Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Faithless
By: ChoCedric
Prologue: A Fallen Champion
The moment Harry touched the Triwizard Cup with Cedric, he immediately knew something was wrong. A sensation he had felt before enveloped him, and he knew it was a Portkey. He wanted to scream, to yell at Cedric to let go, but the wind was so strong, and he was gripping it so hard, that he could do nothing.
When they finally landed, the older boy helped Harry get to his feet, for he had landed clumsily. "Are you okay?" Cedric asked as they stood and looked around their surroundings.
"I don't like this, Cedric," Harry admitted as he realized it was a graveyard they were standing in. "Get back to the cup. You need to go back to Hogwarts, I don't think this is safe."
"I'm not going anywhere without you, Harry," the seventeen-year-old said stubbornly.
"And I also don't think either of you are going anywhere," said a voice. Cedric and Harry looked over as a man holding something in his arms walked to where the two boys were standing.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Cedric demanded harshly, and at that same moment, Harry felt a horrible, burning pain in his scar.
"CEDRIC! GET AWAY!" he screamed through the pain, which sent him to his knees.
"Take Potter's wand, and kill the spare with it!" said a high, cold voice, and dread coursed through Harry. Lord Voldemort couldn't mean what he thought he meant, could he?
He tried desperately to get to his feet, but he couldn't manage it. The fear and helplessness intensified tenfold as he heard Peter scream "Expelliarmus!" and felt his wand go flying into the other man's hand. "Avada Kedavra!" Peter then screeched.
"NO! CEDRIC!" Harry screamed hysterically as, in slow motion, he watched the green light shoot out of Peter's wand, hitting Cedric. All he could do was watch numbly as Cedric collapsed next to him.
Not believing what had just happened, Harry stared into Cedric's face. His open gray eyes stared lifelessly at him, his entire face frozen in a look of vulnerability and fear. He was dead.
Harry was gasping as he continued to struggle to get to his feet, but he knew it was too late to do anything to save Cedric. Guilt replaced the feeling of shock, a guilt that was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Who knew that grasping the Triwizard Cup with Cedric would lead the older boy straight to his death? It was true that he'd rather disliked Cedric, but all that seemed irrelevant now. He had died a senseless death; it had been a needless murder, all because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Harry was so busy staring into the older champion's face that he wasn't prepared for the next spell that whipped his way. He realized that Peter was now using a different wand rather than Harry's, and he wondered detachedly why he'd used his wand to kill Cedric. More dread swept over him as he wondered what was to come. He knew that the voice which had emitted from Peter's arms had been the voice of none other than Lord Voldemort himself.
As Harry fell, stiff as a board, he wondered if he'd die tonight as well, be killed mercilessly just like Cedric had. He felt himself being dragged to a gravestone, and then being tied up. Oh, Merlin, he thought, but he didn't make a single sound, for he was in too much shock after what he had just seen. What's going to happen now?
He found out all too soon as he was made to watch a revolting ritual. With some words from Wormtail, the grave at Harry's feet cracked, and a fine, powdery dust went sailing into a huge cauldron which was set up beside him. Then, he almost lost his dinner as he saw Wormtail cut off his hand with a dagger and place it into the cauldron. The pathetic man fell to the ground, howling and screaming in unbearable agony.
When he had finally stopped his nonsense, he got up again and went over to Harry. He used the same dagger to cut Harry's arm, and the boy gave a shriek of pain. He hoped to Merlin that this ritual wasn't what he thought it was, but when the cauldron began to froth and boil, he lost all hope.
And when Lord Voldemort, newly formed, stepped out of the cauldron, he felt rage envelop him. This man had ordered Cedric's murder right in front of him. He could still see Cedric's body a little ways away, his lifeless eyes still staring, staring, staring up at the night sky. If Harry escaped from this, what would he tell Cedric's parents, Cho, all of his friends? How on Earth would he be able to explain this? There was no way!
When Lord Voldemort spoke, it caused the rage to shoot through him at an even more intense rate. He first gave a speech about his family history, and then he said, "ah, Harry Potter. You did see a treat today, did you not? Welcome to my rebirthing party."
"You're sick!" Harry shouted, a fierce defiance evident in his voice.
Voldemort smirked. "You, my boy, have been helped all year," he said sinisterly. "My faithful Death Eater, who has been posted at Hogwarts the entire year, tricked the Goblet of Fire into believing there were four schools. He put your name in it, and now you have ended up here.
"My plans were simply to kill you and send your body back to Hogwarts, but since you brought that spare with you ..."
"He's not a spare!" Harry bellowed angrily. "He was a real person! His name was Cedric!"
"Ah, he was a very handsome boy," said Voldemort, going over to Cedric and mock-gently stroking his cheek. "Very handsome indeed."
"Leave him alone!" Harry roared.
Voldemort gave another nasty smile. "As I was saying," he said coldly, "since you brought that spare with you, my plans have changed. Let me call my loyal followers, and then things will be set into motion. Wormtail, hold out your arm."
"Oh, thank you, my Lord! Thank you so very, very much, I am so gracious!" simpered Wormtail, holding out his stump of an arm. "Thank you!"
"THE OTHER ARM, WORMTAIL," snarled Voldemort, and Wormtail, with a horrible flush coming over his face, held out the other arm. Voldemort pressed his wand to it, and a yowl of pain erupted from both Wormtail and Harry's mouths as Harry felt an awful searing in his scar.
Within minutes, many Death Eaters were Apparating into the graveyard. They stood in a circle, and Harry noticed that there were several people absent, since there were missing positions in the circle.
Voldemort then explained how he, Harry, and Cedric came to be there. Then, he prowled around the circle, snarling at several Death Eaters for their failures while he was without his powers. He also talked of the absent Death Eaters; several were in Azkaban, one was too cowardly to return, one had switched sides and would pay for it, and one was serving him faithfully at Hogwarts. Self-hatred swelled within Harry when he realized, once again, that he'd been tricked; someone at Hogwarts was obviously disguised in some way. He promised himself that if he escaped this, he would find out who it was and make them pay.
"Now, then," said Voldemort cruelly as he stepped over to Harry. "As I said, my plans for you have changed, my boy. Say, have you ever heard of Azkaban?"
"Of course I have, stupid, my godfather was imprisoned there for something he didn't do!" bellowed Harry.
"Ah, yes, Sirius Black," Voldemort sneered. Harry felt even more anger as he heard Peter snicker at his ex-best friend's misfortune. "Well, Harry Potter, how would you like to have the same fate as your godfather?"
"You mean, put me in ... but that's ..." Harry muttered, trying to work out what Voldemort meant. And when he did, he felt a thrill of horror greater than he had ever felt before tear through him. He realized, with a jolt of sickness, why Peter had used Harry's wand to murder Cedric in cold blood, and he was paralyzed with fear at the realization.
"Ah, worked it out, have you?" spat Voldemort. "It is the perfect plan, for no one will believe that I have returned."
"Dumbledore will never believe I killed Cedric!" Harry shouted. "And my best friends won't buy it! Dumbledore knows your game, Voldemort, he knows ..."
"You overestimate Dumbledore, fool!" Voldemort snarled. "He will not be able to do much when the Minister of Magic sentences you to a lifetime in Azkaban!"
"Go to hell!" Harry screamed, tears of fear and panic entering his eyes.
Voldemort pretended to tenderly stroke Harry's face, causing his scar to burn again. "I shall heal your arm for you," he said in a voice which was mock-kind. "Then no one will know you were hurt. I shall place the spare's body in your arms along with the Portkey. You shall return to Hogwarts, and you'll see for yourself that my plans will work."
"Your plans will never work, you evil ..."
"The entire wizarding world will turn its back on you!" Voldemort bellowed, shouting over Harry's protests. "Do you not remember how they were so quick to believe you were evil two years ago, when they learned you were a Parselmouth? Do you not think some of them wonder how you defeated me when you were one? They think it's because you're a dark wizard yourself!"
And with that, he placed his wand tip to Harry's arm, healing it for him. He then untied him, and Harry struggled to get to his feet, but he was so weak and emotionally riled that Voldemort was too quick for him when he tried to get away.
He threw Cedric's still, lifeless body at Harry, who found himself grabbing on to his freezing, limp hand. Harry's wand and the Portkey were thrown at him next, and with tears streaming down his terrified, pale face, Harry found himself spinning back to Hogwarts, a lifetime of horrors awaiting him, the dead Cedric in his arms. The last sound he heard was Voldemort and the Death Eaters' high-pitched cackles of gleeful laughter.