Harry couldn't make more than a muffled sound, nor could he see where Pettigrew had gone. He couldn't turn his head to see beyond the headstone; he could see only what was right in front of him. His holly wand was on the ground near the Cup. And the bundle of robes that Harry knew was Voldebaby was close by, at the foot of the grave. Voldebaby seemed to be stirring as fretful as the previous timeline.
Hearing noises at his feet, he looked down and saw Nagini slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. 'Don't go away, little snaky,' he thought.
Pettigrew's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. He was now pushing the stone cauldron to the foot of the grave, already full of what seemed to be water, but was actually a very difficult to brew potion. With his wand - or possibly Riddle's - he lit a fire under the cauldron as Nagini slithered away into the darkness. With magic, the liquid in the cauldron heated very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Pettigrew tending the fire and cauldron.
Harry quickly glanced at the pile of robes that was Voldebaby and saw the mini homonculus, or whatever it was, couldn't see him. Using the steam that was blocking Pettigrew's vision, Harry quickly checked himself over by slightly moving his arms to see if the rest of his things were still with him. As far as he could tell, they were.
The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And Harry heard the high, cold voice again. "Hurry!"
Taking another look at the potion within the cauldron, Pettigrew called, "It is ready, Master."
"Now..." said the cold voice.
Walking over, Pettigrew pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing Voldebaby in all his horrid glory.
Voldebaby had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Harry had never seen anything less like a child, either this time or last. It was hairless and scaly-looking; a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face was flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.
Voldebaby raised his thin arms, put them around Pettigrew's neck, and allowed Pettigrew to lift him. Harry saw the look of revulsion on Pettigrew's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, Harry saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion before Pettigrew lowered the creature in; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface.
Last time, Harry thought he'd heard a thud as the small body hit the bottom of the cauldron. But, he now realised there was no such sound.
Pettigrew began his ritual chant. His voice shook, frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Trying to hide his smirk, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Pettigrew'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, aqua blue. The colour was different than the first time they went through this.
'Yes!' thought Harry. 'This is going to work!'
And now Pettigrew was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs. He did not know that the colour of the potion was wrong.
"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.
Knowing what was coming, Harry shut his eyes for the next few moments. But he could not block the scream that pierced the night. He heard Pettigrew's hand land with a soft thud on the ground, and heard the rat's anguished panting; then the sickening splash, as it was picked up and dropped into the cauldron.
Opening his eyes again, Harry looked to the potion. Instead of the burning red, this time, the potion was more a fiery orange.
'Now comes the important part,' thought Harry. 'Does he realise he's been tricked by seeing the blood pouch for what it really is?'
Pettigrew was gasping and moaning with agony as he walked to Harry. "B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe."
Harry could do nothing to prevent it, but didn't want to, anyway. He saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Pettigrew's remaining hand, felt its point penetrate the blood pouch in the crook of his right arm, and watched the blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Pettigrew, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to what he thought was Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.
He staggered back to the cauldron with the blood and poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a cloudy, murky grey. It was not the brilliant white of before, the previous timeline.
Pettigrew, 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.
Harry was suddenly shocked to feel someone come up behind him and remove the invisibility cloak from his backpocket. 'Who was this?' he thought. 'This shouldn't...' But then her scent reached his nostrils. 'Hermione!' he nearly gasped aloud. And would have done precisely that if not for the cloth in his mouth. That was ripped away a moment later.
With it gone he sucked in a lungful of air. "Get out of here!" he furiously whispered. "Nagini's around here!"
"Nagini's being hunted by Daphne," whispered Hermione. "Now hold on while I cut the bottom of the ropes. You'll still appear tied, but you won't be."
Suddenly, a surge of grey steam billowed thickly from the cauldron, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn't see anything but vapour hanging in the air. Harry felt the ropes around his torso be cut free. Then the underside of the ropes on his arms were each cut, one after the other in quick succession.
Through the mist in front of him, he saw the dark outline of a weak looking man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron, before he took a staggering step over the rim, almost tripping over Pettigrew.
"We've gotta go," whispered Hermione. "Nagini's been dealt with."
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