Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating between the graves around them; he saw Cedric’s body, lying on the ground beside the Cup.
    Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry’s shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and Harry was glad of this, because it was easier to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; he felt almost as though something poisonous was being extracted from him; it was costing him every bit of determination he had to keep talking, yet he sensed that once he had finished, he would feel better.
    When Harry told of Wormtail piercing his arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation; and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry started. Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry showed them both the place where his robes were torn, and the cut beneath them.
    ‘He said my blood would make him stronger than if he’d used someone else’s,’ Harry told Dumbledore. ‘He said the protection my – my mother left in me – he’d have it, too. And he was right – he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.’
    For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. But next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.
    ‘Very well,’ he said, sitting down again. ‘Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please.’
    Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he could remember of Voldemort’s speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel.
    But when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort’s wands, he found his throat obstructed. He tried to keep talking, but the memories of what had come out of Voldemort’s wand were flooding into his mind. He could see Cedric emerging, see the old man, Bertha Jorkins … his mother … his father …
    He was glad when Sirius broke the silence.
    ‘The wands connected?’ he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. ‘Why?’
    Harry looked up again at Dumbledore, on whose face there was an arrested look.
    ‘Priori Incantatem,’ he muttered.
    His eyes gazed into Harry’s and it was almost as though an invisible beam of understanding shot between them.
    ‘The reverse spell effect?’ said Sirius sharply.
    ‘Exactly,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Harry’s wand and Voldemort’s wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,’ he added, and he pointed at the scarlet and gold bird, perching peacefully on Harry’s knee.
    ‘My wand’s feather came from Fawkes?’ Harry said, amazed.
    ‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Mr Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago.’
    ‘So what happens when a wand meets its brother?’ said Sirius.
    ‘They will not work properly against each other,’ said Dumbledore. ‘If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle … a very rare effect will take place.
    ‘One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed – in reverse. The most recent first … and then those which preceded it …’
    He looked interrogatively at Harry, and Harry nodded.
    ‘Which means,’ said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes upon Harry’s face, ‘that some form of Cedric must have reappeared.’
    Harry nodded again.
    ‘Diggory came back to life?’ said Sirius sharply.
    ‘No spell can reawaken the dead,’ said Dumbledore heavily. ‘All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand … am I correct, Harry?’
    ‘He spoke to me,’ Harry said. He was suddenly shaking again. ‘The … the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke.’
    ‘An echo,’ said Dumbledore, ‘which retained Cedric’s appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared … less recent victims of Voldemort’s wand …’
    ‘An old man,’ Harry said, his throat still constricted. ‘Bertha Jorkins. And …’
    ‘Your parents?’ said Dumbledore quietly.
    ‘Yes,’ said Harry.
    Sirius’ grip on Harry’s shoulder was now so tight