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Iris felt her feet slam into the ground; her burn felt as though a massive pressure was on top of it, and she stumbled forward; her hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. She raised her head. 

"Where are we?" Harry said. 

Cedric shook his head. He got up as Iris pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around. 

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously travelled miles —perhaps hundreds of miles — for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. 

They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Iris could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside. 

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at the twins. 

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked. 

"Nope," said Iris. She was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?" 

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?" 

"Yeah," said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.

They all pulled out their wands. Iris kept looking around her. She had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched. 

"Someone's coming," she said suddenly. 

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Iris couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, she could tell that it was carrying something. 

Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And — several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time — Iris saw that the thing in the persons arms looked like a baby... or was it merely a bundle of robes?

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure. 

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Iris, Harry, and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another. 

Out of nowhere, an old memory came crashing into her thoughts. A hissing voice, a green flash.

And then, without warning, Harry fell to the ground beside her, his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face, holding himself back from screaming in obvious pain.

From far away, above her head, Iris heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare." 

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"

"NO!"

A blast of green light blazed across Iris' eyes, and she watched in slow motion as Cedric's face went from shocked to blank as the spell hit him square in the chest. And then Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside Harry.

He was dead. 

For a second that contained an eternity, Iris stared into Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised.

The world came crashing down around her as her knees gave out. She reached out but hovered with trembling hands over his face, a downpour of tears coming from her eyes.

"Cedric — no, no, no."

He didn't move. A hollow feeling emerged within Iris, she felt like she would be sick. His once bright grey eyes that would look at her with nothing but love now looked at nothing at all. His kind face that smiled at every passing stranger rested unmoving, with no smile to be seen. Iris clutched his sleeves in her fists as her head fell forward to rest on his chest as she sobbed.

And then Iris felt herself being pulled to her feet. 

The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging both Harry and Iris toward the marble headstone. Iris, through her tears, saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before she was forced around and slammed against it. 

TOM RIDDLE

The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around the twins, tying them shoulder-to-shoulder from neck to ankles to the headstone. Iris just let her head fall back on the stone, her usually kind and beautiful face now contorted with misery and grief. Iris could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; beside her, Harry struggled, and the man hit him — hit him with a hand that had a finger missing. And Iris realized who was under the hood. It was Wormtail.

"You!" she gasped, her tears beginning to dry up in disbelief. 

But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that the twins were bound so tightly to the headstone that they couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew two lengths of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into each of their mouths; then, without a word, he turned from Iris and Harry and hurried away. Iris couldn't make a sound, nor could she see where Wormtail had gone; she couldn't turn her head to see beyond the headstone; she could see only what was right in front of her. 

Cedric's body was lying some twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. Both Iris and Harry's wands were on the ground at Cedric's feet. The bundle of robes that Iris had thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave.

Left with nowhere to look beside her dead boyfriend's body, Iris closed her eyes tightly as tears began rolling down her face again. Her arm that was touching Harry's shifted as he wrapped his hand around hers. Iris' eyes fluttered open to look at her brother. He stared sadly at her, knowing how her heart had broken.

The bundle seemed to be stirring fretfully. Iris watched it, and as Harry moaned in pain through his gag, Iris understood that his scar was searing with pain and she suddenly knew that she didn't want to see what was in those robes... she didn't want that bundle opened... 

She could hear noises at their feet. She looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where she and Harry were tied. Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within Iris' range of vision, and Iris saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water — Iris could hear it slopping around — and it was larger than any cauldron Iris had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in. 

The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness.

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And Iris heard the high, cold voice again. 

"Hurry!" 

The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds. 

"It is ready. Master." 

"Now..." said the cold voice. 

Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Iris let out a yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking her mouth. She felt Harry squeeze her hand tightly in fear.

It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind — but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Iris had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face — no child alive ever had a face like that — flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Iris saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, Iris saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Iris heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

Let it drown, Iris thought, watching the scene in horror, please... let it drown...

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. 

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The surface of the grave at the twins' feet cracked. Horrified, Iris watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue. 

And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs. 

"Flesh — of the servant — w-willingly given – you will – revive – your master. " 

He stretched his right hand out in front of him — the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. 

Iris realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened — she closed her eyes as tightly as she could, but she could not block the scream that pierced the night, that went through Iris as though she had been stabbed with the dagger too. She heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail's anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Iris couldn't stand to look... but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through Iris' closed eyelids... 

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not until Iris heard Wormtail's anguished breath become louder did she realize that Wormtail was right in front of them. Her eyes popped open to see him looking between her and Harry as if deciding something.

"B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe." 

Iris could do nothing to prevent it, she was tied too tightly... Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding her, she saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtails remaining hand. She watched its point penetrate the crook of Harry's right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing. 

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened... 

Let it have drowned. Iris thought, let it have gone wrong...

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Iris, so that she couldn't see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapour hanging in the air... It's gone wrong, she thought... it's drowned... please... please let it be dead... 

But then, through the mist in front of them, she saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head. 

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry and Iris... and Iris stared back into the face that had haunted her and her brother's nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils...

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

He turned to the quivering man behind him, "My wand, Wormtail."

Complying nervously, Wormtail handed him the wand and bowed deeply.

Voldemort inspected his new body for a moment, appearing pleased with the results. He then softly hissed out, "Hold out your arm."

Wormtail sputtered gratefully, "Master... Thank you, master."

Voldemort looked at him with disgust, "The other arm Wormtail."

Wormtail's face dropped immediately but he held out his other arm. Voldemort forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and Iris saw something upon the skin there, something like a jet black tattoo — a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth — the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort stuck his wand into Wormtail's arm. The sky seemed to darken and Iris understood what was happening — others had been summoned.

One by one, Death Eaters appeared in a large circle around Voldemort. Once it seemed like everyone who was coming had shown up, Voldemort spoke, "Welcome my friends. Thirteen years it's been, and yet here you stand before me as though it were only yesterday. I confess myself... disappointed. Not one of you tried to find me." He walked around in the middle of them all, observing his followers masked figures.

Voldemort then approached each of the death eaters, hissing their names as he stripped them of their masks, "Crabbe! Macnair! Goyle!" All but one fell to their knees. Voldemort approached the last standing Death Eater, speaking lowly, "Not even you... Lucius."

As his mask, too, was stripped from his face, the elder Malfoy dropped to a kneeling position, "My lord. Had I detected any sign or even a whisper of your whereabouts—"

"There were signs my friend, and more than whispers," Voldemort cut him off.

Lucius hesitantly stood once more, "I assure you, my lord, I have never renounced the old ways. The face I have been obliged to present each day since your absence, that is my true mask."

"I— I returned..." a voice cut in.

In no time, Voldemort had swept over to Wormtail who cowered as he neared, "Out of fear, not loyalty. Still, you have proved yourself useful these past few months Wormtail."

Voldemort raised his wand and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist.

The traitor fell to Voldemort's feet, kissing the hem of his dark robes gratefully, "Thank you, master, thank you."

"You'll all notice we have eight missing Death Eaters... three dead in my service. Two entombed in Azkaban... they chose this fate rather than renounce me... When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honoured beyond their dreams... One, too cowardly to return... he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever... he will be killed, of course... and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service." 

The Death Eaters stirred, and Iris saw their eyes dart sideways at one another.

"He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friends arrived here tonight... Yes," said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Iris and Harry's direction. "The Potters have kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call them my guests of honour."

He waved his wand and immediately the bonds in their mouths preventing the twins from speaking were gone. Iris wished she could hide the fear she was sure was projected all over her face.

"Look at them, standing on the bones of my father." Voldemort spoke directly to the twins, slowly walking closer, "I'd introduce you but word has it you're almost as famous as me these days. The boy and girl who lived. How lies have fed your legend, Harry and Iris. Shall I reveal what really happened that night thirteen years ago? Shall I divulge how I truly lost my powers?" He turned from them, stalking away towards his servants, "It was love. You see when dear sweet Lily Potter gave her life for her only children she provided the ultimate protection. I could not touch them," he said bitterly, "It was old magic, something I should have foreseen."

His head snapped back to the twins, and though Iris was breathing heavily, she tried to push her still blossoming tears back. Voldemort stared at them as he continued speaking, "I was faced with a choice then, a choice that was made once again tonight. Which of the Potter children do I take on as my foe? The process to bring me back to my powers required only one sacrifice of blood." Voldemort paced slowly around the circle, his cloak drifting along behind him, "I chose the boy, same as I did when they were just children." He turned back to Iris and Harry, hissing, "Twins. They share the same blood as their mother, I could not touch them back then so the killing curse rebounded upon myself... But no matter, no matter." He walked right up to the twins, hovering before their horror-filled faces, "Things have changed, I can touch you now!"

With that, he reached out one long and boney finger, pressing it to Harry's forehead right where his scar sat. Iris squinted her eyes tightly closed as her face contorted in agony over listening to the pain-filled screams coming from her brother.

With a triumphant laugh, Voldemort stepped back, "Here they are... the children you all believed had been my downfall..." 

Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Iris. He raised his wand. 

"Crucio!" 

It was pain beyond anything Iris had ever experienced; her very bones were on fire; her head must have been slowly exploding; her eyes were rolling madly in her head; she wanted it to end... to black out... to die... 

Harry was yelling next to her, begging him to stop. And then it was gone. She was hanging limply in the ropes binding her to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter. 

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that these children could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry and Iris Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing them, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help them, and no mother to die for them. I will give the twins their chance. They will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini," he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching. 

"Now untie them, Wormtail, and give them back their wands."

Iris and Harry were released from the statue, their wands thrust back into their hands.

Voldemort paced back and forth before them, the Death Eaters walking in closer to block them if they attempted to run.

"You've been taught how to duel I presume yes?" At these words, Iris remembered, as though from a former life, the duelling club at Hogwarts she and Harry had attended briefly two years ago... All they had learned there was the Disarming Spell, "Expelliarmus"... and what use would it be to deprive Voldemort of his wand, even if one of them could, when he was surrounded by Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least ten to two? Iris had learned minimal things that could possibly fit them for this. She knew she was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned... the unblockable Avada Kedavra curse — and Voldemort was right — their mother was not here to die for them this time... She and Harry were quite unprotected... Iris knew in an instant though that she would die before she let anything happen to Harry, "First, we bow to each other. Come on now Iris, Harry, the niceties must be observed, Dumbledore would not want you to forget your manners now, would he?" At their resistance he raised his wand and forced them to do so, "I said bow!"

Voldemort raised his wand again, and before Iris or Harry could do anything to defend themselves, before they could even move, Iris had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that she no longer knew where she was.. White-hot knives were piercing every inch of her skin, her head was surely going to burst with pain, she was screaming more loudly than she'd ever screamed in her life— And then it stopped. Iris rolled over, breathing painfully. Harry was right beside her and helped pull Iris to her feet; she was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off

"That hurt, didn't it, Iris? You don't want me to do that again, do you?" Voldemort asked. He tilted his head, "Perhaps you'd prefer to die just like your silly boyfriend?"

The Death Eaters around them chuckled at that.

"Perhaps another little dose of pain? Would you like a turn, Harry?" 

Voldemort raised his wand, but Harry was ready; with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground. Iris, however, who was standing just behind where her brother had been, did not have the same reflexes.

With no time left to react besides showing a final shocked expression, a quick jet of silver light nailed her right in the stomach and she crumpled to the ground.

Iris wasn't dead, she was aware enough to realise that, but she couldn't move either. Her eyes were unmoving beneath her half-closed eyelids and everything around her was suddenly muffled. She could hear shouting and spells being fired over her, but had no awareness of what was happening. It was a strange feeling, to be trapped within your mind but have mild comprehension of what was going on around you.

There was a large burst of light just above her. Red a green mixed together, looking like they were battling for dominance. Iris couldn't have explained what happened next if she wanted to: She felt a tug in her gut, and though her body remained paralyzed, a beam of gold suddenly came from within her, shooting up to connect with the already present spells.

The golden thread connecting her between Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now...

She heard more shouting and then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air... It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Iris, Harry, and Voldemort. It was a sound Iris recognized, though she had heard it only once before in her life: phoenix song. 

It was the sound of hope to Iris... the most beautiful and welcome thing she had ever heard in her life... She felt as though the song were inside her instead of just around her... It was the sound she connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost as though a friend were speaking in her ear, reminding her to hold on.

Moments later, Iris experienced something strange. There was a great flash of light, and then familiar voices spoke to her:

The soft voice of Cedric spoke in her ear, "You're going to make it, love. I'm right here with you."

Then a less familiar voice, but one that she recognized in an instant, her mother, "Stay strong, sweetheart."

"You've done so well, Iris." It was her dad, his words sending a warm feeling through her.

The final person who spoke was not a voice Iris recognized, though they spoke to her comfortingly, "Don't be afraid... we'll find you soon enough."

One last message from her mum's soft voice echoed through her mind, "Be ready to run, dear."

Suddenly Iris' body was released from its hold and Iris inhaled deeply, her eyes snapping wide open as she felt like someone had put their foot on the gas on her heartrate.

Her golden connection dissolved as misty grey forms flew at Voldemort, breaking the duel.

"Iris!" Harry yelled, beckoning her over to him as he ran for Cedric's body.

Iris scrambled off the ground, wand in hand, and ran as fast as she could towards her brother and grabbed his arm just as he yelled, "Accio!" pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle— Iris heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that she felt the jerk behind her navel that meant the Portkey had worked — it was speeding them away in a whirl of wind and colour, and Cedric along with them... They were going back, but too much had been lost.

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I'm really sorry folks, but it had to be done.

this was so sad to write, and we'll be seeing the after-effects of what happened for a while, which I'm excited to write about. I've got a lot of stuff planned to come soon, so I hope you guys aren't too heartbroken to come back!

if you're willing to share, I'd love to hear how you guys are feeling about the story right now! let me know if you have any predictions or requests for things coming later!