𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐆𝐎𝐅 𝟑𝟐

Harry's lungs burned. His heart felt like it had been ripped open, left exposed in the cold night air.

Grass.
The scent of it was sharp and wet in his nose.

He didn't dare open his eyes at first — terrified that the horror would still be real when he did.

A cold metal handle in one hand.
A limp body in the other.

Then a thought — a scream — tore through him.

Emily.

His eyes snapped open.

Cheers exploded around him — roaring, oblivious, alive.
People thought this was victory — a triumphant return.

But Harry couldn't see the crowd.
He couldn't hear them.
His world had narrowed down to blood-soaked grass...

...and her.

He scrambled, half-crawling, half-collapsing toward her, arms shaking so violently he nearly dropped her when he pulled her onto his lap.

"Emily! Emily, please—look at me!"
His voice shattered, raw and full of terror.

Blood slid through his fingers as he pressed desperately on her wounds, trying to hold her together — trying to stop fate itself from slipping away.

"Help!" he choked, head snapping toward the blurry shapes of students and teachers.
"Somebody help me! She's bleeding—she won't wake up—please!"

His tears dripped onto her face — pale and far too still.

He wiped the crimson from her lips with trembling hands.

"Emily... come on. Stop messing about."
His voice was breaking apart, sounding younger with every word.
"You always get back up... you always make a joke... please... everyone wants to see you."

He brushed a blood-damp curl from her cheek, fingertips lingering as though touch alone could keep her here.

"We made it back... we did it together."
He tried to smile — but his face crumpled.
"We tied... remember? We tied..."

The cheers around them began to die — confusion spreading like a cold wind.

And then — Rushing footsteps pounded the ground.

Then a pair of hands seized him roughly and turned him over. "Harry! Harry!"

He was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus Dumbledore was crouched over him. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer; Harry felt the ground beneath his head reverberating with their footsteps.

He could see the stands rising above him, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above.

Harry let go of the cup, but he pressed down on Emily's wounds even more tightly. He raised his free hand and seized Dumbledore's wrist, while Dumbledore's face swam in and out of focus.

"He's back," Harry whispered. "He's back. Voldemort."

"What's going on? What's happened?"

The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry; it looked white, appalled.

"My God - Diggory! Lupin-Black" he whispered. "Dumbledore - there dead!"

The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them . . . and then others shouted it - screeched it - into the night - "There dead!" "There dead!" "Cedric Diggory and Emily Lupin-Black!Dead!"

Hands. Too many hands.

They clawed at him, tried to pull him away from the only thing keeping him together. Harry curled himself around Emily, shielding her from them with his entire body.