𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 (OC x OC)

[004] Chapter 25 - haunted

"i just know you're not gone, you can't be gone, no."

Makayla

The moment we hit the ground with Cedric's body, cheers erupt from the stands. Nobody even notices Cedric is laying beneath us, lifeless—dead.

The trumpets start to play as Harry and I can only let out sobs. My hands are latched onto Cedric's shirt, refusing to let go. Dumbledore and Fleur quickly notice. When Fleur steps forward, she sees that Cedric isn't breathing and screams.

The cheers die down at this and the trumpets halt.

Dumbledore runs over and tries to pull us off of Cedric's corpse, but all we can scream is a scattered and repeated, "NO!"

The new Minister of Magic runs over and asks, "Dumbledore, what's happened?"

Harry cries out, "He's back... He's back... Voldemort's back... Cedric... He asked me to bring his body back!"

"We couldn't leave him!" I cry into Cedric's shirt. "Not there!"

"It's alright, kids... It's alright..." Dumbledore says in an effort to calm us down. "He's home... You all are."

"Keep everybody in their seats!" the minister says to Snape. "A boy has been killed."

Gasps erupt in the crowd as I can only hug onto Cedric's body more. He isn't dead. He isn't dead. He isn't dead. He isn't dead.

This whole fucking year is a fever dream, it has to be.

"The body must be moved, Dumbledore!" the minister shouts. "There's too many people."

"LET ME THROUGH!" Cedric's father shouts as he runs to us. He cries out once he sees Cedric, dead, "THAT'S MY SON!"

This only causes me to sob into his chest more. I can't let him go, I can't

He still loved me. He still loved me. He still loved me. He still loved me.

I wasted half of my year hating him and he still loved me. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.

His father falls to his knees, crying out as he is unable to process the death of his only child. I notice Cho crying at the sight of his body as Moody grabs Harry and I both, holding us in a sort of headlock to keep us from running back to his body as we cry in his arms.

"Ease up!" he grunts as he shakes us. "This is not where we want to be right now..."

Moody drags us off, reassuring us that he's got us. Just before we walk back inside, my puffy, tearfilled eyes land on Louis' concerned ones. His guard is down. I can tell, because I can hear his voice echo in my brain.

"Makayla..."

Moody takes us to his office and sits us down on two stools. He locked the door—the first thing I noticed.

"Are you alright, kids?" he asks. If someone calls us 'kids' one more time, I might actually go on a killing spree. "Does it hurt? That?"

He gestures to the cuts in both of our wrists and Harry answers for both of us as I shake my head, "Not so much now..."

"Perhaps I'd better take a look at it," Moody says before shifting his gaze to our wrists. Two identical slits going down from our wrist to our middle forearm.

"The cup was a portkey," Harry grunts out as Moody touches the cuts on our arms, getting our blood on his thumb. "Someone had bewitched it."

He looks up at us, and after a moment, he asks, "What was it like? What was he like?"