509Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Author's Note: A Neon Lily in Night City update coming soon.
Beta'd by doenerkint
NINETEEN - A Choice to Make
Harry's wand was raised, its tip fixed on the belly of the massive spider as it moved through the air towards him. Its fangs poised and its legs spread wide. The spine-chilling hiss cut through the air.
"Reducto!"
The spell slammed into the acromantula with the force of a speeding truck. Its soft underbelly caved in as the spider flew backwards, hitting the wall of the maze, and crumpled to the ground in an unmoving heap.
"Sorry, Hagrid…" said Harry aloud with a shrug, even if he wasn't really sincerely apologetic. These spiders may be friends to the gentle half-giant, but they had tried to eat him in the past. Not exactly an easy thing to forget.
He stopped at another crossroad and frowned, he wanted to find Fleur. Actually, winning the tournament was secondary to reuniting with her. Once he'd entered the maze, it closed behind him and though he'd waited, Fleur hadn't appeared behind him. He'd realised then that the maze had prevented them from starting together. For all he knew, Fleur could be at the other end of the damned thing.
For now, all he could do was press forward and hopefully run into her. It wasn't that he thought she needed his help, Fleur was after all an incredibly talented witch, but something just felt off. He rubbed his scar, the burning sensation had gotten worse since entering the maze, and that only served to drive up his anxiety.
It didn't help that the maze seemed to have an effect on his mind. It felt as if it were pressing down on him, as if he were being watched, that feeling of seeing something out of the corner of your eye, only to turn and find nothing there. He'd grown easily paranoid over the last few years and considering his resumé of trouble, his weariness had served him well thus far. This year wasn't any less odd or suspicious.
"Point me," he commanded, as he held his wand lightly. It tugged to the left, facing what he now knew was north. The direction he needed to move was north-east, so he took the path which most closely lined up with that bearing.
What felt like ages passed by as he constantly repeated the action; stop at a corner, check his bearing, move forward. He was beginning to wonder if the maze wasn't shifting, especially with how much ground he'd covered jogging through the thing. All the cardio he'd been doing was really paying off.
Though he hadn't faced many creatures, he tried not to let it lull him into a false sense of safety.
Turning a corner, he felt a sudden and unnatural sense of dread, the skin on his face and hands felt cold as his breath misted over. From the shadows, a figure flew out, its face and body covered in a ragged black cloak, its frayed edges hanging in the air as it rushed. Long bony fingers reached out towards him as the raspy sound of its breathing overlaid the sound of his mother's voice screaming, begging for his life.
"Not my baby!"
His hand moved without thinking and the words formed on his tongue like a trusted brother in arms. "Expecto… Patronum!"
Prongs leapt forth; the brilliant white light of his ethereal defender drove the darkness away. The spectral stag raised its head, antlers facing the sky and let loose a radiant pulse of pure magic and joy. The hedges which made up the maze rustled as the light passed through them. It even banished the malignant aura which seemed to cling to the surroundings.
The dementor attempted to flee, but it didn't get far, barely at the next turn it flew directly into the waiting wand point of a beautiful young Veela right as she stepped into his path. Instead of grasping at her, it stopped in its tracks and pulled into itself in a mass of shifting shapes, until instead of the wraithlike appearance of one of Azkaban's guards, in its place stood a man.
The man was dressed in a dark hooded cloak with a sinister mask, a little blonde girl was at his feet. He pointed his wand towards the pitiful form of Gabrielle Delacour.
"Riddikulus!"
Fleur's voice was harsh, fury lacing it with magic.
The boggart shrunk down until it was a pint-sized little version of itself. Fleur waved her wand, and it was banished, fleeing deeper into the maze.
Prongs had dissipated at some point during the exchange, leaving the two lovers as the only one's present.
"Fleur!" Harry said breathlessly, the patronus having left him winded. Even with his proficiency, the charm was still a very taxing feat of magic, especially with the raw power he pumped into it.
"Arry," Fleur whispered as she let go of her anger, a relieved smile formed on her face, one which was soon mirrored by his own.
She stepped up to him and into his arms and placed a soft kiss on his nape.
"Are you hurt?" he asked worriedly and held her back to search for any sign of injuries.
"Non," she shook her head, but he noticed the wince she crossed her face for a split second.
He frowned. "Show me."
Fleur stared him in the eye, ready to argue, but after seeing that he would not be dropping it she did as he demanded. She knew how stubborn he could be at times. With a sigh, she turned around before pulling her hair to the side and tugging down the sleeve of her top, which he noticed was charred. Right below her nape was a borderline third degree burn. She must have cast a numbing charm, he figured. It would be hurting far too much otherwise.
"What did this?"
"Zhat abomination from monsieur 'Agrid."
"A skrewt?" he offered quickly, showing a slight dislike for the image in his head.
"Oui, zhat," she grimaced. "I did not see it until it burned me."
The tip of Harry's wand hovered right above the burn, "Cutem Restituo." Orange light shone onto the burn, it would still be pretty tender, but it forced the skin to grow over the open areas. Fleur squirmed in place, not that he could blame her, his books did mention that the charm felt hot itched like a bitch. Even so, she didn't voice any complaints. Once he'd finished, he whispered a cooling charm to relieve the itchiness before he numbed the skin.
Fleur moaned in relief, some of the tension left her shoulders.
"Better?" he asked.
"Oui," she said with a relaxed sigh.
"We'll treat it properly with salves when we're out of here."
She turned around and kissed him gently. "Merci, Mon Chèr."
He'd gotten used to being affectionate with his two girlfriends, but still could not stop the blush.
Fleur saw it and pecked his pink cheek. "Allons-y, let's go." She repeated in English.
Before they could, an agonising scream ripped through the air. It was close by. Harry's legs moved before his brain had a chance to catch up. He slashed his wand at the hedges blocking his way, ripping a hole for them to slip through. Fleur was hot on his heels, her own spellwork prevented the hedge from closing on her.
Harry ran so quickly, before he knew it, he'd found himself smack dab in the centre of the two remaining competitors. Flashes of coloured light rippled through the air, one, a sickly yellow colour passed close enough to Harry that it damn near singed his brow. He raised his wand and hastily deflected another spell. A second shield charm flew up to his other side, courtesy of Fleur's quick wand-work.
"Harry! Get back! He's bewitched!" warned Cedric in an alarmed tone, his wand still fixed on Viktor, who was struggling to stand after Cedric's last spell knocked his legs out from under him.
Viktor didn't make a single sound, not a single wince or moan of pain. He raised his head, and Harry saw his eyes were blank, unfocused. With a speed that felt out of place for someone so expressionless, his wand was raised in the stroke of a heartbeat, its point fixed on Cedric with a mindless determination.
"Avada Ke—!"
Blood sprayed as Viktor's shoulder was blown open, his arm flailed, sending his wand sailing through the air. He spun over, landing on his side, and not moving.
The clearing stilled, Fleur and Cedric turned to find Harry standing still as a statue, his face deathly pale. He hadn't lowered his wand, the air around the tip was still distorted with the residual traces of his overpowered blasting curse.
"Merlin's Beard…" whispered Cedric, his voice was soft but in the silence of the night, sounded as loud as day.
"What… happened here?" asked Harry firmly, but breathlessly as adrenaline coursed through his veins.
Cedric didn't reply, he just stared motionlessly at Krums bleeding form.
"Cedric!" Harry snapped him out of it.
"Wh- shit, sorry… I… I don't really know," answered Cedric confusedly. "I was heading down this way," he indicated with a wave of his arm, "then it was just pain, felt like my skin was on fire, like my bones were being filed down."
Fleur gasped at that. She knew exactly what that meant.
"Luckily," continued Cedric. "I fell at the hedge corner, and I must have landed out of his sight, since the pain stopped. I managed to keep a hold of my wand. We fought, and that's when the two of you showed up."
Harry looked over Fleur's shoulder at Krums prone form.
"Send up red sparks, please," he asked Fleur.
"Periculum!" She didn't bother with casting nonverbally. A bright bolt of red shot into the air above the hedges and exploded, like a muggle firework, only smaller.
He'd just managed to stop Krum from bleeding out when the hedge to their left peeled away to reveal Professor Flitwick along with a witch wearing the trademark symbol of St. Mungos.
'Good,' Harry thought. 'They sent a healer along.'
"I'll take it from here," ordered the woman sternly.
Harry gave way to her.
"I stopped the bleeding in time, there were no nicked arteries, but his bone's in pieces," he said, and the woman nodded. "It was a common blasting curse, so residual magic should be minimal."
"You're Poppy's boy?"
"Mhm," he answered.
Her wand was touched to the skin of Krum's shoulder, and the flesh beneath his skin wriggled as the bone moved, and the muscle began to knit itself.
"She's taught you well," stated the woman as she worked. "But you missed something."
"Sorry?"
"Ligament tore with the force."
Harry frowned.
"Heavens! Miss Delacour, that's quite a bold claim to make," exclaimed the Ravenclaw off to the side, where he stood facing Fleur and Cedric. Both Harry and the healer glanced towards the ongoing discussion. He hadn't been paying attention, but it seemed that while he'd been preoccupied, they'd already brought Professor Flitwick up to date.
"It is zhe truth!" Argued Fleur.
"Go, I've got this well in hand."
Harry nodded politely to the healer and rejoined the others.
"Please, sir, I know how it sounds, but it's what happened," implored Cedric, backing up Fleur. "Krum wasn't in his right mind, someone had him under the Imperius."
"He tried to cast the killing curse." Harry chipped in as he came to stand beside his girlfriend. "He nearly killed Cedric," he said with a clench to his jaw, "after he had already cast the Cruciatus on him."
The healer gasped and quickly finished up with Krum, who by then was already stable. She ran her wand over Cedric. Harry knew she was checking for the aftereffects of Cruciatus exposure.
"They're telling the truth." Professor Flitwick looked at the woman who was still inspecting Cedric.
"It's minimal, so he won't need treatment for it other than rest, but the boy does indeed show traces of the torture curse."
The charms master picked up Krum's wand from where it lay in the grass. He touched his own to its tip and out flowed the echoes of the most recent spells, each causing the small man's face to pale more and more.
"I—I pray it's as you say and he truly was bewitched," stated Flitwick with a deathly seriousness. "Because if he wasn't…"
The sentence didn't need to be finished, all of those present understood just how heavy the punishment for using the unforgivables were.
"Viktor's a friend," Cedric defended firmly. "I know Harry and Fleur agree with me."
Fleur nodded. "Oui, zhis was not 'im."
"What now, sir? Someone's clearly interfered," asked Harry, and Professor Flitwick glanced down at the still Durmstrang champion before answering.
"I am not happy about it, but there really is no way to stop the task," frowned the charms master. "Three of you will have to continue, I'm afraid."
"But—" interjected Cedric.
"I don't like it any more than you do, but the rules were something we inherited as a part of the tournament."
"Putain…" sighed Fleur as she ran a hand through her hair. "Togezher?" she posed the question to Cedric since it was already a given that Harry and herself would not be separating under any circumstance.
Cedric looked between them. "Something's wrong here, I don't care about winning anymore. Let's just get through this and put it behind us."
"Sir," began Harry hesitantly.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" replied the charm's master as he began levitating Krum.
"Would you… Would you let the headmaster know that my scar burns, and it's been getting worse."
"I don't see how that is relevant?" asked the Professor confusedly.
"Please, sir. It is, he'll understand."
"Very well."
"Red sparks," said Neville to Hermione. "You don't think–?"
"Does it make me a bad person to hope that it is," she replied softly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.
"No," Neville shook his head. "Means they'd be out here, and not in there."
"You know something," said Luna airily from behind her. Everyone looked at her expectantly.
Ron, who was to her right, looked over from Fay who he'd been speaking to.
"What is it?" he piped in. "You've been even more of a worrywart tonight than usual," he continued, "a bit like my mum actually."
Fay peered past him curiously.
Hermione frowned before turning around in her seat. She met Ron's eyes with a hard look.
"Before Harry went in, his scar was hurting."
The comment left the other participants of conversation confused whereas Ron's face grew stony, and his jaw moved in contemplation of her cryptic words.
The youngest Weasley son then paled considerably, he broke eye contact with her and looked towards the maze. "Shit."
"Wait," Fey spoke up. "So, what if Harry's scar hurts? What does that mean?"
Hermione opened her mouth but uncharacteristically stopped the words from forming on her lips. Self-aware, she turned to Ron for counsel, who nodded knowingly. Everyone there was someone they could trust, Fey included. She glanced around herself, making sure the coast was clear and that the only one's listening were their little group. Even so, she leaned in, intending to whisper, but was cut off.
"It's because of You-Know-Who, isn't it?" Luna stated, again showing her peers that she was sharper than others would let them believe.
Hermione nodded, causing Fay to gasp and Neville to frown.
"You think… It's all happenin' tonight?" Ron mumbled, before his voice grew more focused. "Whatever it is—you know, Harry's name in the cup, Mr. Crouch, Junior…"
"Somebody entered Harry for a reason, tonight's the last chance for anything to come of it," mumbled Neville.
"And with his scar," continued Hermione, before giving the maze a worried stare. "I'm afraid something terrible is going to happen."
"But Professor Dumbledore is here, and those people from the Ministry," chipped in Fay, her eyes fluttering between the headmaster and a stern looking auburn haired woman who was accompanied by a tall African man wearing auror robes.
Hermione frowned. "I don't know… I want to believe they've got everything well in hand, but—"
"We've been through too much to really believe that." Ron finished for her. He met Hermione's eyes, and she could see that he was just as worried for Harry as she was.
"And Harry's in there… We're out here—Doesn't feel right," he added with a frown that mirrored hers. Fay took Ron's hand in hers in a comforting grip, along with a soft smile that he returned, albeit weakly.
"He'll be alright," Fay tried to comfort her boyfriend.
"I really hope so," whispered Hermione. "I hate just sitting here."
"It's Krum!" exclaimed a random voice from the audience. Everyone's attention was immediately drawn to the maze. It had parted to allow Professor Flitwick along with a healer to leave. He was levitating the still form of Viktor Krum. A wave of disappointment went through the Durmstrang students. Though some did have expressions that showed more concern than dejectedness.
The headmasters and judges, along with a few officials quickly congregated around Professor Flitwick, though they made sure to stay out of the healer's way, as she brought Krum into the medical tent, where Madam Pomfrey along with more healers awaited.
Professor Flitwick began to explain, and whatever the charm's master had said, must have been incredibly serious, if the sudden changes in expression and body language were anything to go by.
A stern looking woman with the auburn hair immediately turned to the auror at her side and sent him off with orders.
"That does not look good," said Neville.
"You don't say," snarked Ron.
A large crab-like creature was thrown through one of the thick hedges. The flame from its tail singed the greenery along the way.
"That makes six, how many of these things are there!?" exclaimed Cedric as they encountered yet another of Hagrid's fire throwing menaces.
Harry shrugged. "At least they're easy to deal with once you know to aim for the belly."
"I will burn Monsieur 'Agrid's beard off," snipped Fleur as she held the tips of her singed hair.
Despite their situation in the maze, the outraged expression on her face had Harry laughing, which only made Fleur glare at him. They were interrupted by Cedric, who stood facing a gap in the hedge. "Guys, I think we found it."
Joining him, they found a clearing, and in the centre of it was a pedestal with the shining TriWizard cup.
"You could have grabbed it while we weren't paying attention," said Harry with an appraising glance towards the other Hogwarts champion.
"Wouldn't have been very Hufflepuff of me," mused Cedric.
Fleur walked around the pedestal and inspected it.
"What are you looking for?" asked Harry curiously.
"A trap? Somezhing… Zhis seems too eazy," answered Fleur with a troubled frown.
"Hmm, you have a point."
SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Her observations were cut short as suddenly the maze came to life. Wind buffeted them from the pathways which led to their clearing. The ground seemed to get ripped up as roots tore out from them. They could see the hedges closing in the distance and moving towards them. They were being closed in, wherever they looked, there was no way out.
"Whatever we're going to do, we better do it fast!" yelled Cedric as he tried to shield his face from the intense winds.
They looked at each other when Harry shouted out, "Together!?"
All in agreement, with the winds now strong enough to have them struggling to maintain their footing. They stood and made a desperate grab for the cup. The last thing Harry saw before his world spun in a colourful vortex, was a vine lunging from the hedges to grab at Cedric.
"Oof!" They landed in a heap on the dank uneven soil, the cup fell from their grasp.
"What the fuck…" coughed out Harry.
"Putain de tournoi de merde sa mère la pute," grumbled Fleur as she shakily stood.
"It's a portkey," Cedric said with a surprised tone. "Now where the hell are we?"
"Le cimetière?" whispered Fleur into the air as she glanced around.
Harry orientated himself and gathered his wits before grabbing a hold of Fleur's hand to pull himself to his feet. He lit his wand with a Lumos and looked around and dread filled him as his heartbeat like a drum, the hairs on his arms stood on end. They were in a graveyard, and not one of those upper end neat and tidy ones. This one was old, decrepit with uneven grounds and worn-out tombstones in odd shapes and sizes. There were small crypts scattered throughout, their walls covered in dead creeper plants.
The more Harry saw, the more the hair on the back of his neck stood. He panned his wand around and felt his heart reach his throat as he read the name on a tombstone that was nestled beneath a statue of death and his scythe.
TOM RIDDLE
He turned sharply, his wand trying to light the darkness around them.
"We need to leave! Now!"
His yell startled the other two.
"What's the matter?" asked Cedric hurriedly.
Fleur saw the grave which had set him off and paled. He'd told her of his brushes with death, so she knew the significance of the name.
A crack of a branch startled them, their wands turned to face the direction it had come from just in time to see a dirty, pudgy looking man holding a bundle in his arms. As soon as Harry caught sight of them, a searing pain shot through his scar. He yelled out and grabbed at his forehead. His breath reduced to gasps as he tried to overcome the shock.
"Ru—n!" Harry choked out desperately.
In a quick move, Fleur put herself in front of Harry. She'd already realised that her boyfriend was the target.
"Stop! Show yourself!" Commanded Cedric to the figure.
"Kill the others!" A raspy voice which sent chills down their spines shouted.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Time slowed as Harry, through his vision which was being darkened by the blinding pain in his forehead, watched as the green light which had haunted his nightmares flew towards the one closest to Pettigrew.
Fleur.
Realistically, there was no way to move fast enough to dodge, not when the curse was already in the air. It was far too quick. Nobody could explain how Harry had gotten in between Fleur and her oncoming death. Whether it was apparition, or accidental magic born of desperation, it didn't matter.
Fleur felt Harry's limp form crash against her chest, bringing her down to the ground. They didn't notice the bundle in Wormtail's arms scream and flail.
"Non! Non non non!" Fleur cried out, her chest felt like it was on fire, she couldn't see anything beyond Harry's messy hair which laid against her, unmoving.
"Arry?" She tried to shake him awake without success. Tears had begun to trail down her cheeks. "S'il vous plait 'Arry don't do zhis. I'm begging you 'Arry, please wake up."
"Wake up!"
No answer.
"He's gone," Cedric whispered in quiet shock.
Fleur's sob broke into a heartbroken scream which shattered the night. It was a scene which would rip through even the coldest heart.
She gasped and struggled to breathe, her hands which had clutched onto Harry tore his t-shirt as her nails sharpened. Feathers sprouted along her arms as her cries changed, her voice grew in pitch, it was as if the call of a bird was hiding in its depths.
Cedric simply stood there; his own throat tightened with grief. It was as if he could feel her pain in the air. He didn't know what to do, or what to say, so he did nothing but stare at Fleur who cried and choked as she held Harry as tight as she possibly could.
Movement from up ahead snapped her attention, she caught sight of Pettigrew, who had gotten to his feet.
"My lord," said the betrayer, his attention on the small bundle which had fallen from his arms and laid unmoving.
As Fleur stared at him, her heaving breaths grew shorter. The despair, which was in her eyes cleared, replaced by one of utmost hatred. The cold night began to warm as her magic permeated the air around them.
She got out from beneath Harry, and despite her rage, she moved her love with the utmost gentleness, even as the air around her burned, and her clawed hands threatened to scratch his skin. It was as if he were asleep, and she was careful not to disturb him.
With a final touch, she rubbed his cheek before she returned her attention to his murderer, who was beginning to panic as the bundle remained still.
Fleur screamed at Pettigrew, magic laid her voice, spreading the sound far beyond the confines of the little graveyard.
Meanwhile
Harry awoke with a gasp, and immediately closed his eyes at the blinding white light that filled his world. He looked around curiously, everything was white, it was as if the room was illuminated from everywhere. The floor, the sky, the walls, they all just radiated light. The surroundings were clean, too clean.
Inspecting himself, he found he was dressed plainly, a t-shirt and pants.
"My brave, beautiful boy," a feminine voice said softly behind him with the most love he'd ever heard in someone's words.
Startled, he spun around and froze, like a deer caught in headlights. Right in front of him, was a dream come to life.
She was just there, standing by her lonesome, even in the bright world, she was radiant. Her deep red hair was loose, hanging past her shoulders. Her eyes, his eyes shimmered, as she smiled the saddest, most joyous smile he'd ever seen.
"M..um?"
She struggled to hold back a sob as she nodded.
He didn't know what to do, so he just stood there, as the meaning of him seeing her washed over him.
She wiped her eyes and smiled softly at him, and he found himself yearning for that smile. Her steps were slow, and suddenly he found himself afraid, but he didn't run. Silently, she stopped right in front of him. He couldn't help but notice that he was ever so slightly taller than her.
He closed his eyes when she palmed his cheek and leaned into her hand, only opening them when she played with his hair.
"You look so much like your father."
"I'm dead, aren't I?" His voice cracked as he met her eyes. The same eyes he saw in the mirror.
"Yes," she nodded, "and no," she shook her head.
He looked at her in confusion.
"Come," she said, taking his hand, "Let me show you something."
Curiously, he let her pull him along her, they stopped at a bench which he'd not noticed earlier. He found, to his shock, a bloody, withered thing, it had long bone thin arms which rubbed at its legs. Soft groans came from it between wheezes.
"It's in pain," he said and went down to his knees. He tried to find his wand but stopped when he felt his mother's hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and she shook her head at him.
"There's nothing you can do for it."
With a frown, he gave up. "What exactly is it?"
She sat down on a bench opposite to the one where the small being cowered beneath and motioned for him to join her. Once he'd sat down, she began.
"That night, when Voldemort came for you, and I put myself between you and him," she looked at him with such care, and he could tell she didn't regret her actions in the slightest.
"I didn't know it would happen, but somehow, something I did, invoked a truly ancient piece of magic. My death cast a protection on you, one more powerful than any other. From that moment, the dark lord could not touch you. His spell… rebounded, destroying him. But…" He hung on her every word.
"He had taken measures to protect himself from death, pieces of his soul bound him to the living. One such piece had split from him, and found the only place it could hide," she said meaningfully, and his eyes widened in shock.
"Me?" he asked and turned to stare at the bleeding creature. "That's what that thing is? A piece of his soul?"
"That's right," nodded his mother. "And while Voldemort did not cast the spell tonight and even if it was not meant for you, convoluted as it may be. It was still through his will that found you in that graveyard."
He looked down at his lap. "So, what happens now?"
"Now?" she ruffled his hair. "Now you get to choose."
"Choose?"
"Mhm, you can go back to the world of living," her answer shook him to core.
"Or." She cupped his cheek lovingly, "You can come with me—"
He didn't say anything for a while, until his lips curled up in the barest hint of a smile.
"I have to go back."
"You do," confirmed his mother, and he could see the pride in her eyes, but beneath it all, there was a deep sadness.
"How—How do I?"
"You simply close your eyes," she instructed and wrapped her arms around him in the only hug he'd ever received from his mother until the day came when he found himself in this place again. "There is so much I– I want to tell you."
"I wish we had more time."
He hugged her back and felt the drops land on his arms. He hadn't realised that he'd begun to cry. He felt his chest get wet and realised his mother was crying too. He tightened his hold, no words needed to be spoken. After what felt like an eternity, but at the same time, not enough, he felt his mother pull away.
She held him by the shoulders, her face wet with tears. Though she smiled, her lips quivered as she spoke. "Close your eyes, Harry."
He listened to her voice as if he were bewitched, and slowly shut his eyes.
As all sensation began to fade away, he felt her kiss his forehead.
"We love you so much"
The first one to see him stand was not Fleur or Cedric, but rather Pettigrew.
"How!? It's not possible!" Yelled the rat-like man in confusion and fear. The distraction gave Fleur an opening and her curse landed, sending Pettigrew to the ground as his leg bent in a way that it was not meant to.
Not to give him a chance to recover, Harry pointed his wand at the pudgy man and let loose a bone breaker. Pettigrew raised a shield in the absolute nick of time, the force of it winded the traitor and caused him to hit his head against a large tombstone.
Cedric finally recovered his wits at that moment. "Harry! The Cup! I can't move!" His leg was half submerged into the ground, as if it had been sucked in by quicksand.
It was the use of his name which snapped Fleur out of her fury. She spun around and froze as she caught sight of him. She was a mess, her cheek bled from a small cut which was dark around the edges, the whites of her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair stuck to her skin with dirt and sweat. Harry stumbled a bit as he tried to fully stand, and Fleur was on him in an instant. She held him up.
"The cup Harry!" Cedric called again.
With Fleur's help, Harry quickly reached Cedric who grabbed a hold of him with his free hand, but his vision was still fixed on Pettigrew, who had yet to move.
"The blood! I need the blood!" That terrible hoarse voice from earlier called out desperately.
Harry clutched onto both Fleur and Cedric, the former already summoning the cup to them. Right as it reached them, a cutting curse tore through the air, and sliced into Harry's upper right arm. He cursed aloud as the sharp pain nearly had him lose his hold on Fleur. Thankfully, he hadn't, and the three of them vanished into the air.
They reappeared to thunderous applause. The collective student body cheered and whooped and whistled. They stopped almost as fast as they began, silenced by Cedric, who howled in pain as his left leg beneath the knee was a bloody and mangled mess.
Healers were on them in an instant, separating them even as Harry and Fleur tried to hold onto one another. Madam Pomfrey was at her student's side.
"It's okay, let go Harry, you're both safe now." Her words were calm, soothing and he felt his grip weaken. Fleur on the other hand was struggling to remain conscious, as her changes faded away. The stress and exhaustion of it all piled onto her at once. She lost the fight and soon enough, her own hold on him slackened.
END CHAPTER NINETEEN