Cedric stared in horror from where he was sprawled on the ground as the rat-faced man, who'd attacked Harry with a knife, shouted what was obviously the end of a spell. His mind was having a hard time processing what had happened over the last five minutes. One minute he'd been staring a Hogwarts victory in the face, Harry by his side, and the next he'd been transported to a foreign graveyard and had been attacked - and almost murdered – by a pair of evil-looking wizards.

And then he'd been saved by some random teenager wearing dark clothes who looked younger than Harry and appeared to be umbrakinetic.

Cedric had heard the spell, had seen the flash of green and known it for what it was. He'd thought for sure that the curse would kill him. So, the thirteen-year-old appearing out of nowhere and deflecting the most powerful Unforgivable Curse with a sword was completely unexpected. Unfortunately, due to the impending likelihood of their deaths, Cedric was unable to question his saviour about… anything really. He just had to trust him and hope they got out alive.

As soon as the rat-faced man finished the ritual there were dozens of cracks and pops, signifying the apparition of various wizards in dark robes and masks who circled the clear area of the graveyard. Cedric would have been more focused on them, but he was too busy staring in utter horror, at the indescribable atrocity that was the rebirth of… the Dark Lord. His mind struggled to comprehend it, searching for any other explanation, but Cedric knew, in his soul, that that was what he was witnessing.

He couldn't – was unable to - look away as the cauldron set itself alight and melted into the darkness. He couldn't look away as a grotesque, foetus-looking, pale… thing appeared in the air, forming and moulding into a skeletal, corpse-ish imitation of a human. He couldn't look away as the shadows, hovering around it, surrounded it - him, now – and assembled to create pitch black robes. He couldn't look away as the magic finally settled, and the Dark Lord – He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – took his first steps to greet his surrounding followers. He couldn't look away as he prayed that Britain's most feared wizard, who was only a few feet away, didn't notice him and was distantly glad that he wasn't facing him, so he didn't have to look at his face.

Cedric was dragged out of his loop of horror as the unknown teenager, who had just saved him before, ran and planted himself between the evillest people in Britain's history and the two Hogwarts students.

"Cedric, you and Harry need to go," the dark teen hissed the order, not glancing at him as he glared at the congregation, readying himself for further battle. "Right now."

The reminder of Harry was enough to cause Cedric to glance behind at the other boy. Harry was barely standing on his own, grasping at the famous scar at his head. His face was showing fear, horror, anger, determination and pain all at once and Cedric vaguely wondered if it was remembered trauma or something more magical and sinister that was causing him pain. He wouldn't be at all surprised if it was the latter, considering Harry's past and recent history with the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord who was standing right in front of him, and who was probably going to kill them all.

It was that last thought, strangely enough, that caused a wave of… not quite calmness, but… smoothness. Clarity. A wave of clarity to flood his mind, and with that clarity came a sense of determination and certainty that they weren't going to die, or at least, if they were, they wouldn't do so on the ground.

With that, Cedric had just enough time to catch Harry's eye with a meaningful look, flick his own eyes in the direction of the portkey that had transported them, nod his head minutely before tilting his head backwards slightly, in the direction of the boy who had saved them, and receive a one-second stare followed by a determined nod, before he returned his attention to the… to Voldemort.

In the back of his mind, Cedric hoped that the younger boy had understood what he'd been trying to communicate, but he figured that he would, considering he was a quidditch player and would therefore be used to plans being similarly communicated on the spot. Cedric rose slowly, so as not to attract attention to himself just yet, as Voldemort spoke for the first time.

"My wand, Wormtail." His voice was a cold, malevolent rasp, but Cedric's attention was caught on the name 'Wormtail' as he recognised the name that Harry had mentioned earlier. It turned out Wormtail was the rat-faced man who had tried to kill him earlier, as he quickly stepped forward with the white, bone-like wand. Voldemort took it without a word and, in one graceful move, swiftly turned to face the teen who was standing against him. Cedric quickly took in the pale, serpentine features, the snake-like slits where the nose should be and the blood-red, burning, evil eyes of the Dark Lord, and was absently surprised at – and proud of - himself for not breaking down in terror. This time, when he spoke, Voldemort addressed his followers – his Death Eaters – although his words seemed directed at Cedric, Harry and the other boy.

"Well, my friends, look at what we have here. Three school boys who managed to kill one of my Death Eaters. What should we do with them, do you think?" The tone was cold and mocking, meant to scare them – and it probably would have worked but Cedric had already combatted his terror enough to put it away for the moment. His mind was calmer with the knowledge that he had a plan of escape, and a plan to die if they didn't.

The Death Eaters laughed and jeered, with calls of "Kill them!" or "The Cruciatus!" but everyone's attention was soon caught by the boy, who spoke confidently in a low voice with an accent that Cedric was not familiar with and couldn't place.

"Are you done with your mobster impression?" Cedric noticed that the Death Eaters seemed both surprised and a little unnerved at the comment, which was completely devoid of fear. He himself felt his own eyes widen in surprise as he wondered how the boy could sound so assured of himself in this situation and marvelled at the bravery he was witnessing by a thirteen-year-old in the face of such evil.

Voldemort's eye's flashed with anger and he snarled as the boy talked back, but he quickly replaced his enraged expression with one of threat and a hint of amusement. His new demeanour was reflected in his voice when he spoke again.

"You must be very brave, boy, or very stupid. But I must admit, I find you intriguing. You managed to block Wormtail's kill and hold your own against one of my Death Eaters." His eyes narrowed, "But show me such disrespect again and I will not hesitate to kill you." He continued again in what he must have thought was an amiable tone, "I will forgive you your previous transgression, generous as I am, and in return you may pledge yourself into my allegiance. I can always use strong fighters, especially ones so young."

Cedric wanted to look at Harry to gauge his reaction, but he didn't dare risk bringing attention to either himself or The Boy Who Lived, for fear of compromising their one escape plan. He was slightly nervous at the offer being made to the boy. He didn't think that the boy wanted to be a Death Eater – he had just saved him and Harry, after all – and judging by his confident tone and battle stance, he would fight if he needed to… but if he had an option to survive, would he really pass it up for the sake of a couple of students he'd just met?

"Yeah… Nah. Pass. Hard pass, in fact."

Apparently he would. Cedric felt relief wash over him at the boy's easy and instant refusal of the Dark Lord, but that was accompanied by the beginnings of an adrenaline rush (he'd had a lot of those today, what with everything that had happened and was not looking forward to when he eventually crashed) as he knew that Voldemort would definitely attack after this. He prayed that his plan would work as he subtly readied himself for action and listened as the boy continued to metaphorically spit in the Dark Lord's face.

"I mean, just because I always wear black, doesn't mean I want to join a cult." Cedric had a hard time not snorting at the boy's comment there (and at the look of shock and belayed anger on Voldemort's face) and then had to wonder what was wrong with himself for finding anything about this situation amusing.

"How dare you-?!" Voldemort snarled in fury, but the boy interrupted.

"You know, I actually get asked that quite a lot," he mused nonchalantly. It was then that Cedric noticed how the shadows at the edge of the clear area of the graveyard were thickening, and he realised that the boy must be stalling for time; trying to gain enough power to stand a chance. Yep, he was definitely umbrakinetic. But how was he doing that unnoticed? Surely the Death Eaters would see him if he was waving his wand? Did it have something to do with that sword? Cedric was forced out of his pondering as the boy continued, "I guess I just like messing with evil twats."

"You are a fool, boy," Voldemort sneered, his red eyes blazing. "You have insulted me twice now, and I will not forgive you the second time." He glanced to the Death Eaters then, "Kill them! But leave Potter! Let him watch his friends die! I want to have a word with him."

Cedric couldn't help but flinch as the Death Eaters immediately fired a barrage of curses in his and the boy's direction. He would have cast a protego, despite knowing it would most likely be useless against the majority of the dark spell the Death Eaters were casting, but he was still missing his wand from where he had dropped it when he tackled Wormtail away from Harry. It didn't seem to matter anyway as, before the first curse even came near them, the shadows he had noticed the boy manipulating before flew in from the periphery, creating a wall of darkness between them and the Death Eaters, which lasted for about two seconds, before dissipating. It had done its job though, as the majority of the spells had been sent in that time and were blocked by the wall, and those that hadn't missed them anyway.

Before the wall had disappeared, however, Cedric had seized the opportunity and called, "Harry! Now!" He had then rushed to the umbrakinetic boy just as they were re-exposed and placed his right hand steadily, and with a firm grip, on his left shoulder. He could feel the boy start slightly in surprise at the unexpected touch, but a moment later he heard Harry's shout of "Accio portkey!" just before his friend reached them and grabbed the boy's other shoulder with his right hand. A fraction of a second later Cedric saw the cup zoom to Harry, who was facing Cedric side-on with his left hand in the middle of the three. The cup flew straight into his hand, coming into contact with Cedric's right arm and the other boy's back.

Cedric felt imtense, panicky relief as he instantly felt the familiar tug on his navel and they disappeared. The last thing he saw of the graveyard was Voldemort's furious face and his red eyes full of hatred as he screamed "No!" in rage-fuelled denial.

0~0~0~0~0~0

Harry, Cedric and the other boy landed on the grass at the edge of the quidditch pitch just before the spectator stands for the Third Task and were immediately accosted by the sounds of cheering and trumpets. Harry was distantly relieved to hear the boisterous sounds of his schoolmates, rather than the cold jeers of the Death Eaters, but his mind was focused more predominantly on what he had just witnessed. On the fact that Voldemort was back.

He lay there, sprawled on the grass for a moment longer, before he felt something shift under him and he realised that he had landed on the mysterious boy who had saved them. That was enough to draw him out of his numbness for the moment, as he quickly moved to get off him. He was about to apologise, still reeling, when he felt Cedric – who was right next to him – grip his arm. He was looking at him with a concerned intensity which brought him out of his shock.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"Y-yeah." He took a breath, pushing his tumultuous thoughts back to deal with as soon as he could talk to Dumbledore, "Yeah. Are you? What about…?" He trailed off, glancing at the unknown boy who slowly turned himself over and began to rise.

He looked to be about Harry's age, or maybe a bit younger – or perhaps that was just because he was so skinny. He had very pale, olive skin that was almost white, and shaggy, black hair which fell into his eyes and that almost reminded him of his own with how messy it was. His eyes were a dark brown – almost black – and both terrifying and ensnaring in a way that spoke to Harry. They said that he'd seen true darkness and that he'd had walked amongst it. Looking into them, Harry was reminded of a quote he had heard, "If you stare into the abyss, the abyss will stare back into you," and his instincts seemed confused, because he felt very on-edge and almost scared of what darkness the boy knew and had seen, but they were also urging him to trust and remain near him.

Continuing with his scrutiny, Harry took in the boy's attire. He was wearing all black ('well, he hadn't been lying in the graveyard,' Harry mused), from his boots to his jeans, shirt and leather bomber jacket – even his sword, lying next to him, was black! The only colour – if it could even be called that – was the silver skull ring on his finger, the white fluff on the collar of his jacket and the white skull print on his shirt, just visible between the edges of his open jacket. Harry stared at that last for a second, before his eyes widened as he noticed the rip, and red stains that had been obscured by the colour of the shirt. He quickly moved over, pulling Cedric with him as he still hadn't let go, and glanced in concern at the teen, his hands hovering in front of him, unsure with how he should proceed.

"You're bleeding," he said, drawing Cedric's attention and the boy's surprise. "Are-?"

"I'm fine for now," the boy interrupted softy. He glanced at them, checking them over quickly, it seemed, before casting a wary gaze around the raucous crowd, which Harry could understand. He somehow didn't seem like the type of guy who liked being around lots of people, and it must be a shock to be unexpectedly transported into the midst of a group of people you didn't know. Harry himself was finding it rather jarring, especially after what had just happened.

Although, the crowd did seem to have noticed the boy since, though they were still loud and cheering, Harry could make out a few people staring in confusion and pointing at the unexpected third boy. He looked again to the boy when he heard him quietly, but calmly, speak, "We need to get out of here."

Harry had to agree. As relieved as he was to be here and alive, the weight of what he had recently witnessed was still very present in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to find Dumbledore and Moody and tell them what had happened – even though he was already dreading their disappointment in him for allowing Voldemort to rise again. It was his blood Voldemort had needed to resurrect himself with after all.

It was that last thought that cracked Harry's composure. He was the reason that the murderer of his parents and countless others was now properly alive. He was the reason that many more of his friends were now going to die. He let out a dry sob and tried to move away from Cedric – he didn't deserve his concern or comforting contact – but the older boy pulled him closer in a hug that provided as much physical support as it did emotional. He didn't try to fight it again, and instead clutched tiredly at Cedric's back and arm.

A moment later he felt Cedric move his arm and heard a surprised "Uh?" before he felt the unknown boy appear next to him, under Cedric's other arm, obviously pulled into the impromptu hug by the older Hufflepuff. Harry could feel how tense he was at the contact and felt slightly embarrassed at not only breaking down in front of his saviour, but also for making him join the hug when he clearly didn't want to be a part of it. After a moment though, Harry heard him take a fortifying breath and felt him forcibly relax himself, though he didn't make any effort to reciprocate. Harry was more than OK with that, just glad that he didn't make a big deal about what was happening.

As soon as Harry had regained enough control over his emotions he broke the hug, although he didn't bother trying to stray from Cedric, who was still gripping him and the other boy in a manner that both provided and received support. He could now see a plethora of adults coming towards them, including Dumbledore, Moody, Snape, Fudge and Amos Diggory, and he was very glad that his little breakdown had not been visible to them. He had a feeling, from the rather urgent looks on their faces, that they wanted to discuss the appearance of the additional member of their party – who Harry realised with a start that he still hadn't got the name of, although he suspected he'd find out soon enough.

Harry muttered a quick, but heartfelt, "Thanks," that was meant for both the, as of yet, unnamed boy and Cedric. He doubted he'd be able to say entirely what he meant even if he'd had the time, but he hoped that they both understood what he meant to convey. From the slight, reassuring squeeze Cedric gave his arm and the minute nod he received from the other boy, he believed they did.

Not a moment later they were joined by the crowd of curious, wary, serious and, in Amos' case, proud faces of the adults. As soon as he reached them, Dumbledore began questioning, but Harry cut him off immediately with the most important matter.

"Harry, what-?"

"He's back. Voldemort's back."