patch of ground that
was clear and free of graves. . . . The Death Eaters were shouting; they were
asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle
around Harry and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them
drawing their wands -
The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands
remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and
Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden,
dome-shaped web, a
cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries
strangely muffled now. . . .
"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes
wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the
429
thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry's; Harry held onto his wand
more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. "Do
nothing unless I command you!" Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.
And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air. ... It was coming from
every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a
sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life:
phoenix song.
It was the sound of hope to Harry. . . the most beautiful and welcome thing he had
ever heard in his life. . . . He felt as though the song were inside him instead of just
around him. ... It was the sound he connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost
as though a friend were speaking in his ear. . . .
Don't break the connection.
I know. Harry told the music, I know I mustn't. . . but no sooner had he thought it,
than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more
powerfully than ever . . . and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed
too ... it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread
connecting the wands - Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the
light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way. . . . The direction of the
beams movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand
shudder angrily. . . .
As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harrys wand tip, the wood beneath
his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead
moved, the harder Harry's wand vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive
contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers -
He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward
Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed . . . and slowly,
very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to
move the other way . . . and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard
now . . . Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful. . . .
One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemorts wand.
Harry didn't understand why he was doing it, didn't know what it might achieve . .
. but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of
light right back into Voldemort s wand . . . and slowly . . . very slowly ... it moved
along the golden thread ... it trembled for a moment. . . and then it connected. . . .
At once, Voldemorts wand began to emit echoing screams of pain . . . then -
Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock - a dense, smoky hand flew out of the
tip of it and vanished . . . the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail. . . more
shouts of pain . . . and then something much larger began to blossom from
Voldemorts wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were
made of the solidest, densest smoke. ... It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . .
430
the torso of Cedric Diggory.
If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then,
but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light
remained unbroken, even though the 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, as though it were
squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel. . . and this shade of Cedric stood up,
and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.
"Hold on. Harry," it said.
Its voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at Voldemort ... his wide red eyes
were still shocked ... he had no more expected this than Harry had . . . and, very
dimly. Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the
edges of the golden dome. .
More screams of pain from the wand . . . and then something else emerged from
its tip ... the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso ...
an old man Harry had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the
end of the wand just as Cedric had done . . . and his ghost, or his shadow, or
whatever it was, fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the
golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking
stick. . . .
"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed
me, that one did. . . . You fight him, boy. . . ."
But already, yet another head was emerging ... and this head, gray as a smoky
statue, was a woman's. . . . Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep his
wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring. . . .
The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes.
"Don't let go, now!" she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedrics as though from
very far away. "Don't let him get you, Harry - don't let go!"
She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the
golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it... and
Voldemort's dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words
of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn't hear to Voldemort.
And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemorts wand . . . and
Harry knew when he saw it who it would be ... he knew, as though he had
expected it from the moment when Cedric had appeared from the wand . . . knew,
because the man appearing was the one he'd thought of more than any other
tonight. . . .
The smoky shadow of a tall man with untidy hair fell to the ground as Bertha had
431
done, straightened up, and looked at him . . . and Harry, his arms shaking madly
now, looked back into the ghostly face of his father.
"Your mother's coming . . ." he said quietly. "She wants to see you ... it will be all
right.. . hold on. . . ."
And she came. . . first her head, then her body... a young woman with long hair,
the smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's
wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like her husband. She walked close to
Harry, looking down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as
the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear 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 the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts ... do
you understand, Harry?"
"Yes," Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping
and sliding beneath his 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 his father's voice, "be ready to run . . . do it now. ..."
"NOW!" Harry yelled; he didn't think he could have held on for another moment
anyway - he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden
thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died - but the shadowy
figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear - they were closing in upon
Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze -
And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters
aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following
him, hearing them hit the headstones - he was dodging curses and graves, pelting
toward Cedric's body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being
concentrated on what he had to do -
"Stun him!" he heard Voldemort scream.
Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red
light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more
tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel -
"Impedimenta!" he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the
Death Eaters running at him.
From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was
no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard more
432
wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching
out his hand to grab Cedric's arm...
"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort. Harry's hand had
closed on Cedric's wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but
Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of reach -
Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. Harry saw his mouth curl into a
smile, saw him raise his wand.
"Accio!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air
and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle -
He heard Voldemort s scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk
behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked - it was speeding him away in
a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him. . . . They were going back.
433
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - VERITASERUM
Harry felt himself slam flat into 