A/N Ok, so this is a 'Harry Potter is turned into a werewolf' fic. No Slash, no weird parenting realisations, and no pairings. It is basically going to closely follow the books, with some small changes and challenges. I have plenty of time to work on this, so review and I will write! Anything in italics and underlined is from the book. This chapter is very similar to the one in the book with only a few changes, but it is necessary to set up the story. Enjoy! – And this chapter may be reloaded if a possible beta responds-

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

Starts on page 580 –

"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort.

Harry's hand had closed on Cedric's wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry and the Cup was out of reach –

Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. Harry saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand.

"Accio!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup.

It flew into the air, and soared towards him – Harry caught it by the handle –

He heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment as he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked – he felt a sudden stab of intensifying pain in his injured leg that caused him to cry out in agony – but the whirl of wind and colour drowned out his cries…they were going back…

Harry felt himself slam heavily into the ground. His senses were not working however, blinded by the sheer agony coming from his leg. He tried to remember what happened to cause such pain, but his thoughts were only centred on one horrifying realisation…

Cedric is dead….Cedric is dead….

He scrunched his face against the soft ground, only part realising it was grass. He paid no attention to the screams around him, the noise lost in his frantic, pain clouded mind. He had not yet moved, too afraid of what it would mean. Everyone was going to hate him, he killed Cedric, and to move would mean facing that reality. His head swam dangerously and he cried out as another pain shot through his leg. It felt as though it was on fire, and he was only dimly aware that this was caused by something much worse than the spider. He tightened his hold on the Cup and Cedric, hoping to brace himself against the agony.

Cedric is dead….Cedric is dead….

His scar was burning too; giving him such a headache… he couldn't focus on any one thing…. He hoped something would happen soon, that someone would do something – he couldn't stand the emotional or physical pain anymore.

Suddenly a strong pair of hands grabbed his shoulders roughly, turning him over. He only barely managed to hold in his cry, instead trying to focus on the eyes above him. He was dimly aware that his name was being shouted, and knew that people were starting to gather around him. Dark spots clouded his vision, but he didn't want to give in – he was too afraid.

He could hear Dumbledore talking to him, reassuring him that everything was going to be alright, but he didn't know yet. Dumbledore didn't know. And so with all the strength he could muster, he gripped onto Dumbledore's wrist.

"He's back," Harry whispered "He's back. Voldemort."

He saw the horrified look in the Headmaster's eyes before he could no longer bear to concentrate so much. Relaxing his grip on Dumbledore's wrist, he let a tear run down his cheek at the amount of pain he was in.

Harry could feel his fight for consciousness drifting. He felt someone take Cedric from his grip, and panicked at the loss, but Dumbledore calmed him down with soothing words. He also noticed that the pain was starting to change. It was still there, and as agonising as ever, but his ties to it were drifting. He knew this was a bad sign. Desperately trying to keep himself awake, he wrenched open his eyes that had at some point drifted closed and looked at what was happening around him. Fudge, it seemed was arguing with Dumbledore and addressing the people frantically gathering. He saw Cedric's parents break down in anguish at the sight of their son's body and he wanted to comfort them…apologise to them. But his body was heavier than lead. Dumbledore's face then appeared in his vision and he heard three, strong words come from the elder's mouth.

"Stay here, Harry."

And then he had left, and all Harry could hear were the screams of people around him. He tried to cover his ears from the noise, sink further into the grass he was laying on. But it wasn't working, and he began to panic, the pains and noises further confusing his mind.

"Come on Harry, let's get you out of here." A voice said, and Harry hoped it was Dumbledore. He wrenched open his eyes, expecting to see blue ones staring back at him, but it wasn't Dumbledore at all, it was Moody. He weakly protested at his Professor's actions to lift him off the ground, slurring that the Headmaster had told him to stay, but the agony the movement had caused made him bite down on his lip in an effort not to scream.

He let Moody carry him through the crowds, and away from all the screaming and sobbing. He was concentrating very hard on not showing his Professor how much his leg was hurting him, and trying desperately to stop his head from swaying. He didn't notice where they were going until they reached a wooden door inside the castle, which led into Moody's office. He let Moody lay him down on a soft couch and relished in the peace and quiet. He could feel himself falling asleep, giving in to the fog in his mind, when a beaker was pushed gently against his mouth. He opened his eyes again, before quickly drinking the peppery potion. Moody's office came into sharper focus, as did Moody himself. He also noticed that while still very much present, the pain in his leg wasn't as overpowering. He could think clearer, and the confusion in his mind was gone.

"What happened, Harry? Moody asked quietly.

"The Cup was a Portkey… It took Cedric and me to a graveyard. They killed Cedric, and then Voldemort drank a potion that made him… gave him a body."

Moody didn't seem at all surprised about his explanation, and Harry felt an inkling of suspicion rise within him.

"He's back then? The Dark Lord is definitely back?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Yes, he is."

"And the Death Eaters? How did he treat them? "

Harry didn't answer right away, wondering why he was asked such a question.

"Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but why do you care?"

The silence that met him was deadly and thick.

"Why do I care?" Moody whispered menacingly "Why do I care! Because those scum that consider themselves His followers betrayed him! Ignored Him when He needed our loyalty the most. They are pathetic, too afraid to even brave time in Azkaban for our Master. Did he punish them? Oh, tell me he punished them!" Moody's face was now centimetres from Harry's face, and he was breathing heavily. Harry was horrified. Moody, Dumbledore's friend, the famous Auror… It made no sense, and yet…

"You put my name into the Cup! You turned it into a Portkey…. It was you all along!"

"Ahhh. It seems you have caught on Mr Potter. I, the Dark Lord's most faithful servant, am responsible for it all. Now tell me, did he punish them!" He growled loudly, his eye dancing around at a remarkable speed.

"No," he spat "he forgave them all. He was too weak, hasn't enough followers to punish those who ignored him!"

Moody yelled loudly "Don't you dare insult Him! It is only luck that has brought you this far, but your journey ends tonight. I will kill you in honour of my master…I, his most faithful Death Eater. I will end you, Harry Potter!"

Moody raised his wand, he opened his mouth, and Harry made to duck out of the way of the deadly spell–

"Stupefy!" There was a sudden, blinding flash of red light, and Moody fell back onto the wooden table, splintering it as he impacted. Harry looked up to see who had cast the spell, and almost cried in relief to see Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently. Harry nodded.

"Professor, it was Moody! He was the one all along! It was his fault…" Harry finished quietly.

"No, Harry, it was not Moody. This is not the real Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight and safety tonight. The moment I saw he had taken you, I realised my mistakes and followed. Severus, would you please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess. Minerva, if you would please take Harry to my office, there is someone waiting to meet him."

Harry's eyes grew confused at that statement, but decided it was best not to question his Headmaster, he was obviously upset. Professor McGonagall, noticing the boy's pale face and injured arm and leg was unhappy that their destination was not the hospital wing but obeyed his orders regardless.

"Come, Harry." She said gently, helping the injured boy stand. The pain in his leg made itself known again, but Harry ignored it. They silently made their way up to Dumbledore's office, Harry panting with the effort. McGonagall pursed her lips, immensely worried about his state of health. They reached the stone gargoyle, to which McGonagall muttered the password, and the two made their way up the moving staircase, pushing open the oak door.

Beside the desk sat a very large, black dog.

"Snuffles." Harry breathed. McGonagall looked at him in question but he shook his head. She sighed softly and helped him to a cushioned chair, looking at the dog suspiciously every few moments.

"Thank you, Professor, for helping me. I will wait here for Professor Dumbledore; I doubt he will take too long." Harry whispered. McGonagall nodded, and with a small smile, left the office.

Harry looked back around to where the dog had been sitting only to find Sirius standing before him, worry and distress evident upon his face.

"Harry! What happened?" Harry tried to find words, tried to tell him the horrific things he had seen, but only managed a sob. He buried his face in his dirtied hands and released all the emotion he had bottled inside. Sirius rushed over to him, gently pulling his godson into a warm embrace, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he cried. Harry cried for Cedric, for his parents, for the torture he had endured. He cried for the horrific memories the third challenge had left him with. He cried for Voldemort's return and the destruction that would undoubtedly rise in the near future. He cried for everything that had happened, and all that he had lost. Sirius let him ruin his shirt with salty tears, his own sometimes joining. He didn't know what had happened yet, and the knowledge that whatever had happened was making his strong godson cry placed fear in his heart. It had also not gone unnoticed by the man that Harry was hurt, but it seemed that his emotional pain was far stronger than his physical at that moment.

It was around ten minutes before the traumatised teen finally calmed down, but he stayed in his godfather's embrace. He felt safe there, something he had not felt for a very long time. Harry heard the door open, and recognised the calm, calculated steps as the Headmaster's. Harry looked up, ashamed at the scene he had walked in on.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of Harry. You are a very strong individual, but no one can survive if all their emotions stay bottled up. I am very proud of you tonight, my boy, for you have far exceeded any of my expectations. Well done Harry."

Harry smiled slightly at the praise, but his heart still ached.

"And I know you are not going to wish to, but I must ask that you recount everything that you have experienced tonight. You can do it, Harry, I believe you can."

And with a great sigh, Harry began to tell them everything that had happened. He told them about the third task, how the Cup was a Portkey, how Cedric was murdered for simply being there. He knew as he spoke of the murder that guilt was lacing his voice, but no one acknowledged it yet. He spoke of his arm being pierced by the dagger, showed where he had been cut. He told them everything about the resurrection, and how he was forced to battle. He told them of the odd connection that happened between his and Voldemort's wand. Dumbledore explained it to Harry, though he understood none of it and decided he would ask again later, when he was less tired. After at least fifteen minutes of talking, he was finally reaching the end of his tale, much to his relief. He explained how he grabbed Cedric's body but couldn't reach the Cup as he lay on the ground.

"So I summoned it, and it was soaring towards me. I remember feeling relief all of a sudden, knowing that it was going to bring us back. I saw Voldemort behind me, too far to do anything. And then…. Well I don't really understand. My leg, the already injured one, suddenly burned and I could feel some sort of pressure, intensifying the agony, but then the Cup reached us and the pressure was gone. We swirled around and landed back on Hogwarts grounds. The pain won't leave though, so I think I might have to ask Madame Pomfrey for a potion."

Harry sighed in relief as he finished his recount, and looked up for the first time since he began. But what he saw was very different to what he expected. Dumbledore had stood up and was making his way towards Harry, fear on his face. Harry scrunched his face in confusion, and looked towards his godfather. Sirius was smiling reassuringly, though worry was evident in his eyes too.

"What-"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted "may I see your leg please?"

"Um… Sure, sir." He allowed Dumbledore to bend down and gently vanish part of his trousers. There was no movement for some time and Harry began to worry about his Professor. Sirius made an impatient sound.

"Harry, I think we should go to the hospital wing. Sirius, if you would accompany us as Snuffles."

Sirius shook his head. "No, not until you tell me what is wrong with my godson." He said calmly, negotiating with his mentor.

Dumbledore sighed in resignation, before answering slowly. "Do not be alarmed, but it seems Harry has been bitten by a werewolf. Fenir Greyback, if I am not mistaken."

Review please! Next chapter is almost finished :)