Disclaimer: Not only do I not own Harry Potter, nor do I intend to make any money from this story, but more than half of this first chapter is words from the lady herself. Any future chapters will be original, but this was needed to get the story going.

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.

"Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," said Cedric standing still next to the Triwizard Cup. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.

They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him, and started noticing the familiar scenes from his dreams. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.

"Someone's coming," he said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And—several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time—Harry saw that the thing in the persons arms looked like a baby …or was it merely a bundle of robes?

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.

"Cedric, take the portkey back. Someone's coming," he said suddenly.

"No, Harry. With both of us –"

"NOW!"

All at once, someone yelled "Kill the spare," "Avada Kedavra" and the noise of a portkey initiating was heard. Cedric had escaped with his life.

The next few precious moments seemed endless. His arm was cut, and all the ingredients were added to the cauldron to bring back the monster known as Voldemort. The Dark Lord rose, and then he death eaters were called and chastised for their years of inactivity.

"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."

Curses were exchanged and Harry fought as best he could. In the end, the only thing that could help were the spirits flying out of Voldemort's wand. The bright lights representing Harry's parents swirled around the dome, coming to a stop next to him.

The wisp of his father looked over his son and asked, "Harry, are you carrying my cloak?"

Harry nodded.

"Run Harry," his mother urgently said. "Run behind the gravestone, put the cloak on and run! Get away from here. We can linger for a few moments to give you time, but you need to run!"

"Do it now," whispered his father's voice, "be ready to run… do it now…"

"NOW!" Harry yelled; he didn't think he could have held on for another moment anyway—he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died—but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear—they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze—

And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones—he was dodging curses and graves, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do—

"Stun him!" he heard Voldemort scream.

Harry dove behind the gravestones, threw his invisibility cloak on, and then ran as fast and quietly as he could. He only turned to look back once, when the fog of Voldemort's past deeds were just starting to fade, and realized his time to escape was disappearing. He ran for what felt like hours. He ran past the house where Voldemort had hid for so many months, past the entrance to the nearby town, and just into the nearby forest. When his leg felt like it would fall off he'd ran so hard, Harry found a cluster of trees he felt safe enough to hide in for a few minutes, he brought out his wand and yelled "Accio Broom, Accio Firebolt!" It was a long shot, but his leg hurt too badly to go much further without some other mode of transportation.

He waited for what seemed for forever. When he started to hear voices in the distance, he panicked, but knew that, in a foot race, he could never win. He waited until he heard a thump next to him. The noise startled him, but when he looked over, he saw an old Cleansweep broom lying there waiting to help him escape. He quietly got on the broom and flew away as fast as possible. It was then that Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived once again, disappeared into the night. The Dark Lord may have been resurrected, but at least both he and Cedric had escaped with their lives.

A/N: Well, Here's a new story. I was watching HBO tonight, and this little plot bunny just came up to bite me in the butt. I have no clue where this story is going, but I wanted to get something out so I wouldn't forget it. I'm thinking I'm fond of Harry running away stories (I know I would in his case), so I'll probably go that way. It'll also most likely be H/Hr (if any pairing), just as a warning to those who don't go for that.

What do you think, is it worth continuing?