𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐞 | ʜ. ᴊ. ᴘ. [ hiatus ]

• 𝐑𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 •

warning: bloods, sexual activities, necrophilia, lot of uncomfortable things, death, sorrow.

❾¾ ⌁☍ ♪ ‹ 𝓶𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓬𝓮 › ♪ ☍⌁¾❾

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last.

He raised his head.

“Where are we?” he said.

Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet as his grip around Briella's necklace tighter 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. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry.

“Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?” he asked.

“Nope,” said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. “Is this supposed to be part of the task?”

“I dunno,” said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous, re-rounded Briella's necklace on his grip. “Wands out, d’you reckon?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.

They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.

“Someone’s coming,” he said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves.

Harry couldn’t make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something.

Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And — several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time — Harry saw that the thing in the person’s arms looked like a baby . . . or was it merely a bundle of robes?

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric.

Cedric shot him a quizzical look. 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 Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.

Beside the man, hovered a monstrous muddy-black ceramic sarcophagus engraved similar to pharaohs's of Egypt's golden age with a dreadful beasty enchantress, her black hair blowing out severely. Her expression glared devilish with her tongue sticking out long til her ankles and gargantuan horns around her head like a fiery bull. Her eyes bulged out until her veins reddened, in her right hand held a circle with a star inside; pentagram. In her left hand, hugs a camel twin humps scattered about its organs, and above her head there's a symbol of a sketch of four people huddled together.

And then, without warning, Harry’s scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open.