Priori Incantatem

John's mind and body quaked as he struggled to keep hold of the vision, and stay at Harry's side. His head felt as though it might cave in at any moment, and his chest was so tight that he struggled to breath, but he was determined to see it through, so someone would know what had happened to Harry; what had happened to Cedric.

Wormtail cut Harry free, and he leaned against the marble headstone. His leg was still injured, and shook underneath him as Wormtail shoved Harry's wand into his hand, before rejoining the circle of Death Eaters.

'You have been taught to duel, Harry Potter?' Voldemort said softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

John's insides tied themselves in knots. How could Harry possibly duel Voldemort, when all he'd learned was the Disarming Charm, and the few spells that Dean had taught them in the last couple of months. He saw Harry slowly take in the Death Eaters surrounding him. He could see in Harry's eyes that he knew it was hopeless.

'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 you to show manners… bow to death, Harry…'

The Death Eaters laughed, but Harry didn't obey.

'I said bow,' Voldemort said, raising his wand and forcing Harry to bow, making the Death Eaters laugh harder than ever. 'Very good. And now you face me, like a man… straight backed and proud, the way your father died…'

'And now - we duel.'

Before Harry could do anything, he was hit again with the Cruciatus curse, sending both him and John into a fit of terrible screaming.

It was difficult, but John pulled himself out of it in time to watch Harry scrambled to his feet and stumble into the circle of Death Eaters. If John had had the energy, he might have been angry at them shoving Harry around, but as he was, he could barely hold on to the vision.

'A little break,' said Voldemort, 'a little pause… that hurt, didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?'

Harry didn't answer.

'I asked you whether you want me to do that again? Answer me! Imperio!'

The pain was wiped away, but the dizzy sickness that John felt was almost as bad. He could see Harry's face twitching, fighting off Voldemort's spell.

'I WON'T!' Harry shouted, then slumped over slightly as the curse was removed.

'You won't?' said Voldemort quietly. 'Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die… perhaps another little dose of pain?'

Voldemort raised his wand, but Harry flung himself sideways, rolling behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father. It cracked as Voldemort's curse hit it instead of Harry.

The Death Eaters closed in around them, the circle getting tighter and tighter.

'We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,' Voldemort said coldly, and the Death Eaters laughed. 'You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry?' Voldemort walked slowly towards the grave, wand still raised.

'No,' said John, shaking his head in terror. 'Don't.' He knew Voldemort couldn't hear him. He knew he couldn't do anything about what was about to happen, but he couldn't stand by and do nothing either.

Don't waste your energy, he heard Sherlock whisper.

'But Harry…'

You can't help.

'Come out, Harry… come out and play, then…'

Harry was still crouched behind the grave.

'Leave him alone,' John forced out. 'Don't you touch him.'

'It will be quick… it might even be painless… I would not know… I have never died…'

'Stop it…'

Suddenly, Harry threw himself around the headstone, wand thrust out in front of him.

John didn't have time to react, now standing squarely between Harry and Voldemort, their wands both aimed.

As Harry shouted 'Expelliarmus!', Voldemort cried, 'Avada Kedavra!'

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, right where John was standing, and John shattered.

He couldn't see anything at all at first. Not the graveyard and Harry, or the maze and Sherlock. He was stuck in a vacuum, where none of his senses worked. John had no idea how long he was stuck there, but eventually, shards of different images came to him, slowly at first, but faster and faster until they blurred together.

Cedric falling to the ground again; Frank Bryce in the Riddle House; Bertha Jorkins again; the night Harry's parents had died… more people that he didn't recognise flashed before him. They came in dizzying succession, spinning around until John thought he would have been better off on the vacuum where no one's death could accost him. He was stuck there for a while too, but then caught a small flash of Sherlock. It was so brief that he almost missed it, but he was too weak to hold on to it.

A small seed of panic blossomed inside John, but he didn't have the energy even for that.

It would be so easy to stop trying, he realised. He could let go and go back to that vacuum, where he wouldn't have to see so much death. It would be so easy…

Sherlock's face flashed before him once more, and this time, he managed to get a feeble hold on it, and found his way back to Sherlock. Sherlock yanked him back to the present, and he felt fresh air on his face, and the rustling of the maze hedges around him. All the pain came back to him as well, the throbbing in his head, the squeezing crush in his chest. He groaned, pitifully quietly. His limbs refused to obey him. He was barely there at all, but held onto the thread of Sherlock's consciousness that he could feel with as much strength as he had. Sometimes it wasn't enough. Sometimes he fell back into the swirling image shards, other times he saw Harry, surrounded by ghosts and golden light. Each time, Sherlock pulled him back.

'We need to get you out of this maze,' he thought he heard Sherlock say, but it was impossible. He couldn't feel his limbs, let alone move them, and Sherlock wasn't strong enough to carry him, even without having to keep a tight grip on John's mind.

'You should've…' John whispered.

'Don't try to talk,' Sherlock said, dabbing at John's bleeding nose.

'...learned that spell,' John breathed.

'What spell?'

John couldn't answer, but managed to project a faint image of the stretchers that Castiel could conjur.

Sherlock stopped to think about it. 'I'm sure I could…' It took him a few tries, but he conjured a wobbly stretcher for John. Not his best work, but that didn't matter now. He would get the proper technique from Cas later. 'All right, John,' he said. 'I need your help.'

John knew what he had to do, and shifted slightly, testing his strength. The feeling had begun to return to his body, but he very much doubted he could get to his feet. At that point, he wouldn't have been able to hold himself up at all.

'All right,' Sherlock muttered, crouching beside John. 'We can do this.' He pushed John up into a sitting position, pulling John's arm around his shoulders and holding him firmly around the waist.

John did his best to position his feet underneath himself.

'On the count of three,' Sherlock said. 'Are you ready?'

John nodded.

'One… two… three.'

Sherlock pulled John up, and John pushed with his feet as hard as he could, and it hurt.

They stumbled sideways together, but Sherlock steadied them.

John was in tears again by the time Sherlock managed to get him onto the stretcher. Blood still poured from his nose, and he felt faint.

'Rest,' Sherlock said. 'I'll get us out.'

John shook his head. He could still feel himself being pulled away, and was afraid of what would happen if he allowed himself to stop, even for a moment.

Instead, he kept himself awake by helping Sherlock as best he could. It was easier getting back through the maze than it was coming through. Sherlock just used the holes in the hedges they'd made earlier.

Every so often, John would stop Sherlock from going down a certain path, or pointing out hazards that Sherlock would have missed, one time narrowly evading the same Skrewt they'd come across the first time.

John's precarious condition was taking its toll on Sherlock as well. His head was heavy, and he could barely hold up his wand, but hold it he did, until they reached the edge of the maze.

There were gasps from the crowd as they emerged.

Sherlock couldn't hold the spell any longer and fell to his knees. The stretcher disappeared and dropped John to the ground with a thump.

John lay on the ground, staring up at the stars. Cedric and Harry in the graveyard swum before his eyes again, but something was different.

Suddenly, Harry appeared nearby, slamming into the ground, clutching the Triwizard Cup and Cedric Diggory's lifeless body.

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