The Graveyard - 5

Again, Ron clamped his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let's get out of here, mate. We've got a house to search."

Ron was obviously nervous. Harry knew that Ron wanted to move away from the emotional events that happened here, both for Harry's sake and his own.

"Where did the Priori Incantatem take place?" Hermione asked, her anger over their near-Apparation accident dissolving beneath her curiosity.

"There," Harry said, pointing, his eyes faraway. He stared at the small clearing where he and Voldemort had dueled – where he'd seen the shades of his parents for the first time. Some of the gravestones were chipped and broken, and he could detect spell burns on the edges of several of them. He shuddered, remembering.

"But you did get away," Ginny whispered, slipping her small hand into his. "Thank Merlin."

"It was terrifying to sit in the stands that night, not knowing what had happened," Hermione said, her eyes taking on that same, distant expression he knew was in his own. "The rumors spread like wildfire that one of the champions was dead."

"We were so afraid it was you," Ron said, briefly glancing at Harry. His voice was low and gruff with suppressed emotion.

Harry shook his head solemnly.

"Cedric died right there," he said, pointing a shaky finger towards the spot. The image was still burned into his memory.

They stood in silence for a moment, remembering their fallen school-mate before Ginny tugged on Harry's hand. "Come on. We can't change anything that happened in the past by standing here."

"Ginny's right," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. "It's the future we have some control over. Let's go search the Riddle House."

Harry allowed the girls to lead him away, feeling bolstered by their confidence. They were right. He did have some control over the future for the rest of them. For once, he wasn't completely dependant on anyone else.

As they approached the house, Harry kept a wary eye out for Goyle or any of Voldemort's followers who might be watching the place. There was nothing. Traces of unblemished snow still surrounded the walkway up to the house. No one had entered this way, at least not since the last snowfall.

"It doesn't look as if anyone's been here in ages, Harry," Hermione said, sounding both relieved and disappointed.

"I know. We'll check inside, anyway, but I don't think it's here," he replied.

Hermione raised her eyebrow but refrained from commenting.

Bracing his shoulder against the door, Harry shoved, and it easily opened as if it had been forced open many times in the past. Examining the doorjamb, he could see where it was splintered and frayed. It had obviously been repaired several times already. He could vaguely sense some kind of wards surrounding the house and instinctively knew they'd be unable to Disapparate from inside.

They entered to find the inside of the house nearly void of light. Dark wallpaper and heavy drapes completely dampened the afternoon sun and added to the creepy…haunted…feel of the place. Had they been innocent children, it was exactly the kind of house they would have hastily crossed the street to avoid walking past.

"Lumos," Hermione said, and the glow from the tip of her wand cast a shadow across the room. She crossed toward the light switch on the wall and flicked it upward, but nothing happened. "The power must have been turned off."

"Perfect," Ron said, his eyes quickly darting from side to side, seeking out any threat.

The others all lit their wands and fanned out across the room. A thick layer of dust covered the floor and furniture, and Harry absently wondered why the place hadn't been sold. There was obviously no one still caring for it. He moved assuredly towards the stairs.