The Boy Who Lived

He's Come Back!

'He's come back,' muttered Draco, not sure if he should be thrilled about it or not. He certainly didn't feel thrilled. He felt a terrible foreboding. Life was about to change but whether it would be for the better or worse, he wasn't sure.

He watched Karkaroff flee from Uncle Sev's side, practically running towards the school gates so he could Apparate away. Draco wondered coldly how long he'd survive and found he didn't have any pity for someone he knew was a Death-Eater-turned-Informer. He chose his own path.

'Who?' said Greg.

'The Dark Lord...' whispered Draco into the uneasy silence. He studied the dark empty maze that seemed to shift uneasily at his words.

'Good!' declared Vince. 'Maybe we can get rid of some of this Mudblood scum for him. Starting with that Granger. She's too clever for my liking, it's not natural.'

Sod Vince, Draco didn't want to kill anyone. He was a fifteen-year-old kid, for fucks sake, though he wasn't sure his age had anything to do with it.

'I suggest you wait until you hear what your father has to say on these matters,' he sneered, thinking that everyone in the world was too clever compared to Vince and it was probably his stupidity that wasn't natural. 'That might not be the Dark Lord's instructions.'

Moody was pacing, positively anxious about his precious Potter, that wildness to his look as he appeared to become more and more agitated.

There was a restless whispering amongst the spectators, unease rippled through the quietness as they waited. It seemed like hours later, yet it seemed like no time at all when Potter suddenly reappeared, clutching the cup and with Diggory in his arms. He didn't move when he hit the ground, hunched over Diggory's prone figure.

A torrent of deafening sound erupted around the stadium, voices rising in volume, thundering footsteps descending down the wooden stands, screams as people realised something was seriously, seriously wrong.

Dumbledore was seizing Potter roughly and turning him over. Potter clearly unwilling to let go of what was obviously, by now, a dead body. Then people were rushing around them and Potter was sobbing as he held onto Diggory.

Suddenly a screech gasped out, 'he's dead! He's dead! Cedric Diggory! Dead!'

Panic ensued as the whisper spread through the crowd and people closed tighter around Potter and Diggory and the cup, shielding them as Diggory's parents were brought down from the stands.

It was, Draco thought, the first time he'd ever seen a dead person. He thought Diggory looked strangely clean, untouched, pure even. He'd heard his father say that the Avada Kedavra Unforgiveable didn't leave a mark on its victims so that Muggle Healers didn't understand the deaths but the Magical World did. His father said that the only person to ever show any kind of scarring from that spell was Harry Potter with his lightning-shaped scar on his forehead revealing his unique survival.

Next thing he knew was that Pansy was pushing her way along the stand and flinging herself into his arms, sobbing, for some strange reason.

He stroked her hair as he held her against him, feeling nothing for his girlfriend of five months.

He knew he'd be dumping her before they went home for the summer holidays. The relationship had been okay but didn't ignite any fires. Anyway, they both had politically-advantageous marriages arranged for the future of both family names so their relationship was no more than a passing bit of entertainment.

Then suddenly McGonagall was calling, 'where's Harry? where's Harry?' as she pushed between the people, searching for Potter.

He felt surprising numb and detached from life as he watched McGonagall, Uncle Sev, and Dumbledore rush up to the castle.