DISCLAIMER; I own nothing but my own characters. All characters, settings, spells, races, etc. that are included in the HP books are property of J.K. Rowling. Any other books, movies, shows, etc. that I may mention or draw from are property of their own creators and/or designers. I will most likely draw on some of the other fanfictions I've read, so if you see your stuff here, well, it belongs to you.

A/N; I am so sorry about the lateness of this! I thought I had uploaded this on Monday, but for some reason the submit button didn't take. Well, better late than never! Enjoy!

*HPWD*

Chapter 10; The Beginning…

*HPWD*

Coming out of Between high above the quidditch stadium, Kalinth gave off a roar as he folded his wings and dove as quickly as he could towards the ground. At the last moment, he flared his wings, the tendons and joints aching and protesting as he hadn't done such a stunt for quite some time.

Landing with a heavy thump, the dragon quickly kneeled, allowing his passengers to drop from his back, carrying their precious cargo between them. Quickly, he shifted back to his elven form, ignoring the crowd as they started cheering, leading his fellow Champions in a sprint towards the professors and the healing tent set up nearby.

"MEDIC!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, still in combat mode, instantly quieting the stands. "WE NEED A MEDIC HERE!"

As the four set the gasping form of Cedric on a bed in the healer's tent, the professors plus Serah rushed in, throwing the canvas flaps to the side. Quickly, they surrounded Cedric's bed and started tossing diagnostic charms and spells at him.

"Get out of my way! That's my son in there!" A commotion just outside the tent had the three Champions and the free professors turning in confusion. "My son, do you hear me?! MOVE!"

"I'm sorry, sir." The auror that stood guard said resolutely. "But I can't let you pass."

Ducking part way out of the tent, Kalinth laid his hand on the guard's shoulder.

"You've done your job well, comrade. Now let a grieving father past."

The guard looked at the elf for a moment, but finally nodded and moved aside. Before Kalinth could say anything, Amos was inside the tent and at his son's side. Ducking back in, Kalinth stayed a respectful distance away as Amos inquired about his child's health.

"I'm sorry, Amos," Madam Pompfrey said. "We can't help him. His wounds are too great."

Bowing his head, Amos managed to croak out a strangled question. "Ho- how long?"

"Five minutes?" Poppy said sorrowfuly. "Ten at the most."

At Mr. Diggory's resigned sigh and nod, Kalinth beckoned everyone out.

"Come on. Let's leave them to share their final moments, together, as they should be."

As they trooped outside the tent, though they didn't move far, Dumbledore gave a knowing look to the elf, but didn't say anything. Kalinth nodded in return, thankful that the elderly wizard didn't dredge up any more memories of his children screaming and roaring in agony as corrupt and evil magi slew them as if they were no more than simple cattle. And all for what? Their hide, blood, and organs.

Moments later, Amos came out of the tent, tears still streaming down his face, but looking much more content. Looking at Kalinth, he spoke.

"He doesn't have much longer, but he would like to see you one last time. Please, make him comfortable."

Nodding, the elf gently brushed past Amos and ducked into the tent. Once inside, the sounds from the stands were muffled, as if being heard from very far off, and the lights dimmed. Cedric laid on the bed, eyes closed and his breathing shallow. Moving closer, Kalinth made sure that his normally silent boots thumped slightly on the soft ground.

"Don't worry, Kal, I know you're there."

"Ah, but the term 'there' is a subjective term. I could be inches away from your bed, or I could be feet. I could be right above you, or I could be in another realm entirely. So really, you don't know where I am." Kalinth quipped with a small, sad grin.

Cedric started to chuckle, before it turned into shallow coughs and hacks. Darting forwards, Kalinth gently propped Cedric up with a few more pillows, and once the coughing fit had passed, held a glass of water to the friend's lips. After taking a few sips, Cedric leaned back with a sigh. Finally opening his eyes, the brunet looked at Kalinth.

"I just want to say… Thank you, Kal. Thank you for everything. I know we've had our rough points, but it was all good in the end, don't you think?"

"Yes, Cedric. It was most certainly a good time." Kalinth said, nodding gently.

"We've had our fair share of adventure these past few months, but I can feel my journey is not yet done. Perhaps… we'll see each other again?" As he said this, he raised a trembling hand towards Kalinth.

"In time, perhaps, Cedric. I'm not quite ready to move on though." The elf said as he firmly grasped his friend's hand in both of his own.

"Agreed," Cedric said with a rattling sigh. "Well, I guess this is it. You know, I always expected to go at a ripe old age, preferably surrounded by pretty girls."

Once again, the two shared a quiet chuckle.

"Goodbye, Kalinth. Give 'em hell for me." Cedric whispered.

"I'll make sure of it. Farewell, my friend." Kalinth responded, equally quiet, tears freely streaming down his face.

Cedric gave one last smile, staring at his friend's face, before his eyes slowly went glassy and unfocused, his body falling limp as his life and soul left his body.

Kalinth simply sat there for a moment, before gently placing Cedric's hand on his chest, before closing his glassy eyes and straightening the bedsheets.

Standing, the elf looked one last time upon the body of his friend, allowing the grief to wash over his as tears streamed down. Taking a deep breath, Kalinth centered himself and moved outside.

Looking at the sollem faces around him, he bowed his head and started to move off in search of Serah. Before he could even begin to look, a rough hand grasped his upper left arm and pulled him back towards the castle. Hearing the dull Clunk of Moody's fake leg, he let himself be pulled along, knowing his old friend would have a good reason for pulling him away.

Reaching Moody's office, Alastor pulled Kalinth in behind him, before turning and locking the door. That wasn't too different from his usual behavior to make Kalinth suspicious, but the lack of addition locking spells and rune-anchored blood-wards was. Cautiously, the elf-shaped-dragon started to bring some of the flammable gas that all dragons used to power their fire into his throat, ready to be ignited at a moment's notice.

"So what was it like?" Moody asked without preamble.

"I'm sorry, what?" Kalinth asked, even more confused.

"The graveyard. What was it like?"

Now, the elf was even more warry. He hadn't said anything about a graveyard… Slowly, he started to inch his hands to his twin mythril long-knives sheathed on his belt.

"I'm curious… How many of his followers answered the call? How many were too cowardly and ran. How many –Urk!" As Moody started to whip himself into a frenzy, he was suddenly cut off short as his entire body convulsed.

Standing silently and moving off to the side, Kalinth watched as Moody shakily reached into his coat and withdrew his hip-flask. Popping the cap off, he raised it to his mouth, only for nothing to flow out. Dropping it on the ground, he hurried away, crashing through cabinets and draws in his search for whatever was supposed to be in the flask.

Raising his head slightly and sniffing, Kalinth cringed as the pungent smell of Polyjuice reached his nose. Just as he started to back into the shadows fake-Moody whipped around, wand drawn and snarled in a contorted voice

"Well, if I can't deceive you, then I'll just have to take you in myself. I will be rewarded greatly for pleasing my Master. Though, he didn't specify that I couldn't have some fun with you first! Cruc-!"

"Bombarda Maximus! Incarcerous!" Bellowed the voice of Dumbledore from behind the locked door just as Kalinth started to draw his knives to block the curse. The blast wave from the explosion knocked the imposter off his feet and into the far wall of the office, knocking him out cold. The multitude of ropes lashed out immediately afterwards, binding fake-Moody's arms and legs tight to his body. Slowly, he toppled forwards as he lost his balance.

As the teachers rushed in, Kalinth stood from his crouch, re-sheathing his blades as Dumbledore levitated the limp form of fake-Moody into a chair and added more ropes just to be sure.

"He's polyjuiced, Albus," Kalinth supplied.

Glancing over to him, the elderly mage nodded in thanks, before turning back to the imposter as the polyjuice started to wear off.

His skin started to bubble and roil, as if it had suddenly turned to melted wax. The fake leg and eye were pushed off as the appropriate limbs and organs grew back. His hair lightened to straw blonde and the features roiled until the form of Barty Crouch Junior was sitting on the chair, bound in ropes.

As the Moody-imposter woke up, Dumbledore spoke.

"Hello, Barty," As Crouch Jr. snapped his head around to stare at Dumbledore, the headmaster tightened his grip on his wand. "What a surprise to see you here."

*HPWD*

A/N; And one chapter left! Though, it's more like a half-chapter, but no matter. As always, enjoy!