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"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son. Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." - Peter Pettigrew, Goblet of Fire.
Peter Pettigrew recited the final line while drawing the knife across Harry's forearm. He shuffled to the cauldron and let the blood drip in. He then reverently lifted the homunculus and dropped it into the cauldron, causing the potion to turn a blinding white, and begin to smoke. Eventually, a body arose from the cauldron and commanded "Robe me, Wormtail."
While dressing, Voldemort gave himself a casual once over, taking stock of his new form. His flesh was pale and stretched taut. He ran his long, skeletal fingertips along the sides and top of his head, and briefly paused, surprised to find he had none of his jet black hair. As he inhaled sharply, he noted the air flowed differently through his nose than he had expected. No matter, he would investigate further once he dealt with the immediate situation and summoned his followers.
Between splitting his soul, and the varied dark rituals he performed before that fateful Halloween night, he hadn't looked like Tom Riddle in quite some time.
Before his...temporary disembodiment, he had resembled a human but looked more. More intimidating, more powerful, more noble, someone destined to be called Lord. Given the...donors used for this ritual, he thought he might look more like Tom Marvolo Riddle than Lord Voldemort, but it appeared he miscalculated. Nevertheless, his presence would be unmistakable. There were many ways to manage his appearance once he had time to look at himself in a mirror.
The rituals he performed on his old form had increased his power, durability and reflexes, and helped him create the magical aura necessary to intimidate most witches and wizards. He made a brief mental note to perform many of those rituals again as he noted how weak his new form felt. There were more pressing issues now that his followers were beginning to appear.
"We bow to each other, Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties will be observed.... Dumbledore would like you to show manners.... Bow to death, Harry...."
As the "duel" progressed, Voldemort could tell something was wrong with his new body. His blood burned, his movements were slower than expected, many of his darker curses appeared less effective than they should have been, as if something were countering his magic from within, balancing the dark with the light. He would win this, he was sure of it. Even in this state, he was more than a match for most aurors, let alone a fifteen-year-old, undertrained child, but the situation raised several questions about the effects of the ritual.
Lord Voldemort had planned thoroughly for his resurrection, patient for the right opportunity to act. The return of Barty Crouch Jr. in August was a welcome surprise that enabled moving forward with his plans and adding several magically symbolic aspects to the process.
The potion needed to be brewed for nine months, as a symbol of the gestation period before birth. Voldemort needed one follower to brew the potion while sustaining his homunculus form and the other to procure a worthy enemy, whose blood would be critical at the end of the brewing process. As cunning as he was faithful, Barty immediately captured Auror Alastor Moody — a constant annoyance during the first war — as a backup. Voldemort was very interested in using Harry Potter in the ritual to circumvent the protection magic his mother bestowed on him.
In a stroke of genius, Barty suggested entering the Potter boy into the Triwizard tournament. Making him a champion had additional benefits. It forced magic to recognize the boy as an adult, making the ritual consider him a more worthy enemy than if he were a child. It also put the boy through a similar nine-month long crucible, letting him grow up until the final task, two days after the Summer solstice.
This matched Voldemort's plan perfectly. Timing the ritual to take place soon after the solstice would symbolize the turning point from the long light of Summer and the beginning of the approaching dark of Winter.
Malfoy Manner, later that night
"My Lord, it appears your blood contains a mixture of acromantula venom, basilisk venom and phoenix tears." Severus Snape stated slowly, unable to mask the surprise at the contents of the Dark Lord's blood.
"My blood..." The Dark Lord trailed off.
"Acromantula venom can be countered immediately, my Lord. The basilisk venom would explain the burning sensation you experienced, and the phoenix tears are purifying, which could explain the...change in effectiveness of your spells" Snape continued.
'Why did the boy have basilisk venom in his blood? There's only one basilisk in the whole of...'
It was in that moment that Lord Voldemort made several startling connections. The boy must have been bitten during the third task, and had acromantula venom in his blood. He also could never have known that Harry Potter's blood contained adult basilisk venom, one of the most corrosive magical substances ever known, as well as phoenix tears, a symbol of life and purification.
Voldemort had not considered that Harry Potter's contribution could be so contaminated. The boy had basilisk venom in his veins, and the only way he could be alive is if a phoenix had cried into the wound. But where could he have encountered both a basilisk and a phoenix? The only magical places the boy had ever been were Diagon Alley and Hogwarts. The only place one could have found basilisk venom this potent, this corrosive would have been in the Chamber of Secrets, which will only open for a parselmouth. There were no other parselmouth in magical Britain aside from him and the boy, and none knew the location of the Chamber, including Harry Potter. The only way one besides Lord Voldemort could have entered is if they had his notes...had his diary...
"Luciusss," Voldemort nearly hissed, "join me, we have much to discusss..."