I didn't open my eyes, even when I felt my body collide with the ground. Air was pressed out of my lungs and I had to suppress a sound of pain when my sore body made contact with the cool grass. My arm hurt and my head felt like it was going to explode. I only wanted the pain, mental and physically, to disappear and the darkness to welcome me, so I could forget about the things that happened on the graveyard. I clenched my fists into the rough fabric of Cedric's clothes as I wanted to keep holding on the last piece of hope which, I knew, would fade away when I would open my eyes and face reality. The reality, that lay under my own body, motionless and cold. The dead body of Cedric Diggory, my companion in the Triwizard Tournament. Unconsciously, Cedric's last wish, that I should bring him home, wasn't the only reason for my intentional decision but I felt strangely safe by hugging the dead body. It was like to pretend that my friend was still alive.

I didn't open my eyes. I couldn't. If I open my eyes, Voldemort would win. If I open my eyes, I could no longer hide behind the illusion in my head. The illusion, that everything was just a bad dream and I would wake up in my bed in the dormitory in Hogwarts. No Triwizard Tournament, no graveyard, no Voldemort. But the raising noises around me told me otherwise. I tried to ignore the cheering and clapping audience, including all members of the four houses of Hogwarts as well as the members of the Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang. I pressed my body firmly against the body under me to hide the inevitable. To protect Cedric from their eyes and to save the audience from seeing a dead body. Nobody of them has ever seen someone die. I've seen at least two of them but I would never get used to it. I tried to suppress the sobs coming out of my throat but I wasn't in control of my body, which had started trembling some minutes ago. It was just overwhelming. Why this competition did have to take place in Hogwarts? Why did my name end up in the Goblet of fire? Why did I need to participate in this Tournament and why did I decide that Cedric and I would both touch the Triwizard Cup? If I wouldn't have, Cedric would never have ended up with me on that graveyard. He would never have been killed. It was all just because of me. Voldemort wanted me all the time and he killed Cedric because he was useless to him. All he wanted was me. And because of me, Cedric died. Only because he was trying to protect me. If he would have run as I said, he would still be alive. It was just because of my stupid idea that we both win this competition. I wanted to save him and now I was the reason why he was killed. This friendly and loyal friend, who never harmed another individual, was now dead and all because of me. I should have died and not him. I couldn't suppress the sob to be audible when all these thoughts passed my mind.

It felt like hours as it was just three minutes that passed until the audience went silence and realisation hit the staff that something wasn't right. It felt like the ground vibrating when footsteps were rushing into my direction and I intuitively strengthened my grip to Cedric to avoid him ripped of my protective embrace. I swore I would save him.

"Harry?"

I heard the familiar voice but I didn't dare react to it. If I would, they would expect answers from me. Answers I wasn't ready to give them. Strong arms encircled my shoulders and tried to drag me away from the ground but I clung to the body under me as I would fight for my survival. The arms didn't release me and I felt my strength go away. Why couldn't they understand that I couldn't let him go? I normally felt safe near Dumbledore but right now my body feared his presence because he wanted to separate me from my friend and I wasn't ready to let go of him. Dumbledore had always understood what had bothered me but he wouldn't understand, why I desperately tried to protect Cedric from him. I needed to protect Cedric. I failed before and now it was my duty to protect him from the view of the strangers around us until his father would appear. I was the only one to protect the body of his son.

When I felt my grip loosened, a desperate scream burst out of my lungs and Dumbledore froze in his movements. His long hair tickled my neck as he moved to kneel in front of me. His hands slipped from my shoulders to my face in an attempt to make me look at him but it just made my squint my eyes a little tighter. He didn't understand. Nobody did.

It was the moment when I recognized other voices around me, McGonagall and the Minister, who were talking but I couldn't understand them. A strange noise spread in my ears and I wasn't longer able to hear my surroundings. I no longer felt the grass under my body and I didn't feel the coldness of the air. The only contact to the real world was my hold on Cedric's dead body. Another sob escaped my throat and instantly a warm hand rested on my back. My body tensed but the hand didn't move, didn't try to drag me away or to force me to look up. The only change was that those fingers started stroking my back lightly and I relaxed under the touch. It felt similar to the feeling I experienced on the graveyard when my magic and Voldemorts were connected for some minutes. The moment when my mother appeared and talked to me, it was like I could feel her hand on my shoulder while hear her talking. The touch on my back felt almost the same. The only difference was that this sensation felt so real and I knew that it was a real person. When this person touched me, it felt like my mother. A gentle, reassuring energy hit my body and transformed my despair into calmness. I didn't feel the urge to do anything, I just felt safe although I knew that I wasn't. The strange noise in my ears slowly disappeared and I was able to hear the conversations around me again. The Minister and Dumbledore were still discussing and it sounded as when Cedric's father would sit next to me, crying. My body went through another tremor and I felt the first tears streaming down my cheeks but I clung onto the warm sensation on my back. The hand that didn't force me to do anything, that belonged to someone who understood. It was those reassuring touches who encouraged me to open my eyes, to face the reality.

My vision was blurred but I could see the shape of Cedric's body and the dead eyes, facing the ceiling without seeing its environment. Instantly, the sensation on my back vanished and panic filled my body. This feeling didn't last long because I was immediately distracted by black robes that appeared in my sight and covered the reachable part of Cedric's body that wasn't covered by me. I could no longer see into those dead eyes. Then the hand rested on my back again.

I carefully lifted my head, to not attract the attention of the audience or the staff. Fortunately, Dumbledore was looking at the Minister and didn't seem to recognize me. I turned my head and met the concerned look of Professor McGonagall. Her hands rested on her knees, she sat one meter in front of me and didn't say a word. I just watched her as I would expect a reaction but there was none. She was just looking at me.

"Potter?", she asked softly. "Are you hurt?"

My eyes must reflect my astonishment, that's why her concerned look was replaced by an understanding one. We exchanged a small, sad smile. I was glad to have her as my head of house. She didn't ask the usual question if I was all right because obviously I was not. But it was not her presence that made me calm and it wasn't her touch on my back that helped me handle this situation. Gentle fingers on my wrist turned my attention to the body next to me. First, I saw black robes and a familiar smell got into my nose. The realisation hit me right at the moment, when my body finally lost the fight against the darkness and I felt myself fainting. The last feelings were arms that took hold of my body and a bigger body who caught mine when I fell.

Loud noises entered my ears and I swiftly opened my eyes. I was still on the ground near the maze. Cedric's body lay in front of me, hidden under the black long cloak. McGonagall's face appeared before me and I flinched away instinctively but a barrier behind me prevented me to from doing.

"Potter, Professor Snape will take care of you", she told me. "I need to accompany Dumbledore."

All I could do was nodding, when my head of house rose on her feet and walked away.

"Potter, we need to stand up", a soft but cold voice whispered into my ear and strong hands were gripping my waist to lift my on my feet. I lightly turned my head to convince myself that it really was Severus Snape, my hated Potions teacher, who was helping me now. That it was his hand, all the time, resting on my back, when I lay crying on the floor. "We may go into my laboratory so I can check your injuries."

I nodded. Although I hated this man, I couldn't deny that at the moment I felt safe with him and only around him. A feeling, neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall, were able to give me when I needed it the most. Snape didn't ask and he didn't force me, he was just helping and supporting me. That was the reason why I slipped my arm around his waist, to prevent my body from tilting to the side. My legs felt weak and I wasn't sure if I would be able to walk if Snape wouldn't help me.

"I can take him from here." Professor Moody appeared in front of me and looked at Professor Snape. "You can go and take care of Mister Diggory."

"Cedric Diggory is already dead." Snape's voice didn't sound angry at all. It sounded as if he would hide the pain about Cedric's death. I couldn't blame him and I wasn't surprised either. Snape was teacher at Hogwarts and despite the fact that he seemed to hate the students, he still cared for them and I seemed to affect him as well as the others, even when he didn't show it. "I wouldn't be able to help him at all. Mr. Potter is hurt and I think I would be more helpful for him than for anyone else."

"I'll bring him in the hospital wing", Moody added.

"What purpose for? Madame Pomfrey won't be there because she is on her way in here to examine Mister Diggory and his father", Snape interrupted him. "You can stay here and calm the students. I will take care of Mister Potter."

"I believe he would be more comfortable with me than with his Potions Teacher. He doesn't trust you, if I'm not mistaken."

I shook my head. "I trust him more than you", I said with shaking voice. "I want to stay with Professor Snape." Something with Professor Moody was not like it seemed to be. I didn't like him much from the beginning. It seemed like he was hiding something. Outwardly he was friendly but for me it looked like he was just pretending. Even Snape didn't trust him. But no matter what happened in the past, I always trusted Snape, even when he insulted me.

My answer seemed to make Moody angry and he glared at me. Following an instinct, I pressed my body more against Snape and looked at my feet. Snape's arms grabbed my shoulders and dragged me on his other side, away from Moody. Shield me with his body. "You heard him", he murmured emotionless. "Let us trough."

"Professor Moody", called Professor McGonagall and I relaxed a bit, glad that she subconsciously helped us. Snape didn't move and his other hand held his wand in his hand, which I recognized when Moody's eyes met mine for a second.

"Minerva", Snape called again without taking his eyes of Moody, when the man left us to accompany Dumbledore. "Please inform Miss Granger and Mister Weasley that Mister Potter is with me and they aren't allowed to knock on my door the whole evening."

McGonagall nodded and gave me a last gentle smile before Snape's hand carefully dragged me away from the maze through some corridors into the castle.

Now when the whole tension left my body, I could feel the aftermath of the evening. My body hurt intensely and my head started spinning which caused me to take hold on my Professor.

"We're almost there", Snape told me when we passed the stairs which led to the dungeons. "Now Harry", Snape said when he unlocked the door to his laboratory. "You need to be honest and answer my questions genuinely. I need to know how you feel so I can give you the best of help."

I couldn't help noticing that he called me by my first name. But now wasn't the time to be delighted about that. I cleared my throat. "Wormtail cut my arm." Immediately, Snape grabbed a chair and took a seat right in front of me. It was obvious that my arm wasn't the only problem, my body trembled uncontrollably and my head ached.

"Did he curse you?" I instantly knew of whom he talked and I nodded. Snape rose from the chair and walked over to his potion cabinet. "He used the Cruciatus Curse and Imperius Curse."

Snape seemed to hesitate for a moment and then he grabbed to vials and handed them to me. "They will make the side effects disappear. And afterwards I'll give you a fever reducer and maybe a sleeping draught." He again sat down in front of me and held out his hand, waiting for my reaction. Without hesitation, I handed him my arm so he could examine the wound. It looked really bad and it was rather painful. With a wave of his wand, Snape conjured a bottle of water and something that looked like a strangely coloured ointment.

"Why did he cut your arm?"

My breathing stopped for a second. I didn't expect him to ask those questions so far but surprisingly I didn't feel unpleasant with the thought of telling him. I knew that Snape was a former death eater and maybe he could understand who I felt.

"He needed my blood for Voldemort." At the sound of his name, Snape's eyes shortly met mine as if he wanted to see how I would react. At the same time he carefully stroked the wound with a cloth and cleaned it from blood. "When I remember correctly, he needed bones of his father, flesh of his servant and blood of his enemy. After Wormtail added those things, Voldemort appeared out of the huge cauldron on the graveyard."

"Where did he get the flesh?"

"He cut off his hand", I whispered.

I just nodded when he checked my body for other injuries. "It is all my fault, isn't it?"

Snape froze in his movements and he lifted his head to look me in the eyes. "What should be your fault?"

I shrugged. "Cedric is dead because of me. Voldemort wanted me and me alone and he only killed Cedric because he was in his way. He killed Cedric because he wanted to kill me-"

"But you didn't push Cedric into his direction or forced him to be with you", Snape interrupted me.

I shook my head. "I suggested touching the Cup together. I didn't know that he was a port key-"

"You're right", he interrupted again. "You didn't know and you couldn't. No one knew."

"But if I hadn't suggested it-"

"If you hadn't suggested it, Cedric would obviously have been killed by the maze or worse. The maze was cursed and Miss Delacour and Mister Krum only survived because members of the staff were able to get them out in time. You tried to save him."

"And I killed him!"

"No you didn't kill him. You-know-who killed him and not you. You couldn't even know that he was going to kill him. It was Cedric's own decision to stay there and protect you."

I looked at him in shock. "He died for me. Like my parents. Everyone dies because of me."

"Stop it now", Snape told me and I immediately went silent. It was still the authority in his voice that made me obey even if it often had the opposite effect. "Nothing was your fault. Stop thinking about it and stop talking about it. Realize that it wasn't your fault. You're lucky that you survived the Dark Lord a second time." I watched when he bandaged my wounds. "Thank you", I whispered, not able to look him in the eyes. He softly squeezed my hand. "You can stay here overnight so you got time to collect your thoughts and you're not forced by your friends to answer those questions again."

"Will you inform them that I'm fine?", I asked carefully.

He looked at me without any emotion. "That would be a lie."

I smiled at him. I was totally right that he was the only person who understood without knowing everything that happened. Snape knew that it would take time to heal from the inside. He was right. I wasn't fine but I would be sometime. Now I was just thankful that my Potions Master was my saviour. In different ways.