Chapter Text
Harry sat in the Common Room, head bent over a textbook as he tried to find any spells that might be useful for him to know before the final task. It was hard to concentrate in the bustle of the common area, surrounded by people studying and talking and playing around. The noise had a headache bubbling up at his temples and he wished for a moment they’d all just shut up.
Ron and Hermione were supposed to be helping him, but they’d devolved into petty arguing awhile back. He wasn’t even sure what the argument was. Something about Ron making fun of her planner or something like that. Definitely not something that was more important than them helping him stay alive during the final task.
“Can you two just shut up, please?” he eventually snapped. They broke off mid sentence, staring at him. “I’m trying to, you know, learn something that’s going to keep me from dying and you’re certainly not helping.”
Hermione frowned. “You don’t have to be so rude about it, Harry,” she said reproachfully. “We’re just talking.”
“Yeah, lighten up, mate,” Ron said, slapping him genially on the back.
Harry stared at them, anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. “You do realize my life is literally on the line, don’t you?”
“I know you’ve had a few close shaves during the tournament,” Hermione replied. The patronizing tone of her voice put him on edge and he gritted his teeth in an effort to not just snap back. “But it’s all for fun. I’m sure there’s no real danger to you. It’s not like You-Know-Who is behind all this.”
That was the last straw. He needed to get away from everyone for a while before he really blew a gasket and he got yet another lecture on his childish temper. “You know what, Hermione?” he said with as much patience as he could muster. He very carefully closed the book he’d been looking through, gathering up the rest of his belongings. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll just go to bed.”
He stood and headed upstairs without looking back, though he could hear the two of them sputtering behind him. Hopefully Ron wouldn’t come after him, he didn’t think he could deal with that right now. He just needed some quiet while he studied and tried to figure out how to survive the upcoming task. He had a feeling it was going to be a lot harder than any of them thought, and he was worried.
***
The day of the last task came all too quickly for Harry. He’d managed to learn a few spells well enough to perform them reliably if he needed to be, and there were a few more that he was hoping he’d be able to do if pressed. Hopefully it would be enough.
He spent the first half of the day with the Weasleys, showing Molly around the castle and grounds. It was a little annoying to lose that last bit of preparation time, but he was glad to not be on his own for a while. He and Ron had gotten into another argument that morning and he’d talked to neither Ron nor Hermione since then. It was just another layer of stress on his already weary mind.
As he stood, waiting for the task to begin, it was all he could think about. This was when he most needed his friends’ support, but they just weren’t there. Even Dumbledore, who was supposed to help and protect him, had fallen short in regards to the TriWizard Tournament. He couldn’t imagine how the old wizard had believed letting him compete was a good idea, no matter what that stupid goblet had said.
Dumbledore hadn’t even believed him about not putting his name in, like he thought Harry would somehow want to risk his life in this kind of ridiculousness. Like he needed to prove himself somehow. He was only fourteen when all the rest were overage! He knew he didn’t stand a chance.
He tried to put such thoughts out of his mind as he entered the maze. There was no telling what kind of danger lay around every corner, especially since Hagrid had put some of his terrifying creatures in there somewhere. Harry already had enough experience with how deadly those could be, he’d really rather not be eaten by some vicious creature while the whole school and half the Ministry was watching.
Somehow, though, he made it through. He was injured, yes, but he was pretty sure he would be fine. At least he was until he and Cedric touched the trophy and he felt that sickening tug that told him he’d just been transported by portkey.
A flash of green and all Harry could do was scream out, “No!”
His mind was a blur of pain and grief and confusion as Cedric went down and Pettigrew tied him up to use him in a ritual. It was hard to focus, hard to understand that there really had been a set up. For once Hermione had been wrong. Voldemort really had been behind the TriWizard Tournament, at least this final part of it.
When Voldemort rose up from the cauldron, Harry couldn’t help but stare in awe. For all that the Dark Lord had been after him his entire life, he’d never seen him like this. Seeing him standing so strong and solid in brand new black robes, pale, snake like features stark in the light of the still burning fire, was so very different than the stories he’d been told of the first war or the face on the back of Quirrell's head or even the younger version from the diary.
Uncomfortable as it was to still be tied up to the tombstone, he was also grudgingly impressed with how much effort had obviously gone into Voldemort’s resurrection. Pettigrew was the only one there for now, but it was obvious that he hadn’t been the mastermind. Probably hadn’t even been much help really, Sirius and Remus always said Pettigrew was the least intelligent and most ambitious of the Marauders.
Harry was wrenched away from his thoughts by a cool hand on his face, fingers digging into the sides of his jaw as they pulled him up to look Voldemort in the face. Voldemort was smiling at him, thin lips reflecting the triumph he obviously felt at finally having a body again. Despite the situation, Harry couldn’t really blame him. He’d be pretty pissed floating around as a spirit or stuck as a crinkly little baby too.
“So, Potter, we finally come face to face,” Voldemort said, a sibilant hiss drawing out every ‘s’ just a little longer than usual. “Are you surprised?”
“I’m more surprised you’re not uglier,” Harry replied before he could think better of it. He flushed immediately, feeling like he’d already said far too much, but stubbornly kept eye contact.
Voldemort’s smile grew, the hand on Harry’s face becoming more of a caress than anything else before it pulled abruptly away. “Very interesting,” he murmured, eyes darting to Harry’s scar for the barest second before focusing back on his eyes.
“What is?” Harry asked, frowning. He wasn’t sure what Voldemort had seen or heard in what he’d said, but he was fairly sure he wasn’t going to like whatever conclusion the Dark Lord had drawn.
“Never you mind,” Voldemort said, stepping back, but there was surprisingly little heat in his words. He was silent for another moment, then nodded. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Yes.”
The answer to the question that hadn’t even been asked yet seemed to surprise them both. Harry could feel his heart pounding unsteadily in his chest as the two of them stared at each other, but he didn’t give in to the urge to take back what he’d said. He wanted to see what Voldemort would do.
“You want to join me?” Voldemort finally asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. A dozen feet away, Pettigrew startled at the words, but they ignored him. “Do you know what that means?”
“No,” Harry said honestly.
He took a deep, steadying breath and tried to forget everything but what he wanted in this moment. In a way, it felt like the first and only time he’d ever really been able to make a decision for himself. Thankfully, Voldemort seemed to somehow understand that, remaining quiet as he gave Harry a chance to think. That, out of everything, made up his mind.
“I don’t understand everything it means,” Harry reiterated, relaxing a little when Voldemort nodded but didn’t look upset. “But I still want to… to join you.”
Off to the side, Pettigrew made a sound that sounded a little like an animal choking. Voldemort pulled his wand from his pocket, flicking it almost absentmindedly at the rat faced man. The sound was cut off, but Harry didn’t bother to turn and find out what had happened to him.
“You understand that I can’t simply take your word that you wish to join me, don’t you?” Voldemort asked. Harry nodded. He wouldn’t trust him if the situation was reversed either. “As such, before I free you, you will make an oath on your magic not to harm me.”
Harry frowned. “Just not to harm you? You don’t want to mark me or make me swear my loyalty?”
“I’m beginning to feel that merely marking you would be a waste,” Voldemort replied, the corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement. He waved his wand, and suddenly the pain in Harry’s leg that he’d barely even noticed anymore, was gone. “Think of this as… a test of sorts. You are young still, there will be time for oaths of loyalty later.”
“Alright,” Harry said.
He wasn’t quite sure he understood that either, but that was fine, as Voldemort said, there would be time. For the first time, he thought he actually believed there might be a future for him, one not overshadowed by looking over his shoulder at every turn. Maybe this new future would turn out to be more of the same, but for now he was feeling something that might be peace.