When Harry entered the study on the second floor, his face scrunched up instinctively from the smell assaulting his senses. In a pile on the floor was a dead body. He could tell it was at least two weeks into decomposition and that it was an older man. But couldn't see any cause of death upon initial inspection.
However, dust and the oppressiveness of the air told Harry that there had been no one here for some times. Harry turned his wand on the body on the ground and cast a detection charm.
The dead man had been murdered by the killing curse.
Harry was certain that Voldemort had been here but it looked like he had been gone for awhile.
Harry sighed and muttered to himself. "Well, fuck. So much for that idea. The chance to kill Babymort would have been too much to ask for."
Harry left the house without touching anything, and cast some of his best subtle detection charms on the house. He wasn't sure it would do any good, but if someone came back here Harry would know immediately.
He had done one more thing, just to be safe before he left. Harry went into the Riddle graveyard. Looking around he saw that this was one thing that hadn't changed. Harry looked around as he was assaulted by memories.
Him and Cedric landing here after he had convinced Cedric to grab the cup with him.
Cedric laughing with the realization that it was a portkey, then the horror that dawned on them as Harry realized where they were.
Voldemort's raspy voice calling out "Kill the spare!"
Cedric's lifeless eyes, so full of determination moments earlier, now staring up at him from the ground. The fourth death on Harry's hands.
Being pinned against a tombstone by a scythe as he was part of and witness to the rebirth of one of the darkest wizards in history. Helpless and unable to do anything but watch.
Harry shook himself out of the memory and looked around. He fought the rising temptation to fiendfyre the entire graveyard. Instead he moved to the grave of Thomas Riddle and with a few waves of his wand and focused spells, he vanished the bones there, and transfigured some nearby twigs to look like bones.
Harry smiled grimly and muttered to himself, "Riddle is in for a surprise if he tries to use a bone of his father for any sort of resurrection ritual." Then just to be safe, he repeated the vanishing and transfiguration process on all the nearby graves with the name Riddle, or without a name. Harry didn't want to risk making a mistake.
Once he was finished, he took one last look around the site of his first true defeat before apparating away with a loud "CRACK".
His temper was not helped by being thrown into a field after bouncing off the wards.
Now, as Harry made his way through the camp, he watched the revelry around him, and couldn't stop another sad smile from crossing his face. People were running in and out of tents, doing magic, and most people seemed to be enjoying themselves; though he heard more than one gruff disagreement between fans of opposite teams.
Harry kept his grey cloak up, to make sure his features remained covered, even going so far as to apply a quick sticking charm to the top so that it wasn't going to just fly off or get blown off by an errant gust of wind. He was careful to avoid the area he vaguely recalled the Weasleys having their tent in when he was there, and he was also careful to avoid anywhere officious looking people gathered in groups. The few groups of those he did pass seemed to pay him no mind, instead trying to keep people from casting large firework spells, or things of that nature.
He idly wondered why everyone wouldn't just leave now that the match was over, when he remembered the same anti-apparition wards that kept him from apparating in, would keep people from apparating out. He also wondered if the wards would keep wizards from making portkeys. That made sense to him, preventing any non-ministry approved portkeys from being used would be necessary wards for an event like this as well.
Harry was startled out of his thoughts by the sounds of screams that began to sound like something other than laughter and merriment. He turned his head in the direction of the scream, and his suspicions were confirmed moments later as people began rushing past him, with cries of "Death Eaters!"
"And so… it begins." Harry muttered to himself, turning fully and beginning to make his way against the flow of the crowd that was increasing, more and more people were beginning to rush past him, as he doggedly made his way toward the disturbance. It took him far longer to than he expected. It was a combination of people fleeing in panic, and distance away from where they started.
Harry couldn't see the Death Eaters, nor could he see his familiar in the air above them, given all the flashes of fire and moving bodies. However he could feel Hedwig's direction, his familiar guiding him toward the death eaters like an arrow.
All too soon however he saw the pointed hoods of the Death Eaters, leaving terror and destruction in their wake as they shot spells indiscriminately. Harry did note that they seemed to be far more focused on destruction than they were on actually killing anyone.
Despite this, his anger quickly built at seeing the masks and hoods that were the same as in his memory. With a flick of his wrist, his second self-made wand was in his hand. Made from wood from the Whomping Willow and containing a basilisk fang, the wand was much better for powerful attacking curses. Unlike his phoenix feather and holly wand which was more useful for protection and all around spellwork.
His anger surged to new heights when he noted that the number of Death Eaters seemed to be about two dozen, gathered in a group. Yet, these two dozen, were enough to inspire thousands if not tens of thousands of witches and wizards to flee from them like frightened children. The crowd had completely thinned now, though the Death Eaters hadn't noticed him striding towards them. About the only good thing Harry could think was that he couldn't sense Voldemort among the group.