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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 them gasped it to those around them… and then others shouted it—screeched it—into the night—

“He’s dead!”

“He’s dead!”

“Cedric Diggory! Dead!”

“Harry, let go of him,” he heard Fudge’s voice say, and he felt fingers trying to pry him from Cedric’s limp body, but Harry wouldn’t let him go. Then Dumbledore’s face, which was still blurred 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—it seemed important to explain this. “He wanted me to bring him back to his parents…”

“That’s right, Harry… just let go now…”

Dumbledore bent down, and with extraordinary strength for a man so old and thin, raised Harry from the ground and set him on his feet. Harry swayed. His head was pounding. His injured leg would no longer support his weight. The crowd around them jostled, fighting to get closer, pressing darkly in on him—

“What’s happened?”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Diggory’s dead!”

“He’ll need to go to the hospital wing!” Fudge was saying loudly. “He’s ill, he’s injured—Dumbledore, Diggory’s parents, they’re here, they’re in the stands…”

“I’ll take Harry, Dumbledore, I’ll take him—”

“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, stay here—”

Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically… The scene flickered oddly before Harry’s eyes…

“It’s all right, son, I’ve got you… come on… hospital wing…”

“Dumbledore said stay,” said Harry thickly, the pounding in his scar making him feel as though he was about to throw up; his vision was blurring worse than ever.

“You need to lie down… Come on now…”

Someone larger and stronger than he was was half pulling, half carrying him through the frightened crowd. Harry heard people gasping, screaming, and shouting as the man supporting him pushed a path through them, taking him back to the castle. Across the lawn, past the lake and the Durmstrang ship, Harry heard nothing but the heavy breathing of the man helping him walk.

“What happened, Harry?” the man asked at last as he lifted Harry up the stone steps. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. It was Mad-Eye Moody.

“Cup was a Portkey,” said Harry as they crossed the entrance hall. “Took me and Cedric to a graveyard… and Voldemort was there… Lord Voldemort…” Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Up the marble stairs…

“The Dark Lord was there? What happened then?”

“Killed Cedric… they killed Cedric…”

“And then?”

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Along the corridor…

“Made a potion… got his body back…”

“The Dark Lord got his body back? He’s returned?”

“And the Death Eaters came… and then we dueled…”

“You dueled with the Dark Lord?”

“Got away… my wand… did something funny… I saw my mum and dad… they came out of his wand…”

“In here, Harry… in here, and sit down… You’ll be all right now… drink this…”

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2. A blank silence greeted Hermione’s words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.
3. A bright silver light appeared right ahead of him, moving through the trees. Whatever the source, it was moving soundlessly. The light seemed simply to drift toward him.
4. A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.
5. A few of the centaurs looked worried now. Hermione, however, gave a gasp.
6. A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter’s eyes widened behind her jeweled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.
7. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings.
8. A map of Hogwarts appeared on the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labelled with names, showed where various people were.
9. A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
10. A violently purple, triple-decker bus had appeared out of thin air in front of them, narrowly avoiding the nearest lamppost, which jumped backwards out of its way.
11. Almost against his will he glanced from Ron to Hermione, both of whom looked devastated.
12. An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.

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