This might seem a little rushed towards the end; sorry, it was getting long and I wanted to get past the book-pieces. hee, and sorry for the cliffhanger...
Anyway, enjoy! We're very close to the end now... So teasers for the next story included.
It was the final task soon. The end of the Triwizard Tournament. The Quidditch pitch had been transformed to a grand, leafy maze; and the Champions were all hard at work.
Pressure from the Ministry of Magic, already high from the Stalker-caused deaths, reached a peak with the death of Barty Crouch senior. It took hasty manoeuvring from Rory/Dumbledore, and the Doctor, to prevent any more major action. One more death may have resulted in the Ministry shutting down Hogwarts.
And all through that, the real, human Dumbledore remained still in his Office, unmoving, and faintly echoing whatever the Doctor said, on his daily visits.
Draco paced around the courtyards. Sometimes, he span around; catching a glimpse of what looked like a woman garbed in black. Now and then, he thought he saw that fearful mask.
She was there; no doubt about that. Yet when she wanted to remain hidden, she could easily stay so. This year was just preparation.
With the death of Dobby, the means had been found. A feral smile greeted her features.
The Doctor was a problem though. She thought back on him; hand tending towards her wand. Steps away, a gargoyle exploded in a sudden jet of her anger. That meddling man knew about her; and he seemed suspicious. He'd seen her in the Third Year.
And he could stop magic. One of the few who might survive a killing curse.
No, she wouldn't kill him, just yet. She'd leave that to Vetis. Another feral smile touched her lips.
It was extinguished at the thought of Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, who vanquished the Dark Lord so long ago, and even now still tried. Still, if the beings-of-mind set on Hogwarts did not conquer him, the later plans surely would.
She was to leave soon. Yet she could not resist one last act of vandalism; one last attack on the hated castle. She stood in the courtyard; away from the wandering students, and faced up at the stone hours.
Screeching, a loud, powerful curse erupted from her lips and wand, the instant she vanished in a blue light. A similar, pale blue shot straight up from her hand, a deadly beam striking the architecture. A long scar etched itself up the tower, gouged into the stone. Chips of the grey brick fell the great distance, stolen from the grand tower, falling to the courtyard below.
It was a petty action. But it spoke volumes: I can reach your castle, through all your defences.
And within Hogwarts, Harry Potter awoke suddenly. From the noise; and from fear of the task ahead. He lay still, shaking at the steady, deafening grating.
It was about half a minute until the curse faded; a scar left in the stone tower of Hogwarts. Meaningless vandalism; pure, petty destructiveness.
Groaning, Harry got up; he needed to practise more for the Task. And he doubted he could get back to sleep.
O
"Stewardess," the Doctor said clearly; heard by Amy and Rory, as he ascended the gargoyle. Dumbledore's Office once more.
Still darkened. No sunlight came through the blinds; however, there was one change. The headmaster sat in his normal seat, hefted there by the Doctor earlier. He didn't look much better. Unmoving, blue eyes wide and staring, sitting unnaturally.
There was one Stalker somewhere in Hogwarts. Just one left; and they had no idea where it was, and who it was in; if it was in anyone.
Someone else was in the Office; a pale grey ghost. Rory. Silently, he drifted out through the wall.
Apparently, the ghost often visited Dumbledore, some kind of comfort. Maybe even entertainment; they had no way to know what was happening to Dumbledore. Maybe he was conscious in there, constantly staring out, helpless, to the world.
The ghost rarely stayed near them however; aside from rare pieces of advice, such as telling Amy to Imperio, he tried to stay away. Avoiding spoilers; and avoiding himself.
It wasn't a topic anyone wanted to discuss. Rory would die soon, and then go to the past of Hogwarts, not necessarily in that order.
The Doctor, Amy and the living Rory looked at the headmaster. The latter two didn't know why they were there; they'd simply followed the Doctor.
"This year is almost over," the Doctor paused, "We'll try to save you."
We'll try to save you. The rasp of the Voice continued after the Doctor's statement; mocking.
O
Draco stood beside Harry; an empty classroom, training for the upcoming Third Task.
"Carpe Retractum," Draco muttered, a robe shooting from the end of his wand, and pulling a box closer. He caught it in his free hand, before throwing it through the air, "Try it Potter! Bombarda!"
The black haired student paused for a moment, before repeating the latter spell; "Bombarda!" the box exploded twice; once from Draco's hex, once from Harry's. A few shards fell to the ground, featureless specks of black.
"Nice," Draco nodded, appreciative, "Reparo, Wingardium Leviosa," he moved his wand in a steady circle, putting the box back together, and levitating it. "Try this one; Duro!"
Harry frowned, unfamiliar with the incantation. Then again, Draco did come from a wizarding family; he was likely to know about more. Absorbing information, Harry watched as the small, metal box turned to stone.
"One, two, three," Harry inhaled, pointing his wand at a quill, "Duro!" Nothing.
"Yeah, not an easy one, huh Potter?" Draco chuckled, levitating the quill, "Duro!"
The feather turned to stone, falling with a clink and cracking on the desk. "We'll practise that one next time, then."
"Might not be a next time," Harry shrugged; "It's getting close to the task."
"Try harder then," Draco snapped for a moment, before frowning and commenting; "I'm on edge, huh? Blame that woman."
"The one in the mask?"
"Of course, "the Slytherin curled his lip; "Who else?"
"She's been talking to you again?" Harry tensed, remembering his own, unpleasant experience with the stranger.
He'd barely seen her; she'd somehow appear behind him, and screeched a Crucio. Agony; right up until the Doctor saved him. The random violence, the uncontrolled fury of that masked woman… It was enough to scare him.
He had but one point of reference for her cruelty. Quirrell. The Basilisk. Tom Riddle: or rather, Lord Voldemort. That was who she reminded him of, unquestionably.
"What'd she want now?" Harry sat down, ready to talk. He subconsciously waved his wand, thinking the incantation Duro again and again. He had to get it right.
"You tell me," Draco pursed his lips. "She's hardly clear."
"Mm," Harry nodded slowly. While he hadn't had any opportunity to talk to her, the little he'd heard of the Doctor speaking to her, she'd vanished as opposed to saying a thing.
They paused; a little silence. They took breaks like this often; intending to speak to each other, yet in the end there was nothing to say. This time, as normally, it was Draco who broke the silence.
"C'mon, back to work Potter," he twirled his wand, "You're the one who's gonna need this magic." He cast Duro once more, turning a quill to stone.
Harry jumped up; pausing, before once again beginning to practise.
O
She had been seen in the castle again; just for a few moments. The woman in the metal mask.
Rory and Amy accompanied each other, wandering around; holding the sonic screwdriver. The Doctor had given it to them, saying it would stop any spells cast on them.
They doubted they'd see her; that woman appeared to be an expert at hiding. Still, maybe they'd get 'lucky': if it could be called luck, stumbling onto a sadistic witch.
"I can't see her," Rory said, just filling in the silence.
"Me neither," Amy sighed. Pause. "Hey, Rory? We need to talk."
"I thought we were," he slumped as the joke was ignored, "What about?"
"The ghost."
"Oh, him," Rory hesitated, "Sorry."
"Whatcha apologizing for?" Amy lightly slapped his shoulder, "I doubt you did it on purpose."
"I know," her husband looked down, "But I don't want to leave you."
"I'll survive," Amy's voice cracked; she knew she was lying, yet she needed to give some comfort to Rory. "I don't blame you, `k? Don't worry about leaving me."
Rory said nothing. Amy winced; she was making all of this up. In truth, she didn't know what she'd do. Last time he died…
She cast her memory away from that moment. Unbearable. Suffice to say, there was nothing worse.
They couldn't meet each others' eyes. From a distance, the ghost of Rory watched, pained. He knew his appearance would cause this: and there was anything he could've done to avoid it… But it had been years, and nothing he thought of would have worked.
The silvery echo turned, to drift away. Lost.
Amy slowed, sonic screwdriver held lightly in her hand. There was no sign of the masked woman, and she didn't feel like she could continue for much more. Maybe they should turn back. Maybe.
From a distance, a woman with tangled hair, and a metal mask, watched, weighing her wand in her hands. She pointed it across the room; focus drifting from Amy, to Rory. Pause.
Reluctantly, she raised her other hand, pulling her wand-arm down. Something important was to happen soon; in the Maze. The Third Task. She was told not to interfere at all.
Still, could one Avada Kedavra hurt? Her pale skin contorted into a smile. Fix the issues later. She re-raised her wand, aiming, ready to fire the killing curse. There was Rory… "Avada-"
"No killing," high voice said, just by her ear; it some in a combination of reluctance and force, "Yet."
The masked woman was pulled back, unwillingly, eyes wide, into a flash of blue.
O
The Quidditch pitch was now dominated by tall, imposing, black leaves: dark trails of bushes, in an immense maze. Somewhere deep within it, lay the Triwizard cup: the task for the Four Champions was to find it.
They stood by the outside; all four, along side Moody, and the Triwizard judges (with McGonagall instead of Dumbledore).
She read off the rules for the task: Harry wasn't really paying attention, instead staring into the maze ahead. He's learnt several new spells, from Hermione and Draco, and despite struggling a little with Duro, he felt more or less prepared. Yet he was up against higher years: that put him at a distinct disadvantage.
Then again, it was a maze. It seemed to be more about luck, finding the right way through the darkness.
McGonagall finished reciting the normal commands. She looked around; noting the Doctor standing beneath the crowd seats; hidden mostly. Quite understandable; considering the fact an Ood stood to his side.
Dumbledore once more; the real one, possessed by the Voice.
The Doctor was still searching for the last Stalker; it would appear he'd decided to come here. Well, it was the most likely place.
"Silence for the Champions!" McGonagall's voice rose, imperious.
The audience was quiet for just a few seconds; yet the break was enough for the Doctor to shake his head, beginning to move, resignedly, away with Dumbledore.
"Let the task begin!" Minerva shouted, stepping back.
With the most points, Harry and Cedric were the first two to enter the maze. Winding through the labyrinth, Harry was soon alone.
The hedges grew to an immense height; they blocked out all trace of the day, and any sound was muffled, perhaps magically, by the silence of the leaves. Almost all light was taken in; stolen from the maze. Tentative, Harry raised his wand, murmuring a "Lumos." A small light formed on the tip of his wand; it showed him little else.
Just the leaves, and scattered path ahead. Tense, the Boy Who Lived continued through the maze.
Spider.
The black haired boy tensed, taking a few, hasty steps back. A huge spider peered around the closest corner, metre-long forelegs moving gently along the branch-strewn ground. Eight insect eyes peered to face Harry.
One second. Two.
It charged; pincers pointed straight at Harry.
"Impedimenta!" Harry shouted, taking a cautious few steps back. The spider hesitated; yet continued, easily batting past the spell.
Harry began to run; directly away from the charging giant spider. But he wasn't fast enough; the arachnid's legs gave it the advantage, each pushing it several metres ahead.
The Champion risked a glance back; seeing the spider charge forwards, legs brushing, snapping the hedges to its side. Harry hesitated; then grinned for a moment. The spider was metres away; pincers outstretched.
"Duro!" Harry shouted, a jet of light shooting from his wand, and striking the hedges.
Either a miracle, luck, or good aim. Whichever it was, the spell hit precisely where Harry intended; the leaves of the bush began to turn to resilient stone, in a localized area granted, but it happened nonetheless. The spider strained at its new, rock bindings; the leaves around its legs were now all unyielding grey.
Harry turned to run; taking a different route, hopefully before the spider escaped. Maybe that spell was worth it after all.
O
"No, no," the Doctor ran up, just as the last of the Champions, Fleur, entered the maze. Minerva looked at him sharply; "It was here," the Doctor panted.
"The Stalker?" McGonagall frowned; suddenly nervous.
Those aliens had killed several students. One left; and now…it was here? In the maze? Where? The questions whirled around in her head.
"It arrived late," the Doctor exhaled, "Very late. Only just heard it as I left. It's in one of the Champions; it has to be. He's silent now."
A Champion? McGonagall was speechless: the final Stalker was possessing a Champion? Which one?
She found herself hoping the tournament would be over soon. That way, they could find the afflicted Champion. Cure him, or her.
If things didn't happen quick enough, it was likely that the Champion would lose their life: and McGonagall couldn't face that.
O
"Cedric!" Harry gasped, almost crashing into the other Hogwarts Champion.
It had been quite some time since the beginning of the task; Harry blinked a few times, struggling a little to keep his eyes open.
The Hufflepuff swayed a little; weary, uniform ripped and singed, hair streaked with dirt and a small cut on his cheek. Then again, Harry supposed he didn't look much better.
"Hi Harry," Diggory nodded, distracted, "You're finding your way through, huh?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded.
With that, their brief correspondence seemed to be over. Cedric passed the Boy Who Lived, journeying down another junction. Seconds later. A piercing scream; a woman's. Fleur.
Harry briefly hesitated; before forcing himself on. Presumably she'd sent up red sparks, if she was overwhelmed; probably by one of the creatures in the maze. Harry continued, yawning once. More seconds; he heard more cries, a man's voice now, muffled hexes and curses shouted.
Cedric. Harry hesitated for just a second, before turning, and running straight down Cedric's route. He heard Cedric's shouts; could see flashes of light, only a few metres away yet hidden in the darkness of the maze. In one burst of red (accompanied by Cedric's yell of "Stupefy!"), Harry caught a glimpse of Cedric, and his opponent.
The Triwizard Champion had his wand-arm raised, pointing the wooden baton past the tall, leafy walls: through the darkness and mist, at another human. A woman; adult, by no means a Champion. She wore a metal mask; and duelled with Cedric, firing bolts of red, white and green, bolts of light like lightning.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, firing the curse over Cedric's shoulder. The woman easily locked it; shooting an irritated look at Harry.
"Imperio!" the masked woman pointed her wand at Harry, rapidly firing the Unforgivable Curse, before returning her attention to Cedric, only marginally distracted by the effort of willpower to control Harry.
The Boy Who Lived saw the world in a haze; unreal, only half-there. As if, with one eyes he saw half the world; Cedric and the unknown woman, shooting curse upon curse at each other, deflecting and retaliating, and with the other eye he saw within his own mind. Darkness; no, one pinpoint of light. And a voice; something speaking.
A voice from the light. Harry found himself eager to hear what the voice had to say. That was his only real feeling; he seemed to be floating, untouched by the harshness of the maze, unaffected by Cedric. He felt no needed to help the Champion who fought for his life, just steps away.
And then the voice from the light spoke; the woman's voice. A harsh edge to out-of-control tones.
Kill the boy.
Against his better judgement, Harry felt his hand tend towards his wand. A grip; he lifted it, trembling, tip edging towards Cedric.
A flash of irritation on the woman's face. Kill him. Now!
The voice was sweetly seductive; the woman was evidently trained to use the Imperius curse. He found it harder to resist than Moody's test, earlier in the year. Indeed, he found it almost impossible to resist. He tensed, opening his mouth to speak the curse.
The words caught in his throat; jaw too tensed to close, tongue kept down by the little will he had. No. A murmur in his head; the light in his mind burned brighter. Kill the boy now. No. Kill him! Her voice reached a perilous height; she snarled, redoubling her efforts, throwing curses at Cedric with twice the speed, twice the ferocity.
And still, the quiet, resisting voice in Harry's head spoke with a small, yet resounding, 'no'.
Kill him! Now the voice was accompanied by a shriek; only half-heard by the distracted Harry. Cedric took a step back; caught off guard with the animalistic noise coming from his opponent.
Kill him! Now! Listen to me!
"No," the word fell from Harry's lips; he looked up, reality flooded back, "No." Firm.
The masked woman screamed one last hex, batting the curses from both Harry and Cedric away. She brought her arm back, poised as if to spring it forwards, jabbing-
She vanished in a blue flash. Cedric and Harry barely had time to look at each other; before another shriek met their ears.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The two Champions instinctively turned, stepping back, pressing themselves to the painful bushes; half-expecting to see a whoosh of green light shoot past them. Yet there was nothing.
Had it happened elsewhere in the maze? Apparently so.
The two Champions turned to move on. It sounded heartless; but there was nothing they could so, and even so, they had no idea as to if it hit anyone. It could have been the insane masked woman, letting out her rage on the air.
They travelled onwards, to wherever to Triwizard Cup lay, now in an unspoken partnership.
O
"Anyone tired? Anyone?" The Doctor waved, leaning forwards.
He was searching for the final Stalker. Maybe it was out here, somewhere. Logic told him it was lost in the maze, with one of the four Champions; but he couldn't stop hoping.
The symptoms of a Stalker: tiredness, inability to stay awake, and later, death. He hoped to find them before the last occurred.
Red sparks shot up, out from the maze; terminating quickly. The Doctor looked up sharply; noticing a few teachers fly over the hedges on brooms, to the source of the warning. Moments later, they came back: carrying Krum.
They deposited the student atop the teacher's box. The fliers stepped away slowly; hesitant. He was dead; an instant uproar gripped the box.
"Krum," Karkaroff exhaled the word; choked, forcing it from his throat.
Silence. Famed Quidditch player Viktor Krum, and Triwizard Champion for Durmstrang lay lifeless just before them.
"Is Hogwarts doing anything for the protection of its students?" Fudge said, after several quiet moments. Incredulous.
"Shut it, will you?" Rory/Dumbledore snapped; momentarily out of character. He paused, cringing; looking back, sadly, to Krum.
The Minister for Magic looked away; abashed.
"Nothing in that maze did this," Snape said, catching their attention. The Doctor looked up suddenly; drawn away from his brooding about death. Yet he soon looked down; Krum's eyes were wide, his skin pale. Unlike that of a Stalker victim.
Snape continued: "I know the signs. He was the victim of a killing curse."
O
The Triwizard cup stood, resplendent, in the centre of the maze. The masked woman watched; two students moved closer to it, and gripped it in unison.
She stepped forwards, and let out a triumphant, feral, cheer. A bolt of light shot from her wand; and she vanished. The victorious white vanished soon after; yet its echo lingered on, forbidding.
Following the path of the Triwizard Cup, Harry Potter found himself in hell. A distant graveyard, full of the dead. The only truly living person there was Peter Pettigrew, Worm-tail. Harry didn't think the shade held in his arms counted as living at all.
Lord Voldemort. The most evil wizard of all time, the Dark Lord, still hanging on to life.
Harry's eyes darted around the graveyard; he force them open, feeling the bizarrely uncontrollable need to sleep. Cedric lay lifeless on the darkened floor; Harry felt a tear fall from his eye.
And then anger burned through him; so much that it obliterated almost all other thought.
Too tired to focus on the pain roaring from his arm and scar, he only truly focused on reality when the resurrected Lord Voldemort stood before him; surrounded by masked, loyal Death Eaters.
A high-pitched, cruel voice. It pierced the night.
"Now untie him, Worm-tail," a mocking smile on that pale, skeletal face, "And give him back his wand."
Harry staggered forwards, struggling to find his feet. He peered up, taking in the thin, pale frame of the Dark Lord. There was no way to survive this; Death Eaters all around, and Voldemort just in front.
He forced his eyes open; keeping himself awake with a visible effort. How was he to survive when it felt as if his life was already being stolen?