter.” Lord Voldemort said. “How these past weeks have changed our situations drastically.” Voldemort had a sort of pleased gleam in his eyes which turned to curiosity as he tilted his head and looked at the boy in front of him, blood caking his head from where Barty appeared to have attempted to bash his skull in, and various other cuts and bruises littered his face and arms. Voldemort stood suddenly and walked back over to Barty, his most loyal death eater standing patiently waiting. “The boy will remain alive for now, that will remain between the two of us, I will decide what to do with him later. Take him to the house, fix his injuries and leave him there with Nagini, then return. Tonight, we shall summon the others”.
Harry was lifted again, after being slid out from under the heavy thing, and his head could take no more pain. Voldemort stalking the graveyard as he prepared for whatever was coming next, and a winding long hosepipe sneaking behind them, was the last thing he saw before passing out again.