A/N: akasanta gets the points for posting the 600th review. Thanks to all readers and reviewers!

26. The Graveyard

He smiled nervously at Fleur Delacour, who gave him a dazzling smile in return. She had been very friendly with him since he pulled out Susan and Gabrielle (as he came to know her later) from the lake during the Second Task. The French girl confessed to him that at first she wanted to win the Tournament to prove that she was more than a pretty Veela. But now her only wish was to survive this rotten thing after believing that she came close to losing her dearest little sister (said sister did not appreciate being called little, though) to the merpeople.

Cedric and Victor both nodded at him and he gave thumbs up to both of them. Between the tasks, the four champions formed bond between themselves. They often met in the Great Hall, beside the Lake, or near the Quidditch pitch and just got to know each other. They even practised spells together occasionally. They all figured that the Tournament was just a business opportunity for the schools and the ministry, and they could care less if one of them lost their life. They took this chance to make friends outside their country and learn from them.

The first whistle was blown, and with determined steps, Harry strode inside. The maze was dark and silent. Taking a moment to calm down his nerves, he went to the right fork. The path wasn't blocked and he jogged a bit.

The whistle was blown for the second time, allowing Cedric to enter. Not pausing to think, he turned the corner, and stopped dead.

A dementor was gliding towards him, one scaly hand reaching out-

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he shouted and the silver stag erupted from his wand to charge down the dementor. Strangely, instead of fleeing, the dementor stumbled.

Wait. Dementors don't stumble...

"Riddikulus!"

The dementor exploded. Releasing a breath, he went on.

As he turned several corners and blasted with the occasional creatures Professor Lupin taught them about, along with some tricky spells which he encountered using Arithmancy and instinct, he couldn't help the feeling that something bad was going to happen tonight.

There was a huge troll grunting at him in the next corner, and he had to smile, remembering the first troll he met. It was the day he first met Dora officially.

"Let's see what you got." He whispered to the troll, who was raising its club-

He banished the club from its hands and it roared in anger. Without missing a bit, he muttered, "Accio club."

The spell had its desired effect. It knocked down the troll as it flew towards Harry. He sidestepped the giant chunk of stone. Then he applied the same charm he used in his first year.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

This time, however, he let the club rise to about fifty feet before he released it. The result was quite nauseating. The troll's thick head split and yellow brains became visible along with the greyish blood.

The next obstacle was quite hilarious. He figured it was a test to check the knowledge of the champions about the muggle world. It looked like a scene from a video game, only it was more realistic. A horde of animated zombies were coming towards him, and he found that spells simply passed though them. There was a heavy shotgun in front of him and he knew what to do. He finished the whole firing thing within two minutes, and as he passed the dead zombies, they began to rise again, getting ready for the next champion.

He then met a strange creature with wings that looked like a cross between a snake and a raven. He quickly realized that the creature was very fast in it movements, but its movements were predictable. Only enduring a nasty tail whip, he managed to place a solid cutting curse, and the creature fell down immediately.

He managed to get through a Blast-Ended-Skrewt and a sphinx and finally the cup was in sight. His heart sank as he saw Victor Krum appearing from a lane that was much closer to the cup than he was.

When he started the tournament, he was determined to stay alive at the end, but now he had an overwhelming desire to win. And it didn't look like Viktor was going to back away. Not that he expected him to.

Then suddenly there was a huge spider right in front of the Bulgarian seeker.

"Viktor watch out!" he shouted and Krum skidded to a stop, but the spider already picked him up, and his wand dropped to the floor. Instantly, Harry started firing Reducto at the spider, but it seemed merely annoyed. Getting an inspiration, he threw a cutting curse at one of the creature's leg.

Instead of severing the legs, the curse managed to draw blood. But it released Krum and went after Harry. In desperation, he casted Incendio and a golden fire was caught in the bleeding leg. The creature made a noise that he could translate to painful scream, but didn't slow down by much. Remembering the dragon, he shot a Conjunctivus at its eye, and to his relief, it stopped.

His relief was, however, short lived as the creature raised its pincers and then charged at him with rage. Viktor managed to throw a few flame cutters, which made no major impact on the spider than a minor looking cut. Then Harry did something utterly reckless and stupid.

He charged towards the spider.

Unlike the dragon, however, this time he had a plan, and did not waste energy by throwing curses that didn't affect the spider. He hoped he wouldn't run out of that dumb luck he always had.

As the spider lowered its pincers to lift him up, he cast a powerful Reducto point blank and ducked from the blasted pieces, diving under the giant creature.

He had the desired effect. The spider was powerful, but not intelligent. The partially blown pincer distracted it from him, and it kept running on.

And then Cedric appeared in front of it.

The Hufflepuff didn't take the risk of fighting a fully grown Acromantula, and fled away to try another path.

Harry grunted in pain. When he dived to duck, he hurt his legs and shoulders. Viktor was panting beside him.

"Are you okay?" he asked the boy who saved his life.

"Yeah." Harry replied, breathing heavily.

"That vas a brave move."

"Thanks, I guess some would call it stupid."

The international seeker chuckled. He saw Harry eyeing the Cup.

"Go on, take it." He advised him, but the young boy shook his head.

"No, you take it. You were there first. Besides, if we race, you'd win."

Krum shook his head. "But we von't race. You saved me. You deserve it."

Harry looked a bit annoyed.

"Just take the damn cup so we can leave this place. It will be over finally." Harry nearly shouted, but his eyes betrayed a hint of longing for the victory.

Viktor Krum was no stranger to cups and medals. While this was more important than the Best Seeker Award or the Snitchmaster Trophy or your regular league cups, he knew that Harry Potter deserved the trophy, not him. However, he could also see the young man's dilemma. He wanted the cup, but at the same time, thought that he didn't deserve it.

"We vill do it together." He said in a determined tone, and he was pleased to see hope shining in the other champion's eyes.

"A tie?"

"A tie."

"On three?"

Krum nodded.

"One... Two..."

He saw the form of Fleur Delacour watching them from a few feet away.

"Three."

Both of them grabbed the handle of the cup at the same time, and there was a familiar tug at the navel as they disappeared.

"What happened?" Cedric asked Fleur as he finally caught up with the French Champion.

"I don't know. Zey touched ze cup together. I think eet was a portkey." She said worriedly, while Cedric threw red flames in the air. Moments later, Professor McGonagall descended from a broom.

"What's wrong with you two?" she asked irately. They weren't in any visible trouble and yet they shot out flames.

"Harry and Viktor disappeared after they touched the cup. We thought they were in trouble." Cedric explained.

The mazes began to disappear before Cedric was finished.

"Maybe because they are in the front?" McGonagall offered kindly. They were just worried about their fellow champions.

Indeed, they could see the two of them lifting up the cup and waving at the applauding audience.

"Well done! Both of you!" Dumbledore praised, relieved that the tournament was over without any harm to Harry or any other champions.

Daniel Edgecombe walked towards the champions, both of them still holding the cup.

"Indeed, very well done. I believe the prize money is to the split two ways now. This is quite extraordinary." Then he leaned towards Harry and asked quietly, "Are you a pureblood, Mr. Potter?"

Harry was not expecting the strange question.

"Er... no, I'm a..."

He saw that the man's eyes were a bit glazed and he had a very bad feeling about this, but the words escaped from his mouth before he could stop.

"... halfblood."

Dumbledore was talking to Ludo Bagman at the moment, so he didn't notice the two champions disappeared a second time. He turned around to see Edgecombe shouting, "Where did they go?"

...

"Kill the spare!"

As Harry's scar threatened to burst open in pain, he acted on pure instinct and kicked Krum's feet. The burly Bulgarian made an angry noise when he fell, face down on the earth, but he saw the poison green curse that sailed over his head.

Being a professional seeker gave you a knack of making decisions within a second. He knew he couldn't apparate back to Hogwarts or help Harry if he wanted to get out of here alive, but that didn't mean he couldn't apparate to anywhere else. Quickly grabbing his wand, which was just inches from his hand, he disapparated.

Harry didn't recognize the man who was tying him up. He had sandy blond hair and was quite young. But he did know the man who was attending to a huge cauldron, with a bundle in his arms.

"You are going to die today, Potter." The man in front of him said with a feral grin.

"So are you, shitface." He whispered back, clenching his teeth in pain. The grin was replaced with an ugly look. He hit Harry hard on the face.

"That's all you got?" Harry taunted, knowing that he was, indeed, going to die. At least he won't go like a loser. He would go like a man.

"Shut up you filthy halfblooded scum!" the man roared.

"Leave him alone, Crouch." A cold, high pitched voice called and the man backed off. Harry had a very good idea about what was there in the bundle, and yet he hoped against hope that he was wrong.

He saw in horror as Wormtail started a resurrecting ritual, taking the bones from a grave belonging to Tom Riddle Sr. and taking blood from Harry, and finally, the sandy haired man cutting off his right arm, pouring it all in the cauldron.

He watched helplessly as Lord Voldemort rose once again.

"Robe me, Wormtail." The pale, scaly body stood up from the large cauldron, clenching and unclenching his fists as he inspected them. As Wormtail put a robe on him, he stepped out of it, looking around the graveyard.

"Give me your arm, Wormtail." He ordered in the cold, high pitched voice. Trembling, the man offered his left arm, where the Dark Mark was branded.

Examining the mark with fascination, Voldemort pressed a thin, white finger on it, and it turned jet black and Wormtail whimpered. Voldemort then looked at Harry.

"Harry Potter." He said in a welcoming voice. Ignoring the pain in his forehead, he replied.

"Hi Tom. You look horrible."

The trace of the evil smile vanished from the snake-like face of Voldemort.

"I see the old fool Dumbledore hasn't been teaching you manners at school."

"I guess I don't need to have manners for the greater good, then. So are you going to kill me, or we are just going to have a chat? Perhaps Wormtail could bring us some tea?"

"Silence!" Voldemort screamed, waving his yew wand at Harry, who found that he couldn't speak.

"You are a fool, Harry Potter. You should be begging for your life. Or maybe you should be begging that you die quickly and painlessly. I may even grant your wish. Why, I certainly do feel merciful today."

As soon as he finished speaking, swishing noises interrupted the silence of the night. At first Harry felt hopeful, thinking that somehow some kind of help has arrived, but it soon turned into dread as the cloaked and masked figures one by one came to Voldemort, kneeled down and kissed the hem of his robes, muttering 'My Lord'.

Frankly, they looked like a pathetic herd of sheep.

What followed next was an incredibly boring dramatic monologue by Voldemort about how he knew ways to fool death, and how he, Harry, was the reason that he didn't return earlier. If not for the fact that he was about to die, he would have laughed. Or yawned. He was certainly feeling exhausted.

Then his exhaustion turned to fear as Voldemort put one of his followers under the Cruciatus Curse. The scream of the man echoed around the cold, dark graveyard and Harry desperately hoped that someone would hear and come to help. He wasn't afraid to die, but he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to bear it if he was put under the Cruciatus Curse.

Sooner than he would have liked, Voldemort turned his attention back to Harry.

"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Last time, I couldn't touch you, giving you an unfair advantage, but look Harry. I can touch you now." He pressed one bony finger to the scar on Harry's forehead.

If not for the feeling that his scar was seconds from start bleeding, he would have shouted 'GAY!' to the happy face of Voldemort. He struggled against his bindings as Voldemort laughed like a maniac.

"Untie him, Wormtail. And give his wand back to him."

Wormtail did as he was asked but Harry couldn't stand properly due to the pain in his leg, which he almost forgot about. He guessed it was sprained.

"You have been taught how to duel, I assume? Now bow to me, Harry."

Harry stood still, looking the evil bastard in the eye. He wasn't going to play by Voldemort's rules if he could help it. Unfortunately, he couldn't disobey, as his spine arched forwards with a lazy wave from Voldemort's wand. The Death Eaters laughed at him.

"Very good. Now we duel." Voldemort said in a sickly cheery voice.

Harry had learned basic duelling from Dora. Viktor and Fleur taught him some really good spells, too. But none of that could prepare him for a duel against the most feared Dark Wizard of the century.

Before Harry could think of a curse, Voldemort screamed "Crucio!"

It hurt like hell. There was no other way to describe it. All his nerve endings were being frayed as he screamed himself hoarse.

The pain stopped after few seconds, but his body still twitched and he could barely get up. The Death Eaters found this very funny and laughed loudly.

"Did that hurt, Harry?" Voldemort asked with a cold, evil smile. "Do you want me to stop? You have to but beg, and I will stop your suffering. Answer me. Do you want it to stop? Imperio!"

The feeling was wonderful. It felt like there wasn't anything in the world that could possibly worry him. All he had to do was to say 'stop it'. It was really very simple.

But doesn't it mean you are giving up? A little voice at the back of his head said quietly, but firmly.

What does it matter? I really should do it.

It matters because your parents didn't die for you to give up like that. If you have to go, go with a fight.

Shut up, you irritating little voice! My parents aren't here anymore, so how do you know what they'd want?

They'd be ashamed of you.

Voldemort was a bit surprised when the boy didn't respond immediately. But it didn't matter. After being exposed to the Cruciatus for the first time, it would be impossible for a fourteen year old boy to resist an Imperius Curse from Lord Voldemort, one of the two most powerful wizards of the century, which the Potter boy was, incidentally, receiving for the first time too. Even he couldn't resist the Imperius in his first time, and that was from a much lesser wizard.

Voldemort smiled in a satisfied manner when he saw the boy accept his fate and said in dreamy voice, "Please..."

It would be fun to torture him more and make him beg again.

"... go fuck yourself."

His smile was replaced by an ugly rage as he snarled and threw another Cruciatus at the brat. To his shock, he rolled away at the last second and the curse exploded a headstone.

Again, he threw a Cruciatus and this time it connected, though barely. He kept it for nearly a minute before he released him. Laughing cruelly, he went for the kill.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The two spells, green and red, connected, and became a fine golden thread, with a pulsing golden sphere at the centre. He shouted at his followers to remain inactive when the two of them were lifted off their feet. He didn't know what it was, but knew what to do. Pushing with all his willpower, he forced the sphere at the Boy Who Lived, the bane of his existence for fourteen years.

The sphere almost connected with the boy's wand, but then it stopped. With undisguised shock he witnessed as the boy pushed the sphere back at him, and slowly it crossed the middle point, and now the sphere was on his half of the golden thread, which was emitting strong magical radiation.

He didn't know what the hell that sphere would do, but he felt an inexplicable fear. He knew if the sphere connected to his wand, something unpleasant would happen, but what shook him the most was the boy himself. It was clear that the sphere that was nearing him was guided by either willpower or raw magical power. He was very much scared when he realized that in one of these two, the boy apparently bested him. Without testing his luck like a foolish Gryffindor, he pulled away with all his might, and to his relief, the connection was broken. To his added satisfaction, the boy's leg seemed injured, because when they fell back to the ground, he fell down and clutched his ankle. Without wasting the precious chance, he put a full body bind at the boy.

Harry mentally slapped himself for losing his footing as they landed. He wasn't Dora, and even she wouldn't be clumsy in a life-death situation like this. As he grew rigid, he knew that his dumb luck was out. He wished he could have met Dora one last time, maybe hug or even kiss her goodbye.

"So that was all you had? All the glory of the Boy Who Lived ends tonight. I must admit that I will miss hunting you down and breaking you to pieces before killing you. I could have tortured your friends and family and kill them in front of you just to watch you suffer. Because I suffered for fourteen long years and how long do you suffer? Not even an hour. The injustice!

"But Lord Voldemort is feeling merciful today. Oh, I will break down each and every one of your friends and dear ones, have no doubt about that. But you won't be here to watch that. Isn't that pleasant, Harry? Shouldn't you thank me? But I forgot, manners are not among your virtues. Say goodbye to your pathetic life, Harry. Because death is almost here. It might even be painless. After all, I haven't died properly." He finished with a cold laugh.

Harry was trying not to think of anything. He wanted so much more from his life! He was looking forward to living with Sirius and Jennifer, getting back to Andromeda and Ted. He was almost counting the hours when he would finally meet Dora again. He didn't say goodbye to Susan, Hannah, Neville or Hermione. He never told Dora that he fancied her and that he might be possibly in love...

Did he even know what love meant?

He remembered Andromeda staying up late when Dora and he were at Susan's birthday, just to ask them if they needed a warm bowl of soup before turning in.

He remembered Sirius telling him that he was proud to have him as his godson.

He remembered Susan telling him that she would be there for him no matter what.

He remembered Dora holding him tightly when he cried for his parents for the first time.

Was that love? Because if it was, he knew he would terribly miss it.

Damn Voldemort!

He didn't hear the rustle of the grass behind him, nor did he hear the words that escaped Voldemort's lips. He just saw the green light speeding towards him, and he didn't close his eyes.