Blood of the Enemy: prologue
Title: Blood of the Enemy
Rating: R, eventually. This bit is not that, maybe AA, but it does get pretty violent in parts.
Disclaimer: Harry and Cedric belong to J.K. Rowling and probably a lot of other people, not me.
Prompt: "A fic where Cedric and Harry are both in the Auror Academy", for rosenskimmer... except that this is just the prologue, not the Academy part yet. It's shaping up to be longish, so please bear with me. Chapter 1 will start with the Academy, though, and then there'll be backstory to fill in the missing years in bits and pieces, not all at once. Assuming I can figure out how to make all the hyperlinks work...
Warnings: Violence, but that's part of the GoF graveyard scene already.
Some of the text will be familiar, especially in the beginnings of the "Harry's point of view" scenes. I've used bits from Goblet of Fire, then branched off from it. A lot of the non-Cedric dialogue is lifted straight from the book, too, to try to be as true as possible to JKR's version. Except, of course, that my Cedric gets to live. :) (Okay, he's in rough shape, but he's alive.)
Prologue
Harry looked from Cedric to the Cup. For one shining moment he saw himself emerging from the maze, holding it. He saw himself holding the Triwizard Cup aloft, heard the roar of the crowd, saw Cho’s face shining with admiration, more clearly than he had ever seen it before… and then the picture faded, and he found himself staring at Cedric’s shadowy, stubborn face.
“Both of us,” Harry said.
“What?”
“We’ll take it at the same time. It’s still a Hogwarts victory. We’ll tie for it.”
Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms. “You-you sure?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah… we’ve helped each other out, haven’t we? We both got here. Let’s just take it together.”
For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn’t believe his ears; then his face split in a grin.
“You’re on,” he said. “Come here.”
He grabbed Harry’s arm below the shoulder, and helped Harry limp towards the plinth where the Cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held out a hand over one of the Cup’s gleaming handles.
“On three, right?” said Harry. “One-two-.” His injured leg buckled before he could say three. He’d have fallen, except that he clutched Cedric’s waist and Cedric still held his arm.
There was a feeling of being jerked forwards, like a hook through his middle. A portkey. He wasn't touching it directly, though, and it wouldn’t hold him. He was lost in a howl of wind and swirling colours, and all he knew was he had to keep hold of Cedric, but the wind was too strong. His fingers were slipping. What happened when you lost your connection to a portkey?
He lost his grip. Cedric’s fingers tightened on his arm, but it wasn’t enough. Harry flew free.
He landed hard on the ground and spent a long moment struggling to get air into his lungs.
Harry sat up slowly. Tall trees blocked out what little light was left in the sky. There was no sign of Cedric. He was on a path of some sort, through the woods. Behind him was a shack, dark and rotted, the door hanging from one hinge, and the roof sagging.
He pulled himself to his feet, leaning on a birch tree. The shack seemed a logical starting point, but something in him recoiled from it. The darkness of the woods seemed deeper around that one building, and it smelled of snakes.
No sooner had he thought that than an adder coiled onto the path before him, silver and black in the dim light.
"You are a Speaker," it said.
"I'm lost," Harry said. "Can you tell me where we are?"
The snake paused. "There is a human village below. This place was the home of Speakers, but they are long-ago gone."
"Parselmouths lived here?" Harry stared at the shack. Salazar Slytherin had been a parselmouth, and Voldemort. Was there a reason he had been brought to this place?
One thing at a time. "I need to find my friend," Harry said. "He'll have arrived by magic, like me. Have you seen him?"
The snake's tongue flicked out, testing the air. "Only you, tonight. If you follow the path out of the forest, you'll see more. It's not far."
Harry thanked the snake, then set off, limping. He'd come back to investigate the shack after he knew where Cedric was.
And by daylight.
He leg gave out again after only a few steps. He picked up a stout stick, this time, and used it as a cane. That helped, but it still took him entirely too long to reach the edge of the woods.
When he finally did, he realized he was on the side of a valley, looking down. In the base of the valley, giving the impression of having tumbled there, was a small village. Across the valley from him, halfway up, was a church, its cross a shadow against the inky sky. Higher up again was a larger building; perhaps a house. One window was lit, its orange glow the only light on the hillside.
The only light until a shower of red sparks burst into the air, from beside the church.
"Cedric," Harry whispered. He sent up his own shower of sparks in return.
#
Cedric had landed in an overgrown graveyard. He had spent long moments searching for Harry, knowing it to be useless, before finally coming up with the idea of using their signal from the Triwizard maze. Seeing Harry's answering red sparks from across the valley, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Harry was alive. Alive, and not so far away. He was hurt, though, and too young to apparate. Cedric wished he knew a way of telling Harry just to stay where he was; Cedric would come to him. A handful of line-of-sight jumps ought to do it, if he avoided the village.
A portkey. Of all the stupid things. As if they hadn't gone through enough just getting to the damned cup, it had to whisk them away for some final challenge they hadn't even been warned about. Cedric glared at the cup, lying where he had thrown it, then wondered if, somehow, Hogwarts was watching.
If they were, he had a few choice comments for them on using portkeys without giving fair warning. Things could go wrong. Things had gone wrong, and now Harry was stuck in the middle of nowhere, and injured to boot. The younger boy had held his own in the tournament, sure, and even saved Cedric's neck a few times, if Cedric was honest enough to admit it--and he was.
Still, Harry was only a fourth year. Cedric should have been keeping an eye out for him, instead of trying to win. He should have, at the very least, managed to hold on to Harry's arm.
Some game.
He'd have to apparate to get to Harry, then they'd make their way back to the portkey together. It wasn't like Cedric could bring it with him.
He took one last look around the graveyard--the place gave him the creeps--and prepared to apparate. Destination, determination, deliberation. Cedric had passed his test, but hadn't had much chance to practice since. He wasn't as comfortable with it as he'd like to be.
All right. Destination. He sighted down the hill and picked a likely looking space. It was in the open, but he'd just have to hope no one saw. He wasn't going to risk apparating into a tree.
Determination. He imagined himself there. Concentrated.
Heard a noise behind him.
Cedric whirled, wand out. A shadowy shape approached, from uphill. In its arms, it carried a shapeless bundle of cloth.
"Who's there?" Cedric asked. His voice didn't shake. All things considered, he was rather proud of that.
"Where's Potter?" The voice could only be described as a hiss.
Cedric, who had been flushed and panicked a moment ago, was suddenly cold into the deeps of his bones. "I don't know," he lied. "Who are you?"
"Show him, Wormtail," the voice said.
Cedric stepped back. There was a large monument behind him; his heel brushed against it, but he reached back and regained his balance. The larger figure, the man called Wormtail, was slowly unwrapping the bundle in his arms, and Cedric knew in a gut-wrenching, visceral way that he didn't want to see what was under the blankets. His hand shook as he raised his wand. "Impedimenta," he said.
Wormtail staggered, but raised his own wand. "Petrificus totalus."
Cedric froze, limbs at attention. His body fell back, stopping against the monument. His eyes darted, but he could not move any other part of his body.
Wormtail approached, then raised the bundle. His right hand was missing a finger, and Cedric stared at that, until the last covering fell away from what Wormtail carried, and then the seeing drove all other thoughts from Cedric's mind.
The creature was the size of a baby, but skinny and hairless and scaled, its flesh a dark red-black colour and it's face flat, evil. Monstrous. Cedric stared in horror, and only the body-bind curse stopped him from screaming.
Wormtail raised up the creature, and its gleaming, red eyes locked on Cedric's. Abruptly, the graveyard blurred away, and Cedric was with Harry, racing through the maze, fighting the giant spider... Harry was hurt, and Cedric was trying to get him to take the cup... Cedric was helping Harry, and the boy's arms were tight around his waist and Cedric was trying not to think about how that made him feel... they were flying through space, and Harry's grasp was slipping, and Cedric's world narrowed to that one, physical connection between them, and all that mattered was that he held Harry's arm... Cedric landed in the graveyard, frantic, desperately searching for the younger boy... a shower of red sparks, and he closed his eyes in relief, knowing that Harry was alive and nearby...
"Enough," the voice said. "Potter will come for this one. Give him a reason to hurry."
"Crucio," Wormtail said, and sharp heat that ripped through every nerve in Cedric's body. He heard screaming, but was too far gone to put that together with the rawness in his own throat.
When it stopped, when he knew himself again, he was lying on the ground. "I told you, I don't know where he is," Cedric said, panting.
"Again, Wormtail. You're losing your touch," the creature said. "I want Potter to hear him."
Wormtail bent and touched his wand to Cedric's throat. "Sonorus," he said. Then "Crucio," again, and the pain took Cedric. The screaming was louder this time, amplified through the skies, and if Cedric understood that it was him making the sound, still, he was powerless to stop it. His muscles, his body, were no longer his own; his body twisted and writhed of its own will, trying to escape the agony that swelled through his veins, his nerves, his bones. He ripped at his own skin, but still there was no relief.
It lasted seconds or hours or years. Sometimes Cedric was above, looking down on a tortured body that bent and broke and still felt, couldn't stop feeling no matter how much it hurt. Sometimes he was inside, tied to the heat and pain of his own blood, cringing and screaming and praying for his own end, for escape or coolness or relief. Sometimes the pain stopped, and he wept, because in two or three shuddering breaths it always started again, and each break only anchored him more firmly to his flesh, so it took longer to escape to the cool place where his body moved without him.
When his screaming finally stopped, when his throat was too raw and bloody to allow sound, it ended. Cedric lay where he fell, unable to move. "Shall I kill him, Master?" Wormtail asked. And Cedric wanted it, wanted it so badly that he shook, and then he realized it was laughter shaking him, laughter that was silent because his voice was broken, and he was laughing and trembling and broken, and he wanted the creature to say yes because then everything would be over.
Then, "Stupefy!", and it was Harry's wand shooting a jet of red light that knocked over the man called Wormtail, Harry coming over the hill, Harry kneeling by Cedric's side.
"Harry, no!" Cedric's mouth formed the words, but no sound came out. He struggled to sit up, suddenly centred in himself again, clutching at Harry's arms with hands that shook too hard to hold. Because Wormtail had hurt him, hurt him badly, but Cedric knew that the true evil was the other thing, small and red-faced with a hissing voice, and it wanted Harry here, so Harry had to leave.
"What did he do to you?" Green, shocked-wide eyes and Harry's hands on his face, and still Cedric struggled to make himself heard.
"Go! Get out of here," he croaked.
But something was wrong. Harry's face curled in pain and he dropped his wand, clutching the scar on his forehead and writhing, and Cedric hadn't heard "crucio," but he knew what this was, so he groped the dirt, searching for Harry's fallen wand.
And then Wormtail stepped on his left hand, and Cedric felt bones crunch. A four-fingered hand gripped Cedric's hair, jerking his head back, hauling him to his knees, and then there was something cold and hard pressed against his throat. "His blood or yours," Wormtail said.
#
"His blood or yours, Potter," Pettigrew repeated, his knife bright against Cedric's neck. "If it's his, it comes from his throat. Now drop your wand."
And Harry, who had managed to crouch and had just reached his fingertips to his wand, froze.
How fast could Harry speak the disarming charm? Not fast enough. Pettigrew would kill Cedric as soon as Harry opened his mouth.
Harry let his hand fall back. His scar burned.
"That's better," Pettigrew said. "Accio wand." He released the knife from Cedric's throat in order to catch Harry's wand.
Harry stared at Cedric, willing him to do something, anything, but Cedric seemed half stunned.
"Well done, Wormtail," a thin, hissing voice said. "Now kill the spare." But Cedric twisted out of Pettigrew's reach and was gone, a popping sound telling Harry he had Disapparated.
Voldemort's fury burned through Harry's scar, sending him to the ground again. Then Pettigrew was dragging Harry, pulling him towards a marble tombstone, and Harry just had time to read the engraved name before Pettigrew forced him around and bound him to it.
TOM RIDDLE
#
Cedric gasped for air behind a tombstone. He hadn't gone far. He couldn't go far. If he understood that, in theory, the cruciatus curse did no physical harm, his body had still done a fair bit towards breaking itself, trying to escape the pain.
Besides, the man Wormtail had Harry. And the monster... Cedric didn't want to think about what the monster was. It had seemed to read his mind.
Cedric leaned around the tombstone and watched as Wormtail shoved Harry up against a large, marble statue. An angel. Dark angel, fallen angel.
His heart was loud in his own ears.
"Incarcerous," he heard Wormtail say, and watched as ropes bound Harry to the statue.
"Diffindo," Cedric whispered, reflexively. Nothing happened. No wand. He had no wand.
He watched while Wormtail stuffed black fabric into Harry's mouth, gagging him. The Triwizard Cup lay close to Cedric, glinting in the starlight, and he longed to grasp it, to return to the maze, to be away from here. Even Hagrid's blast-ended Skrewt would make a welcome distraction.
Cedric mashed his right hand over his mouth to muffle a high-pitched giggle. What was wrong with him?
A plan. He needed a plan.
Wormtail was shoving a large, stone cauldron, bigger than any Cedric had ever seen, over to where Harry was bound. It was a cauldron that could hold a man. Wormtail lit a fire beneath it, and shortly after, the liquid inside began to boil and spark. Was he planning to boil Harry alive?
Wormtail had Harry's wand, and his own. Where was Cedric's wand? He had lost it when Wormtail hit him with the body-bind curse. That meant... over there, by the large monument, where Harry was bound.
Cedric was a Seeker; he narrowed his eyes, and caught the gleam of moonlight on wood. To get to it, he'd have to pass Wormtail's cauldron, and the bundle of rags that held the feebly stirring monster. If he Apparated, he'd need to come up fast, ready to stun Wormtail and free Harry.
"Hurry," a voice hissed. The entire surface of the liquid shimmered, now, as if it were encrusted with diamonds.
"It is ready, master," Wormtail said.
A large, dark snake slid around the tombstone where Cedric hid. He froze. It stared with eyes that seemed to know him. The snake reared back, its fangs bared, and Cedric twisted away, Apparating to Harry's side before it could strike.
He clutched the statue, face to face with Harry, reeling with disorientation. Stared into Harry's eyes, which were wide with panic or warning. He yanked the black fabric out of Harry's mouth before he remembered. His wand. He dove for it, coming up an instant before Wormtail reached him. "Stupefy!" he cried, shooting a jet of red light that missed Wormtail by inches.
"Cedric!" Harry shouted, and Cedric rolled. A blast of green light hit the ground where he had been standing.
"Wormtail!" The creature's hiss had a frantic tone, now, and Wormtail spun away from Cedric. "Now!"
Cedric took aim at the cauldron. "Confringo!" he shouted, and great flames enveloped the cauldron, but they died down an instant later, and the cauldron sat there, unharmed, the shimmering liquid still within.
Then something heavy hit his leg, something sharp pierced his flesh. He looked down to see a dark shape slither away, just before the burning started. Fire coursed up his shin and thigh, and he crumpled.
"No!" It was Harry's voice. Cedric opened his eyes, but the world blurred and receded. Harry's face swam closer, than disappeared.
#
Pettigrew levitated a dusting of bones from the grave beneath Harry's feet and let it fall into the cauldron. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will revive your son!"
"Cedric, hold on," Harry whispered. He didn't think Cedric could hear him. The older boy moaned, clutching the leg the snake had bitten. His face shone with sweat.
The liquid in the cauldron turned bright blue. Then Pettigrew stretched out his hand over it, his right hand, the one with the missing finger. "Flesh--of the servant--w-willingly given--you will--revive--your master." He raised his knife, and Harry flashed back to the panic he had felt, seeing the steel pressed against Cedric's throat. Seeing Pettigrew raise the knife, he closed his eyes, but heard the sound, heard the flesh drop into the cauldron, heard Pettigrew's scream.
When he looked again, the cauldron burned bright red. Pettigrew clutched a stump where his hand had been. Gasping, he made his way to Harry's side, stepping over Cedric. Harry turned his face away from Pettigrew's hot breath. "B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe."
"No," Harry said. At the sound, Cedric's eyes opened. He stared vacantly past Harry. Tied as he was, Harry could do nothing to prevent Pettigrew, who brought the dagger to Harry's forearm and made a deep cut. Fumbling, one-handed, Pettigrew then dropped the knife and pulled a glass phial from a pocket. He let Harry's blood run into it.
Pettigrew poured Harry's blood into the cauldron, which then boiled white. He let the phial drop, and clutched the stump where his hand had been, dropping to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumping sideways to the ground. The spell was complete, and all Harry could do was stare at the cauldron, willing the creature inside to drown, to die.
He struggled against the ropes, but they held tight.
Cedric was crawling, though, reaching, not for his wand, but for Pettigrew's knife. Carrying it, he pulled himself through the grass, to the cauldron.
"Get away from there!" Harry shouted, but Cedric didn't respond. He pushed himself into a seated position, swaying a little, then used the knife to slice open his pant leg. The snake bite was exposed, swollen and purple and raw. Cedric hesitated, hand shaking, then, moving with deliberation that was painful to watch, sliced an X across the wound.
He bent over his own leg, and then Harry understood what he was trying to do, but Cedric was going to be too late, the venom was already affecting him, it must have spread by now.
Cedric sucked at the wound, then pushed himself up. He pressed his right hand flat against the cauldron for leverage, and it must have burned, but Cedric gave no sign, only kept his lips pressed tight together as he rose. He spat into the cauldron, blood and venom and saliva, and whether he had meant it only as a final gesture of contempt or if he had some idea of what it might do, Harry didn't know, but the liquid in the cauldron turned black.
Something, some change, roused Pettigrew, and he saw Cedric leaning over the cauldron, wiping his face, saw the liquid boiling black. With a wordless shout, he staggered to his feet. Cedric faced him, and the calm in his expression broke Harry's heart.
Pettigrew pointed his wand at Cedric. "Avada--" he started, but broke off when a gout of dark liquid flew up from the cauldron. There was a sound, first like the keening of a tea kettle, growing into a scream that tore the night in half. The liquid swirled, funnel-like, coalescing into a darker shape.
Harry's scar burned so he thought his head was splitting.
Cedric had been thrown back from the cauldron, and for a moment Harry didn't think he was going to get up again. Then, with a desperate cry, he launched himself at the still-mesmerized Pettigrew, wresting the wand from Pettigrew's grasp.
Cedric pointed the wand at Harry. "Diffindo," he managed, before his eyes rolled up and he fell to the ground.
The ropes binding Harry let go as though sliced with a knife. "Accio wand," Harry called, and Pettigrew's wand flew from Cedric's limp grasp to his open hand. He stunned Pettigrew. The wand wasn't his, but it felt responsive in his hand, almost as good as his own wand. As an afterthought, though, Harry picked up Cedric's wand and shoved it in his own pocket.
Harry wasn't sure how much time he had before the shadowy figure over the cauldron materialized fully. He pressed one hand against his burning scar. It didn't stop the pain; that came from inside; but somehow it helped him focus. He needed to get Cedric away from there.
He knelt beside Cedric. "Rennervate," he said. Cedric groaned, but his eyes blinked open and focused on Harry for a second, before sliding away.
"Portkey," Cedric mumbled, and why hadn't Harry thought of that? He looked around for the Triwizard Cup.
The wand flew out of Harry's hand. Startled, Harry glanced up to see, where the whirling black liquid had been, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.
#
"Robe me," Cedric heard a high, cold voice command. The words sounded far away.
He was cold, very cold, shaking with it though sweat poured from his skin and drenched his clothes. He lay curled on his side and nothing seemed real.
The monster had grown into a man. Tall, thin, with a face as flat as a snake's and eyes that burned like the pain in Cedric's leg. Wormtail draped black robes over it, and then it stepped slowly from the cauldron and moved to face Harry.
Cedric lost track of time. When he came back to himself again, the Dark Mark glowed in the sky--the second time in his life Cedric had seen it. It cast a green light over the graveyard.
Death Eaters--Cedric knew what the robed, hooded figures were with terrible clarity--formed a circle around the monster and Harry Potter. Harry was being held at wand-point by a large Death Eater, the monster leaning in close, peering at him with its red eyes.
"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" the monster said softly. Harry's face twisted the way it did when his scar hurt. "You all now that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him--and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen... I could not touch the boy."
Cedric's breath caught in his throat. He knew who the monster was now.
Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers, and put it very close to Harry's cheek. "His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice... this is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it... but no matter. I can touch him now."
Harry screamed when Voldemort touched him, and Cedric lunged, or tried to. His body would not obey. He managed only to raise his head and shoulders a little.
"My Lord, this one lives," the Death Eater nearest him said. "Shall I kill him for you?"
Intent on Harry, Voldemort only waved a negligent hand. "Nagini already has," he said. Then the world went dark again.
Cedric next woke to pain, terrible, searing pain that crumpled and tore at his body. There was a flash of light, and when the pain let up for a second, he saw Harry dive behind a tombstone.
"Come out, Harry!" Voldemort called. "Come out and face me like a man, and I'll release your friend. Crucio!" he said again, and Cedric screamed as a thousand knives pierced his skin, as his marrow turned to fire.
Finally, the pain stopped. Cedric saw Harry, small and pale, step into the open. He wanted to tell him not to, but he was a long way from being able to speak.
"Excellent, you've come out of hiding," Voldemort said.
"You said you'd let Cedric go." Harry's voice wavered, but held.
"Of course, I will," Voldemort said. "But my followers have been a long time without a plaything." He stroked his head, as though marveling at his own physicality. "I fear there is limited time before Nagini's venom finishes him, but my friends, amuse yourselves in the meanwhile. Potter is mine."
After that, it got very bad. It was a relief when, finally, Cedric's body stopped calling him back.
He watched, from above, as his body bent and twisted, watched as Harry and Voldemort's wands met, watched as the Death Eaters took their rage out on him.
Shapes appeared, ghost-like, from Voldemort's wand. They spoke to Harry. Cedric tried to speak to them, but they were more real than he, so he just watched. Watched while Harry broke free, watched as he dove for Cedric's body and Summoned the Triwizard Cup. Cedric was surprised to find, then, that his body still had some claim to him, because he felt the gut-wrenching jolt of portkey travel, but he never quite managed to catch up. He was lost, and it was dark where he found himself, and quiet, and Cedric was content to drift.
#
Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; his face was pressed into grass; the smell of it filled his nostrils. He had closed his eyes while the Portkey transported him, and he kept them closed now. He did not move. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of him; his head was swimming so badly he felt as though the ground beneath him was swaying like the deck of a ship. To hold himself steady, he tightened his hold on the two things he was still clutching--the smooth, cold handle of the Triwizard Cup, and Cedric's body, hot with fever, soaked with sweat. He felt as though he would slide away into the blackness gathering at the edges of his brain if he let go of either of them. Shock and exhaustion kept him on the ground, breathing in the smell of the grass, waiting... waiting for someone to do something... waiting for something to happen... and all the while, his scar burnt dully on his forehead...
Noise pressed against him, and he screwed his face shut tight against it. Then rough hands lifted him, and Harry clutched at Cedric, clinging, refusing to be separated in case in the separating, they both vanished forever.
"Harry! Harry!" Dumbledore's voice roused him.
And Harry clutched at his wrist with one hand, still holding to Cedric with the other. "He's back," Harry whispered. He's back. Voldemort. And Cedric... they..."
Cedric stared straight ahead, blank-eyed. Until Harry had touched him, in the graveyard, he hadn't been sure Cedric was alive.
"My God--Diggory! Dumbledore--he's dead!" someone said. But Harry felt Cedric's heat, felt the faint motion of breathing where his arm was pressed against Cedric's chest.
"No, I don't think so. Not quite," Dumbledore said. He peered into Cedric's vacant eyes. "Not quite," he repeated, but he sounded uncertain.
And then hands pulled Harry away, and Dumbledore grabbed hold of Cedric and Disapparated, and Harry was lost until Moody took hold of him.
"It's all right son, I've got you... come on... hospital wing," Moody said, and Harry let himself be led.
Rating: R, eventually. This bit is not that, maybe AA, but it does get pretty violent in parts.
Disclaimer: Harry and Cedric belong to J.K. Rowling and probably a lot of other people, not me.
Prompt: "A fic where Cedric and Harry are both in the Auror Academy", for rosenskimmer... except that this is just the prologue, not the Academy part yet. It's shaping up to be longish, so please bear with me. Chapter 1 will start with the Academy, though, and then there'll be backstory to fill in the missing years in bits and pieces, not all at once. Assuming I can figure out how to make all the hyperlinks work...
Warnings: Violence, but that's part of the GoF graveyard scene already.
Some of the text will be familiar, especially in the beginnings of the "Harry's point of view" scenes. I've used bits from Goblet of Fire, then branched off from it. A lot of the non-Cedric dialogue is lifted straight from the book, too, to try to be as true as possible to JKR's version. Except, of course, that my Cedric gets to live. :) (Okay, he's in rough shape, but he's alive.)
Prologue
Harry looked from Cedric to the Cup. For one shining moment he saw himself emerging from the maze, holding it. He saw himself holding the Triwizard Cup aloft, heard the roar of the crowd, saw Cho’s face shining with admiration, more clearly than he had ever seen it before… and then the picture faded, and he found himself staring at Cedric’s shadowy, stubborn face.
“Both of us,” Harry said.
“What?”
“We’ll take it at the same time. It’s still a Hogwarts victory. We’ll tie for it.”
Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms. “You-you sure?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah… we’ve helped each other out, haven’t we? We both got here. Let’s just take it together.”
For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn’t believe his ears; then his face split in a grin.
“You’re on,” he said. “Come here.”
He grabbed Harry’s arm below the shoulder, and helped Harry limp towards the plinth where the Cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held out a hand over one of the Cup’s gleaming handles.
“On three, right?” said Harry. “One-two-.” His injured leg buckled before he could say three. He’d have fallen, except that he clutched Cedric’s waist and Cedric still held his arm.
There was a feeling of being jerked forwards, like a hook through his middle. A portkey. He wasn't touching it directly, though, and it wouldn’t hold him. He was lost in a howl of wind and swirling colours, and all he knew was he had to keep hold of Cedric, but the wind was too strong. His fingers were slipping. What happened when you lost your connection to a portkey?
He lost his grip. Cedric’s fingers tightened on his arm, but it wasn’t enough. Harry flew free.
He landed hard on the ground and spent a long moment struggling to get air into his lungs.
Harry sat up slowly. Tall trees blocked out what little light was left in the sky. There was no sign of Cedric. He was on a path of some sort, through the woods. Behind him was a shack, dark and rotted, the door hanging from one hinge, and the roof sagging.
He pulled himself to his feet, leaning on a birch tree. The shack seemed a logical starting point, but something in him recoiled from it. The darkness of the woods seemed deeper around that one building, and it smelled of snakes.
No sooner had he thought that than an adder coiled onto the path before him, silver and black in the dim light.
"You are a Speaker," it said.
"I'm lost," Harry said. "Can you tell me where we are?"
The snake paused. "There is a human village below. This place was the home of Speakers, but they are long-ago gone."
"Parselmouths lived here?" Harry stared at the shack. Salazar Slytherin had been a parselmouth, and Voldemort. Was there a reason he had been brought to this place?
One thing at a time. "I need to find my friend," Harry said. "He'll have arrived by magic, like me. Have you seen him?"
The snake's tongue flicked out, testing the air. "Only you, tonight. If you follow the path out of the forest, you'll see more. It's not far."
Harry thanked the snake, then set off, limping. He'd come back to investigate the shack after he knew where Cedric was.
And by daylight.
He leg gave out again after only a few steps. He picked up a stout stick, this time, and used it as a cane. That helped, but it still took him entirely too long to reach the edge of the woods.
When he finally did, he realized he was on the side of a valley, looking down. In the base of the valley, giving the impression of having tumbled there, was a small village. Across the valley from him, halfway up, was a church, its cross a shadow against the inky sky. Higher up again was a larger building; perhaps a house. One window was lit, its orange glow the only light on the hillside.
The only light until a shower of red sparks burst into the air, from beside the church.
"Cedric," Harry whispered. He sent up his own shower of sparks in return.
#
Cedric had landed in an overgrown graveyard. He had spent long moments searching for Harry, knowing it to be useless, before finally coming up with the idea of using their signal from the Triwizard maze. Seeing Harry's answering red sparks from across the valley, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Harry was alive. Alive, and not so far away. He was hurt, though, and too young to apparate. Cedric wished he knew a way of telling Harry just to stay where he was; Cedric would come to him. A handful of line-of-sight jumps ought to do it, if he avoided the village.
A portkey. Of all the stupid things. As if they hadn't gone through enough just getting to the damned cup, it had to whisk them away for some final challenge they hadn't even been warned about. Cedric glared at the cup, lying where he had thrown it, then wondered if, somehow, Hogwarts was watching.
If they were, he had a few choice comments for them on using portkeys without giving fair warning. Things could go wrong. Things had gone wrong, and now Harry was stuck in the middle of nowhere, and injured to boot. The younger boy had held his own in the tournament, sure, and even saved Cedric's neck a few times, if Cedric was honest enough to admit it--and he was.
Still, Harry was only a fourth year. Cedric should have been keeping an eye out for him, instead of trying to win. He should have, at the very least, managed to hold on to Harry's arm.
Some game.
He'd have to apparate to get to Harry, then they'd make their way back to the portkey together. It wasn't like Cedric could bring it with him.
He took one last look around the graveyard--the place gave him the creeps--and prepared to apparate. Destination, determination, deliberation. Cedric had passed his test, but hadn't had much chance to practice since. He wasn't as comfortable with it as he'd like to be.
All right. Destination. He sighted down the hill and picked a likely looking space. It was in the open, but he'd just have to hope no one saw. He wasn't going to risk apparating into a tree.
Determination. He imagined himself there. Concentrated.
Heard a noise behind him.
Cedric whirled, wand out. A shadowy shape approached, from uphill. In its arms, it carried a shapeless bundle of cloth.
"Who's there?" Cedric asked. His voice didn't shake. All things considered, he was rather proud of that.
"Where's Potter?" The voice could only be described as a hiss.
Cedric, who had been flushed and panicked a moment ago, was suddenly cold into the deeps of his bones. "I don't know," he lied. "Who are you?"
"Show him, Wormtail," the voice said.
Cedric stepped back. There was a large monument behind him; his heel brushed against it, but he reached back and regained his balance. The larger figure, the man called Wormtail, was slowly unwrapping the bundle in his arms, and Cedric knew in a gut-wrenching, visceral way that he didn't want to see what was under the blankets. His hand shook as he raised his wand. "Impedimenta," he said.
Wormtail staggered, but raised his own wand. "Petrificus totalus."
Cedric froze, limbs at attention. His body fell back, stopping against the monument. His eyes darted, but he could not move any other part of his body.
Wormtail approached, then raised the bundle. His right hand was missing a finger, and Cedric stared at that, until the last covering fell away from what Wormtail carried, and then the seeing drove all other thoughts from Cedric's mind.
The creature was the size of a baby, but skinny and hairless and scaled, its flesh a dark red-black colour and it's face flat, evil. Monstrous. Cedric stared in horror, and only the body-bind curse stopped him from screaming.
Wormtail raised up the creature, and its gleaming, red eyes locked on Cedric's. Abruptly, the graveyard blurred away, and Cedric was with Harry, racing through the maze, fighting the giant spider... Harry was hurt, and Cedric was trying to get him to take the cup... Cedric was helping Harry, and the boy's arms were tight around his waist and Cedric was trying not to think about how that made him feel... they were flying through space, and Harry's grasp was slipping, and Cedric's world narrowed to that one, physical connection between them, and all that mattered was that he held Harry's arm... Cedric landed in the graveyard, frantic, desperately searching for the younger boy... a shower of red sparks, and he closed his eyes in relief, knowing that Harry was alive and nearby...
"Enough," the voice said. "Potter will come for this one. Give him a reason to hurry."
"Crucio," Wormtail said, and sharp heat that ripped through every nerve in Cedric's body. He heard screaming, but was too far gone to put that together with the rawness in his own throat.
When it stopped, when he knew himself again, he was lying on the ground. "I told you, I don't know where he is," Cedric said, panting.
"Again, Wormtail. You're losing your touch," the creature said. "I want Potter to hear him."
Wormtail bent and touched his wand to Cedric's throat. "Sonorus," he said. Then "Crucio," again, and the pain took Cedric. The screaming was louder this time, amplified through the skies, and if Cedric understood that it was him making the sound, still, he was powerless to stop it. His muscles, his body, were no longer his own; his body twisted and writhed of its own will, trying to escape the agony that swelled through his veins, his nerves, his bones. He ripped at his own skin, but still there was no relief.
It lasted seconds or hours or years. Sometimes Cedric was above, looking down on a tortured body that bent and broke and still felt, couldn't stop feeling no matter how much it hurt. Sometimes he was inside, tied to the heat and pain of his own blood, cringing and screaming and praying for his own end, for escape or coolness or relief. Sometimes the pain stopped, and he wept, because in two or three shuddering breaths it always started again, and each break only anchored him more firmly to his flesh, so it took longer to escape to the cool place where his body moved without him.
When his screaming finally stopped, when his throat was too raw and bloody to allow sound, it ended. Cedric lay where he fell, unable to move. "Shall I kill him, Master?" Wormtail asked. And Cedric wanted it, wanted it so badly that he shook, and then he realized it was laughter shaking him, laughter that was silent because his voice was broken, and he was laughing and trembling and broken, and he wanted the creature to say yes because then everything would be over.
Then, "Stupefy!", and it was Harry's wand shooting a jet of red light that knocked over the man called Wormtail, Harry coming over the hill, Harry kneeling by Cedric's side.
"Harry, no!" Cedric's mouth formed the words, but no sound came out. He struggled to sit up, suddenly centred in himself again, clutching at Harry's arms with hands that shook too hard to hold. Because Wormtail had hurt him, hurt him badly, but Cedric knew that the true evil was the other thing, small and red-faced with a hissing voice, and it wanted Harry here, so Harry had to leave.
"What did he do to you?" Green, shocked-wide eyes and Harry's hands on his face, and still Cedric struggled to make himself heard.
"Go! Get out of here," he croaked.
But something was wrong. Harry's face curled in pain and he dropped his wand, clutching the scar on his forehead and writhing, and Cedric hadn't heard "crucio," but he knew what this was, so he groped the dirt, searching for Harry's fallen wand.
And then Wormtail stepped on his left hand, and Cedric felt bones crunch. A four-fingered hand gripped Cedric's hair, jerking his head back, hauling him to his knees, and then there was something cold and hard pressed against his throat. "His blood or yours," Wormtail said.
#
"His blood or yours, Potter," Pettigrew repeated, his knife bright against Cedric's neck. "If it's his, it comes from his throat. Now drop your wand."
And Harry, who had managed to crouch and had just reached his fingertips to his wand, froze.
How fast could Harry speak the disarming charm? Not fast enough. Pettigrew would kill Cedric as soon as Harry opened his mouth.
Harry let his hand fall back. His scar burned.
"That's better," Pettigrew said. "Accio wand." He released the knife from Cedric's throat in order to catch Harry's wand.
Harry stared at Cedric, willing him to do something, anything, but Cedric seemed half stunned.
"Well done, Wormtail," a thin, hissing voice said. "Now kill the spare." But Cedric twisted out of Pettigrew's reach and was gone, a popping sound telling Harry he had Disapparated.
Voldemort's fury burned through Harry's scar, sending him to the ground again. Then Pettigrew was dragging Harry, pulling him towards a marble tombstone, and Harry just had time to read the engraved name before Pettigrew forced him around and bound him to it.
TOM RIDDLE
#
Cedric gasped for air behind a tombstone. He hadn't gone far. He couldn't go far. If he understood that, in theory, the cruciatus curse did no physical harm, his body had still done a fair bit towards breaking itself, trying to escape the pain.
Besides, the man Wormtail had Harry. And the monster... Cedric didn't want to think about what the monster was. It had seemed to read his mind.
Cedric leaned around the tombstone and watched as Wormtail shoved Harry up against a large, marble statue. An angel. Dark angel, fallen angel.
His heart was loud in his own ears.
"Incarcerous," he heard Wormtail say, and watched as ropes bound Harry to the statue.
"Diffindo," Cedric whispered, reflexively. Nothing happened. No wand. He had no wand.
He watched while Wormtail stuffed black fabric into Harry's mouth, gagging him. The Triwizard Cup lay close to Cedric, glinting in the starlight, and he longed to grasp it, to return to the maze, to be away from here. Even Hagrid's blast-ended Skrewt would make a welcome distraction.
Cedric mashed his right hand over his mouth to muffle a high-pitched giggle. What was wrong with him?
A plan. He needed a plan.
Wormtail was shoving a large, stone cauldron, bigger than any Cedric had ever seen, over to where Harry was bound. It was a cauldron that could hold a man. Wormtail lit a fire beneath it, and shortly after, the liquid inside began to boil and spark. Was he planning to boil Harry alive?
Wormtail had Harry's wand, and his own. Where was Cedric's wand? He had lost it when Wormtail hit him with the body-bind curse. That meant... over there, by the large monument, where Harry was bound.
Cedric was a Seeker; he narrowed his eyes, and caught the gleam of moonlight on wood. To get to it, he'd have to pass Wormtail's cauldron, and the bundle of rags that held the feebly stirring monster. If he Apparated, he'd need to come up fast, ready to stun Wormtail and free Harry.
"Hurry," a voice hissed. The entire surface of the liquid shimmered, now, as if it were encrusted with diamonds.
"It is ready, master," Wormtail said.
A large, dark snake slid around the tombstone where Cedric hid. He froze. It stared with eyes that seemed to know him. The snake reared back, its fangs bared, and Cedric twisted away, Apparating to Harry's side before it could strike.
He clutched the statue, face to face with Harry, reeling with disorientation. Stared into Harry's eyes, which were wide with panic or warning. He yanked the black fabric out of Harry's mouth before he remembered. His wand. He dove for it, coming up an instant before Wormtail reached him. "Stupefy!" he cried, shooting a jet of red light that missed Wormtail by inches.
"Cedric!" Harry shouted, and Cedric rolled. A blast of green light hit the ground where he had been standing.
"Wormtail!" The creature's hiss had a frantic tone, now, and Wormtail spun away from Cedric. "Now!"
Cedric took aim at the cauldron. "Confringo!" he shouted, and great flames enveloped the cauldron, but they died down an instant later, and the cauldron sat there, unharmed, the shimmering liquid still within.
Then something heavy hit his leg, something sharp pierced his flesh. He looked down to see a dark shape slither away, just before the burning started. Fire coursed up his shin and thigh, and he crumpled.
"No!" It was Harry's voice. Cedric opened his eyes, but the world blurred and receded. Harry's face swam closer, than disappeared.
#
Pettigrew levitated a dusting of bones from the grave beneath Harry's feet and let it fall into the cauldron. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will revive your son!"
"Cedric, hold on," Harry whispered. He didn't think Cedric could hear him. The older boy moaned, clutching the leg the snake had bitten. His face shone with sweat.
The liquid in the cauldron turned bright blue. Then Pettigrew stretched out his hand over it, his right hand, the one with the missing finger. "Flesh--of the servant--w-willingly given--you will--revive--your master." He raised his knife, and Harry flashed back to the panic he had felt, seeing the steel pressed against Cedric's throat. Seeing Pettigrew raise the knife, he closed his eyes, but heard the sound, heard the flesh drop into the cauldron, heard Pettigrew's scream.
When he looked again, the cauldron burned bright red. Pettigrew clutched a stump where his hand had been. Gasping, he made his way to Harry's side, stepping over Cedric. Harry turned his face away from Pettigrew's hot breath. "B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe."
"No," Harry said. At the sound, Cedric's eyes opened. He stared vacantly past Harry. Tied as he was, Harry could do nothing to prevent Pettigrew, who brought the dagger to Harry's forearm and made a deep cut. Fumbling, one-handed, Pettigrew then dropped the knife and pulled a glass phial from a pocket. He let Harry's blood run into it.
Pettigrew poured Harry's blood into the cauldron, which then boiled white. He let the phial drop, and clutched the stump where his hand had been, dropping to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumping sideways to the ground. The spell was complete, and all Harry could do was stare at the cauldron, willing the creature inside to drown, to die.
He struggled against the ropes, but they held tight.
Cedric was crawling, though, reaching, not for his wand, but for Pettigrew's knife. Carrying it, he pulled himself through the grass, to the cauldron.
"Get away from there!" Harry shouted, but Cedric didn't respond. He pushed himself into a seated position, swaying a little, then used the knife to slice open his pant leg. The snake bite was exposed, swollen and purple and raw. Cedric hesitated, hand shaking, then, moving with deliberation that was painful to watch, sliced an X across the wound.
He bent over his own leg, and then Harry understood what he was trying to do, but Cedric was going to be too late, the venom was already affecting him, it must have spread by now.
Cedric sucked at the wound, then pushed himself up. He pressed his right hand flat against the cauldron for leverage, and it must have burned, but Cedric gave no sign, only kept his lips pressed tight together as he rose. He spat into the cauldron, blood and venom and saliva, and whether he had meant it only as a final gesture of contempt or if he had some idea of what it might do, Harry didn't know, but the liquid in the cauldron turned black.
Something, some change, roused Pettigrew, and he saw Cedric leaning over the cauldron, wiping his face, saw the liquid boiling black. With a wordless shout, he staggered to his feet. Cedric faced him, and the calm in his expression broke Harry's heart.
Pettigrew pointed his wand at Cedric. "Avada--" he started, but broke off when a gout of dark liquid flew up from the cauldron. There was a sound, first like the keening of a tea kettle, growing into a scream that tore the night in half. The liquid swirled, funnel-like, coalescing into a darker shape.
Harry's scar burned so he thought his head was splitting.
Cedric had been thrown back from the cauldron, and for a moment Harry didn't think he was going to get up again. Then, with a desperate cry, he launched himself at the still-mesmerized Pettigrew, wresting the wand from Pettigrew's grasp.
Cedric pointed the wand at Harry. "Diffindo," he managed, before his eyes rolled up and he fell to the ground.
The ropes binding Harry let go as though sliced with a knife. "Accio wand," Harry called, and Pettigrew's wand flew from Cedric's limp grasp to his open hand. He stunned Pettigrew. The wand wasn't his, but it felt responsive in his hand, almost as good as his own wand. As an afterthought, though, Harry picked up Cedric's wand and shoved it in his own pocket.
Harry wasn't sure how much time he had before the shadowy figure over the cauldron materialized fully. He pressed one hand against his burning scar. It didn't stop the pain; that came from inside; but somehow it helped him focus. He needed to get Cedric away from there.
He knelt beside Cedric. "Rennervate," he said. Cedric groaned, but his eyes blinked open and focused on Harry for a second, before sliding away.
"Portkey," Cedric mumbled, and why hadn't Harry thought of that? He looked around for the Triwizard Cup.
The wand flew out of Harry's hand. Startled, Harry glanced up to see, where the whirling black liquid had been, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.
#
"Robe me," Cedric heard a high, cold voice command. The words sounded far away.
He was cold, very cold, shaking with it though sweat poured from his skin and drenched his clothes. He lay curled on his side and nothing seemed real.
The monster had grown into a man. Tall, thin, with a face as flat as a snake's and eyes that burned like the pain in Cedric's leg. Wormtail draped black robes over it, and then it stepped slowly from the cauldron and moved to face Harry.
Cedric lost track of time. When he came back to himself again, the Dark Mark glowed in the sky--the second time in his life Cedric had seen it. It cast a green light over the graveyard.
Death Eaters--Cedric knew what the robed, hooded figures were with terrible clarity--formed a circle around the monster and Harry Potter. Harry was being held at wand-point by a large Death Eater, the monster leaning in close, peering at him with its red eyes.
"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" the monster said softly. Harry's face twisted the way it did when his scar hurt. "You all now that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him--and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen... I could not touch the boy."
Cedric's breath caught in his throat. He knew who the monster was now.
Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers, and put it very close to Harry's cheek. "His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice... this is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it... but no matter. I can touch him now."
Harry screamed when Voldemort touched him, and Cedric lunged, or tried to. His body would not obey. He managed only to raise his head and shoulders a little.
"My Lord, this one lives," the Death Eater nearest him said. "Shall I kill him for you?"
Intent on Harry, Voldemort only waved a negligent hand. "Nagini already has," he said. Then the world went dark again.
Cedric next woke to pain, terrible, searing pain that crumpled and tore at his body. There was a flash of light, and when the pain let up for a second, he saw Harry dive behind a tombstone.
"Come out, Harry!" Voldemort called. "Come out and face me like a man, and I'll release your friend. Crucio!" he said again, and Cedric screamed as a thousand knives pierced his skin, as his marrow turned to fire.
Finally, the pain stopped. Cedric saw Harry, small and pale, step into the open. He wanted to tell him not to, but he was a long way from being able to speak.
"Excellent, you've come out of hiding," Voldemort said.
"You said you'd let Cedric go." Harry's voice wavered, but held.
"Of course, I will," Voldemort said. "But my followers have been a long time without a plaything." He stroked his head, as though marveling at his own physicality. "I fear there is limited time before Nagini's venom finishes him, but my friends, amuse yourselves in the meanwhile. Potter is mine."
After that, it got very bad. It was a relief when, finally, Cedric's body stopped calling him back.
He watched, from above, as his body bent and twisted, watched as Harry and Voldemort's wands met, watched as the Death Eaters took their rage out on him.
Shapes appeared, ghost-like, from Voldemort's wand. They spoke to Harry. Cedric tried to speak to them, but they were more real than he, so he just watched. Watched while Harry broke free, watched as he dove for Cedric's body and Summoned the Triwizard Cup. Cedric was surprised to find, then, that his body still had some claim to him, because he felt the gut-wrenching jolt of portkey travel, but he never quite managed to catch up. He was lost, and it was dark where he found himself, and quiet, and Cedric was content to drift.
#
Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; his face was pressed into grass; the smell of it filled his nostrils. He had closed his eyes while the Portkey transported him, and he kept them closed now. He did not move. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of him; his head was swimming so badly he felt as though the ground beneath him was swaying like the deck of a ship. To hold himself steady, he tightened his hold on the two things he was still clutching--the smooth, cold handle of the Triwizard Cup, and Cedric's body, hot with fever, soaked with sweat. He felt as though he would slide away into the blackness gathering at the edges of his brain if he let go of either of them. Shock and exhaustion kept him on the ground, breathing in the smell of the grass, waiting... waiting for someone to do something... waiting for something to happen... and all the while, his scar burnt dully on his forehead...
Noise pressed against him, and he screwed his face shut tight against it. Then rough hands lifted him, and Harry clutched at Cedric, clinging, refusing to be separated in case in the separating, they both vanished forever.
"Harry! Harry!" Dumbledore's voice roused him.
And Harry clutched at his wrist with one hand, still holding to Cedric with the other. "He's back," Harry whispered. He's back. Voldemort. And Cedric... they..."
Cedric stared straight ahead, blank-eyed. Until Harry had touched him, in the graveyard, he hadn't been sure Cedric was alive.
"My God--Diggory! Dumbledore--he's dead!" someone said. But Harry felt Cedric's heat, felt the faint motion of breathing where his arm was pressed against Cedric's chest.
"No, I don't think so. Not quite," Dumbledore said. He peered into Cedric's vacant eyes. "Not quite," he repeated, but he sounded uncertain.
And then hands pulled Harry away, and Dumbledore grabbed hold of Cedric and Disapparated, and Harry was lost until Moody took hold of him.
"It's all right son, I've got you... come on... hospital wing," Moody said, and Harry let himself be led.