At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams ofpain . . . then — Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock — adense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished . . . theghost of the hand he had made Wormtail . . . more shouts ofpain . . . and then something much larger began to blossom fromVoldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked asthough it were made of the solidest, densest smoke. . . . It was ahead . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory.

 If ever I might have released my wand from shock, it wouldhave been then, but instinct kept me clutching my wand tightly,so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even thoughthe thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort's wand, asthough it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . andthis shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the goldenthread of light, and spoke. 

"Hold on, Harry,Emma" it said.

 Its voice was distant and echoing. I looked at Voldemort . . . his wide red eyes were still shocked . . . he had no moreexpected this than we had . . . and, very dimly, I heard thefrightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges ofthe golden dome. . . .More screams of pain from the wand . . . and then somethingelse emerged from its tip . . . the dense shadow of a second head,quickly followed by arms and torso . . . an old man I had seenonly in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of thewand just as Cedric had done . . . and his ghost, or his shadow, orwhatever it was, fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry, me andVoldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, withmild surprise, leaning on his walking stick. . . . 

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes onVoldemort. "Killed me, that one did. . . . You fight him, kids. . . ." 

But already, yet another head was emerging . . . and this head,gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's. . . . I, both arms shaking now as I fought to keep my wand still, saw her drop to theground and straighten up like the others, staring. . . .The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her withwide eyes. 

"Don't let go, now!" she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedric'sas though from very far away. "Don't let him get you, Harry , Emma—don't let go!"

She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around theinner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted aroundthe outside of it . . . and Voldemort's dead victims whispered asthey circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement toHarry and me, and hissed words I couldn't hear to Voldemort. 

And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand . . . and I knew when I saw it who it wouldbe . . . I knew, as though I had expected it from the momentwhen Cedric had appeared from the wand . . . knew, because thewoman was the one I'd thought of more than any othertonight. . . . 

The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to theground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at us . . .and Harry and I,  arms shaking madly now, looked back into theghostly face of our mother. 

"Your father's coming . . ." she said quietly. "Hold on for yourfather . . . it will be all right . . . hold on. . . ." 

And he came . . . first his head, then his body . . . tall anduntidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potterblossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground,and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry and me, lookingdown at us, and he spoke in the same distant, echoing voice asthe others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid withfear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear. . . . 

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments . . . but we will give you time . . . you must get to thePortkey, it will return you to Hogwarts . . . do you understand,Harry, Emma?" 

"Yes," I gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on my wand,which was slipping and sliding beneath my fingers. 

"Harry . . ." whispered the figure of Cedric, "take my body back,will you? Take my body back to my parents. . . ." 

"I will," said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort of holding the wand.

 "Do it now," whispered our father's voice, "be ready to run . . .do it now. . . ." 

"NOW!" Harry and I yelled; I didn't think I could have held on foranother moment anyway — I pulled my wand upward with analmighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of lightvanished, the phoenix song died — but the shadowy figures ofVoldemort's victims did not disappear — they were closing inupon Voldemort, shielding Harry and me from his gaze — 

And Harry and I ran as we had never run in his life, knocking twostunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; I zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following me, hearing them hit theheadstones — Harry was dodging curses and graves, pelting towardCedric's body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do —

 "Stun them!" I heard Voldemort scream.Ten feet from Cedric, Harry and I dived behind a marble angel toavoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as thespells hit it. Gripping my wand more tightly, I dashed out frombehind the angel — 

"Impedimenta!" I said, pointing my wand wildly over my shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him.From a muffled yell, I thought I had stopped at least one ofthem, but there was no time to stop and look; we jumped over the cup and dived as I heard more wand blasts behind us; more jetsof light flew over our head as we fell, Harry was stretching out his hand to grabCedric's arm —

 "Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort. 

Harry's hand had closed on Cedric's wrist; one tombstone stoodbetween us and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry,and the cup was out of reach —Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. I saw hismouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand.

 "Accio!"I yelled, pointing my wand at the Triwizard Cup.It flew into the air and soared toward me as I grasped Harry's hand. I caught it bythe handle — I heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that I felt the jerk behind my navel that meant the Portkey hadworked — it was speeding us away in a whirl of wind and color,and Cedric along with us. . . . we were going back.

---

I  felt myself slam flat into the ground; my face waspressed into grass; the smell of it filled his nostrils. I had closed my eyes while the Portkey transported us, and I keptthem closed now. I did not move. All the breath seemed to havebeen knocked out of me; My head was swimming so badly I feltas though the ground beneath me were swaying like the deck of aship. To hold myself steady, I tightened my hold on the twothings I was still clutching: the smooth, cold handle of the Triwizard Cup and Harry's hand. I felt as though I would slideaway into the blackness gathering at the edges of my brain if I letgo of either of them. Shock and exhaustion kept me on theground, breathing in the smell of the grass, waiting . . . waiting forsomeone to do something . . . something to happen . . . and all thewhile, my scar burned dully on his forehead. . . . 

A torrent of sound deafened and confused me; there werevoices everywhere, footsteps, screams. . . .We remained where we were ,my face screwed up against the noise, as though it were anightmare that would pass. . . . Then a pair of hands seized me roughly and turned me over. 

"Harry! Emma!" 

I opened my eyes. I was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus Dumbledore wascrouched over us. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressedin around us, pushing nearer; I felt the ground beneath my head reverberating with their footsteps. I had come back to the edge of the maze. I could see thestands rising above us, the shapes of people moving in them, thestars above. 

I let go of the cup, but I clutched my brothers hand evenmore tightly. I raised my free hand and seized Dumbledore'swrist, while Dumbledore's face swam in and out of focus. 

"He's back," I 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!" it whispered. "Dumbledore — he's dead!" 

The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on us gasped it to those around them . . . and then others shoutedit — screeched it — into the night — "He's dead!"

 "He's dead!" 

"Cedric Diggory! Dead!"

 "Harry, let go of him," I heard Fudge's voice say, and I saw fingers trying to pry Harry from Cedric's limp body, but Harrywouldn't let him go. Then Dumbledore's face, which was stillblurred and misted, came closer.

 "Harry, you can't help him now. It's over. Let go."

"He wanted me to bring him back," Harry muttered — itseemed important to explain this. "He wanted me to bring himback to his parents. . . ." 

"That's right, Harry . . . just let go now. . . ."Dumbledore bent down, and with extraordinary strength for aman so old and thin, raised Harry and me from the ground and set us on our feet. Harry swayed. His head must be pounding. His injured legwould no longer support his weight. The crowd around them jostled,fighting to get closer, pressing darkly in on us — I supported him the best I could. 

"What's happened?" 

"What's wrong with him?"

"Diggory's dead!"

"They'll need to go to the hospital wing!" Fudge was saying loudly."they're ill, they're injured — Dumbledore, Diggory's parents, they'rehere, they're in the stands. . . ." 

"I'll take Harry and Emma, Dumbledore, I'll take them —" 

"No, I would prefer —" 

"Dumbledore, Amos Diggory's running . . . he's coming over. . . .Don't you think you should tell him — before he sees — ?"

 "Harry, Emma, stay here —" 

Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically. . . . The scene flickered oddly before my eyes. . . ."It's all right, kids, I've got you . . . come on . . . hospital wing . . ."

 "Dumbledore said stay," said Harry thickly, the pounding in my scar making me feel as though I was about to throw up; my vision was blurring worse than ever. 

"You need to lie down. . . . Come on now. . . ." 

Someone larger and stronger than I was was half pulling, halfcarrying us through the frightened crowd. I heard peoplegasping, screaming, and shouting as the man supporting us pushed a path through them, taking us back to the castle. Acrossthe lawn, past the lake and the Durmstrang ship, I heardnothing but the heavy breathing of the man helping us walk.