𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐄 | 𝓔𝓵𝓲𝔃𝓪𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓱 𝓟𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻

069~𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾!

The cheers of the crowd, the triumphant music, it all rushed back to her as if she had just broken the surface of a deep, dark lake. Her eyes snapped open, and she was back in the arena, the ground beneath her trembling with the echoes of their disappearance. The graveyard had vanished, replaced by the cold, hard ground of the arena floor. Cedric's body lay lifeless beside her, and she could see the shock and horror etched on Harry's face as he took in the scene.

The tears that had been threatening to fall now spilled over in a torrent, hot and salty on her cheeks. She couldn't stop them, couldn't hold back the grief that had been building since the moment she had seen Cedric's hand touch the Cup. Elizabeth's sobs echoed through the arena, echoing even louder in her own mind. The weight of what had just happened crushed her, a mountain of despair that she didn't know if she could ever escape.

She heard the sound of Dumbledore's voice, strong and firm, cutting through the cacophony of the crowd's confusion. "Harry! Elizabeth!"

He rushed towards them, his robes billowing like a cloak of authority. His eyes searched the twins' faces, a storm of emotions swirling within their depths—concern, anger, and a hint of fear. "Tell me what happened!" he demanded, his voice a boom that seemed to silence the crowd.

"He's back!" the Potter girl screamed, her voice a shattered echo of the horror she had just witnessed. She clutched her brother's arm tightly, her body shaking with sobs that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. "He's back!"

"Who, Elizabeth, who?" the headmaster's voice was sharp as a knife cutting through the fog of shock and despair that clung to her. She just kept shaking her head, the words caught in her throat.

"Voldemort," Harry choked out, his voice trembling with rage and fear. "He's back." The words hung in the air like a curse, the reality of the situation crashing down upon them. "Cedric, he asked to bring his body back." His eyes were filled with a pain that was almost tangible as he looked down at their fallen friend.

Elizabeth felt the world spin around her as the panic took hold. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her heart racing a thousand beats a minute. The ground felt like it was moving beneath her, and she was dimly aware of Harry's arms wrapping around her, trying to hold her steady. She could hear the murmurs of the crowd, the sudden hush that had fallen over the stadium. It was like being underwater, the sounds muffled and distant, yet the pressure was unbearable.

Her vision blurred with tears, and she clutched her mother's necklace, the one piece of home she had brought with her into the hellish night. The warmth of it against her skin was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her sobs grew louder, a song of fear and grief that seemed to resonate with every beat of her heart.

"Ellie, breathe," her twin brother's voice was gentle, his arms around her, trying to hold her together as she trembled. She could feel his own fear and anger in the tightness of his embrace, but his voice remained steady, a rock in the storm of panic that was threatening to drown her. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her chest heaving with the effort to calm herself. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, the images of the graveyard, the Death Eaters, and Voldemort's terrifying resurrection playing on a loop in her mind.

"This is not real," she kept repeating to herself, her voice a desperate mantra in her own ears as she clutched her mother's necklace, the warmth of it grounding her in a world that suddenly felt cold and unforgiving. Harry's arms were around her, his own tremors mirroring hers, but she couldn't find the strength to return his embrace. Her body was on the verge of giving in to the panic, her heart racing as if it was trying to escape her chest. The weight of what had just transpired in the graveyard was a crushing force, threatening to swallow her whole.