It was with great reluctance that Harry said what he did but he said it anyway.

“Both of us.”

A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders due to those three simple words. Bitterness slowly left him as he waited for a response. He realized that sharing the Triwizard Cup was the best action and tried to be content with the choice.

Never mind the terrible need he had to make Cho look at him with admiration--that didn’t matter, he said to himself.

The Hufflepuffs needed some acknowledgement. Harry had many people in Hufflepuff he considered friends, one was staring at him now. And while Cedrics’s expression, that plainly asked about Harry’s mental state was not the reaction he hoped for, it would have to do.

Trying to form his obvious confusion into words, Cedric blurted out, “What?”

Harry smiled warily, “We’ll take it at the same time. It’s still a Hogwarts victory, we’ll tie for it.”

Cedric stared at Harry, he seemed a bit confused and uncertain of this unexpected occurrence. Slowly, he unfolded his arms.

“You--you sure?” The hesitancy and wonder in Cedric’s voice made Harry positive he had made the right choice.

Harry nodded, “Yeah.”

Then he repeated himself more firmly. “Yeah…we’ve helped each other out--sort of. We both got here, we earned it. Let’s just take it together.”

Cedric grinned, his smile was warmer then Harry had ever seen it; and he found himself smiling in return. “You’re on,” Cedric said and he extended his arm, “Come here.”

Harry looked at him in confusion until Cedric slung one of his arms under his. After helping Harry limp toward the cup, Cedric put one hand out to hover over one of the two handles.

Placing his hand over the other, Harry took a deep breath as anticipation coursed through his veins.

“On three,” Harry said. Cedric nodded. He was staring at the cup with excitement written on his face.

“One, two--three,” Harry said and they both grasped one of the handles. Instantly, Harry felt a jerk in his navel. A gust of breath flew past his lips in surprise when he realized his feet had left the ground.

Frightened, Harry tried to pull his hand back and away from the cup. His hand wouldn’t come away. It was stuck to the handle which was pulling him off to an unknown location.

The wind rushed around him, violently it tossed him until he was beginning to feel sick. He could barely make out Cedric who fell to the earth right beside him.

Hard ground came rushing up to meet them. Harry’s injured leg collapsed under his weight and pulled the rest of him down with it. From the ground, Harry looked up anxiously.

Short grass, wet with light rain irritated the palms of Harry’s hands. He could barely see around him because of the fog. It was dense and left him feeling wary.

Trying to stand and failing, Harry asked, “Where are we?”

Cedric shook his head and reached over to pull Harry to his feet. It was obvious they were far away from Hogwarts. The mountains that surrounded the castle were missing. The rooftop of a church could barely be seen in the distance. Around it were shops, and farther away were houses.

They were standing in the middle of a graveyard. Up the hill, Harry could make out the outlines of an old house.

“Did anyone tell you the cup was a portkey?” Cedric asked. Harry shook his head in response. Drawing out his wand as goose bumps rose on his arms, Harry looked at Cedric and the other boy drew his wand as well.

A wind rose and blew his hair. It chilled Harry to the bone. Something wasn’t right here; Harry could literally feel it in the air--no matter how barmy he felt for thinking so.

Why would they be sent here of all places?

Could this be another task…but they had the cup. Perhaps it was broken, and maybe they had broken it. There was only supposed to be one champion after all.

Biting his lip, Harry peered into the darkness. Beside him Cedric was looking around almost nervously. From the tight grasp Cedric had on his wand, Harry knew he was just as unsure of the situation.

“Over there!” Cedric exclaimed and Harry looked to where he was pointing. “Is that a person?”

Harry nodded as the short figure got closer to them. “Should we go over--maybe it’s best if we wait here.”

They waited as the squat person got closer. Harry could make out a bundle in the person’s arms and frowned in confusion. The cloak hid the person’s face; Harry could not tell if the person was male or female.

Cradled in the person’s arms, the bundle stirred and Harry lowered his wand slightly. He couldn’t hold his wand on a baby; he glanced at Cedric just to see the teen’s wand being held steady.

“Appearances are sometimes deceiving,” he whispered and stared in distrust at the bundle carrier.

Trusting his fellow student and friend, Harry lifted his wand as the person came to next to a large, marble gravestone. It was just a few feet away from them.

For a moment, they simply stared at one another. Harry looking over at the person, and it’s hidden face beneath the heavy cloak.

And then, without a warning, Harry’s scar exploded with pain. It was such pain as he had never felt before. Only half aware of his surroundings, Harry felt himself falling as his knees buckled. He fell onto his side on top of the green, wet grass.

Cedric was exclaiming is surprise and worry above him. He tried to pull away Harry’s hands that were clawing at his scar. A sound of immense pain echoed throughout the graveyard, Harry realized the sound was coming from himself.

His head splitting open, Harry thought he was going to black out from the pure agony.

Then from above him, something spoke. It’s voice high, cold and uncaring.

“Kill the spare.”

Harry jerked and opened his teary eyes. There was a swishing noise and then another voice spoke, “Avada Kedavra!”

Gasping in recognition, Harry gazed in wide-eyed wonder as a familiar bolt of green light shot past him and hit Cedric. Overcome with horror, and the pain that made him re-close his eyes; Harry turned to his side and retched.

As suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. It diminished and a terrified Harry opened his eyes. The first the he saw, was his dead schoolmate.

For a second that lasted an eternity, Harry stared at Cedric’s face. His eyes were opened and still frozen in an expression of surprise.

Harry was even able to believe what he was seeing. Before he could stop staring numbly at the person who he’d never see alive again, Harry felt himself being pulled up.

Unable to hold himself straight, and too numb to care yet, Harry let himself be dragged across the ground. Wide green eyes glanced at the gravestone, the name Tom Riddle written across it in bold letters.

Then, unable to complain about the rough treatment, thick ropes appeared and held him taught against the headstone.

Inside him, something was telling him to fight. He wasn’t to be treated like this. It wasn’t right!

Responding to his emotions, Harry struggled against the bonds. A hand slapped him for his efforts…a hand that was missing a finger.

“You!” Harry gasped in amazement and furious anger. Wormtail ignored him and continued to check the cords tightness.

Harry’s cheek stung from the blow that had been dealt to him.

Wild eyed and feeling trapped, Harry struggled all the harder. At the same time he began to scream. “Traitor!” The young boy yelled heatedly.

He knew Wormtail had paused; the man could not finish tying the ropes until Harry stopped moving.

“Murderer! I should have killed you; I should have let you be killed!” Harry yelled in fury. Hardly understanding what he was saying, he continued to verbally abuse Cedric’s killer.

“Good for nothing scum! I gave you a second chance and this is how you use it?”

Another slap silenced Harry. His teeth biting deep into his lip. Harry moaned lightly as blood dribbled onto his shirt. The copper taste made him blanch as did the dirty material that Wormtail shoved into his mouth.

Done with the ropes, Wormtail moved onto his next task.

With nothing else to do Harry watched in growing terror. Wormtail moved out of Harry’s line of vision. The ropes so tight, Harry could not move his head away from the sight before him.

Cedric lay not five feet away, his eyes opened but unseeing. Harry’s abandoned wand lay next to Cedric’s body…and then there was the bundle of robes. As he looked at it, Harry’s scar ached. Giving a small shiver; he looked away.

He didn’t want to know what was in those robes. A sudden surge of hatred made his frown deepen. Whatever was in those robes was responsible for Cedric’s untimely death.

Hearing the sounds of grass being crushed, Harry looked down to see a humongous snake sliding over his filthy shoes. Not being able to pull his feet away, and not even sure if he would if he could, Harry simply stared.

He was beyond aghast at the happenings that surrounded him. This numb feeling had to be shock; there was nothing else that could explain his current state.

The sound of heavy breathing made Harry’s head jerk. Barely, he managed to peer over his shoulder and see Wormtail pushing something heavy among the tombstones. As he came closer Harry was able to make out that the object was a large stone cauldron.

It was filled with water that sloshed over the sides, and created mud where the bottom of the cauldron had pushed up the grass. Panting for breath, Wormtail swallowed and stopped pushing the cauldron in from of the gravestone Harry was tied to.

The bundle of robes was stirring fitfully. Wormtail glanced at them before busying himself around the bottom of the cauldron. A muttered spell later, and a fire was rising around the cauldron.

Alarmed at the sudden light, the huge snake slithered away into the darkness.

The cauldron was larger then any Harry had ever seen. He imagined it could serve as a bathtub for full grown men. Steam rose from around the cauldron as the fire licked at the wet sides.

The bundle of robes moved more frantically, Harry wondered if the creature inside was scared from the sight of the flames. Then a voice rose from the bundle and Harry flinched at the sound, “Hurry!”

Too small to be a man, Harry thought faint heartedly. What other creatures lived in the Wizarding world that he had not learned of yet?

Wormtail hurried over to the bundle. “It is ready, Master,” Wormtail said.

“Now, do it now,” hissed the horrible voice that would haunt Harry’s dreams. The cloaks were spread apart as Wormtail reached inside them--and pulled out a beast.

Harry’s yell was muffled by the nasty material in his mouth.

The thing couldn’t be human. It was raw colored, hairless and curled in the shape of a kneeling child. Harry found his eyes couldn’t leave the figure no matter how hideous it was. His eyes were stuck on it; from both awe, and disgust.

The thing reached thin, scaly arms out and wrapped them around Wormtail’s neck. The traitor was stiff, and as one of the thin arms brushed against his cloak, he hood fell back.

The look of utter revulsion on Wormtail’s face showed Harry how much he hated touching the vile thing.

Wormtail carried the creature to the cauldron of boiling water. Harry got a glimpse of red, piercing eyes and then Wormtail lowered the thing into the water before hastily pulling his arms away.

There was a soft thump as the frail creature hit the bottom of the cauldron.

Harry closed his eyes and discovered his head was pounding painfully. Let it drown, he thought with all his might. Please, kill it.

He had a slim idea what the thing was, but knew that even if he was wrong, it was still evil and deserved to die. Green eyes filled to the brim with pain; physical and mental, opened just to gaze at Cedric.

The body was already starting to look pale--Harry looked way violently enough to wrench his neck.

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shaky like his trembling body. Scared beyond belief, but determined to do his wicked deed. Raising his wand, he spoke to the night. “Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”

The surface of the grave around Harry’s feet cracked. While the voice that said the words was weak, the words themselves were not.

Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust moved lazily into the air and floated over to the cauldron. It fell into the cauldron and the crystal surface rippled. Then sparks flew out of the pot, they were like firecrackers and it made Harry start in surprise.

The color of the potion turned a vivid, poisonous blue.

Terrified whimpers made Harry look at Wormtail. The man was starting to sob, he face crumbled in absolute terror as he pulled out a long, shining dagger from his robe pocket.

Harry felt his heart beating frantically at the sight of the deadly weapon. “Flesh--of the servant,” Wormtail paused to hold back a loud wail. “Willingly given--you will--revive--your master!”

He stretched out his right hand, the one with the missing finger. Gripping the dagger tightly in his left hand, Wormtail swung it upward.

Realizing what Wormtail was doing, Harry closed his eyes tightly and turned his head to the side. He couldn’t escape the scream that followed in the wake of Wormtail’s actions, or the few drops of a warm liquid substance that landed on Harry’s cheek.

Wormtail was panting from pain. There was a sickening splash and Harry knew that Wormtail’s bloody hand had been dropped into the cauldron. Already feeling sick, Harry looked none the less.

The water was red and thick looking; Harry was forced to close his eyes at the sight.

Warm, foul breath hit Harry in the face as Wormtail came to stand in front of him.

“Blood of the enemy--” Wormtail stuttered out. Harry looked at him through barely opened eyes, he was pale and sickly looking.

“Forcibly taken,” Wormtail continued, “you will resurrect your foe.”

Harry could not do anything to prevent it. The bonds held him taught as Wormtail drew the blade again. The blade penetrated his skin and cut under the crook of Harry’s arm.

Blood dribbled down Harry’s cloak. Wormtail caught some of it in a vial before hurrying back to the bubbling cauldron. Turning the vial upside down, Wormtail let the many drops of blood fall into the waiting water before he slumped to the ground in a defeated crouch.

The potion turned a brilliant, blindingly bright white. Even through Harry’s closed eyes he could tell its color. It made everything else look velvety black.

Nothing happened.

Harry found himself hoping for the creature’s death.

Die, drown, please let it have died, Harry thought.

He was submerged into mostly quiet. The only sound was Wormtail’s quiet whimpering as he cradled his bleeding stump.

Then, just as he was becoming sure it had gone wrong--white smoke started billowing up. It blocked Harry’s sight of Cedric’s dead body and Wormtail’s mourning form.

Ignoring what was happening right in front of him, Harry continued to hope that the creature was dead. That whatever Wormtail had wanted to accomplish was a waste….

It must have died, nothing can survive that long under water, Harry dared to hope.

Then, through the mist--he saw him. Icy surges of terror had him wrapped in their grasp. It couldn’t be…things like this couldn’t happen--he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, if he did--it would mean the deaths of hundreds if not more.

In the shadows of the smog, a tall, thin man stood in the middle of the cauldron.

“Robe me,” he said. The voice was cold, terribly cold and unfeeling. Behind the steam, Wormtail stumbled to his feet at his master’s request.

Picking up the black robes from the ground, Wormtail robed his master and the moved backward cowering in fear. Voldemort had risen again.

The scene was so much worse then any horror film, even worse then Dementors. Harry could forget the Dementors and learn spells to keep them away--but he would never be able to forget this.

Voldemort was looking over his new body. Arms and legs were caressed, reverence in his cat like eyes. He reached a long thin hand into one large sleeve, and drew out a wand.

Harry squirmed gently, not trying to draw attention to himself, but to get free.

“Cease your squirming Potter, I’ll get to you soon enough,” Voldemort murmured as he turned to survey the graveyard. At his master’s words, Wormtail glanced at Harry; he was in a half bent position. His left arm held his stump close to his chest.

Harry looked back at him with total disgust and anger. There was a small flinch, then Wormtail looked away.

Voldemort spoke.

“Show me your arm Wormtail,” he demanded. Wormtail did so eagerly, he held out his right arm--but Voldemort laughed at him.

“The other arm, Wormtail,” he said lazily.

Wormtail’s hopeful face seemed to crumble, “You promised Master…please! It hurts!”

With irritation and boredom in his very movements, Voldemort reached forward and pulled Wormtail’s left arm forward.

Jerking the sleeve backwards, Voldemort stared at the mark on the trembling arm.

Harry could see a red, raw looking mark on Wormtail’s arm as Voldemort studied it. The traitor was whimpering, weeping and sniffling as Voldemort’s grasp held him still.

“They will all know,” Voldemort whispered and he pressed his fingers cruelly into Wormtail’s arm. Harry’s scar seared with pain and Wormtail whimpered.

Pushing Wormtail’s arm away carelessly, Voldemort turned to stare into the night.

“How many will be brave enough to come?” Voldemort asked in the silence.

“And how many will be foolish to stay away?” A small smile came upon his face, it meant pain and suffering to those who stayed away. Harry narrowed his eyes in a wince at the less then pleasing sight.

Voldemort began to pace among the headstones. Feet never making a sound, like a ghost floating through the air.

Harry, ever quiet and watchful, glanced at Wormtail. The man looked broken. He was staring at Voldemort with growing anxiety.

“They are coming soon,” Voldemort murmured--and that was when Wormtail moved.

With a speed that was surprising, he moved towards Harry. With a swipe of his wand, the bonds broke. However, the spell was not careful and cut into Harry’s robe, and the skin underneath his Muggle clothes.

The robe; already torn and dirty, fell off as Harry’s leg gave in.

Gaping at Wormtail, Harry fell forward into a crouch. He looked up in time to see Wormtail drawing his wand.

He pushed an old velvet bag into Harry’s unresisting hand.

There was one second, where Harry stared at Wormtail’s face is disbelief, and Voldemort was screaming curses at the man’s unprotected back.

Wormtail had fulfilled his life debt. “I’m sorry,” Wormtail said. “Alieno!” he shouted. Right then, Harry forgot all.