Nico di Angelo and the Goblet of Fire

Chapter 19: Shadows' Rebirth

Harry slammed into the ground, his ankle bending at a sickening crack. He fell forward, letting go of the Triwizard Cup.

Nico was on his feet, the same black sword drawn. Distantly, Harry wondered why he had a sword, and how he seemed to wield it with such ease. Then he shoved that thought out of his mind. It didn't matter-they had bigger worries now.

Harry got the feeling that they were being watched again. "Someone's coming," he warned, but Nico already seemed aware of this, nodding briefly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Dark shows encased the person. Nico noticed and stumbled back in shock.

"What is it?" Harry asked tersely, concerned.

Nico debated whether to tell Harry or not, but decided that he needed to know. "I created those shadows. Who could have gained control of them?"

Harry glanced at Nico in horror. "Voldemort."

The simple answer made Nico shiver.

They both turned back to watch the approaching figure. It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry and Nico and the short figure simply looked at one another. And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open.

He heard Nico yelling faintly, "Harry! HARRY!"

Nico twisted back to stare at the figure. The shadows' he'd created swarmed him, encasing him in chains. Weakening him. Nico gasped, attempting to regain control of the shadows. He let out a burst of power, dissolving them. Nico flopped on the ground, exhausted. He heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare."

A flash of green light headed toward him. Nico was frozen, knowing there was nothing he could do. Then it hit him and everything went dark.

Harry heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him. The pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes.

Nico was lying on the ground, his eyes open in shock. Dead.

For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Nico's face, at his open eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his mouth, which looked slightly surprised. And then, before Harry's mind had accepted what he was seeing, before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet.

The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry toward the marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before he was forced around and slammed against it.

The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; he struggled, and the man hit him-hit him with a hand that had a finger missing. And Harry realized who was under the hood. It was Wormtail.

"You!" he gasped.

But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry couldn't make a sound, nor could he see where Wormtail had gone; he couldn't turn his head to see beyond the headstone; he could see only what was right in front of him.