A/N: The Big Fight Scene, the wrap up, and an Epilogue of Sorts, in which everyone gets pretty much what they deserve, more or less….
Disclaimer: as in the first chapter. No profit, only admiration for the great creative talents who have given all of us so much enjoyment.
Dedication: To Miss Brennah Davis, now well and truly graduated from OTIS; her work can be seen at brennahdavis (dot) com. I'm pretty sure that she's the only one in her class to have a novella-length piece dedicated to her as a graduation gift.
Chapter 4
In the viewing stands, Mary Poppins suddenly stiffened and lowered her omnioculars. Beside her, Madam Mim's head jerked up, almost causing her to drop Sirius' second-best liquor flask.
"Harry..." Mim hissed, looking at the practically perfect woman beside her.
"Exactly," Harry's Headmistress nodded, gathering her skirts around her as she stood. "We must speak with Dumbledore immediately," she said, moving as she spoke. It was only a matter of seconds before she and Mim, flanked by an anxious Sirius and Remus, stood before a knot of other school Heads and Ministry officials.
"The cup was a portkey, Albus," she began, noticing that none of the group seemed to be paying any attention to the maze. The tiny downward twitch of the corners of her mouth was all the indication she gave as to what she thought about that, however.
"Oh, of course it is," Ludo Bagman spoke up proudly. "Set to bring the winner back to this very spot!"
"Then where are they?" Mary Poppins spat. "Harry and young Diggory took the cup together some moments ago; where are they?"
"Together, you say? Oh, no, they couldn't do that," Bagman said, suddenly very nervous. "We can't have two winners...it just wouldn't be right!"
"I saw them myself," Mary Poppins said, turning to the hag beside her. "Mim?"
Madam Mim sniffed the air, then smacked her lips together once, twice, tasting it. "He's not close..." she said, turning slowly in a full circle. "Somewhere to the south, I think. Fair distance, too. Going to be hard to follow, that far," she said, her brow furrowing.
Mary Poppins nodded decisively. "Go, then. I'll follow along shortly. Use your best judgment, but keep Harry and the other young man safe until I arrive."
Mim's face lit up with glee. "Let anything happen to those two fine young men? Not on my watch!" she cackled, then vanished with a crack!
Dumbledore rocked on his feet as Madam Mim blew through the Hogwarts anti-apparition wards. "What the devil...? Just where did that...witch go?" he demanded.
"She's tracking my student, who is quite likely fighting for his life even as we speak," Mary Poppins was in no mood to trade pleasantries. "Your lovely little Tournament has been sabotaged, Albus."
"Surely not," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "We've had a constant watch on the prize cup ever since the portkey enchantment was placed by the Hogwarts faculty; Alastor Moody himself placed the cup in the maze just this morning."
"Believe what you will, I have a student to find," Mary Poppins snapped, then whirled and strode away.
Sirius Black stepped up to the old wizard and snarled, Remus right beside him. The werewolf's hand was on his friend's arm, but his eyes were glowing a brilliant yellow. Clearly, neither his wolf nor the Lord Black were happy with the current situation.
"Know this, Albus," Sirius growled. "Harry is not only my godson, he's my heir. If anything happens to him, I'll call a blood feud between the Blacks and the Dumbledores. You may be the most powerful wizard around, but you need to think about what happens to those who attract the ire of the Blacks." Spinning, he ran to catch up with Mary Poppins.
Remus stood there a moment longer. "I couldn't love Harry more if he were my own flesh and blood. If this goes badly, Albus, then Sirius won't be alone in calling for your head." He turned and ran after his friend, faster than a man should have been able to move.
"Dear me, Albus," Madam Maxime said. "It seems as though you might have a bit of a problem on your hands."
Albus Dumbledore didn't say anything. He only stood there, fuming.
Harry drifted back to consciousness slowly. The first thing that he realized was that he couldn't move; he was obviously bound upright to something hard and cold. Feigning unconsciousness, he tested his bonds; whatever they were, they didn't have any give to them. His hands were empty, and he couldn't feel his wand anywhere on his person—obviously, Wormtail and his companion, almost certainly Voldemort—had taken it. Well, unless the pair were better at Divination than he thought, that gave him an advantage or two. Still, Mim was always going on about never tipping your hand too soon; they'd played out this scenario a few times. Harry in particular remembered one morning when he'd awakened bound, gagged, wandless and disillusioned, hanging upside down on London Bridge in his pajamas. He'd missed breakfast, but had a delightful brunch and spent the day wandering muggle London in his transfigured clothes, having a grand time of it. He'd seen the sights, done a bit of shopping, practiced his wandless magic, had the tips of his hair tinted purple, and ridden the buses to his heart's content. The alarms he'd left on his replacement—a Harry-sized homunculus he'd made out of various bits of flotsam and jetsam from the Thames—had gone off in the middle of the afternoon. He'd taken his time about getting back to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, arriving just before tea with a large box of scones from a little bakery he'd discovered not too far from there. When he got back, he found Mim and Sirius still trying to remove the large green and pink spots touching his replica had caused, while Remus and Mary Poppins looked on, not helping.
He'd gotten yelled at by Mim and Sirius (he'd laughed back, reminding them that they'd started it), a smile, pat on the shoulder and 'good show' from Remus, and an extra hour before bed that evening (that he'd used reading about advanced offensive spells in the library) as well as a double dose of medicine 'just in case' from Mary Poppins. All in all, it'd been a brilliant day.
So, bound and wandless but still presumed to be unconscious by his abductors; he could work with that. He let his eyes open just a touch, so he could glance around through the slits. What he saw wasn't exactly encouraging. He was still in a graveyard, probably the same one (never, ever, assume things, he could hear Maleficent saying). Wormtail was struggling with a huge cauldron filled with nasty-looking and -smelling stuff, and he could hear Voldemort's voice faintly hissing from somewhere past the cauldron.
Almost by reflex, Harry suppressed his aura, not wanting to give away the fact that he'd regained consciousness. It seemed to be working, because neither Pettigrew nor Voldemort bothered to speak to him. He heard Wormtail muttering something about bones of the father, and felt the ground shift underneath his feet. Well, it couldn't be his father, he'd been taken to visit the graveyard in Godric's Hollow shortly after Sirius had been cleared, and this wasn't it. He watched through slitted eyes as Wormtail cut off his hand, wincing inside. Then, as Wormtail approached him with a great honking knife, he decided to make his play.
"Stop right there, Pettigrew!" Harry's eyes flashed open, and he pushed his magic into his voice as hard as he could. He was still working on that particular skill, but he gave it his best shot. It was almost enough.
Pettigrew froze, standing like a frumpy statue until Voldemort hissed. "Wormtail! Go on! Finish the ritual! The boy is helpless!" With a shake, Pettigrew stumbled forward.
"Blood of the enemy, unwilling given, you will renew your foe," he chanted, cutting Harry's arm so that the blood flowed freely. Gritting his teeth, Harry bit back a cry of pain. Somewhat clumsily—well, he was missing a hand, after all—the rat fumbled for a vial, collecting a goodly amount of Harry's blood that he dumped into the cauldron.
Voldemort was speaking while his servant was about his gory task. "So, not so unconscious after all, eh, Harry? Pity it will avail you naught in the end. Now, put me in," the voice hissed, as Harry's blood brought the cauldron to a roiling boil.
Lifting a blanket, Pettigrew dumped a misshapen lump of a thing into the cauldron and stepped back, shielding his eyes. Harry was forced to look away as best he could as the cauldron began giving off sparks and smoke. The horrible smell intensified a thousand-fold, making Harry cough and gag. Finally, after a huge belch of flame that reminded Harry of the Goblet of Fire, a gaunt figure rose from the cauldron.
"Robe me," Lord Voldemort commanded, stepping from the cauldron. Shrugging into the robe that Pettigrew had ready, he stepped over to his minion. "My wand," he said, taking it from Pettigrew, holding it up lovingly. "Your arm," he said again, distractedly.
"Thank you, my lord," Wormtail simpered, holding out the bleeding stump of his arm.
"No, fool, your other arm," Voldemort said, snatching the man's other arm forward. Putting the tip of his wand against Pettigrew's mark, he hissed. "Now, let us see just who has the courage to come at my call," he said. Harry watched with morbid interest as the mark burned with black fire, the owner writhing in obvious pain as his master activated it.
"So...you couldn't just give out pagers, or maybe cell phones?" Harry snarked. "Oh, wait, I know...your credit rating's too bad to get one, isn't it? What, Lucy Malfoy wouldn't put you on his plan?" He didn't know just how long he'd been out, but he knew that help would be on the way. All he had to do was keep this lunatic talking, and he'd have reinforcements to get him out of this mess.
"My, such cheek!" Voldemort turned to his captive, sounding impressed despite himself. "Ah, the 'Great Harry Potter'...how kind of you to accept my invitation! Tell me, Potter; just what have you been learning from Albus Dumbledore? Did he teach you about blood curses, and their effects?" Reaching out, Voldemort pressed his finger to Harry's forehead, causing a blinding pain to radiate out from his scar. "Yes, Potter, now you see!" the Dark Lord went on. "By using your blood in the ritual that created this body, I can now touch you without suffering the pain I did when I possessed Quirrell. Unfortunately, you cannot say the same, can you?" he said, touching Harry again just to make the boy scream.
"Did anyone...ever tell you...that you're a rotten host?" Harry managed to gasp. "I've...been to shite parties before...but this one is the worst!"
Voldemort burst into laughter. "Ah, Mr. Potter! I must say, your insolence is quite refreshing. It's almost enough to make me keep you alive as a pet. Sadly, almost is not quite enough."
Around them, the air was suddenly filled with the cracks of apparition, as a number of Death Eaters materialized in the graveyard around them.
"Ah, at last! My faithful Death Eaters," Voldemort said, sarcastically. Turning away from Harry, he began giving what Harry recognized as a standard Evil Overlord monologue; he tuned it out right away while he tested his bonds once again. He kept one ear open, however, making mental notes of the names Voldemort mentioned for future reference. One of the many things he'd learned over the last few months was that 'dead enemies are the best kind'; when he got out of this he'd be making a few 'house calls' to see to just that very thing. Yep, Avery, Crabbe and Goyle Senior, Nott, Senior, Macnair and Lucy Malfoy...they'd all need visiting. He was mildly interested in Voldemort's creation of a new hand for Pettigrew—that could be a useful trick—but not at all happy when Voldemort turned back to him once more.
"And so, my friends, here is Harry Potter, who somehow managed to vanquish me all those long years ago. Tonight is the night I deal with him once and for all! No more will the people of Britain be able to place their hopes for my downfall in a mere child; no, tonight Lord Voldemort will defeat Harry Potter once and for all!"
"So, that's what this is all about? You're still trying to get your mojo back after being zapped by a baby?" Harry forced a laugh. Get them mad, if you can; it'll make them sloppy, he remember Mim saying over and over again. "That is so pathetic, really. Don't you agree, Lucius?" he said, calling out to where he thought the elder Malfoy stood. "So much for that famous Malfoy pride, the way you keep on sucking up to this cut-rate charlatan."
"Silence!" Voldemort roared. With a wave of his wand, he released Harry from the grasp of the statue that held him. "Return his wand," he hissed. "I want to do this properly."
"Well, that'll be a first," Harry remarked, taking his wand and casting a quick healing spell on his arm. Shaking himself out, he moved away from the grabby statue as fast as he could. "So, how're we going to do this?" he asked, beginning to wonder just where his backup was. Surely Mim and Mary Poppins would have noticed by now that the cup hadn't exactly delivered him right to all of that 'eternal glory' he'd been promised.
"I assume that Dumbledore has taught you the proper forms, yes, Potter?" Voldemort was saying. "First, we bow, like so," he demonstrated.
Assume all you like, Harry thought. Dumbledore's taught me exactly squat, but I've been taught, oh yes. "Just a sec," Harry said. "First, we make a quick call to wardrobe," he said, transfiguring his outfit into dueling robes.
"Ah, just the thing!" Voldemort sounded impressed despite himself, and then did the same thing. "You are correct, Mr. Potter; I salute you!" He raised his wand in a formal salute, obviously not noticing what Harry was wearing beneath his dueling robes.
Harry grinned. Let the bastard think that wool and silk were all that he was wearing. A few weeks earlier, a midnight requisitioning raid into the Chamber of Secrets had yielded a large amount of basilisk hide and skins. Properly tanned and tailored, the resultant suit of battle armor covered all of Harry's body except for his hands, face and neck. The skin of the King of Serpents was as tough as dragon hide and just as resistant to spell damage; but much lighter and more supple. Harry's armor breathed like Egyptian cotton and moved like silk but would shrug off anything but the most horrific curses. Also, there were no rules about wearing it under his regulation Tournament gear, which was nothing more than an old-fashioned Quidditch robe.
"Yep, you who about to get fried, I salute you!" Harry returned jauntily, bending low in a Gilderoy Lockhart-style bow. From the low point of the bow, he fired off a nasty spell, then turned his bow into a duck-and-roll that took him behind a convenient tombstone.
Voldemort cursed as Harry's Castratios very nearly emasculated him. A hastily conjured shield saved his newly created manhood, but when he looked up for his opponent, he'd vanished. Just then, a hideous cackle erupted from just behind the ranks of his Death Eaters.
"Good one, ducks! Now, finish the git off, so we can go eat!"
Surprised, Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters spun towards the voice, only to find a short, fat crone sitting on a tombstone, swilling from a pocket flask.
"Tha...that's MIM!" one of the Death Eaters screamed, and promptly fainted.
"Mim? Mad Madam Mim?" Voldemort asked, not really paying attention to the effect his words had on the Death Eaters, most of whom were busy just then soiling their robes.
"The one and only!" Mim saluted the risen Dark Lord with the flask, then ignored him. "Harry! Yoo hoo! Mimsy's here, luv; you can stop playing now and come out."
"Mim! You certainly took your sweet time about it!" Harry's voice came from among the tombstones. "What kept you? Stop for a drink or six along the way?"
Madam Mim snorted. "You track two boys the length of the sodding country in under twenty minutes, then you can tell me how it's done," she snapped. "Now, I'll be grading you on your performance; consider this your final in Dueling Arts. Get on with it!" she finished. Turning to Voldemort, she grinned. "He's gonna wax the floor with your arse, cutie," she grinned, making the most evil man in Britain a bit queasy. "And then, I think I'll take whatever's left back to my place, put back all the little boy bits, and then you and old Mimsy'll have ourselves a bit of a party, eh?"
"Aaugh! Never!" Voldemort cried in horror, firing a banishing spell at the crone. Unfortunately for him, Mim wasn't there any more, and the spell only pulverized one wall of an unlucky mausoleum. Spinning, Voldemort saw a dark figure rise from behind a tombstone. Black gloves, a hood and face wrap now covered the figure, leaving only a pair of flashing emerald eyes glaring at him.
"Potter," he breathed, bringing his wand up. "Avada Kedavra!"
Once again, Harry was moving even as the Dark Lord's wand was coming into position. Leaping to the right, he bounced off one grave marker, fired an Expelliarmus, bounced and fired again. Three short bursts of magic spat from his wand, and Harry was moving again.
Voldemort shielded himself (not at all happy with how difficult it was; Potter's spells were strong) and stalked his prey.
"Come now, Harry, this is hardly the way a formal magical duel is done!" he taunted.
"You're right, Moldy Shorts," Harry sang out, sending a blood-boiling hex on its way. "But then again, I wasn't trained by the Old Coot...I was trained to win," he said, a very nasty skin peeler sizzling from his wand. The medical spell was often used to remove burned skin by healers; in a duel, it would do the same thing...without any anesthetic. At the power level Harry'd just used, it would flay a man completely inside of two seconds.
Voldemort's eyes went wide when he recognized what he had just deflected. "Circe's tits, Potter! I may have been wrong about you all along! Join me, and the two of us will be invincible! We can rule together..."
"Yeah, yeah, saw that movie! Sorry, Snake Face, you killed my father; you can't replace him." Harry ducked, then deflected a putrid yellow curse that he didn't recognize. "You killed my mother, too; don't think I've forgotten about that! Mim! This is just between me and Big Ugly here; keep the Butt Munchers out of my hair, will you?" Harry called out while he ran to his next firing position.
"Yes! This is between you and me, Potter! Stay back, my Death Eaters," Voldemort called out. Of course, he was probably wasting his breath, since most of them were cowering behind various bits of cover, just hoping that whoever won the duel wouldn't notice when they snuck away afterwards.
"'Course I will, ducks!" Mim called out from her new vantage point, on top of the groundskeeper's tool shed. She took another swig from Sirius' second-best flask, kicked her heels and cackled at the grand show she was getting.
It wasn't a formal magical duel she was watching. No, Harry was using every dirty trick she'd ever taught him, and seemed to be making up his own along the way. Oh, but the boy was doing her proud! From his opening cheap shot, every spell had been designed to either finish the fight, or move his opponent in a way he wanted him to move. Voldemort was only returning about one spell for every three; the rest of the time he was too busy dodging or shielding. It was getting to him, and it showed.
"Potter!" Voldemort called out. "I offered you a formal duel! Is this...this dirty fighting...all that you know?"
"Hells, no! I can also do this!" Harry sang out, and a banana cream pie hit the Dark Lord squarely in the face. "But I much prefer to do this," he said, transfiguring the air around his nemesis into sulfuric acid mist.
Voldemort's eyes were streaming as he gasped out a counter charm, returning his air to its normal state. "Oh, Potter, how you'll pay for that!" he growled, his throat burning.
"Put it on my tab, lizard lips," Harry taunted, casting Ventrillo on himself and throwing his voice off to Voldemort's far left. He grinned as Voldemort wasted yet another blasting curse on innocent masonry, then stood and called out "Accio hepar!"
Voldemort's whirl turned into a stumble as his liver tried to leap from his body. Grabbing his side, he countered Harry's spell, then glared at the figure standing before him.
"Nasty, Potter, very nasty," he said, once more impressed despite himself.
"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," Harry said, and Voldemort could feel him grinning behind his mask. "But Mim's right, it's almost lunch time, and I'm a growing boy. Time to finish this. Expelliarmus!"
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort said at exactly the same time. The two spells met in an explosion of magic, causing a bridge between the two brother wands to form. Above the pair, a golden dome formed, sealing them off from their audience.
Mim looked on in surprise, then shook herself as one of the Death Eaters began casting spells at the dome. "No, no, no!" she said, hopping down and moving to intervene. "No interference," the last came out as more of a grunt as Mim shifted into one of her favorite forms and charged.
Inside the dome, Harry was holding his wand with both hands, fighting to put more pressure on the intersection of the two spells. Slowly, he was forcing it back towards Voldemort, and had almost pushed it into the other wand when he was distracted by a scream from outside the dome. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Death Eater being trampled by a large pink rhinoceros. Reassured, he turned his focus back to his battle of wills, and was rewarded by a series of images that were apparently being forced out of Voldemort's wand. In the swirling mist inside the dome, Harry saw an elderly man, and then...
"Mum?" Harry gasped, almost loosing his focus.
"Concentrate, Harry!" Lily Potter ordered, her love plainly showing on her face. "Don't give up!"
"Don't let him beat you, son," James Potter's wraith stood beside his wife, beaming. "That's my boy! Show him what a Potter can do!"
"Dad?" Harry shook himself, then redoubled his efforts. "You're both here..." he began, then had to save his breath to keep fighting.
"Harry, we don't have any time," his mother was saying. "When we tell you, break the connection and take the portkey away."
"We can only distract Voldemort for a few seconds before we fade," James agreed. "We love you son."
"But...you can't leave! No! Not yet!" Harry wailed.
"We have to, son. Remember, we love you," Lily said. "Now, Harry! Break the connection," she said, as she and James dove for Voldemort's face.
Sobbing, Harry broke the connection, staggering back. Then, shaking his head, he muttered, "sod the portkey. This ends now." Taking a deep breath, he centered himself, reaching down into his magical core, pulling it up and using it to twist his form...
...and a young dragon, all sleek black scales and glowing green eyes rose about the gravestones in Little Hangleton. Gathering itself, the dragon leaped at the Dark Lord, roaring his vengeance as he came.
Voldemort had been surprised when his wand had locked with Harry's. He'd read about the prior incantum effect, but never imagined that he'd actually see it. Still, he was not terribly surprised when the spirits of his last kills emerged from the wands. He was actually more surprised that the boy had managed to force the stream of magic back on him, but he supposed that it was because his new body was still weak and untrained.
When the Potter's spirits rushed him, he was ready for them. A quick wind spell held them back for the few seconds it took them to fade. Then, just as they dissipated, he looked up...and screamed.
The black dragon's roar drowned out his scream, and the Dark Lord threw up his arm in a futile gesture of protection and warding while he backpedaled. This was a bad choice, as he found out when the dragon's mouth snapped shut, neatly severing the arm above the elbow. The shock made him fall backwards, gasping in pain.
The dragon reared back, then spat out the limb. Shaking its head, it spat again and again, then began clawing at its tongue, whining and gagging.
Voldemort felt himself fading, and had just enough presence of mind to cauterize the stump of his arm before slumping down, exhausted and in shock. "Wormtail!" he managed to gasp out. "Portkey us away, now!" he commanded.
Luckily for the Dark Lord, his most faithful servant was nearby, and heard his master's call. "Yes, Master," he cried, running over and pulling out his own wand. Ignoring the dragon now scraping its tongue back and forth over the ground, Wormtail pulled out a piece of rope and hastily converted it into a portkey. "Here, Master," he said, holding out the rope for Voldemort to take. Tucking his wand into his belt, the dark wizard grasped the rope with his one remaining hand before being whisked away to safety.
Seeing him gone, Mim trotted back over to the young dragon and horned him in the flank to get his attention. Shifting back into human form, Harry fell to his knees and vomited.
"Yuck, yuck, yuck," he kept repeating.
"Not quite to your taste, eh, ducks?" Mim—now human once more herself—laughed. "Should have warned you, I reckon, only I never figured that you'd actually try to eat a construct body. Not too surprising that it's about as yummy as yak taint, considering just what's in that cauldron over there."
"Nasty, that's what it is," Harry said, still making faces at the taste in his mouth. "Where are the Death Eaters?"
"Dunno," Mim shrugged. "Not here, at any rate. Most of them left when I started having a little 'talk' with the tall blonde one."
"Oh," Harry said, swaying on his feet a bit as his adrenaline surge began to wear off. Then, suddenly, he remembered. "Cedric!" he yelped, staggering over to his friend's body. "No, no, no, no! He can't be dead!" Harry gasped, falling to his knees beside the tall Hufflepuff.
"Harry! Are you all right?" Mary Poppins' voice rang out.
"Mary Poppins! Over here!" Harry sobbed, falling over Cedric's body. "That bastard Wormtail killed him! I tried to knock him out of the way, but I slipped, and got knocked out."
"Nonsense," Mary Poppins sniffed. Walking up, she nudged Cedric with her toe. "Surely you're mistaken, Harry. Now, Mr. Diggory, I'll thank you to wake up; you're upsetting my student. That's it, spit spot, up you go, now. This is no time for lollygagging or laying about."
A long, shuddering intake of breath hissed into Cedric's body, and his limbs twitched. Astonished, Harry grabbed the older boy up into a crushing hug. "Cedric! You're alive" he crowed, burying his head in the other boy's hair.
"Can't...breathe," Cedric gasped, wiggling enough to make Harry loosen his rib-crushing grip. "What happened?" he managed to say, taking several deep breaths.
"Oh, nothing much," Harry laughed, relieved and exhausted. "Wormtail did some weird ritual to resurrect Voldemort, I fought him, then bit his arm off. Then, he and all of the Death Eaters portkeyed away. Mary Poppins woke you up, so here we are," Harry finished, smiling down.
Cedric Diggory shook his throbbing head, not understanding a fraction of what he'd just heard. "Harry...what...how?" he asked.
"You, git, got AK'd, but then you got better," Harry snickered. "Lots of good you did me, lying there like a great lump while I was fighting the Dark Lord."
"You fought the Dark Lord?" Cedric's eyes went wide.
"Yeah, and he tastes really bad," Harry nodded, snickering at the look in Cedric's eyes as he digested what Harry said.
"Enough, you two, time to be getting back" Madam Mim interrupted. "Up you go!" she said, pulling them both to their feet.
"Just so, Mim," Mary Poppins agreed. "Now, everyone, join hands; Harry, take mine," she said. Then, as she raised her umbrella, the entire group vanished.
Sirius and Remus waited just outside the gates of Hogwarts, as they'd been told to do by Mary Poppins just before she left to follow Madam Mim. As requested, Remus had sent a Patronus message off to Eddie Spindle, so the two were only a bit surprised when he appeared. Putting away the pocket watch he'd made into a portkey, the solicitor was quickly brought up to speed on just what had transpired, and where they stood at the moment.
"So, the two Champions abducted by portkey, and Mary Poppins and Madam Mim gone after them?" he asked, just for confirmation. "Well, I rather doubt that pair will encounter anything they can't handle; I suggest that we just wait for them to return."
So, Sirius went back to pacing and drinking from his flask while Remus stood there, fuming.
All three of them were caught quite by surprise when Mary Poppins' group appeared a short distance away from them.
"Harry!" Sirius cried, taking off at a dead run, Remus right behind him.
"Sirius!" Harry called out, staggering a few steps, only to be caught up in his godfather's hug.
"Mary Poppins, Mim," Remus said, skidding to a halt. "Any problems? Where were the boys?"
"Little Hangleton," Mary Poppins answered. "And yes, there were problems. Still, everyone's back safe and sound, but we do need to meet with Dumbledore as soon as possible."
"I see that your solicitor's made it here; good," Mim smiled in her spooky way. "Always good to have one of them around when dealing with Ministry types," she finished.
"I'm always happy to be of service to such a lovely creature," Eddie Spindle smiled, giving Mim a little bow. Mim simpered, while Harry, Remus and Sirius all rolled their eyes. Meanwhile, Cedric Diggory just stood there, becoming more confused by the second.
"No time for that," Mary Poppins announced. "Off we go, briskly now," she said. And, fitting words to deeds, she set off at a fast walk for the Quidditch pitch.
They hadn't gone halfway before they met a crowd of people, all of whom were in an uproar. Led by Albus Dumbledore, who'd felt them cross the wards as they entered the grounds, the assorted school Heads and Ministry personnel, along with Minister Fudge himself and several of the Hogwarts faculty. As he was in front of the little mob, Dumbledore was able to speak first.
"Well, I see that both of our Champions have been returned to us! Wonderful, wonderful!"
"No thanks to your stupid trophy cup," Harry bit out. "It took us straight to where Wormtail was waiting for us, and then the rat used my blood to make a new body for Voldemort."
"What? No, that can't be true! The Dark Lord can't have returned," Fudge began to bluster.
"Are you calling my student a liar?" Mary Poppins asked coldly.
"Well, er...not as such...I mean, everyone knows that the Dark Lord was vanquished by Mr. Potter over a decade ago," Fudge tried again.
"And I'm telling you, he's back again," Harry said. "I don't know how, but he's got himself a new body, and it tastes horrible! Ow!" he finished, as Mim elbowed him in the ribs. "What?" he demanded.
"Ix-nay on the Asting-tay," Mim hissed, then smiled at the horrified looks around them. "Poor things delirious, he is; all the strain he's been under since breakfast, you know how these teenage boys are, everything's about food with them."
"Mr. Diggory, is this true?" Ludo Bagman asked carefully.
"Er...I really couldn't say, sir. I was...unconscious...most of the time." Cedric blushed, looking down at his shoes.
"So, Potter, all we really have to go on is your word," Percy said, giving Harry a glare. "I'd hardly consider that reliable testimony," he sneered.
"What about me, sonny? I was there, and saw Harry fight the baddie to a standstill. Do I count?" Mim demanded, hands on her hips.
"Madam, considering your reputation, I would be reluctant to take your word about the weather, much less about something as fanciful as the alleged return of the Dark Lord," Percy said, not realizing just how close to death he was coming.
"Why, you little...I'll spread your liver on toast, I will," Mim snarled, and started to lunge at the pompous young man. Fortunately for Percy, she was stopped by Mary Poppins' hand on her shoulder.
"Calmly now, Mim; the fool isn't worth the effort," she said, dismissing Percy completely with a glance. "Now, Albus, I want to know just what kind of investigation will be done into the trophy cup itself. Someone had to alter the portkey, which leaves us with only a small number of possibilities."
"Certainly the matter bears looking into," Dumbledore agreed. "I presume you brought the cup back with you?"
"Of course," Mary Poppins said, producing the cup from a fold of her skirt. Harry really didn't remember seeing her pick it up, but let it pass. "Now, if we can see about doing an analysis of the magical signatures on the thing..."
"I'll handle that," Mad-Eye Moody said, reaching for the cup. "I'll take it to the castle immediately."
"Actually, I was thinking about having Amelia Bone's people in London investigate it thoroughly," Mary Poppins answered him. "They can do an independent analysis, and call in the Unspeakables at need. Since you were the one to place the cup in the maze to begin with, Alastor, you should know that you're one of our prime suspects."
"Bah! Very well, do it your way. While you're mucking about contacting London, the real culprit will no doubt be using the time to his advantage. In the meantime, I'm going to take these two boys to Poppy Pomphrey for a checking over. Come along, Potter, Diggory," Professor Moody said, catching the two Champions up with a glance and stamping off.
Harry and Cedric exchanged glances, then both of them looked around at the group of adults. Since it seemed that a number of different arguments were about to erupt—and Moody's advice was actually quite sensible—Harry shrugged, nodded to Remus, and followed after the one-legged ex-Auror.
They hadn't been gone two minutes before Madam Mim eased up to Mary Poppins.
"So...is there a reason that Alastor Moody reeks of Polyjuice?" she asked quietly.
Despite his leg, Moody set a good pace to the castle. When Harry and Cedric started to talk about what had just happened, he shushed them. "Not here, lads; let's get you both inside and away from prying ears. Then I'll be wanting the entire story."
Once again, his words seemed sensible. So, the boys kept silence until they were inside Moody's office.
"I thought we were going to the infirmary?" Cedric asked.
"All in good time," Moody said, waving both boys to take seats while he began rummaging through his cabinets. "First, I wanted to hear for myself what it was like."
Both Champions were confused, and it showed on their faces. Irritated, Moody went on. "What was it like, to see the Dark Lord reborn? To stand before him, and to hear his voice?" Moody's excitement was plain, as was his desperation at not being able to find what he was looking for in his supplies.
"I...I guess it was...pretty scary," Harry said, while Cedric only shrugged.
"Oh, yes, it would have been," Moody agreed, now rifling through old potion boxes. "And when he called his servants to him, how many came?" he demanded, whirling on Harry. "How many of them actually had the nerve to come and stand before him once more?" His eyes lit with an eager gleam as he demanded details.
"I...didn't really get a good count," Harry said, then realized something. "But...how did you know that he called the Death Eaters? We never said anything about that, did we, Cedric?"
"Stupefy!" Before Cedric could answer, he slumped over, stunned by the DADA Professor. Harry's head snapped around, only to find himself staring at Moody's wand.
"It was you!" Harry accused.
"Of course it was, Potter! I was the one who confounded the Goblet in the first place; I never expected that fool Poppins to actually come and collect you. I altered the portkey and placed it in the maze, right under that senile idiot Dumbledore's very nose! Then, just to make sure that you'd be the one to get the cup, I got myself assigned to 'patrol duty' around the maze. I put an Imperio on Krum to get him to take out the Veela bint, and he almost took out your boyfriend there," the one-eyed man said, gesturing at the unconscious Cedric.
"He's not my boyfriend," Harry groused, holding his bleeding arm.
"If you say so," Moody leered. "He certainly was making eyes at you on the way up here," he went on.
"He's not my boyfriend," Harry repeated hotly.
Moody just leered again, then shook his head. "Whatever. Anyway, I never thought that you'd be such a gentleman and let him take the cup with you. He never should have been to the graveyard; I'm surprised that he's still alive. So...what was it like?" he crouched in front of Harry expectantly.
"He's hideous, and when I bit his arm off it tasted awful," Harry shrugged, making a face at the remembered taste.
"You...bit his arm off?" Moody recoiled. "You little fool! You maimed the Dark Lord! Oh, he'll make your life a living hell..."
BOOM!
The door to Moody's office exploded inward, and Mary Poppins, Albus Dumbledore and Madam Mim charged into the office. In the hall behind them, Harry had a glimpse of Sirius, Remus, Snape and Fudge, as well as several others.
Moody recoiled from the threesome, his wand flying from his hand to Mary Poppins as he backed up against the wall. Dumbledore kept him at wand point while Mim advanced on him like a tiger stalking a deer.
"Well, well, well...so, I wonder just who's hiding underneath all that Polyjuice," she purred. "Let's see, shall we?" Reaching into her skirts she pulled out a small bag. Shaking out a bit of powder from the bag into her hand, she blew the powder into the face of the Hogwarts professor. Moody jerked back, but couldn't avoid the small cloud that settled around him. As soon as the dust touched him, his features began to shift and transform, quickly settling into...
"Barty Crouch, Junior!" Dumbledore barked. "But, he died in Azkaban!"
"Apparently not," Mary Poppins said, looking at the young man carefully. "Perhaps if your Potions Master could arrange for some Veritiserum, we might find out what has really happened?"
"Right away," Snape said from the door, then disappeared.
"Oh, I don't know that we'll need to wait for that," Mim laughed, then locked eyes with the faux Professor. "You're the real Barty, Junior, aren't you?"
Crouch's eyes glazed over, and his voice was flat. "Yes, my lady."
"Very good, Junior. Now, who tampered with the Goblet of Fire?" Mim's voice was honey-sweet as she questioned the (much) younger man.
"I did."
"And did you do it under someone's orders?"
"Yes."
"Whose orders?"
"The Dark Lord's."
"Ah...that would be Voldemort?"
"Yes."
"And did you tamper with the Tournament Cup?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To send Harry Potter to the Dark Lord."
"Why?"
"So that Potter's blood could be used in the ritual of rebirth for the Dark Lord."
"The bone, flesh and blood ritual?"
"Yes."
"Since you were here, who did the ritual?"
"Wormtail, Mistress."
"And did it work?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"My Mark burned when he summoned his loyal followers."
"Just now?"
"Some time ago, Mistress. Earlier today, after Potter was sent to him. Also, Potter told me about his return; the stupid boy claims that he dueled the Dark Lord and bit his arm off."
"Indeed," Mim said, breaking eye contact and stepping back. "Well, that's that. Now, what do we do with him?"
"He's an Azkaban escapee, he'll be Kissed at once, of course!" Cornelius Fudge burst out.
"Certainly not! He's our best witness, aside from Harry, as to just what transpired today." Dumbledore said.
"Mim, stay with him; don't let him be Kissed," Mary Poppins ordered. "I'm going to take Harry and Cedric to the infirmary; Harry's arm should have been treated long before now." Waking Cedric, she escorted the two young men out, away from the mob in the DADA Professor's office.
Sorting out Harry's wounds took Poppy Pomphrey less than fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for the Champions, she then scanned the pair and decreed that both of them would be staying over night for observation. Harry was showing evidence of magical exhaustion, and Cedric had a faint residue of Dark magic clinging to him.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you'd been brushed by the Killing Curse," Poppy said, which of course led the boys to telling her exactly what happened to them during the task.
"Oh, Merlin!" was her only response. "You mean to tell me, Mr. Potter, that you bit the arm off of the Dark Lord?"
"Well, I was a dragon at the time," Harry blushed, making Cedric laugh out loud.
"Only Harry," the Hufflepuff laughed, ruffling Harry's hair.
"Gerroff!" Harry protested, trying (and failing) to duck away from the older boy.
Poppy was waving her wand over Harry once more. "I don't find anything wrong with your digestive tract, Mr. Potter, although there is some sort of strange residue in your stomach. I'll give you a purgative which should clear it out in just a few hours." The nurse bustled off, shaking her head.
"Oh, joy. A purgative. Can my life get any worse?" Harry moaned, to Cedric's fresh laughs.
"Don't worry, I'm sure that she won't tell anyone. Me, on the other hand, I'll have blackmail material on the 'Great Harry Potter' for the rest of my life!"
"Git!" Harry attacked, grabbing Cedric and sending his fingers looking for ticklish spots.
"Augh! Help! Get him off me!" Cedric laughed, fighting back weakly.
"Boys! That will be quite enough!" Poppy barked, returning with a small bottle in her hand, a smile on her face. "Separate beds, if you please. I must say, Mr. Potter, from the articles in the Prophet I'd assumed that you and Oliver Wood were...an 'item'?
Harry had the grace to blush. "Oliver and I are just good friends," Harry demurred. "We both love Quidditch, and his team has been kind enough to let me fly with them sometimes."
"I see," Poppy said. "Well, then, drink this; you know where the water closet is. I also want you to drink plenty of water, and both of you should eat everything on the plates the house elves bring you tonight and tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?"
Both boys nodded, and Harry gulped the vial's contents while Cedric looked on in sympathy. Taking back the flask, Poppy made to return to her office. "Now, I want you both to rest; there will time enough tomorrow for dealing with the repercussions of the Tournament."
When she had gone, Cedric sat up and looked over at Harry. "Before that stuff starts to work, I need to ask you some things."
"What?" Harry asked, suspicious.
"First of all...was I dead, back there? I remember seeing the AK coming at me, and then...everything went dark, until I woke up and your Headmistress brought us back here."
Harry paused, then shrugged. "I honestly don't know, Cedric. I tried to shove you out of the way, but I hit my head and passed out. When I woke up, I was bound to a tombstone, and Wormtail took my blood to bring back Voldemort. And then," Harry shrugged. "You heard the rest."
"So...Dark Lords taste bad?" Cedric asked curiously.
"Really, really bad," Harry said, making a face and smacking his mouth at the memory.
"Oh," Cedric said. "What about Oliver Wood?"
"I've never bitten his arm off," Harry joked.
"That's not what I meant!" Cedric snapped. Then, he also blushed. "I meant...about him being your boyfriend," he finished.
"Oliver and I...I don't know what we are," Harry confessed softly. "We've gone out a couple of times, but...I don't know," he finished, shaking his head. Then, he looked up at the other young man. "Why?"
Cedric blushed to the roots of his hair. "I just thought...this summer, if you had the time...you and I could go flying, maybe?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah, that could be fun." Then, he grinned impishly. "Maybe Oliver might want to come with us?"
Cedric looked sour, then grinned himself. "What do you think Oliver would say about that?"
"Knowing Oliver, he'd probably be all for it," Harry smirked. "I think I should warn you; he can be a bit...insistent, if you know what I mean."
"I think I'm looking forward to finding out," Cedric smirked back.
Harry didn't respond, but got a strange look on his face and ran from the room. It was the last that Cedric saw of him for several hours.
By the time Poppy released the boys the next morning, the Daily Prophet had already arrived. Fueling the various rumors and lies was the fact that Harry and Cedric had both been sequestered in the infirmary overnight.
Harry invited Cedric and his parents to a late breakfast in the guest quarters, which they eagerly accepted. It turned out that, as Mary Poppins had suspected, Fudge had tried to have Crouch Jr. kissed overnight.
Madam Mim was fishing for compliments in her new dress, which looked suspiciously like a Dementor's robe. When Sirius told her she looked lovely in it, she blushed and said, "they're spectral creatures, hard to fight, those Dementors. The trick's to turn them solid, then you can gut 'em like fish." She promised to show them all the technique later, when they had more time and a proper place to practice.
Amelia Bones had sent a special team of Aurors to collect the younger Crouch, and he was now in her custody. The head of the DMLE had had a few choice words with the Minister, so there was very little fear that he would be Kissed before having a second, proper trial.
Ludo Bagman had vanished, and there were rumors of him being on the run from Goblin debt collectors. Leprechaun gold had been mentioned, and since no one with any sense ever tried to cheat a Goblin, it wasn't expected that he would be putting in an appearance any time soon.
Harry and Cedric had been declared co-winners in the Triwizard Tournament, and would split the prize money between them. An interview with the Prophet and the other papers was scheduled for later that day, so Harry and Cedric had time to work out their stories. Fudge was still insisting that the Dark Lord hadn't returned; Harry was determined to prove that he had, and was going to offer pensieve and Veritiserum testimony to that effect. Eddie Spindle had returned to London, but was expected back at Hogwarts early in the afternoon with a legal-grade pensieve, certified Veritiserum and a wizarding stenographer...just in case. Amelia Bones had also promised to return that afternoon, so that Harry would only have to go through the procedure a single time.
Dumbledore, to absolutely no one's surprise, invited himself to their morning meeting. He claimed to be quite happy with Harry's survival, and made no bones about his certainty that Harry was telling the truth about the incidents in the graveyard. He was less than happy when Mary Poppins and Madam Mim both turned on him about just how the Dark Lord had managed to come back.
"He looked like a snake, he did," Mim insisted. "That means he's probably used the old Assyrian, or maybe Babylonian, rituals. That leaves us with two choices: a phylactery, or a horcrux. Which is it, Albus?"
Dumbledore hemmed and hawed, but finally admitted that he was almost certain that the former Tom Riddle had made at least one horcrux for himself. "But it probably is more," he said. "I've been researching the subject, and I believe that he may have made as many as six."
"That would explain a great deal," Mary Poppins mused, Madam Mim nodding her agreement. "If true, then he'll be virtually immortal until the last one of them is destroyed; the disadvantage for him is that splitting one's soul so many times leaves each fragment significantly weaker than larger pieces would be."
"He's probably used seven as his linking number," Remus added, thinking out loud. "Seven is such a strong magical number, I wouldn't be at all surprised if there weren't rituals using seven soul fragments that would bolster the strength of each fragment. We need to ask Doctor Facilier and Hades about that, Maleficent, too."
"Right you are," Mim agreed. "One of them will know, that's for certain. Still, he didn't have the advantage of that in the graveyard; sweetness here," she laughed, ruffling Harry's hair and ignoring his 'gerroff, old hag', "did us all proud."
"Yes, he most certainly did," Albus beamed. "I'm certainly looking forward to having him back next year, so we can all see just how far he's come these last few months."
"Yes, well, pity he won't be coming back, Albus," Sirius grinned.
"WHAT? I can't allow that!" Dumbledore thundered, then caught himself. "I mean...of course, Harry will return here next year; the contract of the Goblet has been completed. There's absolutely no reason for him not to return to Hogwarts for the remainder of his education."
"Except that 'he' doesn't want to," Harry said firmly. "I've learned more these last few months than any three Hogwarts graduates put together, Dumbles. Plus, I've not had to put up with ghosts who only teach one tiny piece of a subject, Professors who hate me, or meddling old coots in general. Nope, not coming back, and you can't say I'm not learning," Harry bored on, running right over Dumbledore's attempt to interrupt him. "I passed my OWLS with flying colors, and I'll be doing the same thing on my NEWTS next spring, two years early."
"We did a little research, Albus," Mary Poppins said. "It's amazing what the Unspeakables have stored away, especially in the prophecy room. And, since Harry is the subject of several of them," she smiled. "Oh, yes! Surely you didn't think that yours was the only seer to have commented on my pupil, here?"
Dumbledore's shock was plain to see. "I...no, I suppose that it never occurred to me that there might be more than one prophecy concerning Harry."
"Sloppy," was all that Mary Poppins said about that. "Still and all, prophecies are bothersome things, subject to interpretation and not at all reliable. The best course is usually to ignore them, and let events play out as they will. Sadly, we suspect that Mr. Riddle has already heard at least some of your prophecy. Because of that, he's convinced that he must kill Harry, or be killed by him. So, like it or not, Harry must act as though the prophecy is true." She sniffed once, shaking her head. "As I said, sloppy."
"But you see why Harry must come back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore insisted. "This is the only place where he can be trained to face Voldemort..."
"Like my parents were trained?" Harry scoffed. "No, I won't be quiet about this," he said, waving down several people who tried to shush him. "James and Lily Potter were both Hogwarts graduates, and neither of them lasted more than a few minutes against Riddle. I've faced him twice now, while I've been at 'the safest place in Britain'; I can tell you that he doesn't care about Goblin rebellions, or turning hedgehogs into pincushions. He doesn't fight with cheering charms or flobberworm spit, either. No, coming back here is only the surest way I can think of to get myself killed. I'm perfectly happy with Mary Poppins and her friends as teachers. If there's any way that I can keep them, then I will," he said, smiling at the woman who had been his Headmistress for the past several months.
Mary Poppins looked stern, but the corners of her mouth twitched. "Such cheek! Is this the attitude I can expect from you for the next year, Mr. Potter?"
Harry shrugged, grinning and trying to look charming. "Maybe," he admitted, then turned the puppy dog eyes on full force.
"Harry, please...I can always arrange extra training for you, with myself, or Professor Snape," Dumbledore tried one last time.
"SNAPE! Is that the best you can do, old man?" Harry exploded, then began laughing. "Oh, sweet Morgana, if you ever hoped to lure me back, that was exactly the wrong thing to say!"
"Really, Albus, you know the two of them get on like two cats in a sack!" Remus shook his head.
"Professor Snape can teach Harry things about the Dark Lord..." Dumbledore began.
Madam Mim was the one to cut the old man off this time. "And just how is that helpful, Albus? We already know that he'll go to any extent to increase his power, even to splitting his soul. I'd say that gives us a pretty good idea of what his limits are—exactly nothing! So, we need to train Harry to face someone who'll do anything, kill anyone, suck the magic out of all and sundry to achieve his goals. Now, what else can your boy teach mine, here?"
"Professor Snape..."
"Won't last two minutes with me. I'll eat the greasy git, and be done with it," Harry said mulishly. "And if I can get a jury of former students of his, I'll not only get off, but they'll give me a medal."
"Mr. Potter is essentially correct in that," Eddie Spindle spoke up for the first time. "Professor Snape's overt hatred of him is well known, and would be easily established in a court of law. Given the Dark Mark Snape carries, as well as Mr. Potter's history versus the Dark Lord, I rather doubt that any jury would convict him for killing one of the Dark Lord's minions. Even your testimony, Albus," he went on, preempting Dumbledore's reflexive disagreement, "wouldn't be enough to counter that. In fact, once certain...irregularities...concerning Snape's conduct over the years is brought into evidence, it will be very easy to open an investigation of him...and you. I assure you, such an investigation would be quite inconvenient for you, Albus. We know about what you did with the Potter's will, and how you abrogated James and Lily's wishes for Harry's fosterage. How do you think the Prophet will report that, eh?" The tubby little solicitor grinned coldly.
"It was all for the greater good," Dumbledore began, then sputtered to a halt. He was outmaneuvered, and these people had far too much in the way of embarrassing and incriminating details about him for him to bully...for the present. "Very well, do things your way."
"Oh, don't look so glum, Albus," Sirius said lightly. "We'll still be around; after all, you've done the most research on Tommy Boy, you'll have to share it with us."
"Just remember, old man, if we even suspect for a second that you're holding back on us, I'll file charges against you before the Wizengamot for putting me with my aunt and uncle, and then sealing my parents' wills. The Goblins know, and they aren't happy with the way you played them, either," Harry said. "You've stolen from me, and my line, and made the Goblins complicit in your acts. Now, do you really want to be remembered as the man who started a Goblin rebellion?" At that moment, he looked considerably older than his fourteen years.
Dumbledore shook his head, stunned. They had apparently worked out just how he'd used Harry's family money to fund his own manipulations over the past several years. Bringing that to light would ruin him. Now was not the time to object to Harry's plans; he needed to give the appearance of defeat, even cooperation. There would be time aplenty later on to bring Harry back under his control, he was certain of it.
"Well, now that Harry's future education is settled, I say that we all enjoy our breakfast," Sirius said, helping himself to a scone. Since no one had a better idea, getting everyone to go along with him was quite easy.
An Epilogue (of sorts)
Harry's testimony, and the subsequent awards ceremony went off without a hitch. The papers had enough material for several issues worth of front-page stories, and all of the reporters went away satisfied.
Lucius Malfoy was admitted to St. Mungo's on the afternoon of the third task for extensive injuries he sustained when he was 'trampled beneath a mad horse in his stables'. For a while it was debatable as to whether or not he would live, but eventually the superb staff at St. Mungo's managed to pull him through. He did, however, walk with a limp, and never regained full function in his right hand and arm. Because of Harry's testimony, upon his release from hospital he was immediately taken to the Ministry and questioned by Amelia Bones. He did admit to having apparated to the graveyard when his old Mark burned; he claimed it was to investigate the summons. He offered his full cooperation with the DMLE, as well as collaborating Harry's story. As he had already been cleared of charges of supporting the Dark Lord because of the Imperious curse, no new charges were brought. Three days after this story appeared in the Prophet, he was found dead in the gardens behind Malfoy Manor, victim of the AK. The very next day, Narcissa and Draco left Britain for the Continent, and did not return for several years thereafter.
Harry's list of 'people who need visiting' kept Amelia Bone's staff busy for the next several weeks. Most tried to bluff their way through, a la Lucius Malfoy, with varying degrees of success. Some—most notably Avery and Macnair—ran, prompting manhunts that lasted several months. All were either killed or captured prior to Voldemort's last battle. Those who were captured were all Kissed, it having been decided that Azkaban was an insufficient punishment for such as they.
Harry, Mary Poppins, Madam Mim, Sirius and Remus left Hogwarts immediately after the awards ceremony. They returned in small groups, usually one or two of the adults with Harry, at intervals over the next few months to review pensieve memories with Dumbledore and speculate about the horcruxes. Dumbledore initially proved reluctant to involve them fully, but after he contracted a severe rotting curse from one of the horcruxes, he finally realized that he could not find and eliminate them by himself.
Harry, Cedric and Oliver spent a great deal of time together over the summer, and Oliver managed to get both of his friends tickets to several of Puddlemere's games. These evolved into regular seats when the team's management realized just what a marketing coup it would be to advertise that both of the Triwizard Champions were regular attendees.
Harry and his family (which, of course, included Mary Poppins) also spent a month in South America that summer. The horcrux in Harry's scar was removed by a coven of Peruvian sorcerers, and placed into a specially constructed crystal. This crystal was used to scry for the other horcruxes, which eventually led to all of them being found and destroyed.
The crystal itself, when it was the last remaining horcrux, was used to bait a trap for the Dark Lord. In October of what would have been Harry's seventh Hogwarts year, Voldemort and a small cadre of his Death Eaters were brought to Godric's Hollow, where they were met by a much stronger force of Aurors and FOH (Friends of Harry), along with Harry himself. Using a custom-made wand (to avoid any recurrence of the prior incantum effect), Harry smashed the last crystal and then destroyed the Dark Lord Voldemort once and for all. He didn't have to transform to do it, and those who witnessed the duel later claimed to never having seen such a display of magic in all their lives.
Albus Dumbledore, by then nearly dead from the curse on his arm, found out about the demise of Voldemort the next morning, when he read about it in the Prophet. He was not terribly pleased, even less so when it was three days later before anyone actually showed up in person to tell him about the battle.
Dumbledore died later that year. It was a major scandal when Harry did not appear at the funeral; however, it was later revealed that he was unable to 'get away' to attend. At the time, Harry was working with the ICW, Peruvian and Chilean Ministries to put down a cabal of cannibal necromancers in Terra del Fuego. The Crystal Ball broke the story of Harry's activities, which coincidentally made the Prophet's denunciation of Harry for missing 'his beloved mentor's' funeral seem a bit trite.
The Weasley family eventually settled with the Ministry for a very large, undisclosed sum of galleons. Molly died from acute apoplexy during a meeting with Fudge and Crouch, Sr. shortly after Ron was admitted to St. Mungo's. Arthur retired from the Ministry, and returned to the Burrow, where he spent the remainder of his days tinkering with his beloved muggle items and spoiling his grandchildren. The twins eventually became the proprietors of the largest chain of joke shops in Britain, buying out Zonko's in their twelfth year of operation of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Ginny transferred to Beauxbatons, but was forced to withdraw due to pregnancy in her sixth year. She married the boy—a young French wizard from a good family—but was divorced two years later, when he caught her in flagrante delicto with another wizard. She eventually had seven husbands, but only three more children, all of whom Arthur raised.
Ron Weasley left St. Mungo's after almost a year as a brain-damaged squib. Without any usable magic or skills, he ultimately found a job as a janitor for his beloved Chudley Cannons. He held that post for many years, becoming something of a team mascot and much-adored figure to the fans. He died an old, old man, happy and content with his life. Years later, Harry Potter would be asked about his friend Ron. This is what he had to say during that interview:
"Ron always wanted to be special. I guess, in the end, that's what he got."
Hermione Granger's parents removed her from Hogwarts after the events of the second task. Apparently, Hermione's fear of drowning prompted her to 'tell all' about just what her time at Hogwarts had been like; her parents subsequently refused to allow her to return. She became the most hated and reviled Oxford don of the century before taking a position in the muggle government where she could harangue people on a global scale. She never did marry, and died old, alone, and bitter, to absolutely no one's surprise.
Gabrielle Delacour eventually married a fellow student from Beauxbatons; the young man was from a poor family of good reputation and name, and also had part-Veela blood himself. They had five children, all of them blond and beautiful. She and Harry remained friends for life, and her husband did quite well for his family as manager of the Potter and Black interests in Europe.
Cedric Diggory married Cho Chang, and had one son, Edward, who was sorted into Ravenclaw. Cedric was widowed after five years of marriage, when Cho was struck by a muggle lorry while coming out of Harrods. He never remarried, much preferring the single life, and eventually took a position in Magical Games and Sports after a ten-year Quidditch career. He retired as Director of MGS and lived out his life as a gentleman of leisure...between sitting for four grandchildren, managing the Black Foundation for Lycanthropic Research and Treatment, and administering the Remus Lupin Scholarship Program for magicals who wanted further education in the muggle world. He joked that Harry Potter beat him over the head with a broom to get him to take the Foundation and Program off of his, Harry's, hands—a story that Harry refused to either confirm or deny.
Harry Potter never married, but he and Oliver Wood had 'an arrangement' between the two of them that lasted nearly a century. Some ten years after the death of Voldemort, several of Tom's supporters rallied behind Pansy Parkinson, who fancied herself the next Dark Lady. The subsequent 'war' lasted almost six weeks before Harry put the former Slytherin in Azkaban for life; sadly, killing the families of muggleborn infants had been Parkinson's main form of entertainment. Harry adopted two of these babies, and Oliver one, so that their London townhouse was rarely quiet, especially since Cedric and his son were virtually permanent residents with them. Harry thumbed his nose at all convention and did blood adoptions on all three children, making them his or Oliver's both magically and biologically. To no one's surprise, Harry's oldest, James Sirius, had shocking green eyes and messy black hair. Abigail, his daughter, developed a rust-brown hair and deep green eyes, and everyone told Harry that she had Lily's face. Oliver's daughter, Shanna, had her father's freckles, hair and temperament; she later went on to be the Captain of the Harpies, taking them to the All-England cup four years running. At first, Harry gave each member of his family a daily dose of medicine from his own tonic bottle, before passing the secret of its construction off to each of the children. Eventually, Harry also made one for 'Uncle' Nicholas Flamel, who taught the children potions and alchemy, as well as magical history.
Abigail Potter married Gabrielle's oldest boy, Jacques, in what was billed as the 'Wizarding Wedding of the Century'. This cemented the alliance between the families and gave Harry an excuse to buy (another) villa in France as a wedding gift. One year later, they presented Harry with his first grandchild, Jacques Harold Roché, who would one day succeed his uncle, James S. Potter, as Supreme Mugwump of the ICW.
Sirius Black married a young witch who worked in the Ministry; they had one son before separating after three years of marriage. They never divorced, however, and were frequently seen together in their later years. Their son, Solaris Black, became one of the most respected judges to ever sit on the wizarding bench.
Remus Lupin married a young woman who also carried the lycanthropic curse. Because of the curse, they were never able to have children, but 'Mamma Anna' and 'Papa Remus' never lacked for children to love, nappies to change, or grandchildren to spoil rotten. Remus remained friends with Madam Maleficent, and he and she collaborated on several Defense Against the Dark Arts texts, as well as advancements in magical medicine that eventually led to a treatment—a regime of potions, spells and meditation exercises—to allow lycanthropes full control of the change.
Neville Longbottom eventually asked Hannah Abbott to marry him; they had been out of Hogwarts for all of three weeks before she allowed him to 'pop the question'. He obtained his Mastery in Herbology and worked for one of Harry's companies as a researcher before taking Pomona Sprout's position upon her retirement. He served as Hogwarts Professor of Herbology, as well as Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmaster, until becoming Hogwarts Headmaster, a post he held until his death. He would be remembered as one of the greatest Headmasters in the history of the school, revamping the curriculum to reflect changes in the modern world, and presiding over the single greatest increase in OWL and NEWT scores ever recorded. He is also remembered for his willingness to open the school more to the families of the students, as well as his propensity for bringing in 'special lecturers', including Harry Potter, on a regular basis.
Hannah Abbott became the Lady Longbottom, and exactly twelve months later gave birth to August Franklin Harold Longbottom, who would serve six terms as Minister of Magic...four by general election and two at the insistence of the Wizengamot...but that's another story altogether. For her part, Augusta doted on her many grandchildren—related by blood or not—and practically wallowed in being the Dowager Lady Longbottom. With the assistance of a small brown medicine bottle (a gift from an 'old friend'), she lived to the ripe old age of 212, and died peacefully in her bed, surrounded by family and friends.
Oliver Wood went from Quidditch player to assistant coach, then to coach of Puddlemere United, eventually becoming the winningest coach in Quidditch history. Harry played professionally for eight years (three for Falmouth, five at Puddlemere), before retiring. He later bought Puddlemere, and spent the rest of his life raising his family, managing his family's fortune and estates, and teaching occasional seminars for Aurors and Unspeakables. From time to time, he also was called upon to deal with Dark wizards around the globe, but he preferred to keep this to an absolute minimum. He always asked that the local authorities use every resource at their disposal before stepping in himself, and always made a point of 'assisting', never taking over and doing it himself. He disappeared on his one hundredth birthday, and according to a prophesy made by no less a personage than Cybil Trelawney, he will return (along with Merlin and Arthur) at Britain's hour of greatest need.
And Mary Poppins? She served as governess and tutor to Harry, Oliver and Cedric's children, and their children; along with her friends, she saw to it that they never lacked for an appropriate education. However, she would never stay any longer than she was needed, and always left right after the wind changed...
The End
A/N: As this story was beginning to form up in my mind, I saw a picture, taken at a convention, of several of Disney's 'Evil Queens' together. These queens (drag queens, all) had obviously worked hard to bring these characters to life…and the basics of this story immediately fell into place! Of course (I reasoned) Mary Poppins knows everyone worth knowing, of course they'd come at her call to help the (utter hapless yet adorable) Harry Potter. Of course, most of them would do it just on Mary Poppins' say-so; that they all could get a chance to twit Albus-bloody-Dumbledore would just be icing on the cake!
And so...the story you've just read. Now, go out, and buy all of the Harry Potter movies, as well as all of the Disney 'Evil Queen' movies you can get your grubby little mits on! Spit spot, off with you!
The Labyrinth/HP Xover I mentioned in the last chapter's notes is Genkaifan's "What Is Said, Is Said" (Shout Out! To crystaldove and Ghostgal, who clued me in to this). ReflectionsofReality's review lays out an extended syllabus for Harry, including suggestions for Professors in other subjects; I rather doubt that I'll ever write the sequel Reflections wants, so if anyone wants to take these ideas and run with them I won't say boo. I would, however, like a heads-up if someone does take this story idea further.
-and for those of you who were wondering...
Castratios: the castration hex, quite nasty and banned in most internationally sanctioned duels. Let's your opponents know you're serious, and usually rattles them no end.
Accio hepar: literally, summon (the) liver, favored by Mim for two reasons—(1) it's hard to fight without your liver, and (2) she likes liver, especially fresh, preferably spread on toast or scones, with butter and jam.