Voldemort walked slowly across the damp grass, stopping directly in front of the statue of the Angel of Death. His tall, impeccable figure lood over his bloodied prisoner. He did not address Harry imdiately, instead turning discreetly on his heels to look at the circle of kneeling, trembling Death Eaters.
"Look at him," Voldemort murmured, his deep voice echoing in the stillness of the graveyard. "The great Harry Potter. The boy who lived. For thirteen years, the wizarding world believed that this boy had defeated through his own power. But the truth, my loyal followers, is much simpler and sowhat... poetic."
The Dark Lord began to pace in front of the gravestones, his black robe fluttering gently.
"That Halloween night, when I went to Godric's Hollow to hunt down the Potters, I encountered his mother. Lily Potter stood between my wand and her beloved son. I gave her the chance to step aside, but she chose sacrifice. And that sacrifice... unleashed and granted this child the ultimate protection."
Voldemort stopped and turned his head sharply toward the circle of hooded figures. His eyes glowed intensely in the darkness.
"Now tell ... What is that magic? What is the force that was able to repel my curse?"
The silence was absolute. The Death Eaters cowered in their places, glancing sideways at each other, too terrified to give the wrong answer and suffer the wrath of their newly reborn master.
Voldemort snorted in disappointnt and raised a hand, pointing at the figure of Barty Crouch Jr.
"You, Barty. Tell them the answer."
Barty blinked, his mind working at full speed. He thought for a second, searching through all his knowledge, before responding in a clear, reverent voice.
"Love, my Lord. It was clearly love."
Voldemort nodded slowly, a small smirk curving his lips.
"Love. A magic so old and primitive that I, in my quest for power, overlooked... for a long ti," he said, murmuring the last part. "The sacrifice motivated by a mother's love was the only reason my curse could not harm baby Harry, and instead rebounded to attack my own body. There was no heroism on the part of this boy. Only luck and love."
Listening to his father's entire speech, Aurelian, who had leaned back against one of the gravestones, raised a hand with an expression of deep boredom and waved one of his fingers.
Instantly, the statue moved, allowing Harry Potter to free himself from his bonds.
Harry fell heavily to his knees on the cetery ground. He coughed, resting his hands on the grass, and when he raised his head to gasp for air, he realized that the invisible gag had disappeared. He could speak now. He could scream, curse, or try to fight.
But he did none of those things.
Harry's green eyes, once full of fire and defiance, were now empty. His posture was slumped. He looked at Voldemort in all his majestic power, looked at the circle of Death Eaters, and finally looked at Aurelian, whose magic felt as imnse and unfathomable as his father's. Harry saw himself: alone, wounded, helpless, and surrounded by utter darkness.
He knew that even if he tried to raise his wand, he would die before casting a single spell. The spirit of the Gryffindor lion had been broken. He simply lowered his head, surrendering to his enemy, hoping that the end would co quickly.
Voldemort watched the boy's pathetic submission and let out a dry laugh, losing interest in him instantly. The "Chosen One" was no longer a threat; he was just a broken toy. Besides, he had other, more urgent matters to attend to.
The Dark Lord turned abruptly and reached out his hand toward the circle.
With a violent movent, Lucius Malfoy was torn from the ground. An invisible force grabbed him by the neck, choking him, as it dragged him through the air until he was suspended face to face with Voldemort.
Lucius kicked in the air, bringing both hands to his throat to try to loosen the magical grip that was cutting off his breath. His face turned red and then purple.
"Tell , Lucius," hissed Voldemort, his tone now betraying his anger. "What beca of the diary I gave you to keep so many years ago? Where is that precious object I entrusted to you?"
Malfoy paled even further beneath the purple hue of his suffocation. His eyes widened in panic.
"My... my Lord..." Lucius stamred, spitting out the words in desperation. "I... I'm sorry... the Ministry... the raids... I had to... I'm deeply sorry, my master... I promise you..."
The lack of a direct answer and the cowardice in Lucius' excuses exhausted Voldemort's limited patience. Fury exploded in his red eyes.
Without uttering a single spell, Voldemort began his torture.
Lucius let out a bloodcurdling scream that froze the blood of everyone present. He wished with all his might that it was the Cruciatus Curse; unfortunately, it was not. Lucius felt invisible claws digging into his arms and legs, pulling with such force that it threatened to tear his limbs from his body. At the sa ti, unbearable pressure built up in his abdon, as if his insides were boiling and wanted to burst out.
He writhed in the air, howling like an animal in a slaughterhouse.
Aurelian, seeing that the torture threatened to destroy a political and financial ally he still needed intact, stepped away from the tombstone and walked toward his father. This torture was senseless.
"Father, stop," Aurelian said calmly, cutting off Lucius's screams. "This won't solve anything. A broken and traumatized Lucius Malfoy is of no use to us."
Voldemort turned his head slightly to look at his son. Anger burned in his eyes, but Aurelian's cold, pragmatic logic made him relent. With a sharp movent of his hand, the Dark Lord cut off the magic.
Lucius collapsed to the floor, coughing up blood, shaking uncontrollably, and trying unsuccessfully to curl up in a fetal position.
"Thank my son, Lucius," Voldemort spat with disdain, looking down at him. "If it weren't for Aurelian being brilliant enough to clean up your ss and retrieve the diary on his own, your head would already be joining the dead in this place."
Aurelian stepped forward and knelt beside the trembling and broken Malfoy. He observed the affected areas before opening his lips and beginning to emit a hissing, raspy sound.
Aurelian used Parseltongue spell to heal Lucius, who began to glow with a faint erald green light as the magic took effect. The hissing sound sent a collective shiver down the spines of all the Death Eaters present. However, beneath the terror, a deep admiration ford within them. They were witnessing the true power of Salazar Slytherin's lineage, healing the damage that Voldemort's magic had caused. It was the wonderful gift that their master and heir possessed.
Little by little, Lucius's torn muscles relaxed. The pressure on his internal organs faded and color slowly returned to his face.
Still on the ground, breathing heavily, Lucius looked up at the young Lord.
"Thank you very much," Lucius whispered in a hoarse, trembling voice, gratitude and fear mingling in equal parts. "Thank you, my Lord."
Aurelian looked at him for a second and gave him a weak smile before standing up, ready for the next step in the plan.
He walked purposefully toward Harry Potter, who was still kneeling on the grass, broken and staring blankly into space.
Aurelian crouched down to his level, took him firmly by the shoulders, and forced him to lift his head to look him straight in the eye.
"It was never personal, Potter," Aurelian whispered.
Imdiately afterwards, without giving the boy ti to react, his dark eyes locked onto Harry's green ones.
"Legilins!" he whispered.
The intrusion was swift, brutal, and flawless. Aurelian navigated Harry's most recent mories with the precision of a surgeon. He took the mories of the last few hours and began to rewrite them. He removed the mont when he revealed himself in the maze, erased the blow that broke his nose, and suppressed every image of himself standing in the Little Hangleton cetery. He erased his voice, his actions, and the mont his baby teeth fell into the cauldron.
In Harry's mind, everything flowed with terrifying logic: he had been ambushed near the cup by a shadow, dragged away by Peter Pettigrew, witnessed Voldemort's resurrection as a prisoner, facing only the Death Eaters, the pain of his scar, and the Dark Lord. Aurelian adapted every nook and cranny in the Gryffindor's mind so that the lie would be perfect and take root as the only truth. And as a final step, he healed him of his most obvious injuries.
Breaking eye contact, Harry let out a muffled groan and fell face-first to the floor, completely disoriented. His eyes rolled back for a second, his exhausted mind struggling to assimilate the new fabricated reality.
Aurelian wasted no ti. He pointed his wand at the Triwizard Cup lying a few feet away, pulled it through the air, and threw it directly at Harry's chest.
The mont the tal touched the boy, it activated with a loud burst of air, and Harry Potter disappeared from the graveyard.
Voldemort, who had watched the interaction in silence, tilted his head. He approached his son, a spark of curiosity shining in his newly ford eyes.
"What did you do to him, Aurelian?" asked the Dark Lord.
Aurelian stood up straight.
"I removed myself from his mories of the last few hours," he replied with calculated pragmatism. "He will only rember your rebirth, your followers, and his own powerlessness. I don't need the whole world to know who my real father is just yet."
Voldemort nodded slowly, a smile of deep appreciation forming on his lips. His heir's cunning and control were a formidable weapon... Elaine would surely be proud.
anwhile, miles away, the chaos of the Quidditch field was interrupted by a dull thud.
Harry Potter materialized violently at the entrance to the maze, crashing face-first into the grass. The Triwizard Cup rolled a few feet away from him, clinking against the ground.
Silence fell over the crowd for a microsecond. Everyone craned their necks to see what was happening.
"Harry! Harry!"
A heart-wrenching scream cut through the cold night air. Sirius Black leapt over the barriers, running like a man possessed toward his godson. He fell to his knees beside him and embraced him with desperate force, terror etched across his face as he saw the boy's blood and pallor.
Harry writhed weakly in the embrace, bringing a trembling hand to his mouth. The combination of the violent journey, Aurelian's ntal intrusion, and the residual horror of his mories made his stomach churn violently, forcing him to swallow hard to keep from vomiting right there.
Albus Dumbledore brusquely pushed the Ministry officials aside, hurrying over, his eyes frantically scanning the boy in front of him.
"Harry!" Dumbledore demanded, kneeling beside Sirius, his voice thick with urgency. "rlin's beard, boy... Where were you? What happened?"
Dumbledore's words seed to break a dam in Harry's mind. The boy ca to his senses with a jolt. The image of the Dark Lord rising from the cauldron burned in his mory with maddening clarity.
Harry clung to Sirius' robes with his hands stained with dirt and blood, tears streaming from his eyes. He took a deep breath and began to scream in a voice so broken that it froze the blood of everyone present.
"He's back! Voldemort has returned!"
The chaos in the stadium ca to a sudden halt. The murmurs died in the students' throats. Cornelius Fudge turned pale as a sheet. An absolute, heavy, terrifying silence fell over the hundreds of spectators.
"I saw it, Professor! I saw it! I saw him co back to life!" Harry continued to scream, sobbing hysterically against his godfather's chest.
Sirius tried in vain to calm him, rocking him, stroking his tousled hair, and whispering frantically that he was safe now. But Harry's terror was unstoppable, repeating the terrible truth over and over again for the whole wizarding world to hear.
The illusion of peace in his little world was shattered. Darkness had returned to Great Britain.
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