For anyone who'd been following my previous fanfic, I can only apologise for disappearing for so long. a combination of studies, lack of inspiration and finding other passions kept me from ever getting back into continuing HPatHH. After reading so many other people's wonderful stories, everything I'd written felt cliché .. but I think I may now have a genuinely new idea here, though I haven't fleshed it out yet, so I don't know exactly where I'm going with it. I'd like your feedback though, as I'm not sure if this premise has been taken before, I'm fairly sure I haven't read anything that takes off where mine does, but I don't want to do something which has been done (well) before. Anyway, let me know if it's an idea worth pursuing. Happy reading!

Basic Premise: When Harry gets back to Hogwarts after escaping Voldemort at the end of GoF, why didn't he suggest when Fudge didn't believe him about Voldemort's return, that he use Dumbledore's Pensieve or Veritaserum to prove his story (he at this point not knowing how either could be faked/circumvented)? He'd after all had direct exposure to both that year, and both methods would have corroborated his story, in his mind. My story takes off from the scene in the Infirmary, and pursues this possibility, so a lot of the first chapter's just been lifted from the original works - I've put that in italics. Anyway, enjoy!

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story; they all belong to JK Rowlings. This is a work of fan fiction, produced solely for enjoyment. No infringement of rights is intended.

Harry woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that he didn't open his eyes, wanting to drop off again. The room was still dimly lit; he was sure it was still nighttime and had a feeling that he couldn't have been asleep very long.

Then he heard whispering around him.

"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!"

"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have hap pened, can it?"

Harry opened his eyes blearily Someone had removed his glasses. He could see the fuzzy outlines of Mrs. Weasley and Bill close by. Mrs. Weasley was on her feet.

"That's Fudge's voice," she whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

Now Harry could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital wing.

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva —" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Pro fessor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out —"

Harry heard the hospital doors burst open. Unnoticed by any of the people around his bed, all of whom were staring at the door as Bill pulled back the screens, Harry sat up and put his glasses back on.

Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.

"He's not here," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to —"

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch —"

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumble dore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"

Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape, in a low voice, "he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch —"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" Professor McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —"

"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, "as Minister of Magic, it is my deci sion whether I wish to bring protection with me when interview ing a possibly dangerous —"

But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

"The moment that — that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and — and —"

Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor McGonagall strug gled to find words to describe what had happened. He did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumble dore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan suc ceeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

"You-Know-Who … returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dum bledore …"

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," said Dumb ledore, "we heard Barry Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to cap ture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Volde mort to return."

"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, and Harry was astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, "you — you can't seri ously believe that. You-Know-Who — back? Come now, come now … certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders — but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore …"

"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was trans ported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "He wit nessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office."

Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are — er — prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.

"Certainly, I believe Harry," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's ac count of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering.

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who … well …"

Fudge shot Harry another look, and Harry suddenly under stood.

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," he said quietly.

Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped. None of them had realized that Harry was awake.

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

"And if I have?" he said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have dis covered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place —"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been ex periencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, taking a step to ward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate that indefinable sense of power that Harry had felt after Dumbledore had Stunned young Crouch. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before. …"

"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —"

Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape's eyes flew back to Fudge.

"Malfoy was cleared!" said Fudge, visibly affronted. "A very old family — donations to excellent causes —"

"Macnair!" Harry continued.

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle —"

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquit ted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them — the boy can talk to snakes, Dumb ledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had always thought of Fudge as a kindly figure, a little blustering, a little pompous, but essentially good-natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before him, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of disruption in his comfortable and ordered world — to believe that Voldemort could have risen.

Grasping at straws, Harry suddenly had an idea. "What if I could show you!" He exclaimed.

The silence was deafening. "Show me?" Fudge asked, befuddled. "How?" Everyone was staring at Harry in bewilderment, who in turn had fixed his gaze on Dumbledore, in askance. Dumbledore peered over his glasses at Harry for a moment before the ghost of a smile flitted across his features, and he nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve! I can show you my memory of the night!"

Fudge's face, which had drained of all its colour after Harry's exclamation, instantly purpled again. "A Pensieve?" He blustered. "That would prove nothing! Everyone knows memories can be faked." Confused, Harry glanced at Professor Dumbledore for confirmation, who made to interrupt Fudge. "No one will believe –"

"Cornelius, are you implying that a fourteen year old student, who only learnt of the existence of Pensieves a few weeks ago, would be able to fake a memory so well that we would not be able to discern its validity?"

Fudge was brought up short, mid-rant. Everyone stared at his incredulously as he seemed to seriously ponder the clearly rhetorical question. "But we don't know what he's capable of, Albus! He can speak to snakes for heaven's sake, who knows what else he's capable of?"

"Cornelius!" Dumbledore thundered, "Enough!" he continued, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, "You are blinded by the love of the office you hold!" Approaching Harry's bed while extracting his wand, his voice regained its usual gentle cadence, "Harry, if you could think of what happened this evening, from the moment you touched the Triwizard Cup until now, I will extract a copy of the memory to show Minister Fudge." Back now to the Minister, his voice regained some of the steel they had all heard moments earlier, "If however, you still refuse to act upon this, Cornelius, you and I will find ourselves parting ways. For the safety of the Wizarding World, I will be forced to present this memory, as well as Minerva, Severus' and mine, as evidence of Voldemort's return, and your corruption of the justice system, to the Wizengamot. No man is above the law, and you know very well that you had no authority to have Barty Crouch Kissed without a trial."

Harry concentrated hard on the night's events, as Dumbledore held his wand to Harry's temple. Fudge meanwhile, appeared to be on the verge of exploding. "Are you threatening me, Albus?" He all but yelled, as Dumbledore studiously ignored him, appearing entirely focused on the task at hand. Harry however, detected a slight tremor in his Headmaster's hand, as the venerable wizard appeared on the verge of losing his temper.

Fishing a vial out of one of his many pockets, Dumbledore gently guided the delicate strand of memory into it, before sealing the top with a murmur. Taking a calming breath, he turned back to the Minister, now apoplectic, after having his question completely ignored, but knowing there was little he could do about it.

"Why yes, I suppose I am Cornelius." Dumbledore finally responded in a pleasant voice, his beard twitching as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, "Shall you accompany me to my office to study this memory, or shall I convene a meeting of the Wizengamot for tomorrow morning?"

Fudge appeared to deflate as he realised he had lost his gambit, and Harry realised that Dumbledore was right. As much as Fudge didn't want to recognise that Voldemort was back, he wanted to remain in power more, and so would do anything to stay in office. "Very well, shall we go immediately? If the boy's" here he threw a dirty look at Harry, who stared right back at him, unflinching, "story is true, speed will be of the essence."

Ignoring Fudge's malice-filled tone, Dumbledore clapped in apparent elation, and strode forward. "Excellent! Shall we, Cornelius?" He asked, leading Fudge towards the doors of the infirmary. "I suspect that Harry would like to rest a while longer." Indeed, now that the excitement was over, Harry suddenly felt a heavy weight on his eyelids, and fought the urge to close his eyes and drift back off to sleep.

Dumbledore and Fudge had almost reached the door when Fudge paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.

"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances …"

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, leaving Dumbledore at the door. Dumbledore waited a moment, before turning to the group around Harry's bed.

"There is work to be done," he said. "but most of it is thankfully not urgent, and the Minister is waiting for me. Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready … if you are prepared …"

"I am," said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glit tered strangely.

"Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Fudge.

"I must attend to the Minister," he said finally. "Minerva, would you please go downstairs and speak to the Diggorys. I will join you later. Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."

Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore left the room. Hermione, Ron, and Mrs Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time.

"You've got to take the rest of your potion, Harry," Mrs Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabi net as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while … think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"

"I don't want that gold," said Harry in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's."

The thing against which he had been fighting on and off ever since he had come out of the maze was threatening to overpower him. He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Mrs Weasley whispered.

"I told him to take the cup with me," said Harry.

Now the burning feeling was in his throat too. He wished Ron would look away.

Mrs Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs Weasley held him to her. His mother's face, his father's voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him.

There was a loud slamming noise, and Mrs Weasley and Harry broke apart. Hermione was standing by the window. She was hold ing something tight in her hand.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Your potion, Harry," said Mrs Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more.

A/N: So, thoughts anyone? Please be gentle with any flaming, it's been a while since I've written anything at all, and I haven't used a beta..