Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. This is a rewrite of a fic from 4 years ago.

Warnings: AU, mentions of child abuse, ongoing theme of drug abuse, some character bashing (but only such that it follows canon and canon trends), spoilers through Deathly Hallows, coarse language, some minor OCs.

Chapter 10: Knife in the Dark

Harry was in over his head, but at least he was aware of the fact. He wasn't stupid, wasn't self-sacrificial, wasn't rushing into the heat of the moment. It was a calculated risk. He'd seen Hadley fighting Voldemort, desperate, how badly she limped, even if she didn't realize it. The endorphins must have been heavenly, or they would have been if she hadn't been in such a rage.

It had been as Voldemort described his most faithful follower that she became angry. He couldn't help but wonder why; Harry remembered this night quite well, better than any of the rest of his fourth year certainly. He had never been angry really, just desperate, afraid, and determined.

Maybe it was a hormone thing.

Still, Harry took that into account, and the way that he could feel the shades of his parents, the ministry lady, and the old muggle staring at him through his cloak. Could the dead see through Death's own cloak? Or perhaps it was because the shades from a Priori Incantatem were so similar to the ones that came from the Resurrection Stone he kept on a chain under his shirt. They knew he was there, either way. And though they said nothing to him and he couldn't read lips, he thought his parents, Hadley's parents, were trusting him to guard her escape.

The Priori Incantatem was more impressive from the outside, he decided. Sure, being levitated two feet off the ground surrounded by an orb of moving golden light and phoenix song coming from one's own wand was amazing, an experience that could be compared to no other, but seeing it from the outside…

The Death Eaters were panicked, trying to think of how to help their Lord, their Lord who didn't want their help. They could not physically pass the barrier, nor could any spell penetrate it, and some of those who Harry supposed must be more evil than other, more steeped in dark magic, could barely stand against the Phoenix song. Harry supposed he should feel reassured that he really hadn't ever gone dark, knowing that the song in the hair only made his blood hum with adrenaline and pressed at his potion laden mind to bring a smile to his face, but all he truly managed to feel was certain. Certain he would make it out alive, and so would Hadley, and that was what mattered.

The exact moment Hadley was dropping the connection, Harry knew. He saw the specters swarm Voldemort, and thanked them silently. There was no way he would escape completely intact if he had the newly risen Dark Lord on his hands too. As it was, there were more Death Eaters present than he could ever dream to fight.

He kept his cloak on as he started throwing stunners. He wasn't stupid, he didn't want to be found. His only advantages were that they could not detect him except to trace where his spells came from (and he ran the moment he cast to make that useless, or close to it) and the element of surprise. Their only foe was meant to be a fourteen year-old girl after all. They weren't expecting an invisible, older, male version of that girl who had spent a year camped out in the English countryside with nothing better to do than practice quick casting.

He'd practiced dodging a bit too, having realized that shield spells were easy to break with the dark spells favored by the opposition. Sometimes after casting he would move behind the nearest tombstone. Sometimes in front of it, low to the ground so debris would fly over him. Sometimes he would sprint between several and end up well out of the firing spells. In the beginning, he had only one goal; hith Hadley gone ten seconds in, he had none, and was ready to disapparate on the spot – until he saw a huddled form in black with a hand of liquid silver.

He was going to save Sirius. He was going to right his wrong, in allowing Wormtail to be spared, so long ago. He needed his godfather – Hadley's godfather, he reminded himself, this Sirius might even despise him, much as the though pressed against his Serene barrier – free. Free so that any chance of him dying in a year's time was gone. Hadley knew the prophecy, but she still might go running if Sirius was in danger. If Sirius being in danger was more easily debunked, if the chance was nil, it wouldn't happen at all.

So as Harry kept things interesting, he made his way to the nervous form of Pettigrew. He stopped casting entirely a minute before he made it to the rat, the last spell being a silencing charm on his feet to make him a little harder to find. The second to last spell was one that made a loud crack noise, like he had disapparated. He crept up behind the man, held the holly wand an inch away from the small of his back, and as quickly as could be, a stunner was cast.

Harry grabbed Wormtail, and apparated away to Hogsmeade.

The fact that he managed it at all… blood was singing in his ears, the adrenaline still racing. Harry had never done anything like it. He'd barely been on the winning side in the war, could hardly believe he'd managed to evade so many Death Eaters all at once. He'd heard Voldemort could trace apparition, but he wouldn't. Probably. Just in case, Harry levitated Wormtail ahead of him quickly as he passed through the gates to Hogwarts, not removing his cloak until he could see the Pitch. He still breathed heavily, unused to the exertion of all the short sprints he had done. The past year had perhaps been the most sedentary of his life, after all.

Approaching the Pitch, Harry knew something was wrong. The maze was gone, collapsed back down he supposed, something that, for him, hadn't been done until the day after the Tournament. Noise other than cheering for the winners or heated debate about Voldemort's return rose in the air. He could hear… crying, he thought, though mostly it was silent to his ears. In reality, it was mostly stunned muttering, but Harry lacked Extendable Ears considering they had yet to be invented.

Wary, he stunned Peter a second time, adding an incarcerous to the mix, and a simple sticking charm to make him stick to the dirt path. Unfortunately, he didn't know the spell to prevent animagus transformation, but it was the best he could do. Harry shoved his invisibility cloak in his pocket and started jogging toward the pitch.

He hadn't been mistaken about the crying.

Although there was no grand scene of Hadley slumped over Cedric's corpse sobbing, and Mr Diggory screaming, there wasn't a stoic or smiling face in the entire stadium. Harry could pick out Mrs Weasley clutching her younger children to her at the base of one stand, and Bill both holding Hadley back from running and trying to soothe her. The Diggory parents were holding each other tightly outside the Medical Tent that was set up just outside where the maze's entrance had been.

Dumbledore, ever visible in his lurid purple robes, was having a stand-off with Cornelius Fudge over a fallen body with blond hair. Harry's heart leapt into his throat.

Colliding heavily with the ground, bad leg first, for the fourth time in the past hour was a terrible experience. Endorphins were a lovely thing, had kept her afloat until this point, but the last collision with the ground was apparently not okay, even if the previous impact had been less than a minute beforehand.

Hadley whimpered as she struck the ground, Triwizard Cup falling limply from her fingers that twitched open in pain. The portkey rolled a meter or two away, a sort of bouncing roll to accommodate the arched silver handles as it tumbled away, the springy grass of the pitch helping it along.

Looking into the crowd before her, Hadley could see it was helping them along too, and in no way she would ever, could ever… She mewled pathetically and fell to her knees.

She had escaped one battle, yes, perhaps with the help of Harry if she hadn't been hearing things, but what she walked into was a serious hostage situation. Or, so she would discover minutes later. For now, what she saw made no sense, it made her want to scream and rail and just lock everyone up and make them explain individually what the bloody hell was going on.

For not ten meters in front of her, Professor Dumbledore and every other Professor of Hogwarts, as well as several other witches and wizards and the hired security detail all had their wands on Professor Mad-Eye Moody. And Moody… Moody didn't have his wand on any of them. His awkward gash of a mouth was crooked, his blue eyes twirling madly so that none of them would take him by surprise, and his beady black eye gazed straight at Dumbledore. One hand gripped his wand, and the other had a firm grip on a stiff-as-a-board Cedric Diggory.

Moody's wand was to the Champion's temple, and as Hadley realized this, words started filtering in.

"It's too late, Dumbledore! The deed is done by now, the girl is gone!" Moody's voice wasn't right though. It was different. "You dropped the maze yourself."

He hadn't noticed her yet, not that it was any advantage. If she shot a spell, he would… and then Cedric would be… Hadley swallowed past the lump in her throat. She barely knew Cedric of course. They hadn't talked much, even as fellow Champions. He was on her side in the whole "did she enter or not" debate, but otherwise he was just another cute older boy she didn't really know. The big difference was that they competed against each other and she knew his name.

But she wasn't going to risk his life. She thanked whatever deities – or legendary wizards – she could think of that Cedric hadn't been taken by the portkey with her. Moody was apparently insane, but he wasn't a killer. She heard he was among the aurors who resisted using the Unforgiveables in combat at all cost. He wouldn't kill Cedric, surely, not like Voldemort would have.

Unless he was pushed to do so. Hadley bit the inside of her cheek, trying to push the pain away to stand again. It was hard. She had to ignore Cedric's plight – there was nothing she could do – and she had to pretend she couldn't feel her shin bone trying to finish piercing through her skin. She managed.

"Alastor, many concessions have been made for you this past year, too many it would now seem," Dumbledore's voice was low, harder than Hadley had ever heard it. She had heard him being grave of course, telling her the truth of her parents will, the prophecy, and at some of their private talks in earlier years, but never had she heard him so deadly serious. "I can offer you only one concession, if you let the boy down. I can make sure you live."

"Live? You don't have power over my life, and you never have, old man," Moody's chuckle was coarse, but each successive sound seemed less so. "No, only one man has that power, and I would hesitate to bring him down to the level of humanity. No, he's more, more, so much more!"

His grin was utterly manic, and his blond hair was fluttering in a breeze of magic. Hadley's brain paused. Blond? Moody's hair was a sort of salt-and-pepper. Not blond.

Her efforts to move were forgotten as she watched. A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders lightly, and she barely registered Bill's voice as he coerced her into moving with him to the relative safety of the base of the stands where Molly and the other Weasley's stood, wands out and wary. He cast a spell on her leg to keep it steady, and made sure to keep himself between the stand-off and her.

Moody… he wasn't Moody, she realized. His hair was slowly shortening and turning blonder, the scars had been vanishing on by one, face slimming and nose straightening. He didn't even seem to notice, not until, quite suddenly, his leg started to regrow and pushed the pegleg out of the socket, knocking his balance entirely off.

His eyes widened as he suddenly began plummeting to the grass, Cedric's body only helping to weight down his fall, and Hadley wanted to scream, to urge someone to do something. Two flashes of light went off at the same time. One raced for Moody, and the other was directly against Cedric Diggory's head.

Cedric screamed. He screamed. Hadley realized the spell that had been on the tip of not-Moody's tongue had been the Cruciatus. She knew his pain, though she thought Voldemort's would have been stronger. After all, Voldemort's Imperius had been stronger than Moody's. Maybe Cedric would be okay, even though he continued screaming even after that mere moment under the curse. A stunner had taken not-Moody out the moment they struck earth and the magic eye fell out.

The security wizards rushed in and bound Moody, leaving his body to lie as it shrank from the once-burly physique to more lithe, half-starved, and young body. Hadley could barely see from her angle, but something was so familiar about the man. Something that made her want him dead.

Of course, now that she had seen that, she had not a single doubt in her head that he was the one responsible for everything. He was Voldemort's knife in the dark, the one who put her name in the goblet. He was the one who did it all, not Harry. She felt silly for thinking ill of Harry so quickly, Harry who only helped her, when Moody was the one put on probation half the year, Moody was the one who was casting illegal spells and overly hostile to most people. It was so obvious, now, but she supposed it was due to the doubts she had harbored over Harry for months that made her jump to such conclusions.

Now… now she wanted to kick Moody in the balls. And give Harry a hug. And Merlin, she wanted to cry and… she wanted chocolate. Definitely chocolate.

Moody was down. Cedric was unconscious and being levitated to the medical tent while Madame Pomfrey ran beside him, running diagnostics at the same time. Her lips were pursed, thinner than even Petunia managed when she was getting ready to swing a frying pan at her.

Bill's grip on her finally relaxed. "I have to go talk to Dumbledore," Hadley stated the moment it happened, looking up at Bill and daring him to refuse her.

Unfortunately, Mrs Weasley was the one to reply. "Hadley dear, the Headmaster is rather busy at the moment," her smile was kind, and Hadley knew that it was meant kindly, but that didn't make it right. Mrs Weasley had already betrayed her and Hermione once in the past year. And while Hadley adored Mrs Weasley, saw her as the mother she never had…

"Don't coddle me Mrs Weasley," Hadley's fingernails, blunt and gnawed down as they were, still bit into her palms enough to remind her that this was Mrs Weasley and blowing up would not be a bright idea. "I've been attacked by creatures and broken my leg and been hit by two different Unforgiveable curses tonight. I don't care if you think I'm five, you can go back to pretending it tomorrow, but right now… tonight I'm not Hadley. I'm the Girl-Who-Lived, and I need to tell Dumbledore what happened. Now."

She was proud of how level her voice remained. It reminded her a bit of Harry, really, how flat she managed to make her tone, and if it weren't for the fact that she was shaking from pain and her own bullheaded determination, she might wonder if that was how Harry was all the time. He wasn't of course.

Mrs Weasley was less than impressed.

"Please Hadley, you can wait until they've dealt with that man to arrange a meeting with the Headmaster," she stated adamantly. "Sit down and rest. Get your weight of that leg and let yourself think." The Weasley matriarch reached out an arm to Hadley, but the girl stepped back pointedly.

"Mrs Weasley, you don't understand! Whoever that man is, he- he doesn't matter! Not after what I saw five bloody minutes ago!" Staying calm was much harder than she thought. It was a good thing Hadley wasn't aspiring to Harry's level of stoicism.

"Hadley Lily Potter! You will watch your mouth!" Mrs Weasley's sugary tone was now rather more menacing, threatening a scourgify to Hadley's mouth. But what more could be expected from a housewife with no understanding of what had happened. Ron, thankfully, jumped to Hadley's defense.

"Mum, if Hadley says what happened wherever she was gone is more important, you should listen!" His ears were a little red as he did so. "This sort of thing happens every year, and every time…"

"Is it like when you saved me?" Ginny was quieter than usual when she looked at Hadley. Hadley wanted to nod, to say it wasn't any worse than that. But how could she? This was Voldemort, not some imprint and a basilisk.

Voldemort was technically human, and that made him more frightening than any dark creature.

"Enough of this," Mrs Weasley decided to put her foot down then. "Hadley, sit down and wait for Madame Pomfrey to have time to attend you. I'm certain whatever it is can wai-"

"It can't wait! Unless you think Voldemort being back is less important than some nutter unconscious on the lawn, I'm going to go to Dumbledore right now!" Hadley was honestly angry now. How could Mrs Weasley trivialize her like this? She'd even told the woman she had been under two different Unforgiveables that night, and the woman simply didn't care!

No. She cared. Hadley regretted even thinking that Mrs Weasley didn't care, because it was so far from the truth. Mrs Weasley cared, but if caring too much would hurt her too deeply… Hadley could see the woman simply not listening.

Her outburst had the intended effect, at least partially. Mrs Weasley froze, her eyes wide, before gathering Ron and Ginny to her in a smothering hug as if an embrace now would save them any danger in the future. Unfortunately, when Hadley turned to stalk across the field to where Dumbledore argued with the Minister over something she couldn't hear, Bill grabbed her shoulders. When she resisted, he pulled her into a bear hug.

"Hadley, it's not that it can wait, but that it has to," Bill's voice was calm, soothing even. "The Headmaster is arguing with the Minister. I don't know what about. I don't know what Diggory told them when he came running up from Hogsmeade, no one does. But whatever is going on, you have to let them settle this first, or the Minister might not take you seriously. Or it make Professor Dumbledore lose his argument. We don't know. But… I think he might already know what you need to tell him. Just give him a minute to finish this up first."

Later, Hadley would discover that Dumbledore was fighting for the right to have not-Moody interrogated before being sent to Azkaban. The Minister wanted him put straight there, between the sweet words of Malfoy in one ear and the overwhelming evidence of wrong-doing before his very nose. Not that Dumbledore thought the imposter at all innocent, not by any means, but rather that he would like to know the full extent of the crimes and see if his friend's name could be cleared on the matter of the Imperius incident months ago, or the even exploding bins before that.

Crouch was about to concede and even allow Dumbledore the right to view the interrogation via pensieve the interrogation to happen then and there, with veritaserum provided by Hogwarts' own Potions Master.

Then Harry showed up and everything was bollixed.

"Cedric…" Harry's breath was caught as he started racing across the rest of the distance to where Dumbledore and Fudge argued. He had to see if Cedric was alive. And if he wasn't. If Cedric was dead, he would… he would have to avenge the boy. He knew of only one person present who would commit the crime and if he had harmed Cedric…

The distance was short, but so was Harry's breath when he arrived, between his previous bouts of exercise and his encroaching emotions. He even slumped in relief when he could see the body. Straw. The hair was straw blond. And he could see the face now, too slim for Cedric, the body too lanky.

"You got him… Cedric is safe, you got him, he told you…" Harry collapsed to the grass, willing his blood to chill and his heart to slow. Maybe if he had continued his occlumancy in sixth year he would have. Snape's "clear your mind" shit might actually have worked then, considering the potions.

"Do back away, boy, we have business here," Fudge waved a hand at Harry dismissively, his eyes not leaving Dumbledore's for a moment. "Albus, the best I can offer is that a copy of the interrogation be mailed to you. You have the power to view it either way, with your position on the wizengamot, but you do not have the right to take part in an official interrogation any more than I do! Any questions you asked, the answers wouldn't be admissible in court."

"I understand, Cornelius, however-" Harry, however, was having none of it, and cut Dumbledore off then and there.

"You actually want a trial for him, after all he's done? Barty Crouch, Jr?" was it Harry's fault he was incredulous? The evidence was equally incriminating for this as Sirius, but they wanted and interrogation and trial. Sirius had received the courtesy of neither. "He's already been sentenced for life once, with a trial, which was more than most of that lot ever got; he's held every student of this school fourth year and up under the imperious curse, has had the real Mad-Eye Moody under that same curse since September, Viktor Krum under it tonight, and illegally confunded the Goblet of Fire into allowing a fourth entrant, and you think he deserves a trial? Never mind the fact that he murdered his own father just last mo-"

"Quiet!" Dumbledore's voice echoed in the stadium despite the lack of sonorus charm. "My boy, would you kindly report to the medical tent? I do believe you have suffered a bit tonight. I suggest finding Ms Potter and making sure she is attended to."

"Crouch, Jr?" Fudge's voice was snide. "Albus, whoever this boy is, he needs a mind healer. Barty Crouch's son died in Azkaban years ago, buried on the island like any of his ilk. I don't know who this man is but he certainly isn't Barty Crouch, Jr."

Harry still wasn't entirely calm. Small strings of emotions wound their way through him, rousing the tiniest spark of ire for the man before him. The one responsible for a year of torture at the hands of Dolores Umbridge for not only Harry, but so many students. The man whose ignorance could easily take the blame for Sirius' death and the state of affairs after Voldemort rise.

That tiny spark was already overwhelming for him.

"He'll tell you! When you dose him with veritaserum you'll learn he's Barty Crouch, Jr, and that he escaped Azkaban when his dad went to visit him as his mum's last wish before she died. He'll tell you about the Polyjuice Potion they took to swap places until she died and until he pretended to die as his own mum. How he's been under the imperious curse ever since with no one but the house-elf know- Winky!"

And so she appeared. And she saw what appeared to be the corpse of her young master, and she cried, hiccupping, clutching at him until a security wizard yanked her off and stunned her, tiny form slumping in his grasp.

Harry thought he won then. That he helped Dumbledore win, that Fudge would finally hear the man interrogated and sentenced and the world might know about Voldemort's return.

"Albus, I demand you have this boy removed immediately! I want to know his name and make sure no mad man like that ever works in my Ministry!" Fudge was halfway blown up, trying to look intimidating as he stared up his nose at Dumbledore, and then not much down it at Harry. "And furthermo- Ah! Excellent! It seems the prisoner's escort has arrived!"

From across the field, three red-robed aurors and a dementor made their way. From the same direction as Harry had come, now he thought of it. He had often idly wondered what effect a dementor would have on him now that could couldn't feel despair, but perhaps he still wouldn't find out. Compared to normal he might as well be bawling his eyes out and screaming at the unfairness of the world.

A moment later, he almost wished he could.

The dementor swung wildly away from his handlers suddenly and descended upon a rather inconspicuous portion of the grounds outside the Pitch. There might have been a half a breath of a scream before the unmistakable glow of black light from a Dementor's Kiss illuminated the area. He couldn't see what happened, really, but Harry knew. He knew exactly what had happened. He wanted to throw up.

Wormtail was... Sirius' ticket to freedom... he had just had his soul sucked dry. No one else would have been over there.

Certainly he was alive, in body least ways, which might do something about the whole affair, but his soul was gone. Harry had been told that the mind of a truly soulless man was impossible for even the most talented Legilimens to traverse and come out sane.

Pettigrew couldn't give testimony. He could exist, at best. And Sirius...

A large black dog that had been seated with the Headmaster at the judge's panel whined.

An hour later, Harry was seated on his bed in the London apartment. His excuse, when getting special permission from Dumbledore, was that he was seeing too many terrible things. In reality, he needed somewhere to go and quietly take a little too much Serenity Solution to calm his nerves. Everything had gone wrong that night, or almost everything. He was certain of it.

Wormtail's soul had been eaten before he had even been turned in to the aurors. While that meant that the dementor was put down then and there, completely and utterly destroyed it, it also meant the destruction of Harry's half-baked plan.

It wasn't his Sirius sitting up with Hadley in the infirmary right now, meeting Mrs Weasley for the first time. It wasn't his Sirius at all, but he still wanted the man free. Free so his Sirius could be symbolically, to make up for getting Sirius killed, to spare Hadley the pain that could easily have sent her over the edge...

Instead, he was stupid.

The only bright side to that one was that Crouch hadn't been kissed, he supposed. The overenthusiastic dementor was put down immediately, and when they took Crouch it was in shackles. When they took Wormtail, it was with a soft-handed healer and a plethora of people trying to figure out who he was and why he was there. It was only his silver hand that gave away he wasn't a muggle to them.

Harry had barely remembered to tell the Headmaster where he could find the real Alastor Moody before he had left the grounds and apparated home. Hadley would probably have to relive the night for them now, but he knew Dumbledore would come to him for a second view, maybe even a direct memory.

Not even two hours after the event and he was started to have trouble keeping the memory of when it happened to him separate from when he was simply an outsider, observing.

There was no denying that Dumbledore would come for answers. And Harry even had some idea of what he would ask.

Mr Potter, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you stop it? How long did you know about Crouch? How long did you know about Voldemort? How long did you plan to save Cedric and not Hadley? Why did you leave Peter on the lawn? Didn't you See that they would bring a dementor? Why didn't you see it? Why weren't you seen?

How did you come by that fascinating cloak?

The barrage of questions wasn't real, but Harry winced at the last regardless. He had a lot to answer for. But maybe, if he was lucky... maybe Dumbledore would still keep the hands off approach from the school year.

The buzzer rang, and Harry stood, ready to face the music.

A/n: And so concludes Year Four. The next two years will be shorter definitely – Year 6 will end with chapter 20 if all the chapters go according to plan (current chapter plans stretch to chapter 21 - October - but they can definitely change! Already the story is quite different from how I thought a month ago). Chapter 8 was the only reason this one is still where I intended - the plan for it was terrible and ended up totally changed anyway and covered both more and less ground than it was meant to so… yeah.

I know people were happy I left Cedric alive – but I never said he would remain that way, or whole. Wait to see what happened in during the summer chapter(s), I suppose. It was a hostage situation with intent to kill no matter what, Crouch just hoped to be able to escape first. Harry's plans aren't perfect. Because he doesn't feel, he forgets to take emotion into account. Cedric's panic last chapter, Dumbledore own reluctance to believe, Moody's desperation – he can't account for it because he thinks "what would I do?" and sort of forgets how big an impact emotion is for people who feel in regular quantities. So are you really surprised that Cedric isn't all hunky dory?

When Harry feels, he feels too much. He doesn't remember to compare how he felt when emoting normally to how he felt after the emotion compulsion. He just… he doesn't think about it. As much as he hates to feel, he has forgotten how much it really influences people.

Playing Fable 2 right now (thus why I realized at 1 am that the chapter was only half done). So good. Wish I'd borrowed my boyfriend's Xbox sooner! Next on the list is Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. Maybe then I'll understand Sassy Creed. (Then again, Kibs actually hasn't played much either so… maybe not.)