Harry jolted back to consciousness, the adrenaline rush of an ennervate shocking him awake abruptly enough that for a moment he had no idea what was happening, his mind picking up exactly where it left off when he'd passed out, shrieking at his muscles to grab something! Anything!
This had been completely futile when he'd been falling out of the fucking sky. Now it just resulted in him sort of flailing on his back for a second like an overturned turtle, hands seeking out a broom handle that was probably lost somewhere in the trees now, or burned to fucking ash, before the fact that he was lying on his back, on the ground, properly registered.
"Hey now, Harry," a soft, soothing voice said. "Calm down, you're fine."
He made a deliberate effort to do so, taking a deep breath and digging his fingers into the damp leaves covering the ground before opening his eyes. Violet was kneeling beside him, wand hovering somewhat hesitantly over his heart. Behind her head, he could see Cedric and Fred or George (Harry was pretty sure he'd referred to his brother out in the stands by both names at various points over the course of the morning, just to confuse everyone) keeping watch. "Um. Hi? Why're... What happened?"
"You ran into a bloody tree, Harry," Fred (or George) informed him, condescending laughter in his tone. "Be glad Oliver wasn't here to see it, might've died of embarrassment on your behalf." Harry felt his face grow warm, because he was pretty sure Oliver was here, actually — he thought he'd seen him in the Great Hall earlier, hadn't been able to say hello before Hermione had dragged him away to go over their strategy just one more time, so that was just...just great.
"Aw, give him a break, Weasley," Cedric said, much more sympathetically. "He did manage to take out Victor bloody Krum." Thank you, Cedric... Clearly the Hufflepuff was a much better friend than any of the Weasleys. Bloody arse. "We found him out in the clearing and tied him up, in case he comes to before we get you back to the Fort."
"D'you know what happened to my broom?" he muttered, sitting up with the healer's assistance. Every muscle hurt, but he didn't think anything was broken?
"I was more concerned with what happened to you," she said, in a passingly good imitation of Madam Pomfrey's annoyed, why can't you get your shite together and stay out of hospital, Potter? tone.
"Maybe next time go with a Comet or something, you don't seem to have very good luck with Nimbuses," George (or Fred) advised him.
Bugger.
"How's your head, Harry?" Violet asked, rolling her eyes at the very important issue of Harry losing a second broom — he hadn't even had that one for a whole year yet...
"Ah...little foggy, hard to concentrate, you know? but not like the world's spinning or whatever. Is everyone else okay? Katie, I mean, and Lyra? And Tori?"
"Katie was evacuated ages ago—"
("Here, let's get you on your feet," Violet murmured over the Weasley twin's explanation.)
"—right before the Durmstrangers turned on the Beauxbatonnais." What? Clearly Harry had missed...probably a lot of things, but. "Lyra helped Cæciné pick off the idiots who attacked her, they took a time-out to heal themselves, and they're back at it. Absolutely mental, both of them. Tori made it back just before we came to find you, so—" He cut himself off with a yelp, diving to his left to avoid a gout of veela fire from fucking nowhere.
Harry went to cast a shield, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand, but— "Wand! Where's my wand?! Accio wand!" he shouted, despite obviously not having his wand.
It was just instinct, really, after spending all summer with the Blacks and Zabinis, to summon anything he misplaced. Sirius, Harry thought, probably used that charm more than any other spell, since he couldn't be arsed to remember where he left anything, ever. He was as surprised as anyone when a slightly panicked wave of magic swept away from him, combing through the undergrowth until it recognised the missing instrument, seized onto it, and brought it flying through the air to very nearly hit Harry in the face. Well-trained seeker instincts were the only thing that kept him from putting his fucking eye out with his own fucking wand and a Summoning Charm that should not have worked — not that he was questioning it at the moment, he had more important things to worry about.
Like a fucking veela dive-bombing them out of the sun, her(?) furious screech grating on his ears in much the same way her fury itself grated against the edges of his mind. He cast a shield over himself and the terrified healer (her fear almost as distracting as the veela's anger), but the next gout of fire was aimed off to one side, setting a wide swath of the surrounding brush alight — Violet and Fred (or George) weren't wearing red, obviously she didn't want to risk getting sidelined for using magic on the healer that really shouldn't be Category Five anyway, but still was because humans were, collectively, species-ist pricks.
"Fuck! You lot go!" Cedric shouted, hurling a volley of conjured ice-darts at the bird. She jinked aside, throwing another fireball directly at him. "I'll hold him off!"
Harry, still a bit addled, wasted half a second wondering what it was that made Cedric think the veela was a bloke (since he still couldn't say himself why he thought she was a girl), until George (or Fred) brought him back to reality, calling a thick fog out of the damp earth and transfiguring it into a net, which he banished at the bird. (She burned a hole straight through it, of course, but it did interrupt her next strafing run.) "Don't be an arse, Diggory, we're not going to just leave you!"
Cedric, busy taking advantage of the opening by casting a charm to increase the force of gravity in an area three-fold, didn't respond immediately. The veela crashed to the ground with a pained squawk, transforming back to her human form in a burst of fire and wild, light magic. She was holding her left arm close to her chest as though she might've broken or pulled something in the crash, but her wand was in her right and, far from injured and done fighting, she looked furious.
"Don't be an arse, Weasley, you don't need me to win! Get Potter back to the Fort! Run! Now!"
Weasley hesitated, but then cast one of the fire-suppressing spells Snape sometimes used in class, conjuring white powder to stifle the flames behind them and give them a path out. "Come on, Harry, Violet, let's go..."
Lyra, regarding Harry's wandless summoning charm: See, Siri, I told you being in imminent danger makes it easier to do that sort of shite. Baby auror was just super pathetic. —Leigha