PART THREE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WATER AND BLOOD

A cold shiver ran through Harry's entire body as though tiny needles were piercing his skin, reaching his bones, shaking him to wakefulness.

"Harry! Harry, wake up! HARRY! "

Harry's eyes shot open. There was water into his lungs and mouth. He started to cough madly, rolling on his side. He was on the grass. Why was he on the grass, and not on the platform in the middle of the lake? His hands looked ghostly white. He was shivering all over.

"Neville?" he called, his senses returning. His hand was already gripping at his wand in alarm.

"Harry, run! Harry, no!" cried Neville.

"Kill the spare!" suddenly shouted an adult's voice. It was a voice that Harry recognised all too well.

Harry only had time to look up to see Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, raise his wand.

"Avada…" he said.

Harry was quicker than he would have thought possible, cold as he was. Still laying flat on his belly, he shot his wand hand in front of him and cried as loud as he could: "Expelliarmus!"

Wormtail's wand flew into the air. Short as he was, the rat-like man almost tripped over himself to try and catch it as it fell a few feet away from him.

Harry rapidly rolled out of the way, forcing his legs to pull him up, looking desperately around for cover. He fell on his knees behind a big rock. One of his feet hit the water as he did so. He shot a quick look behind him. They were on the shoreline of the lake, but the platforms set up for the Second Task were so far away and the weather was so ghastly it was impossible to see them.

"You, idiot!" shouted the other man. "We don't want any witness. Kill him or I will kill you myself."

"Harry, no!" Neville screamed.

Then Harry heard a thud and something heavy fall to the ground. He looked up from behind the rock in time to see Neville's body fall limply at the feet of Barty Crouch Junior. Kneeling on the ground besides him was Wormtail who was patting the floor for his wand. His fingers were almost on it.

"Accio wand!" called Harry. Wormtail's wand immediately shot in his direction and Harry grabbed it in mid-air.

"Stupefy!" cried Crouch, stepping over Neville's unconscious form as he did so.

The rock suddenly burst into bits and Harry had to fling himself out of the way. He felt several sharp pieces of the rock hit him on the head and blood trickling down his neck. Still clutching his and Wormtail's wand, he managed to crawl behind another rock that was significantly smaller, but closer to the trees.

"Well done, Harry Potter," said Crouch. "You're better than I thought." He sounded oddly amused. He stepped forward, pushing Wormtail hard as he passed so that Pettigrew fell on his back. "Forget it. I'll kill him myself. Watch the other one."

Wormtail didn't reply anything and merely watched from where he lay as Barty Crouch advanced on Harry.

"I will enjoy killing you, Potter," said Crouch with a twisted smile. "Your parents have given me enough trouble. Consider it payback time. Avada…"

"Stupefy!" cried Harry, pointing his wand at Crouch's chest while remaining half-concealed by the rock.

Crouch stepped aside in a fraction of a second and the spell hit a tree behind him with a loud crack.

"You can't escape what's coming to you, Potter," said Crouch in a shrilled voice and with the same twisted smile that Harry had seen before. "You'll only be the first. Then it will be your Mudblood mother and all your filthy little friends!"

"Not if I can help it!" cried Harry. His own voice sounded full of rage. He leapt out from behind the rock and yelled "Expelliarmus!", but Crouch was too fast. With a movement of his wand, he blocked the spell with an alarming easiness.

Harry wheeled around to his left and hid behind a tree, his mind racing. Crouch was too strong. What was he to do? Then the answer came to him. He shot his wand in the air and shouted: "Periculum!" With all the Aurors patrolling around the school, someone was bound to see the sign. However, his hopes died away when the red light vanished before it could even rise over the height of the trees. Crouch had anticipated his move and stopped the spell in mid-air.

"No one will come to save you, Potter; not your parents, not Dumbledore. You are mine to finish. And I do believe that I will take my time."

"But we don't have time, Crouch," said the shaky voice of Wormtail. "Finish him and let's go now. And don't forget my wand."

Wormtail's interruption had given Harry enough time to move swiftly behind another tree, a bigger one. From where he was, he could see Neville and Wormtail. But how were they going to escape? What was Wormtail and Crouch's plan? Apparition was impossible on Hogwarts grounds. How had Crouch, disguised as Mad-Eye Moody, done it during the maze the first time? Then the answer hit him.

"They have a Portkey," Harry said quietly to himself. "But what does it look like?"

He didn't have the opportunity to look any further. Crouch was a few steps from him. He could hear him approaching on his left side.

"Hello, Potter," said Crouch. He had grabbed at Harry's neck from the right side, unexpectedly.

Harry struggled against the strong grip. His throat was being crushed. He couldn't breathe. Crouch was holding him against the tree with one hand and had his wand firmly pointing at Harry's chest.

"Let's go!" Wormtail yelled, his voice trembling impatiently.

Harry was feeling the blackness coming. He was about to pass out.

"Harry, no! Don't kill him, please!" a feeble voice said a few feet away. It was Neville.

Harry's mind swam into place. He rose his wand, and, just as Crouch was about to say the Killing Curse, he thought very hard about the most happy memory he could think of. His lips said the words but no sound came out, and yet…

The Patronus that came out of Harry's wand hit Crouch like a bolt of lightening. He went flying into the lakeshore, falling in the cold water on his back. But Crouch wasn't unconscious. He was already getting back on his feet. Harry turned around, looking for Neville, but he had taken his eyes away from Crouch a second too long. The spell hit Harry on the side and he fell on the ground at once. It was the Cruciatus Curse. He knew it. He had felt pain like this before. His entire body was shaking. From the corner of his eye, he saw Crouch approaching, his wand aiming at him.

"Stupefy!" Harry heard Neville's voice say.

Crouch stepped backwards as the spell hit him in the stomach. Neville was running towards Harry, wand at the ready.

"Get away from here, Neville!" cried Harry desperately.

"Stupefy!" Crouch yelled, his wand directed at Neville.

But as Crouch said this, Harry pulled his leg in a wide kick that knocked him out of balance, sending the spell into the pale sky as Barty Crouch fell on his back. Wormtail followed Harry's gaze in the direction of the spell. The sky became momentarily illuminated by the jet of red light. Harry could read in Pettigrew's face that he had realised what had happened: they had just informed a lot of people of their whereabouts.

Neville was motionless, rooted on the spot. He too was watching the sky. Harry rolled on his back, facing Crouch who was struggling to his feet, and cried "Expelliarmus!" It worked. Crouch's wand went flying into the air and landed on the edge of the lakeshore. Crouch was without a weapon and holding his hand as though it was hurt. Harry ceased the opportunity to cast another spell.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he cried and Crouch's body became rigid and fell to the ground. Harry scrambled to his feet and turned around.

"You got him, Harry!" Neville said.

"Neville, look behind you!" Harry screamed in horror.

There was nothing he could do. Harry saw Pettigrew raise a dagger behind Neville's back. The look of pain on Neville's face made Harry's stomach tighten. Neville fell on his knees, dropping his wand, leaning on the ground on both hands before falling flat on his belly, unconscious.

Wormtail was now holding the dagger, which was shinning with blood, in one hand and Neville's wand on the other. Harry heard him say "Accio Portkey", something small shot towards him, and he was gone.

Harry immediately went to Neville's side, fearing for the worst. Neville was motionless, laying flat on his belly, blood trickling on his right arm. Harry could hear him breathing, but he had no way of knowing how deep the wound was.

"Periculum!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at the sky. "Hurry," he thought. "Please, hurry…"

No sooner had he thought this that two figures arrived at great speed, flying from across the lake on broomsticks, and landed on the shore at the level where Harry and Neville were. It was Frank Longbottom and James Potter. Both had the gravest, most worried expression Harry had ever seen.

"Hurry!" cried Harry desperately, still at his friend's side. "Neville is badly hurt."

"Nev!" cried Mr Longbottom, running towards his son. "What happened? Dear Lord!"

He tore Neville's shirt with his wand to reveal a nasty, deep wound on Nev's right shoulder blade. Mr Longbottom's hands were trembling so much he could hardly make any movement.

"We've… got to… apply pressure…" he said shakily.

"I'll do it," said James, gently pushing the Head Auror aside and pulling Neville's body unto his knees. He put his hand on Neville's back and started to press as hard as possible.

"Harry, are you alright?" asked James, looking Harry into the eyes.

"Yes, I'm OK," said Harry, vaguely aware that he was dirty and wet and that he must have a few fair cuts on his face and arms.

But he didn't care about that. There was no time. If only his dad and Mr Longbottom had arrived a minute earlier…

"It was Wormtail and Barty Crouch Junior," he explained. "They attacked Neville. They needed his blood."

"What nonsense is that?" Neville's dad said at the top of his voice. "Do you expect us to believe…?"

But Harry was pointing at the limp body of Crouch Junior a few feet away on the lakeshore. Frank Longbottom got up to have a better look.

"It's not possible," said the Head Auror, passing a hand on his forehead. He sounded weak and fell unto his knees again. Then he ceased Harry by the shoulders, shaking him.

"What are you saying? What exactly happened here? Who did this to my son?"

"Shut up, Frank," said James, raising his voice in alarm. "We'll sort it out later. It's not working." His hands were covered in Neville's blood. "We need help. We need a Healer."

"I'll… I'll go…" said Neville's dad. He looked paler than ever.

"I'll go," said Harry at once.

"Harry…" said his dad quietly and with concern.

"I'm OK. Help Neville."

And he ran towards his dad's broomstick and mounted it as rapidly as he could. Without so much as an afterthought, he was in the air, speeding towards the platforms, cold wind brushing against his face.

He had to talk to Dumbledore. He had to tell him what happened; Dumbledore first, and no one else. Wormtail had Neville's blood. The blood of an enemy. If Voldemort had all of the other ingredients that he needed for his return, then it was a matter of minutes. They had a chance to stop it if they could get Crouch to reveal their hideout. They needed to find that graveyard and stop Voldemort's return. There was so very little time now…

As he thought this, pain suddenly hit him. His forehead was burning horribly. It was so intense that he had to pull the broomstick to a stop momentarily. He passed a hand over his brows, trying to steady himself on the broom. The platforms were near. He could see their outlines. He was almost there.

Struggling against the pain, he pulled the broomstick up again, but he knew what the pain meant. Wormtail had wasted no time. The potion must have been almost ready and waiting for the final ingredient. The throbbing was increasing. It was blinding him. He could not see the platforms anymore. His feet were brushing the water. He was slowing down.

And then, just when he thought that it couldn't get worst, his forehead exploded with renewed pain. He felt his hands loose their grip on the broom. He didn't know how far still he was from the platforms when he hit the water. The lake was icy cold. It froze his body instantly. The water filled his nose and mouth. His robes were pulling him down.

The last thing he thought was how much he had utterly failed, as he was slowly descending into the cold, dark depth of the Black Lake.