CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

Third Person P.O.V.:

"Lumos."

The towering hedges were now illuminated from the light radiating from the tip of Charlie's wand.

Charlie walked forward, being incredibly mindful of his surroundings, as Harry walked along side him about twenty feet to the left. After about fifty yards, they reached a fork in the road, and looked at each other.

"See you," Harry said, and he took the left one, while Charlie took the right.

It wasn't that long after when Charlie heard Bagman's whistle for the second time — Krum had now entered the maze, and naturally, Charlie sped up. His chosen path seemed completely deserted. He turned right, and hurried on, holding his wand high over his head, trying to see as far ahead as possible. Still, there was nothing in sight.

Bagman's whistle blew in the distance for the third time — all of the champions were now entrapped in the depths of the maze.

Charlie kept looking behind him. This odd feeling that he was being watched was upon him. The maze was growing darker with every passing minute as the sky overhead deepened to navy.

He continued running as fast as he could, turning corners rapidly, and moving through passageways as though his life depended on him.

Right.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Charlie kept his focus set on what was going on in front of him. However, at a certain point, a thick layer of fog surrounded him, making it hard to see. Squinting through the eyesight-corrupting area, the boy ran faster, trying to find his way to clarity.

Yet, when he took an abrupt turn around a corner, Charlie's body collided with that of a enormous and ill-tempered creature...

It was a ten-foot long beast that hovered low to the ground like Fire Crab, but weirdly enough, it resembled a giant scorpion with a stinger curved over its back like that of a Manticore. It was, of course, a Blast-Ended Skrewt like the ones that Hagrid had shown off in Care of Magical Creatures, but this one was fully grown, meaning it was incredibly dangerous and potentially lethal...

Recalling what he knew from Hagrid's lesson, Charlie knew that the Blast-Ended Skrewt had armour-like skin that would deflect most spells. He had to think quickly though, especially as the Skrewt was now closing in on him, hissing angrily, flames igniting on the tip of its stinger.

In a matter of seconds, the Skrewt charged for Charlie, its legs clicking on the ground as it shot fire in his direction. All it took was one hit and the boy was on the floor, his left arm engulfed in flames, and right before he went to extinguish the fire, the Skrewt pounced on him, entrapping him beneath its large body, the stinger held over his face as if to taunt him.

Reacting instantly, Charlie grasped his wand in his right hand, trying not to think about the immense pain coming from his burning arm. Then, right as the beast's stinger began to descend down on the boy's face, he raised his wand to the Skrewt's fleshy, shell-less underside and yelled:

"Expulso!"

With a loud and screeching cry, the Skrewt was hit with a blinding burst of blue light and sent flying into the air, exploding from immense impact; body parts fell from the sky like confetti after bursting open a piñata.

Without even giving the Skrewt a second look, Charlie turned towards his arm, yelling:

"Aguamenti!"

Water shot out the tip of his wand, extinguishing the fire quickly, and a sizzling steamed began radiating off his arm. Luckily enough, there was no permanent damage as the fire had only just made it through the cloth of his jumper. Charlie sighed in relief as he laid on the ground amongst the fog in a dark corner of the maze.

He laughed slightly, "Goddamnit Hagrid..."

For a moment, Charlie contemplated lying on the floor until the Cup had been found. He just wanted to lay here and stare up at the stars without having to worry about fatal beasts attacking him — but he knew that he had to keep going.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and dusted himself off before continuing down the foggy path. He mustered up as much confidence as he could and continued to run, turning quickly at every intersection —

CLASH!

This time, however, it wasn't the body of a deadly creature than he had ran into, but that of Harry Potter.

"Jesus Christ, Charlie!" Harry yelled, clutching his heart, "You scared the hell out of me!" — it was in this moment that he glanced down at his friend's charred jumper — "What happened to you?"

Charlie shook his head, waving away the look of concern from his friend's face as he held his knees to catch his breath.

"Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts!" he panted. "They're enormous — and fucking vicious, I'll tell ya!"

Harry simply nodded and the two bid a quick farewell and good luck before they were separated once again.

Charlie dived out of sight along another path, keen to put plenty of distance between himself and the Skrewts. He ran further, his arm stinging slightly, but he kept his focus on the task. His mind just kept repeating the same things over and over again in his head to give him strength;

I can't lose you.

It'll shatter me, Charlie, don't you get that?

Promise me...

...and he did.

As stupid as it may have been to commit to something that wasn't able to produce a certain outcome, Charlie promised his girlfriend he'd make it back to her — and he intended on keeping that promise.

Picturing the moment when he arrived back in the stadium gave him all of the strength in the world. Win or lose, it didn't matter, as the outcome would be the same; he would run up to Hermione in the stands and kiss her so passionately as a way to reward himself for surviving the maze — in that moment, everything would be worth it.

So, he kept going. Even after hitting dead end after dead end, he simply turned around and kept pushing through, searching everywhere he could for that Cup. Then, as he ran down a long stretch of the dark maze, he heard high-pitched cackling in the near distance:

Into darkness taking flight, whispers on the wings of night...

Follow us, our lovely tune, found beneath the smiling moon...

Without even realizing it, Charlie's feet carried him forward, moving him closer and closer to the voices as though they had been enchanting him —

Diddle-dee-dee, diddle-dee-doe, not far now, not far to go...

Into twilight, into gloom, sing the sound of dawdling doom...

Follow us, our lovely song, know that we can do no wrong...

Diddle-dee-dee, diddle-dee-doe...

Charlie turned the last corner before reaching the voices, but before he had even lifted his head in their direction, a tiny dart had pierced him on the neck, paralyzing him, causing him to fall to the floor with a hard thud, his wand rolling off into a gap underneath one of the large hedges — oh shit...

With his face pressed down on the concrete, Charlie couldn't see what was all around him, but he could hear them...

The same cackling from before was heard, but this time, it was low and scary. It was followed by the pattering footsteps of at least twenty creatures as they surrounded him, making his heart beat faster. They were making weird noises at him; grunts and moans... almost as if they were hungry...

Then, the moment came where they seized him by his jumper and rolled him over. Looking up, Charlie felt hopeless as twenty pointed faces were staring down on him, each of them with bright, beady yellow eyes and wicked smiles — Erklings...

(A/N: reference photos! if you don't know what an Erkling is — basically they are magical elfish beasts that feed on children after entrancing them through song...)

They were no more than three feet tall, but they had full control over Charlie's entire body. No matter how hard he tried, the boy couldn't move. Instead, he was forced to endure a great deal of pain as each of them sunk their tiny, sharp fangs into his skin, gnawing at him like he was food they wished to savour...

"HELP!" he called, but his screams were muffled to the outside world; no one was coming to save him...

In that moment, Charlie thought that he had lost... after several minutes of fighting, he had met his end. The brown eyed boy even went as far as to close his eyes, a single tear rolling down his face, his final thoughts crossing his mind; I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so, so sorry —

Then, when Charlie thought all hope was lost, a bright turquoise light filled the area.

"Impedimenta!"

A voice called and suddenly, all of the Erklings detached from the boy's skin as they froze in place. Without even having time to process what was happening, Charlie was grabbed by his jumper and pulled to his feet.

The feeling in his legs had returned and Charlie allowed his saviour to pull him forward, leading him far away from the Erklings which would soon unfreeze.

Once they had reached a safe area, Charlie was released and finally, looked up. To his surprise, the person who saved him had been none other than, Viktor Krum.

"Thanks," Charlie panted, patting his pants in attempt to find his wand only to then remember that he had dropped it, "I've got to go back. I dropped my —"

But before the words even left Charlie's mouth, Krum had held up the wand in front of him, but still had yet to say anything.

"Wand," Charlie finished; confused as to why Krum had been helping him, but nonetheless, the boy reached for his wand.

However, in the next moment, Krum had retracted his hand, pulling the wand from Charlie's reach. Then, as the boy went to question it, he looked up to Krum, noticing, for the first time, that his eyes were completely white.

"Are you —"

The words hadn't even slipped from the boy's mouth before Krum had raised his wand under Charlie's chin aggressively.

"What are you doing?" Charlie yelled, trying to push Krum off, but every time he did so, the Bulgarian kept grabbing him by the jumper. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

A wicked smiled formed on Krum's face before he yelled out, "Crucio!"

Charlie's cries filled the air as he fell to the ground, cowering under Krum's use of the Unforgivable Curse. His entire body surged with the greatest pain he had ever felt. His screams for help were deafening, but Krum didn't seem to care. Instead, he seemed to apply more power to the spell causing Charlie to twitch uncontrollably on the stone floor as tears of agony streamed down his face.

The brown eyed boy didn't know how long it lasted for, but the one thing he knew for certain; he had gotten to the point where he was so delirious that he started to hear the screams of someone else:

No, no, please!

Don't do this!

I had nothing to do with it, I swear!

Please! Let me go!

It was the screams of a woman with a voice that Charlie couldn't recognize over the horrific sounds of her wailing, but, as weird as it sounded, it provoked the same sense of déjà vu that he had felt once before —

"Expelliarmus!"

The voice of another person in the maze had pulled Charlie from his irrational thoughts and suddenly, his pain came to an abrupt stop, but that didn't stop him from whimpering on the ground.

"Stupefy!"

The voice called again and Charlie watched the blurry image of Krum getting hit in the back by the spell, stopping dead in his tracks, and falling to floor with a thud.

Charlie had clutched his face in his hands while he panted heavily, trying to recuperate. Seconds later, he heard rushing footsteps coming towards him.

"Charlie?" The voice called, "Are you alright?"

Moving his hands, Charlie stared at the face that was peering down at him. It took him a few seconds, but he sighed in relief as his eyesight focused in on Harry Potter.

"You have... no idea," Charlie panted, his voice cracking, "how good... it is... to see you..."

Harry smiled slightly before he seized one of Charlie's arms, helping him to his feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing that Charlie's hands were still shaking.

When looking at the two boys in comparison, Charlie had, quite obviously, had the worst time in the maze. The brown eyed boy had a burnt jumper, small bite marks and scratches all over his body, and his face was stained with tears.

Harry, on the other hand, looked seemingly untouched apart from a few scratches on his face and a bruise or two on his arm.

"I... will be," Charlie panted, clutching his fists to his chest to try and get them to stop shaking. Then, to avoid Harry's concerned gaze, Charlie walked over to Krum's lifeless body and kicked him hard in the stomach. "Fucking twat... I thought he was helping me... and then he... he had his wand on me..."

Harry simply nodded in understanding before shifting the conversation topic, "Did you hear Fleur scream earlier? I had to send up red sparks so someone would come get her."

"What? Really? No, I didn't hear anything," Charlie raised a brow, thinking for a moment. "You don't think Krum got her too?"

Harry shrugged before speaking slowly, "I don't know..."

"Should we leave him here?" Charlie muttered, looking at Krum's body once more with an expression of pure hatred.

"No," Harry said sharply. "I reckon we should send up red sparks. Someone'll come and collect him... otherwise he'll probably be eaten by a Skrewt."

"Yeah, and he'd bloody well deserve it," Charlie muttered again, but all the same, he picked his wand up off the ground, raised it to the sky, and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking the spot where he laid.

Charlie felt incredibly weak as he hobbled over to Harry once again before sitting on the ground, burying his head in his hands.

"I think we should go and get help... you look absolutely wrecked," Harry said softly, as he joined his friend on the floor.

"I'll be fine," Charlie whispered, "It's only the two of us now... and I reckon the Cup isn't that far from here..."

"Charlie..."

"I'm fine." The brown eyed boy breathed, rising to his feet once again. "Let's go."

And as Harry followed behind him, his jaw dropped to the floor as his friend had walked back over to Krum's body and kicked him hard in the nose, a loud, yet satisfying crunch echoed around the area.

"What?" Charlie questioned as he noticed Harry's surprised state. "He's done a hell of a lot worse to me. He deserved that —"

"I didn't say anything," Harry said quickly, putting his hands up to signal peace.

Charlie laughed slightly before he pulled Harry forward so that they could walk along side one another. The two of them continued through the maze together — at this point, who cared about the rules?

Their desires to reach the Cup were burning stronger than ever, but still, Harry could hardly believe what he'd just seen Krum do to Charlie...

The use of an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow human being meant a life term in Azkaban, that was what Moody had told them. Krum surely couldn't have wanted the Triwizard Cup that badly —

Harry's thoughts were cut short, however, when every so often they hit more dead ends, but the increasing darkness made them feel as though they were nearing the heart of the maze which kept their hope alive.

They encountered several different creatures within the remainder of the maze, some of them even looking like they stepped off the pages of the Monster Book of Monsters.

There was a banshee located at the end of one of the long pathways. It appeared as a woman with floor length black hair, a skeletal face, and green skin. Her appearance alone was nothing detrimental, but her piercing scream was known to be fatal to the ears. So, thinking quickly, Charlie muttered, "Silencio," and with no hassle, they were able to walk past her without a second glance.

After that, they stumbled upon a Sphinx. It had the body of an overly large lion; clawed paws and a long, bushy tail. Its head, however, was that of a woman. She required the answer to a riddle to let them pass through, and with their combined brain power, Charlie and Harry figured it out quickly, and they were on their way once again.

At what felt like the hundredth intersection, Charlie and Harry turned down the corridor only to be met with the Triwizard Cup gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away.

However, as soon as they began to move for it, it was like they had alerted a tripwire — suddenly, there was a loud screeching sound, and when the Gryffindor boys whipped back around, they saw a gigantic spider hurdling towards them.

Acting quickly, Charlie took a few steps ahead of his friend and grasped his wand tight in his hand, "Go on, Harry. Get the Cup... I'll hold it off."

"What?" Harry shouted; dumbfounded, "Are you insane?!"

"Oh c'mon," Charlie pleaded, the spider closing in on them, "Don't be daft. Only one of us wins this thing, and quite frankly, I'd rather it be you," — he pushed Harry in the direction of the Cup — "Go!"

With one last worried glance, Harry began to reluctantly walk backwards down the pathway, moving further and further away from Charlie and the spider...

"Stupefy!" Charlie yelled; the spell hit the spider's gigantic, hairy black body, but for all the good it did, he might as well have thrown a stone at it; the spider jerked, scuttled around, and ran even faster in his direction.

"Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!"

But it was no use — the spider was either so large, or so magical, that the spells were doing no more than aggravating it. Charlie had one horrifying glimpse of eight shining black eyes and razor-sharp pincers before it was upon him.

He was lifted into the air by its front legs; struggling madly, he tried to kick it; his leg connected with the pincers and next moment he was in excruciating pain. At this point, Charlie was counting down the seconds until Harry reached the Cup so that this would all be over — c'mon Harry... hurry up...

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry yelled, retreating back as his Disarming Spell had made the spider drop Charlie — he obviously wasn't going to leave his friend behind. The brown eyed boy fell from twelve feet high down to the stone floor with a large thud, his leg crumpling beneath him.

Without pausing to think, Charlie aimed high at the spider's underbelly, as he had done with the Skrewt, and shouted, "Stupefy!" just as Harry yelled the same thing.

The two spells combined did what one alone had not; the spider keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and strewing the path with a tangle of hairy legs.

"Charlie!" he heard Harry shouting. "You alright? Did it fall on you?"

"No," Charlie called back, panting. He looked down at his leg; he could see some sort of thick, gluey secretion from the spider's pincers mixed with his own blood on his torn clothes. He tried to get up, but his leg was shaking badly and did not want to support his weight. Instead, he leaned against the hedge, gasping for breath, and looked around.

Harry, being the good friend that he was, ran over to Charlie, throwing himself under his friend's shoulder to help him stand properly. The two of them hobbled over to the Cup as it stood there in all of its glory.

"You take it," Harry breathed out slowly, "you deserve it after all the hell you've been through."

But Charlie was quick to shake his head, "You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."

Harry hesitated for a moment, staring at his friend curiously as he held him steady in front of the podium.

"Or," Harry suggested, "we both take it."

Charlie raised a brow, "What? That's not how —"

"I know," Harry dismissed, looking at the Cup and then back to Charlie, "but like I've said before; we're in this together."

"As always," Charlie smiled, patting his friend's back out of gratitude. "To the start and finish."

(A/N: Charry wins at life tbfh)

"On three, okay?" Harry said, proudly, "One — two — three!"

In the same instance, they both grasped a handle of the Triwizard Cup.

Instantly, Charlie felt his body jerk. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Harry at his side.

Then, Charlie's feet slammed to the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.

"Where are we?" he said.

Harry shook his head. He got up, pulled Charlie to his feet, and they looked around.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles — perhaps hundreds of miles — for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing, instead, in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right.

Charlie looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry once more, "Did anyone tell you that the Cup was a Portkey?"

"Nope," Harry said quickly as he looked around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," Charlie shrugged, sounding slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," Harry said softly, glad that Charlie had made the suggestion rather than him.

They pulled out their wands. Harry continued to keep Charlie steady as they kept looking around. Charlie, yet again, had the strange feeling that they were being watched.

Harry gulped, looking out into the night, "I think someone's coming."

Squinting through the darkness, they watched a figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. There was no making out the face, but from the way the figure was walking and holding its arms, they could tell that it was carrying a creature of some sort. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face.

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at his friend. Charlie shot him a quizzical look in return. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry and Charlie and the short figure simply looked at one another.

And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony that he had never felt in all of his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he couldn't hold Charlie up anymore and so, they both fell to the ground. Harry was screaming and clutching his forehead; he felt as though his head was about to split open.

Before Charlie could even react, he heard a dark, cold voice say, "Leave the Hawthorne boy breathing..."

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Transfiguro Torqueo!"

Once again, Charlie's cries of pain were deafening as they filled the air. His insides felt like they were being ripped to shreds, just like they had during the Cruciatus Curse.

This time, however, the boy felt himself getting incredibly weak at a record pace. He didn't know how much more of the pain he could take. The spell was going to kill him slowly, but first, he would have to endure the most excruciating pain that he had ever felt before — Krum's attack was nothing compared to this...

His heart was beating so fast as he twitched uncontrollably on the floor. He was whimpering and crying out for help, but no one was coming; it was useless to waste the breath. Charlie's eyes were getting heavy and once again, he was fading in and out of reality.

No! Not my son!

Take me!

No, no, no. Please, no!

Take me! I said take me!

The same lady's voice from before had filled his head, taunting him with the idea of death. But like before, Harry's voice had pulled him from his delirious mind.

"Charlie!"

The boy's eyes flickered open ever so slightly as he felt himself being dragged across the grass. At a certain point, he stopped moving, and Charlie felt like he was paralyzed once again. His body felt like it was already lifeless, and quite frankly, he had no more fight left in him.

"You!" Harry yelled from a distance before calling out to his friend, "Charlie! It's Wormtail!"

Opening his eyes once again and squinting ahead,  Charlie witnessed his friend being pressed up against one of the very large tombstones, held there by a spell coming from the wand of the same cloaked figure from before.

Both Gryffindor boys were hopeless, both of their wands were scattered on the ground next to the Triwizard Cup; Charlie felt the life draining from his body slowly; Harry was trapped under a binding spell beneath a marble headstone with a name that was illuminated in the moonlight...

TOM RIDDLE

Oh god...

Charlie could hear faint noises as he laid on the ground, shaking from the pain. He slowly glanced up once again and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where Harry was tied.

Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within the range of vision, and Harry and Charlie saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave.

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire.

"It is r-ready... M-Master."

"Now..." said the cold voice.

Wormtail lowered the creature he was holding earlier, into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Charlie heard the faint thud as it hit the bottom.

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Horrified, the boys watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

Now, Wormtail was whimpering, just like Charlie had been, at the foot of the cauldron. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

"Flesh — of the servant — w-willingly given — you will — revive — your master."

He stretched his right hand out in front of him — the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. Charlie closed his eyes quickly and then forced them open again when he heard another thud within the cauldron — Wormtail had cut off his own hand...

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. In the next instance, Charlie watched as Pettigrew moved to where Harry was tied, and stood right in front of him.

"B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe."

Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly... Wormtail used that same silver dagger to take blood from Harry's arm. Still panting with pain, he rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood and poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

Charlie was still twitching and jerking uncontrollably, the effects of the spell not daring to wear off. He felt like he was being killed slowly from the inside, out, and yet, there was nothing he could do, but allow for it to happen...

He couldn't move — hell, he could barely breathe. All he could do was watch, his eyesight fading in and out, as the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished.

Then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring around at the two Gryffindor boys who were under his mercy. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils...

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

The Dark Lord looked even scarier blurred by Charlie's weakened state. Nonetheless, the boy could make out his movements. Voldemort slipped one of his unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand.

"Call them, Wormtail," he bellowed with a voice that sent shivers down Charlie's spine, "Bring them home..."

With a look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort watched intently as Wormtail, still crying in agony, lifted up his left sleeve, and pressed his wand into a brand on his arm. Charlie could hear the faint whimpering of Harry as the scar on his forehead seared with a sharp pain once again.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" Voldemort whispered, his gleaming red eyes looking around the graveyard. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

He began to pace up and down in front of Harry and Wormtail before his eyes fell on Charlie, squirming on the ground. A wicked smile appeared on his face, but he didn't attempt to address the boy just yet...

After a minute or so, he looked over at Harry again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child... and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death...."

Voldemort laughed sinisterly. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass.

"You see that house upon the hillside? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was... He didn't like magic, my father...

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage... but I vowed to find him... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name...Tom Riddle..."

Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave.

"Listen to me, reliving family history..." he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental... But look! My true family returns..."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating.

All of them were hooded and masked. One by one they moved forward... slowly and cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then, one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward the Dar Lord and kissed the hem of his black robes.

"Master... Master..." he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on their knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle's grave, Harry, Charlie, Voldemort, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail.

They left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind rustling that seemed to run around the circle, they had shivered.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years... thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark! My most loyal of followers!"

He began addressing them, one by one. Welcoming them back, but also scolding them for not being as faithful to his resurrection as he had hoped. There had been so many familiar names:

Crabbe.

Macnair.

Zabini.

Goyle.

Malfoy.

All seemingly well-devoted followers of the Dark Lord. However, as Voldemort moved around the circle, he stopped upon one of his Death Eaters, a wide smile plastered on his snake-like face as though greeting a long-time friend.

The Death Eater, upon first glance, looked weirdly familiar to Charlie, despite the mask covering his face. The boy didn't understand why, but there was something about the way the masked man stood that provoked a sense of knowing within him — even through his blurry vision.

"My Lord," the unidentified Death Eater called, "I came instantly upon alert. I knew you would rise again. I hoped you would! I have been awaiting for your return."

"Ah yes," Voldemort hissed. "One of my most loyal servants, and one of the most powerful... you have proven your loyalty, haven't you? Willing to sacrifice your own, isn't that right?"

But before the Death Eater could respond, Charlie watched as the Dark Lord turned abruptly, setting off towards the young boy who was whimpering in pain on the grass.

Charlie's gaze, for the first time in a few moments, focused as Voldemort's scary red eyes peered down at him, the same wicked smile from before returning.

"Charlie Hawthorne," he called, as he bent down, brushing his wand over the boy's body. "Hurts, doesn't it? Transmogrification Torture... I can only assume that it isn't too kind on the frail body of a young boy like yourself..."

But Charlie couldn't speak. His throat had gone hoarse from his cries and wails of pain. Instead, he just maintained eye-contact with the snake-like man as he released a sinister laugh.

"I could help you, you know?" Voldemort hissed, a voice so chilling that goosebumps appeared on Charlie's skin. "My power is unmatched. A simple spell muttered from my lips would put your entire body at ease... would you like that, Charles?"

Again, the boy didn't speak — he couldn't seriously contemplate making a deal with the literal devil, could he?

"Lucky for you, I believe that one is never too young to fulfill great potential..." Voldemort grimaced. "Join me... I'm willing to offer you everything you've ever dreamed of." — he had now grabbed Charlie's trembling face — "Imagine what we could accomplish together, what we could create... don't make the same mistake as your mother... be selfish, think quickly... you could be great. A young wizard capable of surviving the harsh challenges of the Triwizard Tournament? Such a skill is required to do so — a skill that could be so intricately refined with my help..."

Again, Charlie said nothing — pain was spreading throughout his body like a wildfire and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead as he gradually became more and more pale.

"You are not the hero of this story," Voldemort laughed, closing in on the boy's face to taunt him further. "Nor would you ever want to be... choose the winning side in this war... I can make people cower at your name! Don't be a fool... don't choose to die here after your pitiful excuse of trying to play the hero. Join me, Charlie Hawthorne... or live out your final moments in agony before your untimely demise. Whatever you choose, it'll be great fun for me to watch..."

"Do it, Charlie!" Harry called, and the entirety of the Death Eater clan broke out into a satisfied fit of laughter. "You can't die here!"

Voldemort smiled wickedly between the two boys before looking down at Charlie once more, "Your time is running out... what will it be?"

Charlie had made up his mind — it was a decision he made without a second thought...

Mustering all of the strength he had left, Charlie slowly shook his head — he would rather die than ever join the followers of the Dark Lord.

"Very well," Voldemort hissed as he stood up. "Let's speed up the process then, shall we?"

He gave a signal to the unidentified Death Eater from before, and suddenly, they switched positions. The Death Eater raised his wand to Charlie's body, and didn't even hesitate to apply more force to the spell that was already causing the boy pain.

"NO!" Harry yelled as Charlie let out a blood-curdling scream.

"JUST KILL ME!" Charlie croaked, his voice so far gone that it didn't even sound like him. "PLEASE!"

But the Death Eater didn't stop. Instead, it was almost like he found joy in watching the boy squirm under his power. Charlie felt like his bones were on fire, his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end... to black out... to die...

Despite the mask, Charlie would assume that there was a prominent smile on the man's face. The only thing that was distinguishable from the man's black outfit — even through the boy's blurred sight — was a silver pendant dangling around his neck.

Eventually, Charlie's screams came to a stop as he felt the life drain out of him. The Death Eater, his job now fulfilled, how returned to the edge of the circle.

All of Charlie's senses had gone... he went numb... his heart was slowing down... tears simply rolling down his face...

Everything in the next couple of moments, flashed by as Charlie watched; numb on the floor, paralyzed by immense pain.

Blink. Silence. Blink.

"Master, we crave to know... we beg you to tell us... how you have achieved this... this miracle... how you managed to return to us..."

Blink. Silence. Blink.

"My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself..."

Blink. Silence. Blink.

"But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted... thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter..."

Blink. Silence. Blink.

"Wormtail found me... helped me to regain power. One of my most loyal of followers told me about the Triwizard Tournament... I saw an opportunity... kill Harry Potter... offer kinship to the Hawthorne boy as a way of acknowledging the loyalty from his successors..."

Blink. Silence. Blink.

Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

Blink. Silence. Blink.

"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

Blink. Silence. Blink.

Harry and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering red and green light...

And yet, Charlie kept his mind focused on his final thoughts — he had to make it back... just hold on... a little longer... hold on... you promised... Hermione...

Blink. Silence. Blink.

Harry ran faster than ever before, 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, running towards Charlie.

"Stun him! Stop him! Kill him!"

Blink. Silence. Blink.

Harry had practically collapsed on top of Charlie as he reached him, slapping his friend's face to maintain his consciousness, "Stay with me, mate. Stay with me! We're going home!"

Blink. Silence. Blink.

"Accio!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup after wrapping his hand firmly around Charlie's wrist. The Cup flew into the air and soared towards them.

Harry caught it by the handle —

Charlie could hear the faint scream of Voldemort's 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, Harry with him...

Blink...

The two boys landed on the grass of the Quidditch stadium, right in front of the maze's entrance, with a hard thud. The cheers of the audience erupted upon their arrival, the crowd thinking that they had won...

...but everyone's faces fell as they noticed Harry and Charlie's bloodied appearance.

A torrent of sound deafened and confused Harry, there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams... but he remained where he was. He let go of the Triwizard Cup before shaking Charlie's seemingly lifeless body.

"Charlie!" he screamed, tears falling from his face as he looked down and saw his friend's eyes were now shut. "Charlie! Please! No, no, no!"

Then, a pair of hands had seized Harry's shoulder. Looking up, the boy with glasses saw Albus Dumbledore staring down, but his gaze was focused completely on his grandson.

"Harry... what happened...?"

"He's back," Harry cried, "Voldemort's back! And I couldn't leave him there! We have to do something! Please, oh god... please!"

The crowd had gone into a state of shock as they realized that Charlie didn't appear to be moving on the floor. Hermione's heart broke as she peered down at the scene from her place in the stands.

No, no, no... he promised... he can't be... oh my god...

In the matter of seconds, Hermione was rushing down to the grass, much to the Weasley's attempt at holding her back. She was pushing her way past every single person in her path; Ginny, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, and even Elaina, following closely behind her.

As she made it down to the Quidditch Pitch, tears began to stream down her face as the image was all too real now... he wasn't moving... he wasn't breathing... and Harry was clinging to Charlie's body like he didn't want to let go.

"CHARLIE!" Hermione screamed as she ran closer, but when she was finally about to reach him, Hagrid had scooped her up, stopping her from getting too close, "HAGRID LET GO OF ME! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! I NEED TO SEE HIM! PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU! PLEASE! LET ME SEE HIM! HAGRID LET GO — CHARLIE!"

But despite Hermione trying to kick and scream her way free, Hagrid held her still.

"Yeh can' see that," he muttered, tears falling from his own eyes. "I won' let yeh..."

"Minerva! Alastor! Ludo! Severus!" Dumbledore called, his voice shaking as he kneeled down next to his grandson's body. "Keep the crowd back! Please!"

Moody, Bagman, Snape and McGonagall did as they were told, despite their own concern, and formed a semi-circle around Dumbledore, Harry, and Charlie, blocking them from the concerned crowd. The Weasley's and Elaina now finding their way down to the grass, gasping at the sight.

"I can't... I couldn't..." Harry started, but his own voice cracking cut him off.

Albus ignored this, however, as he leaned down and pressed his ear against his grandson's chest. As minimal as it may have sounded, there was a tiny little heartbeat... Charlie was still holding on...

Quickly, Dumbledore pulled his wand from his robes, wiping the falling tears from his eyes.

"Help me, Harry... repeat after me, okay?" Albus said, trying time hold himself together. Harry was quick to grasp his wand in his shaky hand.

"Vulnera Sanentur."

Dumbledore trailed his wand over Charlie's deeps wounds as Harry said the spell with him, muttering the incantation in a song-like form. The flow of blood seemed to ease preventing death by exsanguination; Albus wiped the residue from Charlie's face and repeated his spell.

"Vulnera Sanentur."

Now, the wounds on the boy's body began to heal themselves. The scratches and bite-marks healed over, and his tortured, pale skin had returned to its naturally golden colour.

"Again, Harry," Dumbledore called.

"Vulnera Sanentur."

With the final repetition of the spell, Charlie's wounds began to knit themselves, making it look like the boy was back to his lively state. Yet, his eyes had not opened.

"It's not working..." Harry muttered, Hermione's screams still loud as ever in the background. Harry turned to Dumbledore, "Why isn't he waking up?!"

Albus simply shook his head and leaned his head back down on the boy's chest. This time, there was no heartbeat whatsoever...

"No, no, no!" Dumbledore cried, pointing his wand back at his grandson's chest. "Impulsa!"

Charlie's body jolted as Dumbledore's wand sent a yellow spark of light through his chest that shocked him. Still... the boy didn't respond.

The crowd was freaking out at this point. Snape, McGonagall, Bagman and Moody were casting spells to keep them at a respectable distance. Half of the crowd had ran in fear, and the other half were screaming and shaking in tremendous horror.

Watching in what felt like slow motion, Harry heard Dumbledore repeat the spell, and another jolt of electricity went through Charlie's chest.

Again, no response.

So, Dumbledore repeated the spell; he was determined to bring his grandson back; unaware that Charlie was preparing to succumb to the bright light.

"Impulsa!"

Nothing.

"Impulsa!"

Again, nothing. At this point, all hope was lost. Everyone was looking defeated, but none more than Hermione, who had given up fighting Hagrid and instead, sank to the grass, clutching her face as she let the tears fall.

One last time, Dumbledore croaked out, "Impulsa!" before collapsing on his grandson's chest, a painful cry erupting from his throat.

Everyone was crying now... there was nothing else to do... the boy that they all loved... dead before them...

Harry screamed in agony.

Ron let several tears trickle down his face.

Ginny sobbed.

Mrs. Weasley's heart broke.

Elaina muffled her cries with her hand.

McGonagall whimpered.

Moody looked down.

Snape was in disbelief.

Bagman frowned for the first time.

Hagrid had to look away.

Dumbledore broke down.

Hermione was in hysterics.

...and everyone in the crowd broke out into an eerie silence as they realized what had happened.

*

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*

*

*

Then, after several heart-breaking moments of thinking that the boy that everyone loved was dead... his eyes opened wide.

As if given a second chance by God, Charlie glanced around slowly, shocked that what he was seeing wasn't a figment of his blurry imagination.

Charlie gasped for air as he sat up in a panic.

His family and friends stared at him with wide eyes; tears of joy replacing tears of sadness...

...he was alive.

"Wh-what... happened...?" Charlie croaked out through his hoarse voice, and within a matter of seconds, Dumbledore had hugged him tightly.

"It doesn't matter," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes, kissing his grandson's head. "You're okay now... you're okay..."

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Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

This chapter took SO long lmfao.

I was gonna pull the classic cliffhanger where I left you guys wondering if Charlie was alive or not lol.

I had the whole thing planned, I was gonna be cryptic af and be like:

"C̶h̶a̶r̶l̶i̶e̶ ̶H̶a̶w̶t̶h̶o̶r̶n̶e̶, t̶h̶e̶ ̶b̶o̶y̶ ̶w̶h̶o̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶d̶."

But I decided against that because EVERYONE does that lol.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :)

[insert begging for comments and votes]

Much love always! Feel free to spam!

xo, Selena