Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way and he fell forwards; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.
"Where are we?" he said. Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.
They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely, obviously travelled miles—perhaps a hundred miles—or even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the back outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make the outline of a fine old house on the hillside. Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry.
'Did anyone tell you the Cup was a Portkey?' he asked.
'Nope,' said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. 'Is this supposed to be part of the task?'
'I dunno,' said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. 'Wands out, d'you reckon?'
'Yeah,' said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.
They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.
'Someone's coming,' he said suddenly.
Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watch the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily towards them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face; but from the way it was walking, and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever they were, they were short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over their head to obscure their face and—several paces nearer, the space between them closing all the time—he saw that the thing in the person's arms looked like a baby ... or was it merely a bundle of robes?
Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. For a second, Harry and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at each other.
And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all, his head was about to split open.
'Harry?' Hurriedly, Cedric knelt beside Harry, pressing his hand against his back, 'What's wrong Harry?'
From far away, above his head, Harry heard a high, cold voice say 'Kill the spare.'
There was a swishing noise and a blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his sting eyes.
Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead.
Harry stopped breathing, he stared into Cedric's face, how he lay almost peacefully; eyes closed and mouth half-open, asleep. But in the cold moonlight, with the crack! of the killing curse ringing in his ears, the sound of Cedric's body falling onto the ground; Harry could fixate on the feeling of cold sweat drip, dripping down his neck.
Shit,
Shit shit shi-
His mind couldn't comprehend it, numbed down by disbelief, but his body was already wrought in shallow breath; hot tears stung at Harry's eyes. It was the first time he'd seen a body, he felt nauseous, sick. And yet he couldn't tear his eyes away—for this one, eternal second, Harry felt his knees go slack, not out of his scar's pain but rather something that gurgled out of his chest. He choked out a shaky and heartbroken,
"Cedric."
The second passed and then suddenly he was being pulled to his feet. The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry towards the marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon the tombstone, it's letters dyed in the wand-light before he was forced around and slammed against it.
TOM RIDDLE
Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hooded man; he struggled, and the man hit him - hit him with a hand that had a finger missing. And Harry realised who was under the hood.
It was Wormtail.
'You!' he gasped.
But Wormtail didn't reply, busy strapping Harry against the headstone with rope, stuffing his mouth with some material from his cloak. Unable to move, unable to scream, Harry could only stare; stare as Wormtail's trembling fingers fumbled with the knot, stare at the bundle at his feet and how it shifted and squirmed underneath. Harry stared at Cedric's body, lying twenty feet away. And then some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. Harry stared at the unfamiliar sky, stared at his wand which lay on the ground out of reach.
He began to pray.
...
'Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand.'
Harry fell to the ground and dug into the soil of the earth, only breathing in shaky and deep breaths. His injured leg twitched and he gripped his wand so tightly, he was almost certain that it'd break. But as the pain and terror settled in, Harry stood up with an even darker feeling, shooting from his leg up his spine; hatred.
'You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?' said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness. At this words Harry remembered, as though from a former life, the Duelling Club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago ... all he had learnt there was the Disarming spell, 'Expelliarmus' ... and what use would it be, even if he could, to deprive Voldemort of his wand, when he was surrounded by Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least thirty to one? He knew he was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned .. the unblockable Avada Kedavra curse—and Voldemort was—his mother was not here to die for him this time... he was quite unprotected ...
'We bow to each other, Harry,' said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snake-like face upturned to Harry. 'Come, the niceties must be observed .. Dumbledore would like to show manners ... bow to death, Harry ...'
The Death Eaters were laughing again, Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling, Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him ... he was not going to give him that satisfaction ...
...
Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew the end had come. The breath heavy through his chest, his leg throbbing, his glasses and his face dirtied and covered in his own blood—there was no hope ... no help to be had.
But he was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort's feet ... he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defence was possible. Before Voldemort could stick his snake-like face around the headstone, Harry had stood up ... he gripped his wand tightly in his head, thrust it out in front of him, and threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort.
Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted 'Expelliarmus!', Voldemort cried, 'Avada Kedava!'
A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's—they met in mid-air—and suddenly, Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge was surging through it; his hand had seized up around it; he couldn't have released it even if he'd wanted to - and a narrow beam of light was now connecting the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold - and Harry, following the beam with his astonishing gaze, saw that Voldemort's white fingers, too, were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.
"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters. They were in utter disbelief at the sight of their master held in a lock with a teenage boy. Voldemort turned to face his opponent, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry's; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. 'Do nothing unless I command you!' Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.
But then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air ... it was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. Soft yet triumphant singing, the sound of horns swelling to an unbridled chorus of hope. As though a friend was speaking in his ear, Harry heard,
Do not break the connection.
I know, Harry told the music, I know I mustn't. Harry's wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever ... and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed ... it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands - Harry felt his wand give a shudder, as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way ... the direction of the beam's movement was now towards him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder angrily. One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry didn't understand why or what he was doing, but he still began to concentrate every last particle of his mind into forcing the beads back to Voldemort and slowly, slowly; the beads halted and began to waft the other way. It was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra hard now and Voldemortwho looked astonished, and almost fearful. As the bead of light moved along the golden thread, it trembled for a moment, just before the tip of Voldemort's wand and then ... it connected.
At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain ... then - Voldemort's 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 large began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip; a great and bright something, that looked as though it was made from solid light ... it was a head ... then a chest and arms, and now .. the torso of Cedric Diggory.
Harry almost released his wand out of shock, but instinct willed his fingers to stay closed and rigid. Cedric's bright figure glanced towards him, and looked up and down the golden thread of light. Then he spoke soft, yet the words were so loud it rang clear in Harry's mind;
'Hold on, just a little while longer,' Cedric said.
And there were some frightened yells from the Death Eaters, unable to enter the yellow-golden dome that webbed around Harry and Voldemort. Suddenly more screams from the wand ... and then something else emerged, this time a dark and dense shadow, as if made from smoke and tufts of grey cloud. Squeezing out with a head, arms and torso, Harry recognized the figure of the old man from his dreams walking from beside Cedric. He eyed Voldemort.
'He was a real wizard, then?' he said, and unlike Cedric, his voice and words echoed as if he was far away.
'Killed me, that one did ... you fight him, boy ...'
'Don't let go, now!' someone cried, another dark shadow or ghost but in the shape of Bertha Jorkins echoing just like the old man. 'Don't let him get you, Harry - don't let go!'
She, the old man and more of Voldemort's victims, their shadows less humanoid and more wisps, circled and wafted around the duelers; whispering hope to Harry and hissing at his opponents. Another head began to emerge from the tip of Voldemort's wand ... and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be ... he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment when Cedric had appeared from the wand ... knew, because the woman appearing was the one he'd thought of more than any other tonight ...
The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Cedric, the old man and Bertha had done, before straightening up and looking at him ... and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his mother.
'Your father's coming ...' she said quietly. 'He wants to see you ... it will be alright ... hold on ...'
And he came ... first his head, then his body ... tall and untidy-hair like Harry, the smoke, 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 in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him could not hear ...
'When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments ... but we will give you time ... you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts ... do you understand Harry?'
'Yes,' Harry gasped; fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.
'Harry ...' it was Cedric whispering into his ear now, but again unlike the others, it was like Cedric was there; like he was speaking and breathing, like his hands really held onto Harry's shoulder and spread warmth across his body.
But there was nothing there.
'Take my body back, will you? Take me back home with you.' Cedric says.
'I will!' Harry huffed out. It took more and more effort to talk.
'You're doing so well darling,' it was his mother's voice now, so sweet and unexpected that Harry's eyes began to well, his vision turning blurry and vague as Lily Potter spoke.
'Harry? Harry, take care of yourself won't you? I've asked your friend to take care of you too... You'll both get out of here, I swear it!' she said and Harry nodded furiously, knowing that his mother would smile.
'Do it now,' whispered his father's voice. 'Be ready to run ... do it now ...'
'NOW!' Harry yelled; he didn't think he could have held on for a moment anyway - he pulled his hand upwards with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke. The cord of light vanished, the song died - but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear - they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze -
In this eternal moment, Harry could only watch as the figures of his mother and father disintegrated into a grey and violent cloud that wrapped around Voldemort, who screamed and howled like a rush of wind. Harry felt himself being pushed and, upon realizing that Cedric's bright figure and warm hands were pushing him to go; Harry ran for his life, piercing his way through the gaggle of stunned Death Eaters, and zig-zagging between the headstones. Eventually, he heard the cracks of spells whizzing from behind him, stinging the grass and whipping the ground beneath his feet.
'Stand aside! I will kill him, he is mine!' shrieked Voldemort. But he was too late. Harry had dived towards Cedric, making sure to hold the older boy's hand tightly while he pointed his wand towards the Cup and yelled 'Accio!'; the trophy leaping up and soaring towards him. When Harry caught the handle, he lost sight of the Death Eaters, and the graveyard and Voldemort's piercing scream all together, as for a second time tonight, Harry felt himself jerked into Portkey travel; lost in a whirl of wind and colour, with Cedric by his side.
