date: 24 June 1995
Timeline: Goblet of Fire, Near the end of the tournament...
Now that Harry was so near the Triwizard Cup, he could already imagine himself emerging victorious from the maze with the cup in his hand. After being unwantedly placed in this tournament and being underestimated as the underdog, he surely deserves this victory, which he has worked for. But as his gaze shifted to Cedric, his victory vision faded, replaced by another one of friendship and glory for Hogwarts.
"Both of us," Harry proposed. Cedric's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "What?"
"We'll take it together, tie for the victory. It's still a Hogwarts win. We've helped each other get here," Harry explained.
Cedric hesitated, unfolding his arms. "You... you sure?"
"Yeah," Harry affirmed. "We've got this far together. Let's finish it together."
A grin spread across Cedric's face. "You're on. Come here." He clasped Harry's arm, and they walked toward the Triwizard Cup. Standing before it, hands hovering over the gleaming handles, they synchronized their movements.
"On three, right?" Harry suggested. "One... two... three"
Their hands grasped the handles simultaneously. A sudden jerk, a howl of wind, and swirling colors surrounded them. Feet off the ground, they were pulled into an inexplicable journey.
The impact was abrupt. Harry's injured leg gave way as he fell forward. The Triwizard Cup slipped from his hand, fell on the ground, and rolled away. As he raised his head, disorientation clouded his senses because the surroundings had transformed. They were no longer at Hogwarts but instead in a dark, overgrown graveyard. They found themselves in between the many graves, and to their right was the statue of what looked like an angel of death. Nearby was a stone cauldron, a strange object to be found in a graveyard.
Cedric, glancing between the cup and Harry, questioned, "Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?"
"Nope," Harry replied, scanning the eerie graveyard. The silence weighed heavily, and an unsettling feeling of being watched lingered.
Then it clicked.
"I have been here before, in a dream." As Harry said that, he noticed the name on the tombstone underneath the statue.
-TOM RIDDLE-
1905 - 1943
"Cedric, we have to get to the cup now." Knowing the emergency of the situation, Harry yelled at his friend.
Cedric, on the other hand, looked at the agitated Harry. "What are you talking about?"
Before Harry could reply, they saw a figure approaching in the distance, holding something. Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Whoever it was, he was short and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And then all of a sudden, Harry's scar erupted in pain, an agony unlike any he had experienced. The pain was so much that Harry fell on his knee. Simultaneously, flames erupted beneath the cauldron.
Noticing the pain his friend was experiencing, Cedric became concerned. "Harry! What is it?"
"Get back to the cup!" Harry urged Cedric despite the intense pain.
In the meantime, the figure got nearer, and Cedric decided to confront them. He turned his back from Harry and pointed his wand at the incoming figure. That was when he noticed what the man was holding. It became apparent from its form.
A baby.
Except that Cedric had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black.
Then from it came a voice. A cold voice pierced through the chaos.
"Kill the spare."
Unable to react, Cedric could only hear the figure holding the ugly baby-like creature, screeching, "Avada Kedavra!"
A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him. The pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he felt like throwing up, and then it diminished. Terrified of what he was about to see, Harry still opened his stinging eyes. Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him, motionless.
Reality hit Harry. He was dead. Cedric, his friend, was no more.
Harry was still processing everything going on when he felt a force pulling him up. The short figure, now revealed as Wormtail, directed Harry toward a marble headstone. As Harry's body was pressed against the stone, ropes appeared and bound Harry tightly. Harry wiggled but found himself unable to move. He finally stopped when he witnessed Wormtail's disturbing actions.
"Do it, now!" The cold voice once again came from the creature. Harry got a better look at it this time. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face was flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.
Voldemort.
He who must not be named.
Harry immediately came to the conclusion about the identity of the creature.
Wormtail, trembling, lowered Voldemort into the cauldron. A hiss, a thud, and the thing vanished beneath the surface. The cauldron bubbled with a mysterious potion, sparks dancing on its surface.
At the same time, unaware by all who were present in the graveyard, there was a pair of eyes observing the entire situation since the moment Harry and Cedric got there. If one were to look closely, one would not be able to see anybody, as the person was invisible. In fact, it was not even a body, as the individual was just a soul without any physical body.
Even though it pained him to remain like that, the individual waited patiently until this particular moment came.
When he saw the body of Voldemort plunged into the cauldron, the soul rushed from the sky and descended at the maximum speed possible. To the outside world, to Wormtail and Harry, nothing out of the ordinary happened, but the soul found its way inside the cauldron and came face to face with Voldemort.
This single action was going to change the destiny of many for the worse.