There have been enough reviews that I feel a need to make a warning.

The first section of this prologue is a direct quote with minor changes/ additions at the very end. If you still remember the graveyard scene with clarity, you can skip everything but the line-break section at the end and three 'paragraph breaks' tagged onto the end of the first section.

The first four chapters include a large number of direct quotes, which are designated by bolding. There are actually reasons for this, but again, if you already remember the tournament until the first task and you don't mind missing future plot points, you can skip to chapter 5 (Ch 6 via fan-fiction . net style counting) and start reading from there. Chapter 5+ will not have much in the way of direct quotes.

I actually cut quite a bit of material from the book chapters that either wasn't important (firecall to sirius, drama with Ron) or was important by it's absence (meeting Hagrid and Maxine in the forest), so the quoted sections are significantly shorter than the book, even with my re-additions.

Sorry if the constant quotes annoy you, but I do need the sections I borrowed/used/whatever the legal term is for NOT plagiarizing because I DON'T own it nor do I claim to. (I hope I make that clear with my headers and the summery blurb)

Now without further fuss:

Prologue

"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone.

There was a split second, perhaps, when Harry might have considered running for it, but his injured leg shook under him as he stood on the overgrown grave, as the Death Eaters closed ranks, forming a tighter circle around him and Voldemort, so that the gaps where the missing Death Eaters should have stood were filled. Wormtail walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric's body lay and returned with Harry's wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry's hand without looking at him. Then Wormtail resumed his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters.

"You have been taught how to duel. Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

At these words Harry remembered, as though from a former life, the dueling club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago...All he had learned there was the Disarming Spell, "Expelliarmus"...and what use would it be to deprive Voldemort of his wand, even if he could, when he was surrounded by Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least thirty to one? He had never learned anything that could possibly fit him for this. He knew he was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned...the unblockable Avada Kedavra curse - and Voldemort was right - his mother was not here to die for him this time...He was quite unprotected...

"We bow to each other. Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed...Dumbledore would like you to show manners...Bow to death, Harry..."

The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him...he was not going to give him that satisfaction...

"I said, bow," Voldemort said, raising his wand - and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever.

"Very good," said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted too. "And now you face me, like a man...straight-backed and proud, the way your father died...

"And now - we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was...White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life -

And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

"A little break," said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, "a little pause...That hurt, didn't it. Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

Harry didn't answer. He was going to die like Cedric, those pitiless red eyes were telling him so...he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it...but he wasn't going to play along. He wasn't going to obey Voldemort...he wasn't going to beg...

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," said Voldemort softly. "Answer me! Imperio!"

And Harry felt, for the third time in his life, the sensation that his mind had been wiped of all thought...Ah, it was bliss, not to think, it was as though he were floating, dreaming...just answer no...say no...just answer no...

'I will not', said a stronger voice, in the back of his head, 'I won't answer...'

Just answer no...

'I won't do it, I won't say it...'

Just answer no...

"I WON'T!"

And these words burst from Harry's mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over him - back rushed the aches that the Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body - back rushed the realization of where he was, and what he was facing...

"You won't?" said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now. "You won't say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die...Perhaps another little dose of pain?"

Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was ready; with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed him.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," said Voldemort's soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry...come out and play, then...it will be quick...it might even be painless...I would not know...I have never died..."

Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew the end had come. There was no hope...no help to be had. And as he heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort's feet...he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible...

Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone. Harry stood up...he gripped his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of him, and threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort.

Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!" Voldemort cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's - they met in midair - and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to - and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort's long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

And then - nothing could have prepared Harry for this - he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort's father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves...The Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle around Harry and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing their wands -

The golden thread connecting 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...

"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry's; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. "Do nothing unless I command you!" Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.

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

It was the sound of hope to Harry...the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his life...He felt as though the song were inside him instead of just around him...It was the sound he connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost as though a friend were speaking in his ear...

Don't break the connection.

'I know' Harry told the music, 'I know I mustn't...' but no sooner had he thought it than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever.

Then something happened that Fate did not intend.

Harry's muscles, exhausted and trembling from being held under the Cruciatus multiple times, spasmed spontaneously and released his wand. The released beam of golden light struck him in the chest, crushing it instantly and sending razor-sharp fragments of his ribs ripping through his lungs and heart and out through the remains of his back in a storm of pain and blood.

'Ah… I died.' Harry thought idly as he was thrown through the air and his vision faded to darkness to the tune of that high, cold, laugh.

Fate was having a good day.

It was a Saturday, he had a few civil wars running and they wouldn't require much of his attention this weekend, the Stanly cup was on the TV and his wife was making a nice little bowl of popcorn.

"As long as one of the ones Destiny picked out doesn't die, I should have a nice, quiet, weekend." Fate sighed to himself, relaxing into his recliner. He extended the footrest and stretched out, wriggling deeper into the wonderful leather as he gathered his wife, Murphy, into his arms as they started to watch the game together.

'Excellent' Fate thought as he accepted the popcorn from his wife, which fortunately wasn't burned this time. 'Must be one of her good days.'

Sure she was an aspect of Chaos and she vacillated between amazing competence and cluelessness on a daily basis, but how she managed to burn popcorn so badly when the microwave literally had a 'Popcorn' button was beyond him. But since it made her happy to cook for 'her man' he let her, even if it was hit or miss on edibility.

'Everything's right on track.' He thought to himself with a contented smile. 'Nothing could go wrong.'

And that was when Murphy's dog, Law, decided to vomit on the carpet.

"NO!" Fate roared as he quickly held out the popcorn to Murphy and struggled out of the recliner, pulling the still heaving dog out the back door. "It'll stain!"

As he rushed back inside and dashed into the kitchen for paper towels, he heard the chime of an urgent incoming message.

"Murph could you deal with that?" Fate asked as he raced back to the family room and began to scrub at the carpet.

'It should be fine,' Fate thought grimly, 'I'm sure it won't stain.'

Fate used some of the anti-stain foam around the wet patch and went to grab some more paper towels, so he didn't notice the weird hiccup in the Stanly cup broadcast.

A few minutes later the carpet was pristine again, although it was still slightly wet, and the crisis was averted. Fate sighed with relief as he sat back down.

"What was that message about anyway?" He asked Murphy, picking up his tablet and looking for the report.

"Oh," Murphy said in an airy voice, "It was one of those 'Chosen Ones' dying that you're always complaining about…"

Fate felt his blood freeze for an instant before she continued blithely, "I did just what you always do- tell time to rewind far enough that a little nudge would fix whatever went wrong and then run on accelerated time up to the present. I made sure to check all the little boxes he needed to do so I didn't mess up and get him off his destiny, and I only rewound time a little bit."

"All of the boxes?" Fate asked warily, still looking for the error message.

"Yep," Murphy said happily, "I fixed the problem right up and got rid of the message just like you always do so you wouldn't have to worry about it during the Stanly cup. The little guy is still alive because we didn't get an error, and he must have finished his destiny since Destiny didn't call to complain."

"Wow… Okay then." Fate shrugged, putting down his tablet and flopping back into the recliner, "I guess that, whoever he was, he must have been really close to fulfilling his destiny so when you rewound him he managed to complete everything. Who was he? How many conditions were there to complete his destiny? Do you remember what they were?"

"Oh, it was only like two. He had to figure out a mystery and kill someone." Murphy said, "I don't remember what his name was though. James something."

'I don't remember any Jameses having big destinies.' Fate thought, relaxing as he thought he pieced together the puzzle. 'Can't have been anything too huge to get solved by a little ten or fifteen minute rewind… probably a vengeance quest: find the loved ones' murder and kill them. The murderer must have gotten the drop on him last time. I'm sure it wasn't too much of a stretch if we rushed his destiny a bit.'

"Alright then." Fate leaning into the recliner and opening his arms welcomingly, "Thanks for all your hard work."

"Anything for you love." Murphy said, snuggling down into Fates' waiting arms.