Calla stumbled as they hit the ground, the Triwizard Cup flying out of her hand across the grass. She panted heavily, chest tight. This was not good. She could feel it as she opened her eyes, as she looked to Harry and then to Cedric, as she got shakily to her feet, her hand on her wand. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Where's Fleur?" Cedric said.

"She must have been left behind... The wind didn't..." Harry panted, shaking his head. "What was that?"

"I don't know. I tried to stop you two... But what is this place?"

That was something Calla though she knew; it was the graveyard from her visions. "Harry," she whispered, fear seizing her and muddling her words, "the cup."

"It's a Portkey," Cedric said, and she shook her head. He stared at her. "You think it isn't?"

"N-no, it is," she stammered out, shaking too hard to move properly over the grass without slipping. She felt sure her wand was going to slip out of her fingers and be lost in the grass.

"D'you think this is supposed to be part of the Task?"

"No," she whispered, staring around. Her stomach felt empty yet she was still sure that she was going to be sick. "It's not. But someone sent us here. We have to get back to the cup. I'm sure I saw Professor Moody-"

Pain shot through her, sharp and blazing like fire from her scar and spreading rapidly throughout the rest of her body. She was sure she screamed as her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, wand slipping from her hand and landing on the grass some way away from her. Her throat burned raw as her head swam. There was something before her like a cauldron and she didn't know if it was her vision or if it was the present as she saw green fire ignite underneath it, heard the hissing of flames. She could hear something moving, hear her brother's voice shouting her name, see the shape of him, but her head was pounding so hard and her vision swimming so bad that it felt she was underwater, and she couldn't focus on Harry at all, just helplessly and desperately scramble to grab onto his arm in an attempt to rush them back towards the cup.

Then her vision cleared as suddenly as it had fogged and her brother was clasping his scar, shaking next to her and a cold high voice - a voice that haunted her future and her past, a voice that made every part of her feel like she was surely about to die - saying "Kill the spare," and a flash of blinding green light that lit up the world like a bomb and then-

She was sure she screamed, or cried, or both. Cedric's body fell to the body and her throat burned as she clasped her hands to her mouth, finally able to move, still trembling all over as her heart pounded. No. No. No.

Not like this. She hadn't seen this - but she'd seen this place, she should have- She screamed again, louder this time. He was cold, motionless, lifeless. She knew he was dead. Oh God. He was dead. He was really dead. They'd... Oh God. She hadn't realised she was shouting until Harry grabbed her, shushing her. "He killed him!" she screamed, sobbing against Harry's hand, eyes burning. Her brother was wrenched from her and her words died in her throat as she crashed on her knees to the ground, head hanging, nails digging into the damp earth.

He was dead. Cedric Diggory was dead.

It felt like her heart and lungs both had been ripped from her. She wasn't sure she knew how to breathe. All her eyes could see was Cedric, his pale and lifeless face, still looking surprised, eyes turned towards the sky. And then someone grabbed her, was dragging her over the ground to a great statue of marble, past her brother, and shoved her against it. Her head rattled against hard, carved stone. Something dragged her hands up and bound them against the statue, like she was being held up. She slumped against it, head pounding. Her eyes couldn't stop seeing Cedric. Cedric. Dead.

The word rang in her hollow mind. Was this shock? She wrestled herself around so she could see Harry, staring at him. He looked numb and still, and whoever had dragged Calla here jerked her head around, away from her brother and she screamed again, as if someone might hear and save them. The man was hooded, and he did not raise his head so Calla could see him as he conjured invisible ropes not just around her wrists but her ankles too. Yet she knew him anyway, felt it somewhere within her, and a face flashed across her mind, a name. Wormtail. She panted, lungs giving out as she slumped down and the man under the hood seemed to nod.

Her head lolled forward of its own accord and her heart tightened. Was he going to kill them, too? He stuffed something in Calla's mouth to keep her from making a sound, and she shuddered at the feeling of it there.

Her heart slowed and she forced her eyes to stay open as she assessed the situation, trying to push down the terror that rose from the pits of her stomach. There was Cedric's body about twenty feet away from her, Harry maybe five feet to her right, the cup just beyond Cedric, her wand God knew where. There was a small bundle of clothes on the ground near Harry, near the foot of the grave, and when her eyes latched onto it her stomach lurched. She was sure that had she not had the gag in her mouth she would have been sick - or would she have choked on it? She tried to sort her thoughts, but where a moment ago her mind had been empty except for Cedric - oh God, Cedric - now it was racing, pounding, as though desperate to tell her anything and everything to distract her from the fact that she was almost certainly going to die if she did not do something, and fast.

But what could she do? She had no wand, and she had a feeling it wouldn't be much use to her anyway. She was exhausted now the shock was starting to wear off, and she was bound and gagged and her brother was the same and- Oh God, was the bundle on the ground moving?

A sudden image rolled over her mind, bloody and skeletal, a hand clawing to her. She screamed around the gag and lurched forward, the invisible ropes cutting into her as painful as real ones would have. The little bundle was squirming now, as though the thing inside it was trying to get out, and she knew as her stomach plummeted and her chest tightened and her head pounded, that she did not want to know what was inside of it.

There was a noise near her and she forced her head back up to stare around, only to feel the slip of something scaly around her ankles. She tried not to scream, as she fixed on it and her eyes widened. A snake, a giant one, like she'd seen... Oh God why hadn't she stopped it? Why was it here? Her eyes went to the bundle on the floor, still moving.

She knew what it was. Knew who it must be. She wanted to run and run and run but she couldn't move even to scream now. That thing was Voldemort. He looked small and frail and in this form he couldn't move but that did nothing to appease the growing terror in her stomach. It was he who had spoken and given the order for Wormtail to kill Cedric. Cedric... Her eyes drifted back to him and a terrified sob tore from her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut.

The bottom of the cauldron crackled as a flame lit underneath it, searing the backs of Calla's eyes. Its contents began to boil and bubble. Every sound felt like a blow against Calla's skin. The snake slithered away from her ankles and slipped through the grass into the dark shadows. She breathed only a little bit easier, easing her eyes open. She had to breathe. If she glanced to the side and twisted just the right way, she could meet Harry's haunted, terrified eyes. A silent promise lingered between the two of them. Not you.

The bundle seemed to become more and more agitated, like it was trying to crawl its way to greater height. The cauldron bubbled and boiled, steam rising thick in front of Calla's eyes; her eyes watered as she squinted, seeing the man she thought was Wormtail tending to the fire. She didn't want him to succeed in whatever he was doing. Her heart was now going so fast she was sure it was a miracle she was alive. She heard that high, cold voice again. "Hurry!"

Every inch of her felt like it was screaming and yearning to move and get out of her bonds. But she couldn't. She couldn't even struggle because she knew it was helpless. Her eyes drooped, chin falling onto her chest. She felt so tired it couldn't be right. The water bubbled so ferociously that it sent up sparks that made the air glisten like diamonds, and the sight burned Calla's eyes.

"It is ready, Master."

Bile rose in Calla's throat.

"Now."

Old words played in Calla's head. Mine. I will take it. She tried not to be sick.

Wormtail unwrapped the bundle on the ground and Calla felt her scream strangled by the gag in her voice. It was even worse than she had imagined, not only skeletal and bloody but scaly and gruesome and unnaturally hairless. It looked like a small, curled up human child, but its face... Calla had never seen anything like it and she never wanted to again. It was flat and snake-like and had bright red, gleaming eyes. Calla's eyes darted to the direction the snake had just slithered off in and her mind reeled again, that image ever present and lingering in the darkness like it was burned into her. Whispering voices flooded her ears, ringing, and a golden cup seemed to be flung across the darkness of her vision before she came back to reality.

The thing moved its arms helplessly, curling them around Wormtail's neck so his hood fell down and Calla got a look at his rat-like face. She almost screamed again at him, out of pure frustration and anger and fury that he'd gotten away and that he'd gotten this far. He lowered the flailing creature down towards the cauldron so that its face was illuminated briefly by the sparks and then, to Calla's horror, he lowered the creature into the boiling cauldron. It hissed as it fell in, and landed at the bottom with a dull thud that Calla felt in her bones. Her hands shook near uncontrollably, wrists burning as the skin strained against invisible ropes.

Wormtail's voice was also shaking as he spoke. Calla's ears rung but she could make it out as he said, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

There was a crack and Calla tried to turn her head, immediately regretting it as her shoulders shook and her legs turned to jelly as her knees gave out. Fine dust trickled through the air in front of her, but she couldn't tell if it was dust or if her vision was just going funny. It certainly seemed to darken, and it was almost blurry. Her head buzzed. She felt she could hardly hold herself upright and it took all her energy just to focus on breathing. In, out. In, out. The cauldron hissed, the air shimmering for a moment. A blunt pain rammed against her head.

But she forced herself to keep looking at Wormtail as he pulled out a silver dagger and pressed it to his arm. The sight made Calla's hairs stand on end and she shivered as he spoke. "Flesh of the - servant - w-willingly sacrificed - you will - revive - your master."

She saw it coming. Calla squeezed her eyes shut again, but she couldn't keep herself from hearing the high scream that pierced the air around them, and jolted straight through Calla's chest. Her knees buckled and she strained to keep herself upright, shoulders aching. She could hear something fall to the ground and then a sickening sort of splash. Red clouded the darkness behind her eyes as she forced her eyes to look, look so she might know what was happening and know what to do, if there was anything.

There was a rough movement near her as Wormtail came closer, but not to her. To Harry. "B-blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will re-revive your foe."

She turned as much as she could, seeing the silver dagger jag into Harry's pale arm, seeing him writhe there. Pain shot through her as she tried to move and run to her brother, but she couldn't escape the invisible bonds; she was completely useless to him. But her instinct told her to strain, to keep struggling and fighting, desperate to reach her brother and stop his pain, to take him and to run. But she couldn't. Calla wanted to scream but she could do nothing as blood ran from her brother's arm and into Wormtail's little glass vial. He looked at her for only a moment and then turned away, staggering back to the cauldron, but Calla did not fool herself into thinking she had been spared. She was here for a reason, she realised, straining to look at her brother, to try and reassure him or let him reassure her even if there was very little chance of either of them being able to do that.

Wormtail tipped the blood into the cauldron and Calla could not tear her gaze away even as she felt every part of her fall apart from fear, felt it shake her to her bones. Wormtail fell to the ground, clutching his stump and panting, as the cauldron glowed a blinding white light. Calla squeezed her eyes but she could not shut it out. Her head felt woozy and heavy. The light faded and for a second she fooled herself into believing, naively, that nothing had happened. And then her whole body seemed to burn and convulse from pain, she felt as though something was ripped from her chest and she screamed around the gag in her mouth. The bonds seemed to grow to acommodate her as she crashed to her knees on the hard stone. Her bones seemed to rattle from the shock and pain of the impact.

Her head spun, chest tight and still heavy, lights dancing before her eyes as she forced herself to look. White steam billowed from the cauldron and she couldn't see anything, not Wormtail and not Cedric and not Harry. She tensed, eyes trying their best to find him. Please, please. He was alive, he had to be alive, not like this, never like this, never at all, her brother couldn't be dead. She had to believe he wasn't. Her ears strained for any muffled noises of his strain.

And then they landed on a dark figure through the white steam. A thousand images fell through her mind, shattering as they shattered her. She stared at him, feeling numb. "Robe me," said that high, cold voice, and Wormtail scurried over, cradling his mutilated hand as he pulled the cloak over his master's head. Calla met a pair of glowing red eyes through the steam and she could have sworn she saw a smile, a horrid, crude thing that made her ache with fear.

And she knew it then, if she hadn't before. She knew she'd been right. Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Author's Note: Cliffhanger? Don't worry, next chapter will be up in a couple days at the most - this whole sort-of sequence got edited as a whole so it's just a matter of final proofreads and spellchecks etc. and spacing the updates a little.