Annabeth Chase the Triwizard Champion

Chapter Thirty Seven

Thud. Thud. Harry blinked the green flash out of his eyes. He didn't want to see it. He didn't, but he looked around anyway, straining hard against the ropes that bound his head.

The nearby graves had been reduced to small rocks and pebbles, and the grass had shriveled to thin yellow stalks. Annabeth had crumpled to the ground just barely in Harry's line of sight. Her hair was splayed out around her.

Harry shut his eyes. He didn't want to see Annabeth's body— he couldn't face that. All he could see behind his closed eyelids, though, was the devastated expression on her family's faces when they found out. If Harry could even get out of there alive, he would have to tell them. They would be crushed. Mrs. Jackson-Blofis had been so kind, Mr. Blofis so accepting, and Percy... even Harry could tell that Percy would follow Annabeth to the ends of the earth. How would Harry tell them that she was gone?

But he probably would never even get the chance to tell them. He was going to die here, he knew it. How long would it take for people to notice they were missing? How long would it take for them to realize that Harry and Annabeth were dead? How long would it take for them to realize that Voldemort was back, and he was here, and he had killed both Harry and Annabeth? Would they even realize at all?

The graveyard was silent, and then— a groan.

Harry's eyes shot open. Annabeth was moving, shifting and bringing a hand to her chest, where a cut bled freely down her front. She had survived the killing curse, the one no one but Harry had ever lived through. How?!

Distantly, Harry remembered the words Dumbledore had said to him three years ago, that something so filled with love couldn't be touched by something so hateful. Lily Potter's sacrifice had saved Harry, her son. Then he remembered something Annabeth had said, in the school courtyard, what felt like forever ago, when she pinned Ron to the wall.

He doesn't have to live his life repeating memories in his head, wondering if he could have done something different.

Had someone given their life for Annabeth? Had someone stood in front of her and died for her, like Harry's mother had done for him?

"Impossible," Voldemort whispered.

Harry strained to look at Annabeth. He had to see again, the proof that she was alive, she had survived the killing curse. And there it was, she was moving, pushing herself up though it was slow going, moving gingerly like everything hurt, but she was alive.

But Harry had heard two thuds just a minute ago. One had been Annabeth, but the other? Glancing around, Harry noticed a death eater behind Voldemort had collapsed, and he lay motionless on the ground. A noise brought Harry's gaze back to Annabeth, who was still trying to push herself up.

"Bind her!" Voldemort snapped.

Immediately, Wormtail scrambled forwards and shouted, "incarcerous!" and ropes flew out of his wand, wrapping themselves around Annabeth. She fell to the ground again, though she was still struggling weakly.

Voldemort walked over to Annabeth's struggling form, looking down on her. He stared for a second, and then, "crucio!"

Harry watched, helpless, as Annabeth began to shake and twitch, her face contorted into a mask of such pain that Harry could almost feel it, too. Her eyes screwed shut, she curled in on herself, shaking violently, and it looked like she was holding her breath, but not a sound came out of her mouth.

Voldemort lifted his wand. Annabeth went still. "So you have survived the killing curse," he said softly. "My killing curse." he continued to watch her, and Annabeth stared right back unflinchingly. "How? Is it perhaps your godly blood? Or has someone given their life for you, a filthy half-breed? No matter. I highly doubt you can survive it twice. Let's test it, shall we? But first... I must do what I planned. Untie Harry Potter, Wormtail, and give him back his wand. I want this half-breed to see what happens to those who defy Lord Voldemort."