The ground slammed into him, knocking the air out of him for a second.
The cup slipped from his hand, thumping onto the grass and rolling a short distance away - and a scream tore through the fog in his mind for a brief second.
His chest hurt- his throat hurt- but he kept himself draped over the body beneath him- Merlin knows where they are now- danger could be anywhere and Harry had promised-
Hands grabbed his shoulders and began to pull him away - a scream tore from his throat, and he tried to wrench himself away from the unknown person, flailing his arms wildly despite the overwhelming agony-
"No- No let go of me! Let me go! Don't you touch him!"
Harry managed to wrench his body away from the unknown person - throwing himself back over Cedric's body, sobbing as he tried to protect him-
"-rry- Harry- Harry you're safe"
Dumbledore placed his hands on Harry's shoulders once again, and Harry looked up at the man.
"He's back!" he screamed, needing to tell Dumbledore, needing to warn him- "He's ba- Voldemort's back!"
Dumbledore pulled him to a sitting position, gently speaking words Harry couldn't hear, but the look in his eyes showed understanding.
"He- he asked me to- I couldn't leave him there! He asked me to bring him back- I couldn't leave him there!"
"And you did it - you brought him back, Harry, you brought him home"
Harry choked on a sob- his body beginning to shake uncontrollably as his head dropped and he cried heavily, leaning slightly in Dumbledore's grasp.
"-my son! My boy!"
Harry was pulled up by someone, and he watched as Amos Diggory collapsed to the ground, screaming for his fallen son.
Harry stared, unable to think, unable to breath, feeling ice cold-
It felt worse than the Dementors- at least you could fight a Dementor- a spell could ward them away and chocolate would make you better- but this- what could he do? What could anyone do?
His leg burned - he couldn't put any weight on his foot- was his ankle broken?
His arm felt awful- that knife probably wasn't clean- how much blood had he lost? How much was he still losing?
He felt dizzy.
Was it normal to feel this cold? It hadn't been this cold when he entered the maze, had it?
Harry gasped for air, finding it difficult to breathe - it felt as though their was something around his neck- a snake constricting tighter and tighter, making it harder and harder for him to get oxygen into his body-
His vision was beginning to get blurry and he could no longer see Amos or Dumbledore properly-
He gasped, feeling like he was drowning- was he dying?
Was this how he was going to die?
After surviving the killing curse as a baby, surviving two other encounters with Voldemort, and making his way through the entire Tournament- this was how he was going to die? Slowly suffocating on his own panic?
Hands grabbed his shoulders forcefully - and Harry flinched heavily, his strangled breathing becoming even faster as he tried to see who had grabbed him.
He was being dragged back, and he limped after whoever had him - unable to fight back.
As they walked - Harry heard the familiar stuttered footsteps and wooden creaking of his newest professor- Mad Eye Moody.
Harry, still struggling to breathe, allowed the Professor to lead him away from the chaos of the field - away from the ice cold body of his friend and the stands of horrified students-
The walk to Moody's office was horribly long and frighteningly short at the same time - his body burned with a pain he had never felt before-
He was encouraged to sit down, the cold, dark office feeling too small-
Moody was speaking, and Harry was responding - but he didn't know what either of them were saying.
"-was it like? To be in his presence?"
Harry blinked, staring at his Professor wide eyed.
How was he supposed to answer that?
Hellish? Traumatic? Awful? Suffocating?
Was there even any words that could describe the feeling of pure dread and terror, the cold, the despair and hatred he felt in that moment?
He gave some answer - an answer he couldn't remember - but Moody seemed to accept it as he moved around his office, his voice a deep growl as he continued to speak.
He asked something but Harry didn't hear.
"Wh- what?" he asked, blinking, trying to get enough oxygen into his body for his mind to work properly.
"Were there others?" Moody repeated, "At the Graveyard, were there others?"
"Yes- yeah there was-" Harry froze, "I- How... did you know... I didn't tell you ab--about the Gravyard-"
He would have remembered mentioning that.
He would have remembered talking about that place.
Moody froze- and Harry's eyes widened.
Harry was once again left struggling for breath, trying to pull himself away from the deranged, rambling man - realising with a jolt that he had dropped his wand in the field when he landed-
The door blasted open, and Moody was shot backwards - McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore ran through the destroyed door.
McGonagall rushed over to him, and Harry collapsed against her, watching as the man turned from Moody, to a man with greasy hair and a deranged, pale face-
He grinned toothily up at them- a Death Eater- A servant of Voldemort-
Harry caught snippets of conversation-
Polyjuice potion- The actual Moody trapped in the box- Death Eater- his arm dawned the Dark Mark-
Harry yelled out in pain as someone grabbed his own arm, pulling up his sleeve- his sliced arm still dripping blood.
"I- I'm sorry- I couldn't stop him- he-"
McGonagall rubbed his shoulders comfortingly, assuring him that it was alright, that he was fine-
She began leading him away, towards Madame Pomfrey.
Harry stumbled, his leg felt worse than before- his body felt colder- the colours were fading from his vision.
"-any curses?"
Harry blinked up at his Professor, confused, and she repeated her words, "Were you hit with any curses?" she asked, her voice kind and soft-
Harry thought for a moment- had he? He couldn't...
Oh.
"Cru- Crucio-" he managed to gasp out, and the look on her face was a mix of despair and concern.
She nodded, urging him along.
"And your arm? Done with a knife?"
"Ye- yes"
"Your leg?"
"I thi- I think it happened in th- the maze- I-" Harry struggled, stumbling weakly down the hall, and McGonagall wrapped her arms around him tighter, now practically carrying him to the Hospital Wing.
Harry was eventually dragged to the familiar doors of the Hospital Wing, by now his vision was fading in and out rather quickly, relying even more on his Professor as she hauled him through the doors, crying out for Madame Pomfrey.
The sound of her boots clacking on the hard stone floor echoed through the Hospital Wing, and a very stressed Madame Pomfrey made her way over - her eyes widening in shock at the sight of Harry, practically limp in the arms of his Professor.
She ushered them over to one of the closest beds, and Harry was once again practically carried into the bed - if he were any more aware of his surroundings, he might have felt annoyed at being treated like a toddler, but right now - he couldn't really focus on anything.
Distantly, he was aware of the two talking over him, their voices sounding muffled and far away as Harry began to lose consciousness.
He supposed he should be trying to stay awake, but he couldn't.
The pain and exhaustion was too much for him to fight against - and Harry was forced to close his eyes, slipping into unconsciousness.