Chapter Twenty-two
“Cedric?” Charissa asked. She was laying on his lap, chest in pain from the curse and leg still bleeding. There were tears on Cedric’s face. He looked down in shock, his face quickly breaking into a smile. “Cedric, what's going on?”
Cedric didn't ask how she was alive, he didn't care how Charissa had survived, just that she had. “Shh.” He said quickly, helping Charissa sit up.
Circled around a bald, snake-like man with slits for eyes and no nose were men dressed in black robes with their faces covered. Charissa's Mark burned.
“How long was I out?” She asked, her eyes sweeping over the hooded men.
“About ten minutes.” Cedric whispered. A bit of fear crept into his voice. “You-Know-Who, he's back.”
“I know.” Charissa nodded.
“My Lord, I assure you, I have never renounced the old ways.” The voice of her father slipped out from under one of the masks.
“Cedric, that's my dad!” Charissa whispered.
Cedric nodded. “Stay quiet. Otherwise, he might try and kill you again.” He said, meaning the Dark Lord.
Charissa wrapped up her leg, as it was still bleeding and she was beginning to feel faint and shaky.
“How interesting.” The cold voice said, directing his words at Charissa. “The traitor survives. Stand up.” The Dark Lord motions to the two of them. Slowly, Cedric stood up, helping Charissa. Harry Potter was tied up to a gravestone. Another man untied him and handed him his wand.
The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Charissa once more. “Now, we duel.” He said. Her hand shaking from blood loss, Charissa raised her wand, leaning heavily on Cedric for support.
The next moment seemed a blur.
A jet of green light flew towards Charissa. She felt herself shoved to the ground as Cedric threw himself in front of her, taking the curse in her place.
“Cedric!” Charissa screamed as his body fell to the floor. She scrambled over to it, shaking him and trying to wake up him. “Cedric, please, wake up!”
“Crucio!” She heard someone say, and a second later found herself shaking in pain. It only lasted a second. The pain of a torture curse was nothing compared to the shock of the body in front of her.
Hot tears raced down Charissa's face. The world had seemed to freeze. She looked over at her father, now unmasked. “Please,” She sobbed weakly. “Tell me this is just a nightmare! Tell me I'll wake up and this will never have happened!”
But no reassurance came.
“Charissa,” A voice said. Charissa looked up to see a glowing, smoky form of Cedric. “Charissa, it's alright.”
“But you're dead.” She sobbed, hiccuping.
“My pocket.” The form said. “Look in my pocket.” Charissa reached into Cedric’s pocket and pulled out a locket.
“I'll always be with you, Rissy, I promise.” The form said.
“But you're gone!” Charissa cried.
“I'm still here.” The form reached out and put a hand over her heart. “I'll never leave there. I promise.”
The form faded. Harry Potter was racing towards her. Charissa's vision was spotted, whether from blood loss or tears, she couldn't tell. Her surroundings blurred as she weakly laid down, her head on Cedric’s chest.
There was cheering somewhere off in the distance. Her vision had tunneled. “He's back.” She murmured heavily, repeating the phrase over and over.
Someone was speaking to her, but Charissa couldn't hear. Tiredly, she faded into the beckoning darkness, allowing its weight to consume her until the outside world was nothing but a distant memory.