Ooooooooh it's me! It's me! It's D-D-P!

Well, okay. Not quite.

How are you all doing?! I've been busy as hell. I needed to take a step back from this story, too. There's so much that I've got planned, but I only have it planned in theory, you know? I needed to sort it all out, to define it all and let it rest for a bit. They always say that it's hard to spot mistakes in writing right after you've done it. Well, they were right in this case. I took some time and it helped a bit.

Plots are complicated. Or at least, those are the ones that I enjoy personally. I want mine to be complicated, but also logical and easy to follow. Does that make sense?

Anyway, it's been a while. I myself had to go back and reread some chapters to really remember the small bells and whistles I've put into the story so I could piece it all together. I think I did a decent job.

I'll stop rambling now. Enjoy

Chapter 11: An Arduous Dilemma

"Protego! Arrrgh!"

The Irish wizard dove to the side into a nest of leafy foliage, frantically attempting to dodge the second spell. He landed roughly onto his left shoulder, but righted himself into a crouch, watching his adversary warily. Roots, however, suddenly sprung up all around him. They writhed and wrapped tightly around the boy's limbs, pulling taut and tying him to the rainforest floor.

"No! Relashio! RELASHIO!"

The wizard dove once more, popping up to his feet quickly to avoid a repeat performance with the roots. An offensive curse made its way to his lips, half-formed –

He ducked again as another wicked spell shot overhead. Yet another spell followed the first, forcing the boy to run.

The Irish wizard's body weight was causing all of his problems, Harry observed. The wizard, whose shoulder-length red hair was matted wetly to his forehead, was gasping for air. The boy was not fat by any means, but he was large and unnaturally muscular for a seventeen-year-old. There was no way that the wizard was used to that much mass yet, and that was working against him. His steps were too heavy. His upper body heaved with each hulking stride. Too much effort was going into dodging - and even then, his lateral quickness was nowhere near good enough to get any offense in. Harry watched casually from the front row, resting his head atop his folded arms that were propped against the retaining wall.

"Protego!"

Across from the Irish wizard was an Italian witch, calm and collected. The girl's eyes were narrowed in on her target as she shot off yet another nonverbal spell. She was tall and athletic; her black wand, Harry noticed, had a bit of a crook in it at the tip.

It was impressive, Harry thought. He had watched this Irish wizard reach the semifinals, bulldozing his way through the competition with brute force. But to see what this Irish witch had done to the seemingly unstoppable Irishman…she had the wizard in the proverbial Jelly-Legs Jinx. He simply could not muster any offense. The wizard could only hope to get a shield up in between raspy pants for air. Harry would have attacked the boy the same way, forcing him to move his substantial self; the Italian girl deserved credit.

Even in this tournament, nonverbal spell casting was a rarity. Harry's last opponent had used a few nonverbal spells. The only problem was that the spells were very tame. Harry supposed that the other boy had been using them as an attempt to freak him out. His opponents had had to do something, right? It was not like Harry had shown any weaknesses so far.

Harry smirked into his arms. Fool.

Still, this Irish witch could be trouble. She was good. Harry watched her, moving forward on her opponent with her black hair tied back, light on her feet as she prowled closer towards her Irish prey.

"Digitesco!"

'Finally,' Harry thought with amusement. The Irish wizard got a Finger Removing Hex in. The Italian batted it aside easily, though, following up with a Swarming Hex. The rustling sound overhead was surprisingly ominous as the leaves from the canopy of the rainforest shot down, seeking to suffocate the witch's opponent.

"Flagratius!"

There was desperation in that voice. Harry raised his eyebrows as the wizard slashed a line of flames from his wand, scorching the leaves and shooting through the air, straight at the suddenly alarmed witch. Fire enveloped her as she quickly produced a shield of her own. The grass and foliage around her caught fire, producing a substantial amount of smoke. The Irishman grinned and charged forward whilst the witch battled with the flames –

"Glisseo!"

"Bloody idiot," Harry muttered into his arms. "You finally had an advantage – why on earth would you give it back so easily?"

The rainforest floor turned to ice. The Irishman's expression morphed from glee to surprise as his feet slipped out from under him. He crashed mightily down to the rainforest floor, hitting his head on the way down.

The Italian appeared from the smoke, her hair free from ponytail, wildly surrounding her face. Her eyes were livid as she pursed her lips, snarling, pointing her black wand at the nearest tree.

"REDUCTO!"

Wood splintered and exploded in all directions. The crowd roared with surprise and fright; large pieces of wood hit the invisible barrier that contained the duels to the arena. Most of the wood fell innocently to the arena floor, but some wooden shrapnel struck the grounded, glassy-eyed Irish wizard. He didn't even flinch as the wood pierced the skin of his chest and arms. The tree itself, however, was tipped precariously, creaking as its limbs crashed into other trees atop the canopy. And suddenly the ominous rustling gave way to creaking, and then a rush of wind as the tree fell.

"Reducto!"

The witch hit the tree with the spell again, but with a less powerful version. The spell splintered the wood, creating a falling pile of wooden rubble. The bark continued to fall, burying the dazed wizard.

"Accio!"

The bark wriggled and shifted and suddenly a wand shot free of the pile, flying to rest in the Irish witch's hand.

"What a marvelous duel! Let them hear you, ladies and gentlemen! A superb display of magic! Healers are now rushing to tend Finn Aedan's injuries, but your winner for this duel is Earnesta Ruggero! And just like that, Ruggero will be heading to the finals!"

Harry clapped politely from his seat. A Healer had scurried over to the girl to check for any wounds but she shook the poor man off. Her eyes, however, found Harry's. Harry merely smirked, continuing to applaud.

"Alright, my boy! You're up again!" Minister Fudge had sidled up, beaming like a loon. He then frowned, wringing his bowler hat in his pudgy fingers. "It's not fair to have you fight two duels out of the last three. Why, I ought to do something about it! I'm the Minister, after all! I'll go have a word with – "

"Don't," Harry said easily. "It's fine. I've already gotten out of one duel so far, remember? Marcus Flint forfeited. Besides, there's a bit of an intermission before I have to duel -."

One of the event organizers had told Harry about the intermission after his last duel against a German witch. He would have thirty minutes before his duel with the Italian witch.

He was certainly looking forward to it, though.

"I can't believe it – you really are something, Harry," Fudge chuckled merrily. "I had no idea that you were so talented! No one's even touched you so far! It's amazing!"

Harry gave the Minister an indulgent smile. "Well, sir, I've worked very hard. I listen to my teachers and Hogwarts and I've even asked Professor Dumbledore questions. I told you that I'd have a few tricks up my sleeve, didn't I?"

"You did indeed, my boy! It's been an honor to watch you duel – and it's benefited my campaign so much, let me tell you!"

Harry hid a grimace, smiling instead and standing up.

"I'm going to go say hello to my godfather before the finals," Harry decided, patting Fudge on the shoulder. "We'll talk later, yeah?"

Harry did not bother waiting for a response. He wiped his hand on his pant leg as he left the stands. Fudge's glee at the outcome of the tournament so far was an oily, disgusting thing. Pure greed and selfishness was all that motivated the current Minister of Magic. Harry did not like it one bit.

The more Harry saw of the Ministry and people like Fudge, the more he agreed with Voldemort's opinions on how the Wizarding World was being guided. Radical changes were needed. The Ministry as a whole needed to be stripped of all the corruption. Personal vendettas and agendas did society no favors.

And of course, radical changes could only be made after ripping control from those that dearly clung to it. How Voldemort decided to do that…well, that remained to be seen. Harry certainly had a few ideas.

Harry sidled out into the corridor, deftly moving between the crowds of witches and wizards. He would have to walk nearly the entire way around the arena to get to his friends. The long walk gave Harry a chance to people-watch. Witches and wizards were always interesting to watch; they all dressed in different colors, different styles. Clothing was much more unique in the Wizarding World and it was something that Harry did not see a lot of at Hogwarts. It interested him.

Harry's eyes flickered to the right as he noticed a familiar face. The greying-brown hair of Cantankerous Nott swept to the side as the man strode swiftly down the corridor in the opposite direction of Harry, a grave and panicked expression on his face. Harry frowned, moving closer to get a good look at the man. Harry's eyebrows rose sharply.

Behind Cantankerous Nott was Theo, striding hastily to keep up with his father's longer strides. Cantankerous Nott had a vice grip on his son's wrist, leading the boy violently. Harry ducked into the crowd as they passed before switching direction to follow the father and son.

Cantankerous Nott took a right down an adjacent hallway before throwing a wild, furtive glance around the corridor. Quickly, he dragged his son into a deserted room on the opposite side of the hall. Harry Disillusioned himself hastily before approaching the door.

"Auditare Occulte," Harry whispered. The words of the Nott's rung clearly through the door.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Theo spoke first, a coldness to his words that made Harry frown. He knew that Theo and his father did not exactly get along, but to hear that much derision in Theo's tone surprised Harry.

"For the same reason I have done everything these past few months, Theodore. To prepare you. To warn you. To shape you into the man this family needs."

"Yeah? Well get on with it. I want to watch Harry's duel."

"There will be time for that. I need to warn you, Theodore. I need you prepared for what is to come."

"Did I stutter? I don't exactly enjoy hearing you talk, father. Get on with it."

"…You will not speak to your patriarch that way, Theodore."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The sarcasm and pain in Theo's voice was alarming. "I'm sorry, but after everything you've done to me, I find it hard to give a shit!"

Harry's eyes bulged. What did that mean? What had happened to Theo? What did Cantankerous Nott do to him?

"…You'll certainly care after I tell you this, Theodore. I needed to get you away from the crowds. I brought you in here to warn you: He's here."

"Who?"

"Him."

"Him? Who's – ah."

"Yes, exactly. As I said, this is the moment for which I have prepared you. Today is the day that you will face your future."

"If you call what you did preparing…"

"I would call it many things, Theodore. I'd call it love, for starters – "

"And I'd call it hatred, you daft buffoon!"

"Theo."

"And I hate you, too. You know that, right? I hate you."

Harry's fingers twitched on the knob of the door. The ire and desperation in Theo's voice almost forced Harry to act impulsively…but no. Harry needed to hear this. He had to know what was happening. The Dark Lord was here. Voldemort. Why? Why had the Dark Lord not told him what was happening? First Bellatrix, now Voldemort himself? What was going on?!

Voldemort would not be here on a social visit, Harry was certain. He would not bring Bellatrix and potentially even more of his Azkaban-hardened Death Eaters, either, unless…

"…You will thank me one day, Theodore. And on that day, I will embrace you as any father longs to embrace his son. We will be amongst the Lord's most faithful and trusted. It all comes down to you, Theo. Our family's fate is at stake. Your family's fate is at stake."

Harry heard footsteps and he threw himself to the side, pinning his body flat against the wall. Under the Disillusionment, he was safe so long as he did not make a move. Theo's father emerged seconds after, walking away from the room and his son without a care. All Harry could feel was hatred; how…what had this man done to his friend? What was wrong with Theo?

The silence in the corridor allowed Harry to relax a bit. Theo was still in that room, making absolutely no noise. Harry could only imagine the pain that his friend was in – and he had no idea what was happening. What did Theo's father do?

Harry could only remember the night Voldemort revealed himself to his followers. Cantankerous Nott had writhed in his own filth, a naked and pathetic mess, begging for forgiveness. Now? Now he had done something to hurt Harry's friend so severely that Theo was not even acting like himself.

An angered scream made Harry flinch violently. His instincts were to run into the room and console Theo, but the crash of something in the room stopped him. Harry hesitated. Theo was hurting…but Voldemort was here. The Death Eaters were here. Something big was about to happen, and Voldemort had consciously left Harry out of it.

Harry needed to get to Sirius. He needed to warn them all not to interfere. He needed to tell his godfather so that Sirius could protect Harry's friends.

Harry gritted his teeth, longingly looking at the doorway where it seemed Theo had decided to break everything in the damn room. Why had Voldemort not told him?! He needed to know this type of shit! If Voldemort had told Harry of his plans, Harry could have taken the time to comfort Theo. Not now. The next duel was in fifteen minutes. He had to be at the arena floor in ten.

Harry had to go. He snuck away, cringing as Theo broke something in a decidedly violent manner if the sound was any indication. Harry hoped he was making the right decision.

Oh, it definitely was the right decision. Harry had seen two more Death Eaters in the hallways. One was a Death Eater that had never been captured. Harry remembered seeing the witch during Voldemort's meeting. The other, however, was none other than Augustus Rookwood. The man had smirked slightly at Harry and winked before disappearing once more into the crowd. It made Harry even surer – something substantial was about to happen.

"Harry!"

"Hey, guys," Harry forced a smile. "I wanted to drop by and say hi before this last match. Where's uh…where's Theo?"

Harry had to ask. Maybe his friends knew something that Harry did not? Blaise frowned, glancing at Draco. Draco shrugged.

"His father was looking for him. He showed up and told Theo to go with him," Draco said.

"Weird bloke," Sirius butted in. "Very…"

"Proper," Remus supplied.

"Oh," was all Harry could say. He blinked, coughed, and addressed his godfather. "So, er…Sirius. Can I talk to you for a moment? In private?"

He ignored the looks he received. Sirius put a hand on Remus' shoulder and heaved himself to his feet.

"Sure," Sirius chirped. He glared at his leg, though. "Finding a place will be a bit tough, but we'll manage!"

"Great," Harry said, relieved. "Gotta go, guys. See you all after the duel!"

"See ya, Harry!"

"Good luck!"

"Italy blows!"

"Fred!"

"I mean go Harry!"

Harry could not help rolling his eyes fondly. He followed Sirius out of the stands with a hand hovering behind his godfather's back. Just in case. Harry still had not gotten to helping his godfather with his leg and that was next on his list of things to do. Behind Theo's dilemma, whatever it was. Behind whatever the hell Voldemort was getting up to now.

God, his life was so fucking weird.

"So, what's up?"

Sirius had led Harry to a small, empty area near the Ministry lifts. It was dark; the lights were off and the elevators were shut off in favor of allowing spectators to enter by way of the Floo Network. Harry smiled grimly at his godfather.

"I saw Bellatrix Lestrange earlier today," Harry began. Sirius' eyes bugged out as he looked around jerkily. "She was…just blending in with the crowd. Not doing anything. I mean, she wouldn't just be here to watch, would she? It threw me off, but I didn't think too much of it until I saw Cantankerous Nott and Augustus Rookwood a few minutes ago. And then I overheard Nott…Sirius, the Dark Lord is here. I don't know why and I don't know how, but something big is going on and I'm scared because I don't know what it is."

"Did…did he tell you anything?" Sirius whispered. Harry hated the look Sirius was giving him. It was the epitome of sadness and regret. Sirius looked like a puppy with its tail between its legs and Harry knew all the things Sirius wanted to say, how Harry should not even be involved with Voldemort and the Death Eaters…

Harry set his jaw. "No. And it worries me. I just wanted…I just needed to tell you. To tell somebody. Sirius…please protect my friends. And whatever you do, don't get involved. Don't let Remus get involved. Keep Fred and George and Cedric out of it. I doubt my Slytherin friends will dare to do anything, but it's – it's important to me, Sirius. Please."

Sirius frowned harshly. "Calm down, kiddo. It'll be okay, alright? I'll take care of everything. I just wish that you…that he – "

"I know," Harry cut him off with a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's all so…complicated. I have friends on both sides and I know where I personally stand on it all, but…"

"But it's never as easy as what you want. If it were, you would have nothing to be afraid of," Sirius finished. A hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Harry, when this is all over, we're going to talk," Sirius muttered softly. "You've never - never had anyone to talk to, but I'm here, now. I'm here, okay? I'm not going to stop you from having the opinions you have, but you're too young to have to depend on yourself. Let me help."

Sirius' eyes were shining, even in the darkened corridor. Harry strained a smile. Sirius was not making fun of his age. He was just trying to help.

"Good," And it certainly was, considering how relieved Sirius looked. "How are you doing? We'll just leave it at that. Think you can take this Italian witch out?"

"…She's brilliant," Harry said, letting the topic change without protest. He really did not know what else to say, anyway. "But I've not seen her do anything truly powerful. Great strategist, though. I'll probably have to break some new stuff out, but I think I can win."

Sirius laughed quietly. "She's more than brilliant, Harry. She's fantastic. And it's hilarious, the confidence you have. I have confidence in you too, you know. I know you can win…but if you don't, it's okay. Has anyone ever told you that? That it's okay if you fail? I'll love you either way. I'm proud of you, either way."

Harry blinked rapidly. "Come on, Sirius, you know I'm not good at this emotional stuff – "

"But you should be!"

Sirius' cane clanked to the floor and two hands gripped Harry tightly. "Listen, Harry! You're father and mother were my best friends. They were kind and gentle and caring and they would have given you the world given the chance! I grew up in an environment so much like your own. No one loved me. Not really. I was a son, but not a son. My brother Regulus was the only one I was actually close to, and that changed as soon as I went to Hogwarts. Remus, James, Lily – they were my family. They made me feel human! They made me feel like I deserved to be loved! And your childhood was so rotten and a disgrace…it makes me feel sick, how alone you were. But you deserve the same, Harry! Let me be that for you!"

Harry ducked his head. He could not face that much…that much everything. Sirius drew him into a hug and Harry could not quite find it in himself to resist.

It made Harry think. For so long he had hated Muggles and everyone who had tormented him. He had hated how alone he was, but no one was worthy of being around him. And then the whole magic thing had happened and now he had so many friends. Did he love them more than he hated everything else?

Harry looked into Sirius' pleading eyes. Yes. Yes he did. What that revelation meant, he had no clue.

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said thickly. His godfather nodded shakily.

"That's all I needed to say," Sirius wiped at an eye as he reached for his cane. Harry held a hand out for his godfather to use for leverage.

"You'll…you'll have to tell me about them. My parents."

Sirius looked up, a bright smile on his face.

"Anything you want to know," Sirius vowed. "I'll protect your friends the best that I can. Good luck, Harry. Be careful."

"Ladies and gentleman, we've reached the final round of the junior tournament! These two duelists have made quick work of their opponents on their way to the finals. If you are just now making your way into the stands, sixteen-year-old Earnesta Ruggero from Italy waltzed her way to the finals, winning in the last round after disarming Irish wizard Finn Aedan!

"Our other finalist is none other than the one and only, Britain's hero…Harry Potter!"

Harry stepped out to raucous cheers. It surprised him; for all his other duels, the stands had been only fractionally filled. Now, there was not an empty seat in the house. Harry supposed it was for the adult's division, set to begin moments after this duel. Either way, the ovation tickled him.

Harry squared his shoulders and walked to the middle of the arena. The Italian was already sizing him up.

"Harry Potter has proven himself quite the prodigious duelist today, ladies and gentleman. Not only has the youngest competitor won every match, he has yet to be hit by a spell! Can his streak continue against the strongest competitor he's faced so far?"

"The rules are the same as they have been all afternoon," the official declared, eyeing both of them severely. "No Dark curses, no spells deemed illegal by the European Board of Magic. Seeing as this is the final match, these rules will be enforced most stringently. When in doubt, listen to my commands. If I call for a break, you will obey. Understood?"

Harry nodded. The Italian did not move.

"Very well. Back to back. Pace on my count. Come on, then."

Harry did as he was told. The commentator had gone silent and now the crowd cheered loudly. Harry could not help but hear the chant –

"HAR-RY! HAR-RY! HAR-RY!"

A Spanish football chant had started as well. Harry shuddered for a moment, but blocked it all out. He wanted to win this match and he wanted to do it quickly. He would not hold back; he would not toy with the witch at all.

And then, he could turn his attention to what Voldemort was up to.

"Aaaaand…DUEL!"

Harry whirled on the spot, charging through the swampy muck. He ducked a spell and dodging behind a tree. Just as Harry spun away from his cover, intent to get behind his opponent…she screamed.

Light flared, blindingly white. Harry could hear multiple screams, now. The screams of the spectators broke through whatever enchantments had encompassed the stadium. When the light finally dimmed, Harry saw his opponent, limp against the retaining wall of the arena. Blood trickled from her hair, down into her closed eyes.

Harry looked around wildly. His wand shot out of his hand.

"Wha – "

"Harry. Potter."

Harry jumped, swirling around and jumping once more.

Voldemort stood behind him, darkness crackling menacingly around him.

Harry gaped, in shock. What was happening?! Voldemort stood before him, murder on his face. What…how?

"I have awaited this day for nearly a decade," Voldemort snarled. His voice carried far further than it should. "I have returned! And how nice it was of you, Harry Potter, to offer yourself up to my glory on such a public stage. My loyal Death Eaters are guarding the arena. They have successfully blocked anyone from entering the arena to help you. You are…alone."

"What…what's going on? What is happening?!"

Voldemort smirked malevolently. "At long last. Today is a day that will go down in history. It is the day that Lord Voldemort returns. Not only that, Harry Potter, but it is the day that the Wizarding World's hero ceases to exist."

Voldemort stalked forward and Harry hastily backtracked. Magic crackled in the air between them.

"Today," Voldemort said softly, even as his voice rung out through the air. "Today, Harry Potter, you die."

...Well how about that shit? I'll have more on how exactly the Death Eaters accomplished what they did in the next chapter. Evil overlords do love to tell you all about their plans, after all.

What do you think? What happened? Things were going swimmingly! What changed?

You can follow me on Twitter at BrigadeEitD if you'd like. I'll do a better job posting teasers and fun stuff. Leave a review, if you'd like - I certainly won't stop you!

Brigade