Survival is the Key (Harry Potter fan fiction)

Chapter Twelve - I've been here before...

I felt my feet slam into the ground; my injured leg gave way, and I fell forward; my hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. I raised my head.

"Where are we?" I said.

Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled me to his feet, and they looked around.

We had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; we had obviously traveled miles -perhaps hundreds of miles - for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone.

We were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to our right. A hill rose above them to our left. I could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at me.

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.

"Nope," I said. I was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," I said , glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than me.

We pulled out their wands. I kept looking around me. I had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched. I suddenly recognised this place. Someone was going to come and kill Cedric

"Someone's coming," I said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, I watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves, I knew I had to stop[ the killing. I couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms,I could tell that it was carrying something.

Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And - several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time - I saw that the thing in the persons arms looked like a baby ... or was it merely a bundle of robes? I lowered my wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot me a quizzical look and grabbed my hand. We both turned to see a figure making its way to us.

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from us. For a second.

Me, Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.

And then, without warning, My scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as I had never felt in all my life; my wand slipped from my fingers as I put my hands over my face; my knees buckled; my hand slipped from Cedrics. I looked at Cedric and he was searching for the source of my pain. "Ced, duck!" I screamed as I heard someone say. "Kill the spare". He ducked just in time but he pretended to be dead

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

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

"You!" I 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, rumbling over the knots. Once sure that I was bound so tightly to the headstone that I couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into my mouth; then, without a word, he turned from me and hurried away. I couldn't make a sound, nor could I see where Wormtail had gone; I couldn't turn my head to see beyond the headstone; I could see only what was right in front of me.