Chapter 13: The Graveyard

                                    

                                          
Chapter 13: The Graveyard
I groan as I tumble across the ground. Matted grass on lumpy dirt. I'm laying on my back when I stop rolling, covered in dead grass and dirt and a little bit of blood.
"Harry, are you okay?" I ask and struggle to stand, my knees shaking under the weight of my body. I'm exhausted. "Can you stand?"
"I'm fine," he responds and clambers to his feet, his bad leg buckling under him. I help him regain his footing before turning in a circle.
A graveyard. Moss is draped over headstones in thick blankets and the graves are crumbling from exposure to the elements, eroding from years of being forgotten and untended. The most unsettling place to be. Not the best place to congratulate champions of the tournament.
"Why are we here?" I ask. "Dumbledore didn't say anything about this."
Harry doesn't respond as he looks around, a strange look on his face.
"Harry, I don't like this place," I say and rub my shoulder, which is sore from falling. My arm still aches from the burn from the blast-ended skrewt. "I don't want to be here. Maybe it was a mistake."
"This place looks familiar," he mutters to himself as he takes a few steps towards a headstone, running his fingers across the crumbling granite.
"Harry, come on," I say insistently. "We shouldn't be here. Hold onto me and I'll apparate us back to the school."
"There's something going on here," he says and hesitates, placing his hands out in front of him. "I've been here before. In a dream."
"Harry," I say. "Please, come on. I shouldn't have come with you here, okay? I'll forfeit the cup but we have to leave. I have a bad feeling about this."
Harry nods, still looking lost in thought and I grab his hand, clasping our hands together tightly. 
"Hold on tight," I say," and don't let go." 
He nods. I decide to apparate on the path to Hogsmeade. Cedric and I once tried to push the boundaries of how close we could get to the school by apparating, so I know exactly where we can go. Plus, it's close to the quidditch pitch. The perfect place to apparate to.
I close my eyes and focus, trying to ignore all the pain that's urging me to lie down and give up. Just this one last thing, and we'll be done. We'll be done. I wince as pressure closes in on all sides and we begin to apparate, and then—
Harry groans loudly and drops my hand to clasp his hands over his scar, collapsing to his knees. I falter, but I've already started to apparate.
"Harry!" 
The hesitation is a mistake. I can feel my skin stretching as part of me resists the apparation and the rest of me goes. The uncomfortable feeling of apparation mixes with a blinding pain from my lower arm.
 I tumble to the hard ground with a yelp. I land on the last stretch of the incline from Hogsmeade to the castle, and the slant causes me to roll a little way down the hill before I'm oriented enough to stop myself.
As I right myself and try to stand, my hand slips in a puddle of my own blood, which is spilling from my arm dangerously fast. Shock is holding off the pain, but my vision swims as I stand too quickly. I have to go quickly. Before anything happens to Harry, and before I can't go any further. I press my wound into the belly of my shirt and run up the hill as fast as my sore body will allow. Lactic acid burns in my thighs and my body begs for rest.
The first thing I notice when I reach the quidditch pitch is the uneasy murmur of the crowd. It seems to them that Harry and I are simply taking too long, but they have no idea how wrong everything has gone. I don't even know myself.