"You bastard!" John cried through his tears.

James Moriarty smiled down at him, his wand pointing at the boy.

"Hello Johnny boy, how are you?" His voice was sickly sweet with venom, he bent down and took John's wand.

"You-You just killed my best friend you bastard!" John screamed, tears streaming down his face. He could not look at the body of his friend. This was threatening to swallow him whole. He had to focus though, focus on what was in front of him.

"What do you want from me?" John hissed.

Moriarty bent close to his face and circled around him. John turned to keep him in his sights and noticed that he was surrounded by wizards dressed in black.

"Your boyfriend sent my father to Azkaban where he killed himself," the final words were spat with venom and hate, "He rests here," his hands went wide to a grave without a name, "Now, I can get back at Sherly. I'm going to torture you until you are mad, then I am going to send you back a babbling mess to dear Mr. Holmes." He walked over to Greg's body, "This one was just a happy mistake."

"Don't you dare touch him," John growled and lunged at the bastard.

"Crucio," Moriarty hissed and John was left writhing on the ground.

He could not have prepared for this much pain. It was like being shot a thousand times in the head and never dying. Fire was burning his whole body, melting his skin and burning his bones. John closed his eyes tightly and grit his teeth to keep from screaming in pain.

Moriarty pulled away and stopped the spell, this left John a gasping mess on the mossy ground. He gave him a moment's breath and he began again.

This continued two more times, until John was blinded with pain.

The evil wizard stopped and laughed, "Ha! Look at you, pathetic little bug. Writhing on the ground like the worm you are."

While he was gloating, John managed to clear his head enough to see the cup, right near the body of his dear friend. His eyes caught sight of a wand, Greg's wand.

The deep dark wood blended into the dirt, though John could see it, as he had a thousand times.

He glanced at Moriarty who was beginning to curse him again.

Preparing his weary and pain filled body, he waited another moment. As soon as the red spark left the bastard's wand John lunged for Greg's wand, deflected several of the curses from the other wizards and shot a stunning curse at Moriarty.

He grabbed the cup and the hand of his friend and they were off spinning into the darkness. The last thing he heard was Moriarty shouting at him into the darkness.

John held on for dear life, keeping a good grip on Greg.

They landed with a soft thud and music blared around him. His thoughts collected to the point where he realized he was lying on his best friend's body.

He wailed and glanced up and saw Sherlock and Mycroft running towards him. Sherlock's eyes flashed with worry. His mouth moved as if he were calling John's name, but the Champion was in a daze.

Mycroft was no longer running, more like stumbling along, his face a crumbled cracked mess of pain and denial. His mouth was moving but nothing came out. He reached the body of his lover and the precious umbrella dropped from his unfeeling hands and he fell bonelessly to his knees. His eyes glazed in shock, his mouth hanging open. Mycroft's hands shook violently as they reached for the cold face of his love. He touched Greg and retracted quickly, as if he had been burned. His hands shot to his face and and he crumbled into himself. There was a moment when in all the chaos of teachers and students running around, trying to find out what happened, Sherlock and John watched time stop in Mycroft's grief.

With a sudden movement the eldest Holmes thrust his head back and screamed at the sky. Tear after tear streamed down his face in misery.

John and Sherlock's face reflected their horror in what they were witnessing.

Sherlock was about to grab John and never let him go, when he looked to where John sat, he was gone.

"John?"

He looked further back away and saw Mad eye Moody practically dragging John away.

Sherlock shot up and after them, but just as they entered the room the door closed and locked magically behind him. He banged on it and screamed at the Teacher to let him in, but still the door remained closed.

Suspecting the worst, he ran to find the Headmaster.

/?/

"Sit," The gruff and guttural voice said.

John sat obediently, wiping tears away that were replaced by twice as many.

Moody turned and sat behind the desk.

"So how was he?"

John sniffed and frowned, "What?"

"Moriarty, how was he?" He demanded, growing impatient. He was acting strange anxious, flitting around the room his eyes rolling around in his eye.

"M-Moriarty? H-How did you know?" John said begging to get out of his chair. He was going to make a run for the door, but Moody was ready for him and whipped out his wand and pointed it at John.

"Avada-" The supposed teacher was cut off when the door burst open and McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore stormed in wands raised.

Dumbledore stunned the fake teacher into his chair, just as his face began to melt and squirm, as if it were having trouble staying on his bones.

"Severas," Dumbledore said grimly.

Snape stepped forward and poured something into the bastards mouth.

"What is your real name," Dumbledore demanded.

The fake Moody seemed to be struggling with himself, finally he opened his mouth and gutted out, "Sebastien Moran." Dumbledore was about to say something else when Moody's face began to shake and melt he let out a pained guttural growl and his face began to change.

His hair turned a deep blonde and his cheeks flattened and straightened. The wrinkles smoothed and the swirling eye fell out with a pop.

John stood shocked, staring into the face of a young man, barely older than Mycroft, growling at him.

Dumbledore asked him where the real Moody was and the man was forced to tell them he was in the chest. The teachers opened the mysterious chest and revealed the real Mad eye Moody staring back up at them.

The champion stepped back into the arms of Sherlock. Who enveloped him in a wide embrace and led him out and away.

Most of the outside was still in chaos, a crowd of people surrounded Greg's body, some crying some asking what happened.

Mycroft sat alone, staring ahead not moving, not blinking, staring at the body of his lover.

John was exhausted and still in pain from being tortured. He collapsed in his lover's arms. His eyes growing heavy as the full weight of everything that had happened hit him all at once.

"John!" Sherlock frantically called to him. Begging him not to leave, his voice near hysterics.

John could not summon the energy to answer. The memory of his friend dying, the shock of being lied to this whole time, all to much.

He escaped into the forgiving darkness.