They were no longer in Hogwarts.
Harry landed deftly on his feet, grateful for his experiences with Portkeys at the Quidditch Finals; if he hadn't known what to expect he'd have landed in a heap again.
Steven landed just as easily beside him.
They were standing in the middle of a darkened graveyard, with a small church in the distance. Tombstones were all around them, and it was as silent as the grave. In the distance a hill lead up to a fine house.
Weeds grew thick everywhere, and the cemetery looked as though it hadn't been visited in years. It looked abandoned, and the tombstones nearby looked old. There weren't any electric lights anywhere, not even in the distance, with the only light coming from the moon.
"I've seen enough movies to know nothing good ever happens in a graveyard," Steven said quietly.
Harry was glad he'd held onto his wand despite the disorientation from the Portkey; Steven was already pulling his out.
"If there's zombies, I'll let you go first," Harry said.
Steven glanced at him and snickered.
"Is this supposed to be part of the task?" Steven asked.
"I dunno," Harry admitted. "Could be Voldemort."
Steven nodded grimly.
In the distance he heard the shuffling sound of footsteps. He saw a silhouette of a figure approaching in the darkness. From it's profile, it looked as though it was carrying something, although Harry couldn't see whether it was a baby or a bundle of rags.
The figure shuffled toward them until it was standing only six feet away.
Pain suddenly exploded from Harry's scar, and he felt his wand dropping from nerveless fingers. He fell to his knees.
"Kill the abomination," a high pitched voice said.
"Avada Kedavra," a second, familiar voice said.
Green light flashed, illuminating the night only to be replaced by a rose colored glow a moment later. Harry grimaced and turned his head with some difficulty.
Steven was standing beside him, his shield in front of him. The shield had green cracks in it, but it had held.
Steven glanced at him and said, "I've been getting stronger."
"Kill it! Kill it!" the high pitched voice shrieked.
Before the hunched figure could cast another spell, Steven threw his shield. The figure flew backward, falling over a low gravestone, and he saw something smaller flying through the air.
The shield vanished, and a moment later Steven was at his side.
"Are you all right?" Steven asked. Without asking he picked Harry up with one arm and dragged him behind a huge tombstone even as another flash of green light flew over their heads.
The tombstone they were hiding behind had a name on it; Tom Riddle.
Harry wanted to laugh hysterically at the idea that Voldemort's tombstone was the only thing protecting them from Voldemort's men.
He could hear whoever it was muttering in a low voice. A high pitched voice followed it, and a moment later he could hear the figure moving among the tombstones, presumably in an attempt to get a better shot at them.
"Can you run?" Steven asked.
The pain had finally receded; Harry nodded. They both crouched and began making their way through the tombstones.
Emerald light flashed again, impacting another tombstone nearby. The one good thing about it all was that it gave away their attacker's position.
"If we get far enough away I can call Lion," Steven said. "And he'll carry us out of here."
Steven's patronus had powers that no one had ever heard of; Steven suspected it was because the original Lion had been created by his mother's magic and something of that power was infused in the patronus when he summoned it.
Harry nodded as they ducked behind another tombstone. The problem with summoning a patronus was that it was incredibly obvious in the dark. Unless they got some distance between themselves and the enemy they'd be in trouble.
They crawled and ducked and moved toward what they assumed was the outer edge of the graveyard; all they had to do was keep moving in one direction and they'd be out sooner or later.
Apparently their enemy had realized he was giving himself away with the bursts from his wand because there were no more attacks launched.
It wasn't until a figure lunged out of the dark that harry realized they'd been caught. Instead of a wand, something silver glinted in the moonlight, and Harry felt pain suddenly blossoming in his side.
The figure ducked away behind the tombstones, and he heard footsteps quickly retreating.
Firelight blossomed in the distance. He could hear chanting even as he fell to his knees. Blood was soaking his shirt.
"Steven," he called out.
Steven turned, and his eyes suddenly widened.
"What happened?"
"I've been stabbed." Harry said. He felt himself slowly dropping to the weed covered ground.
Anybody else would have frozen, unsure of what to do, but Steven only rushed to his side and said, "Where?"
Harry looked down and saw that his blood looked black in the moonlight. He wondered if the Dursleys would care when they heard he'd been killed.
"This is going to be a little gross," Steven said.
He licked his hand, and then carefully slipped his hand into Harry's shirt looking for the wound.
Harry hissed in pain as he found it, but a moment later he felt a cool warmth and the pain quickly vanished to a dull throb.
Steven spit on his other hand, and a moment later Harry felt a lot better.
"You're a miracle worker, mate," Harry said.
In the distance they could heat a voice. "Bone of the father, unwillingly given..." The voice faded into intelligibility.
"They're raising Voldemort," Harry said. "We have to stop them."
Steven nodded grimly, pulling Harry to his feet.
They began racing toward the fire. If they could stop Voldemort from being resurrected, everything would be easier.
"Flesh of the servant...willingly given..."
This was followed by a cry of unendurable agony.
They'd almost reached the fire when the voice said something else. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly given...you shall resurrect your foe!"
By this time they'd reached the clearing where they saw a cauldron that was shooting sparks, a giant snake and Peter Pettigrew, who was mysteriously missing a hand. The way he was clutching a cloth over his arm and the way it was rapidly becoming soaked with blood said that this was a recent development.
Rising from the cauldron stood a tall, balding figure that was entirely nude. His face was unnaturally white, bone-pale with a flat, almost nonexistent nose and red, glaring eyes,
"Robe me," Lord Voldemort said.
There was a dull cracking noise, and blood suddenly spouted from the side of Voldemort's head. He staggered backward, falling over the lip of the cauldron and landing sprawled out of sight behind the cauldron.
Harry glanced over at Steven, wondering if he'd seen what had happened.
Steven was picking up another large rock from a tombstone that had broken at one point of another. He looked at Harry and shrugged.
A moment later he threw the rock, and Peter Pettigrew yelped and fell behind a tombstone.
Harry felt himself grinning. In the darkness, it would be almost impossible to see where the stones had come from and even better, they were almost totally silent.
Thrown by someone as strong as Steven, a stone like that could kill. Unfortunately, Harry knew that Steven was unlikely to throw that hard, even when he knew these men were trying to kill him.
"We need to get out of here," Harry muttered. These men were grown wizards, killers who'd been through art least one war. They wouldn't let something as simple as a few rocks stand in their way.
Light exploded all around them, illuminating the entire graveyard as it flared from behind the tombstone. The light hung a hundred feet above the graveyard and simply hovered.
Like a nightmare, Voldemort rose from behind the cauldron. He'd found robes somewhere, and he was wearing them. He levitated directly into the air without using a wand., something Harry had always thought was impossible.
Steven threw another stone at him, harder this time, but it shattered off a shimmering in the air in front of him.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted. The only way they'd have any chance at all would be to take his wand from him.
Without it, he'd only have spells he could cast wandlessly and his power would be decreased to a point where they might be able to survive.
"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted.
Steven's shield appeared again, and again the green light shattered against it. An unhealthy green light shone from the cracks and it took the light a moment to fade.
From what he'd been told, Steven could only summon his shield a few times a day before he exhausted himself. Voldemort could cast Avada Kedavra over and over.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted again.
His wand began vibrating and his hand spasmed around it as the light from his spell met the light from Voldemort's in mid-air. Where the beams met, the light wasn't red or green, but was deeply golden.
Voldemort looked as surprised as he did, and Harry could see that his bone white hands were also spasming around a vibrating wand.
Harry felt his feet leaving the ground as he lifted into the air. A thousand beams of golden light arced from him to Voldemort, encircling them in a gold of golden light. A sound filled his head, one he'd always associated with joy and hope.
He pushed power toward Voldemort, who grimaced and began to push back.
The golden light flared, first pushing toward Voldemort, then Harry. Harry felt the light around him brighten, and he suddenly felt invigorated.
A moment later, he heard another dull thud as a rock hit Voldemort on the other side of the head.
The light surrounding them both vanished as Voldemort fell like a rock. Unfortunately, Harry found himself falling as well.
He felt his arm being jerked violently as a hand grabbed him in mid-air. It was Steven riding lion, and Steven pulled him up behind him.
Voldemort was already rising to his feet, pushing himself against something on the ground.
He looked down, and there was an expression on his face that Harry couldn't make out. Horror...resignation, he couldn't be sure.
Voldemort had his hand on the Tri-Wizard trophy, and a moment later he vanished into thin air.
"Uhh...do you suppose that was a double portkey?" Steven asked.
Harry nodded.
Without Voldemort to maintain it, the light above them was starting to fade. They could see Peter Pettigrew laying on the ground, a huge puddle of blood spreading from the stump of his hand.
"We've got to help him," Steven said.
Given that he'd just tried to kill them, Harry wouldn't have bothered, but Steven wasn't like that.
They landed and a moment later Steven was spitting on the remains of Pettigrew's stump. He tried it over and over again, but it didn't make a difference, blood soaking the from of his shirt as he desperately tried to keep the man alive.
Harry finally had to put his hand on Steven's shoulder. "It's too late."
Peter Pettigrew was dead, and what was worse, they had no way of knowing where the Tri-Wizard cup had sent Voldemort.
It was a hell of a way to end the tournament.