Harry paced back and forth in the champion's tent. It was five pm and he knew it would be dark before he was done with this final task. He was nervous enough as it was and didn't even want to think about being in the maze by himself at night.

"Harry?"

He turned to find Cedric smiling though looking as nervous as Harry felt. He was peering around a tent flap from his own section of the tent.

"Yeah?"

"Doing ok?"

"Yeah, yeah fine," he said, crossing his arms. He was a big boy, he could take care of himself thank you very much, and didn't need a seventh year coming to check on him. Or at least, that's what he was trying to portray. Inside he was a bundle of nerves.

Cedric came in the rest of the way and said, "Well I'm a bit nervous."

"Yeah?"

"My friends have been training me, but you never can know what to expect can you? I mean, dragons and mer-people and swimming underwater... it's been a wild ride hasn't it?"

Harry nodded. Yes it had been, and he'd been dragged along with it all. Fame and glory be damned, he'd give anything to be up in the stands with his friends right now and have the Dursley's back in Little Whinging where they belonged.

"Mine too," Harry said, letting his arms drop. "My friends I mean, have been training me."

"I've seen you out running on the grounds and dueling."

"I had catching up to do."

Cedric sighed happily and said, "We'll at least we've twice the chance of winning the cup for Hogwarts. Father says if I get the cup he's got a spot reserved on the mantle for it. Not everything goes on the mantle," he said then. "Just the special things. Just the things he wants to remember."

If Harry won the cup, it would have to go in the bottom of his trunk. There was no one who would want to look at it except maybe Ron and the other boys from Gryffindor. The Dursleys certainly wouldn't be taking it and displaying it in their living room where all of uncle Vernon's Grunning's associates would see it at dinner parties and ask questions.

"What about you?" Cedric asked. "What will you do if you win? All that money. Father says I should use it to go to university or study abroad somewhere, maybe get an apprenticeship."

"What kind of apprentice would you be?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. I'd like to play Quidditch full time myself, but if I had to go to school more I think I might like to work with magical creatures. Dragon's aren't too bad." He looked at Harry and grinned, and Harry gave a little laugh, suddenly not feeling as nervous.

"I'm giving half of my winnings to a startup business if I win," Harry said. "I don't know about the rest."

"You're ready to be an investor then," Cedric laughed. They heard a loud gong somewhere nearby and both stilled, listening.

"Best get on with it then," Cedric said with another smile that helped put Harry at ease. "Bright futures await." As Cedric left the tent and Harry pondered on ‘bright futures', he could not have guessed that this night would lead to Voldemort's return, a glimpse of his parents, and Cedric's death. By the end of the tournament, it certainly would not seem as if Harry would ever have a bright future. Cedric certainly wouldn't.

* * *

Harry lay on the grass in the darkness sobbing and clutching Cedric's lifeless body, triwizard cup on the grass beside them.

"What's happened?" Dumbledore asked, trying to pull Harry away from Cedric, who looked as though he could just be passed out, but Harry had a firm grip on him and he wasn't letting go. No, I have to stay with Cedric! I have to get Cedric's body back! I have to take him home to his father so his father can have the cup!

"Harry!" Dumbledore was shouting at him now and through his sobbing he looked around. They were back and Dumbledore was standing over him. Snape was too.

"He's back!" he shouted, ignoring the pain in his sliced arm and the other aches he had from battling. "Voldemort he's back! He killed Cedric!"

"Harry its ok, let him go," Dumbledore said, but Harry didn't let go.

"No I have to bring his body back!"

"He's back Harry," Dumbledore said firmly, and this time as he pulled gently at Harry, Harry let go and allowed himself to be dragged backwards across the damp, flattened grass a few feet so that the Professors could get a better look at Cedric. There was a scream from somewhere up in the stands, and Harry wondered who it was. More staff had come down now and someone was lifting Harry to his feet. They said something, but there was too much noise, too much commotion, and too much hurt inside for Harry to hear exactly what or who was speaking to him. He allowed himself to be lead away, looking back at Cedric's lifeless form as he stumbled over his feet.

"Got to be getting you away from the commotion boy," the voice said as he hurried him out of the bright stadium and onto the front lawns. The noise of the frightened crowd dimmed, and Harry finally looked to see Professor Moody hobbling along beside him, giant staff in hand as was his usual and crazy eye bobbing about.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, holding his still bleeding arm. "What's going to happen to Cedric?" As if in answer to his question, he heard a man screaming in the distance behind them, and Harry's heart sank. Cedric's father was with him now.

"I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing," Moody said. "And they'll take care of him."

He hurried Harry up into the castle and Harry wasn't sure if he was glad to be away from the commotion or not. He wanted to stay with Cedric. Cedric had been there with him taking the cup, he'd been there bolstering his spirits in the tent beforehand, he'd been there saving him from Krum in the maze, and he'd been there in the graveyard with his parents, holding Voldemort off so Harry could get out and get Cedric's body. Voldemort had wanted him, Harry, not Cedric. It should have been him that had died. It wasn't like he had any parents to care. Cedric did.

Harry hardly noticed that they were halfway up through the castle now. Moody steered him into his office and pushed Harry down into a chair.

"I thought we were going to the Hospital Wing," Harry started as he watched Moody rummage through one trunk and then go to another.

"They'll have his body there. Best to keep you here until Madam Pomfrey can come down to see to you."

Harry watched quietly, feeling dull as the defense Professor continued to rummage through drawer after drawer, trunk after trunk.

"What is it you're looking for sir?"

"Something for you... something to dull the pain," he said, not turning to look at Harry. His voice sounded... odd. Was he crying over Cedric? Maybe he wasn't crying at all. "Tell me Potter, did you see him?"

"Sir?"

"The Dark lord... did you see him, in the graveyard?"

"It was horrible, he-" Harry paused. "I- I don't think I said we were in a graveyard."

Finally Moody turned and Harry saw he had a flask. He tipped it up and tried to get a drop out, but nothing came out and he began to twitch.

"No? Are you sure?" he asked, and Harry nodded, feeling on edge now.

"Well, it was in a graveyard," he said now, sounding a little maniacal. "On the bones of his father." He pointed to Harry's cut arm and said, "And he took your blood, didn't he? He came back in all his glory didn't he?"

Harry moved sideways in his chair, trying to get up, but Moody had his wand out and aimed at him now.

"Ah ah, boy. You escaped somehow. I'll be the one to do you in and I'll be praised as the greatest servant of all time!" He twitched again and at that moment, the door beside Harry flew open and Dumbledore, Snape, and strangely enough Uncle Vernon came storming in.

At first it seemed like too much for Harry to comprehend, but Dumbledore had Moody by the neck and had his wand aimed at his head, Snape had his wand on Moody as well, though his eyes raked over Harry as if to assess if he was all right, and Uncle Vernon was shouting at Dumbledore about tripling his payment now that his family had been put in danger. Harry heard something along the lines of, "We only came because you said you'd pay, now pay up old codger!"

"Be silent!" boomed Dumbledore, and Uncle Vernon clamped his mouth down, perhaps noticing for the first time that the Headmaster had his hand around another man's throat. Moody was laughing as his face morphed and Harry watched in horror as his fake eye fell out and his clothes began to sag on him as he transformed into a much smaller, skinnier man.

"Barty Crouch Jr.," Snape said with a sneer, and the fake Moody laughed again, his voice different and higher now.

"That's right Snape, you sniveling traitor. You'll be the first on his list when I get back to him."

"I don't think you'll be going back," Dumbledore said. He jabbed his wand into Crouch's throat tighter and he winced. Where is the real Moody?" Crouch laughed and Dumbledore motioned to Snape, who pulled out a phial of something and poured it forcibly down Crouch's throat.

"Damn you Snape," Crouch said.

"The truth now," Dumbledore said. Harry had never seen him so mad, and watched in awe as Crouch told them his twisted tale. He was also uncomfortably aware, as Crouch mentioned putting Harry's name in the cup as a plot to get his blood and kill him, that Uncle Vernon was watching him. Harry's good hand was covered in blood now as he continued to hold tight to his injured arm to try to stem the bleeding.

McGonagall rushed into the room at that moment and gasped at the sight of the Moody imposter.

"Harry, come here," she urged, and he stood up, feeling wobbly on his feet and exhausted in every way, especially emotionally, and went the few steps to her. "Come along, to the Hospital Wing with you."

She put her hands on his shoulders and they left the insane scene behind them and made their way through the dark quiet halls to the Hospital Wing. Harry thought there should have been students there by now, hysterical over Cedric's death, but there was no one. The Hospital Wing was also empty except for Madam Pomfrey who was crying, and Harry sat down on the bed nearest her office.

"I'm so sorry Harry," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because of what happened."

"It's not me you should be feeling sorry for," he said. "Cedric's the one who died." He wanted to say something about Cedric's dad, but didn't, and in truth, Harry did feel very sorry for himself. He should have been the one to have died. Getting up and getting out of bed and going on tomorrow, that would be the hard part. Cedric got the better bargain. Voldemort was back, and Cedric wouldn't be around to witness the coming war.