Chapter Twenty

Obicham Te

:.:.:

Wormtail approached Harry, raising his new silver hand, and pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry. He then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone. I wondered why, when Harry dropped to the ground, he didn't attempt to run, but I could see from the blood on his pants that he'd injured his leg.

Wormtail had left the circle to retrieve Harry's wand, and the rest of us had closed it, filling in the gaps. Wormtail returned to the circle after thrusting Harry's wand into his hand.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

I saw the panic rise in Harry's green eyes. He either hadn't been taught or hadn't been taught enough.

"We bow to each other, Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed . . . Dumbledore would like you to show manners . . . Bow to death, Harry..."

The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling. Harry didn't bow.

"I said, bow," Voldemort said, raising his wand. Harry did bow then, but it clearly hadn't been his choice. The Death Eaters laughed harder than ever; I detected Grandad's laugh among them and it made my heart sink.

"Very good," said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand, Harry straightened back up. "And now you face me, like a man . . . straight-backed and proud, the way your father died...

"And now — we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand again, and before Harry could even move, let alone defend himself, he had been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. I watched Harry, practically able to feel the pain myself, but knew I could do nothing to help him.

When it was over, Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done just moments ago; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

I wished, at that moment, that I was still tied up to that yew tree. I wished I was actually as weak and powerless as I felt in that moment. I was just as pathetic as the rest of them, except perhaps worse, because I did not stand in the circle for the same reasons they did — except Carlisle, Benjamin, and perhaps one or two more.

"A little break," said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, "a little pause . . . That hurt, didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

I certainly didn't, but Harry didn't answer. I considered stepping forward and asking to receive the Curse instead, a way to prove my loyalty to becoming a Death Eater and also spare Harry the pain, but I realized it would be pointless. He wanted Harry to be the one to feel the curse; he wanted Harry to be the one to die.

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," said Voldemort softly. "Answer me! Imperio!"

"I WON'T!"

The words burst from Harry's mouth after a moment of him clearly struggling to break free of the Imperius Curse; his words echoed through the graveyard.

Harry was strong...or perhaps just lucky, because he had no one to . . . No . . . he did have people to lose. He had a family, friends, people who cared for him, he had people who would surely be harmed if he did not give into Voldemort . . . and if he died, the Potter name would die with him, much like the Harris name would die with Grandad and I, unless they decided not to kill him . . . but the Harris name had been tainted. It was no longer about names . . . it was about the people, themselves, and there were still plenty of good people who would stand by their beliefs and be strong . . . like Harry. He was choosing to die rather than beg for his life as Voldemort wanted.

But who, if he died, would stop Voldemort? Was anyone else capable? Was I? Was it noble of Harry to die for what he believed in, or stupid? Would it be a sacrifice or an end to humanity's hope?

The roles should have been reversed. Harry should have been doing whatever it meant to survive and I should've been the martyr. We needed Harry Potter alive, all of us, everyone in Great Britain, everyone in Europe, everyone in the whole bloody world. Harry Potter was the king, I was just another pawn. There were plenty of Demetria Harrises who would fight, the world didn't need this one in particular.

Voldemort had raised his wand to hit Harry with the Cruciatus Curse again, but he'd been ready; he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," said Voldemort's soft, cold voice, the Death Eaters laughing. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry . . . come out and play, then . . . it will be quick . . . it might even be painless . . . I would not know . . . I have never died . . ."

I have.

As soon as I stepped out of the circle, everyone shifted their eyes to me, some of them gasping. I walked right up to the headstone which Harry was crouching behind.

"What is this?" hissed Voldemort. "A change in allegiance? Are you sure this is wise, Demetria?"

"Obicham te," I said to the ground, hoping Grandad heard, before picking my head up and looking Voldemort in his red eyes. "I'm afraid I'm not very much like my father . . . or my grandfather," I glanced over to him through angry, slit eyes.

In truth, I was like all of them, but I didn't dare expose Grandad, or even my deceased father...

"I haven't considered Carlisle to be my family for a long time," I continued; the words hurt to say, mostly because for brief moments at some points, I'd believed them to be true. "You can keep him . . . I am my mother's daughter."

"Very well," said Voldemort airily, lipless mouth twisting up into a sinister grin. "Then you will die as your mother did..."

But in that moment, Harry had thrown himself around the headstone, shouting, "Expelliarmus!" Voldemort cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's — they met in midair — and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry and Voldemort were both fiercely gripping their wands which appeared to be shaking and vibrating.

And then, both Harry and Voldemort began to lift off the ground, being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone and came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves. The Death Eaters were shouting, asking Voldemort for instructions. They seemed to have forgotten I'd just went up against their master, and as they reformed the circle around Harry and Voldemort, I kept myself just outside of it so as not to remind them.

When one of the Death Eaters in front of me turned his head to the side, I thought it was Dolohov about to punish me for choosing the "wrong side." I held my wand out in front of me, but realized instantly, I did not need it. I realized that Death Eater was Grandad, and he whispered back to me the Bulgarian message I'd given him.

"Obicham te."

Translated: I love you.

"Nadyavam se da se sreshtnem otnovo," I said quickly. (I hope to meet again)

Because I knew what it also meant.

Translated: Goodbye.

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, a crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals.

"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, though his cry was strangely muffled now. "Do nothing unless I command you!"

The beam between Voldemort and Harry changed again. It was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting their wands. They began to slide slowly and steadily Harry's way. As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry's wand tip, I could see his wand vibrate harder, the closer the bead got to him. But then slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, began to move the other way . . . and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now . . . Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful...

One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the top of Voldemort's wand. It moved very slowly along the golden thread . . . it trembled for a moment . . . and then it connected . . .

At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain . . . then — his red eyes widened with shock — a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished . . . the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail . . . more shouts of pain . . . and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the most solid and dense smoke. It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory.

As badly as I would've loved to believe that Cedric had somehow been brought back to life, I knew it couldn't have been the case... The thick gray ghost of him emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort's wand, as though it were sqeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

"Hold on, Harry," it said.

I wanted it to turn and speak to me . . . I hoped it might . . . but this was not about me . . .

More screams of pain from the wand . . . and then something else emerged from its tip . . . the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso . . . an old man I did not recognize was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done . . . and his ghost fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick...

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did . . . You fight him, boy . . ."

But already, yet another head was emerging . . . and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's . . . she dropped to the ground and straightened up like the others, staring . . .

"Don't let go, now!" cried Bertha Jorkins. "Don't let him get you, Harry — don't let go!"

And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand. The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at Harry...

"Your father's coming..." she said quietly. This was Harry's mother, Lily. "Hold on for your father . . . it will be all right . . . hold on . . ."

And he came . . . first his head, then his body . . . tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke . . . though I did not hear what he said, he was keeping his voice quiet so Voldemort could not hear him.

"Yes," I heard Harry gasp when James was finished.

"Harry . . ." said the figure of Cedric, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents . . ."

"I will," said Harry, face screwed up with the effort of holding his wand.

"And tell Demetria . . ." My heart fluttered upon him hearing my name . . . for what would be the last time . . . I didn't hear what he said, though; he spoke to Harry as quietly as James had, but Harry promised Cedric he would tell me.

After another moment, Harry yelled, "NOW!" He pulled his wand upward and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear — they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze.

"Demetria!" he shouted, running toward me. I joined him immediately.

We zigzagged behind headstones, feeling the Death Eaters' curses following us, hearing them hit the headstones — we were dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric's body.

"Stun them!" I heard Voldemort scream.

"Impedimenta!" I immediately whipped around and shouted. It hit nearly all of them.

I heard more wand blasts behind us as Harry grabbed my hand and pulled me to the ground with him; more jets of light flew over our heads as we fell, Harry stretching out his hand to grab Cedric's arm.

"Stand aside! I will kill them! They are mine!" shrieked Voldemort.

I waited for Harry's other hand to close on Cedric's wrist before I reached out for the Triwizard Cup, which was just in my reach. I grabbed it by the handle with my free hand and heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that I felt the jerk behind my navel that meant the Portkey had worked — it was speeding us away in a whirl of wind and color . . . We were going back.