A/N: After an interesting review from Beggs, I thought I'd better anounce that, if anyone has a problem with the Shakespeare talk, don't hesistate to tell me. I can give you translations if you need them.

As promised, Incubus is back! And he's got a plan...read on...

Power of the Moon

Chapter 26: The World Cup

"Just a week to go, Ced!" Amos Diggory said, cheerfully, "We'll be meeting Arthur and his lot at the top of Stoatshead Hill to get the Portkey."

"Great." Cedric had been looking forward to the Quidditch World Cup all summer and was eager for any news about when they were getting there,

"Ludo Bagman's got Arthur's lot tickets in the top box." His father went on, with a little hint of jealousy in his box, "All because he helped out his brother, apparently. Well, at least we paid for our tickets fair and square!"

Cedric, however, didn't mind about how the Weasleys had got their tickets and simply gave a non-committal grunt,

"D'you know where we'll be staying?" He asked, keen to keep the subject away from competitiveness,

His father shrugged, "I've booked us a tent in a place quite close to the stadium owned by a Mr Payne. Muggle, of course. So, we'll have to careful not to show any magic. Mind you, I bet everyone else'll be showing off. Always the same. The Weasley lot will be staying at another campsite, quite near us. Their place is owned by another Muggle called Mr Roberts. I just hope Arthur doesn't scare him too much. You know what he's like with Muggles."

Just then, Cedric's mother came in with some tea on a tray, "Talking about the World Cup again, are you?" She sighed, setting down the tray and taking a seat by her son. Her expression became worried as she had a look at her son, "But, are you sure you should take Cedric? He doesn't seem to be getting any better."

"Nonsense!" Amos Diggory shook his head, "He'll be fine for just a night. And, this is something he shouldn't miss! He won't live to see the World Cup played in England again and he'll get to see Krum! Now, you tell me that's not a once-in-a-lifetime experience!"

"I know," She looked worried, wringing her hands, "but he's so pale. Look at him."

"Mum, I'm fine." Cedric sighed, batting her hand away as she made to feel his forehead,

"Yes, he'll be fine, dear." Amos patted her shoulder, "I'll take good care of him. If it makes you feel at ease, I'll take some of the potions the Healer prescribed with me if he comes over faint again."

"I've only fainted once." Cedric frowned, thinking that this was a bit much, "And it was a hot day. There's really no need-"

But there was no persuading his father, "Better safe than sorry, as the Muggles say!"

"Alright, then." Cedric's mother sighed, "But, I don't want to come back with stories of Cedric fainting at the match!"

"Yes, dear." Amos chuckled, "Don't worry, Ced." He added to his son, "I'll take care of you."

"Er, thanks." Cedric's face grew hot. Then, making an excuse about wanting an early night, he slipped out of the room. He was about to ascend the stairs when he heard his name mentioned through the ajar door. After arguing with himself for a while whether he should listen in or not, he sat down on the top step to listen,

"…really shouldn't strain him, Amos. He looks paler than ever."

"Don't be such a spoilsport, darling. This is the Quidditch World Cup we're talking about. He can't miss that!"

"It's not just about the Quidditch World Cup." His mother sighed, patiently, "He's getting weaker and nothing the Healer's giving him is working."

"What? You said-"

"Because he was there. I don't want Cedric to know but the Healer told me that he's suffering from blood loss. It's Blood-Replenishing potion I'm buying for him and it's still not enough. Something's taking his blood quicker than we can put it back. He might have to go to St Mungo's."

"Have you checked his wrists?" His father suddenly became serious, "It could be a vampire creeping up on him in the night."

His mother gave a small cry of horror, "I was afraid you'd say that. I've been thinking it myself. Just, please, Amos. Keep an eye on him and don't let him go off with anyone you don't know."

"I won't." Amos said, patiently, "Don't worry. I know how to take care of vampires."

Cedric had heard enough. He stood up and strode into the bathroom. No, it couldn't be a vampire. He thought, No, there's nothing on my wrists. He rolled up his sleeves to make sure. No, nothing.

He turned the taps and began to run a bath. Sighing, he pulled off his shirt. His skin was pale beneath his clothes, a lot paler than normal, he had to admit. Still, he felt that there was no way that a vampire could be stalking him. He locked his window every night.

Unless, he stood naked in front of the bath, thinking about it. No, if it was a vampire, it would just swoop on me and drain me. Or turn me into one straight away. Besides, vampires hate humans. Teacher is kind and he cares about me.

Despite the heat of the water and the steam in the air, he felt a cold chill up his back, But I do feel a pain in my wrist whenever he comes. Feeling more and more doubtful, he washed himself, not really paying attention to the fact that the bath had started to overflow.

Half an hour later (after drying the water up with his wand), Cedric went into his bedroom and drew the curtains. He couldn't help but glance around the dark lawn. The moon was not bright enough to illuminate it. Could there be someone down there, just waiting for me to look away? He glanced into his room. Or could someone be in here and have come in while I was bathing?

With these uncomfortable thoughts in his head, he lay back on his bed, waiting. After about ten minutes, everything around him became black and a familiar pain in his wrist told him what was happened,

"O, my dearest Cedric. What? I hath giving greeting first and no word canst thou lend? Come, come, where ist thy lov'd tongue?"

"Teacher," Cedric began, hesitantly, "My parents are a bit worried about me. They think I'm suffering from blood loss and Mum thinks a vampire's around."

"What disturbing tidings hast thou!" The voice in the darkness said. After a moment, it came again, "Be of still heart. No shadows lurk in these nooks."

"Yours do." Cedric pointed out, thinking of ways not to voice his doubts directly,

"Alack, 'tis so. But these shadows do thee no harm. Doth the wicked darkling spectre not affright children when no harm canst they lend but to their muddy-mettled souls?"

"Teacher," Cedric swallowed, "why does my wrist hurt every time you come?"

A silence, "Why must you led your ear to these ill words? Dost thou perceive me as a vampire?"

"No," Cedric lied, "I just want to know." If he gets angry, it means he is a vampire. But, the voice did not. In fact, he felt hands upon his face, loving and affectionate,

"Good Cedric, cast these unprevailing cares off. No bloody desire resides in my soul and my shadows are for thine eyes' benefit. Let no thing as deformed and unshaped for an amorous looking glass as I. All I have done is in favour of thee."

All suspicion of Teacher being a vampire vanished. Of course, he isn't. He can't be. He sat up and let his invisible arms encircle him,

"Methinks you hath a wish to behold my shape and thus thy mind hath birth'd this illusion to deceive me."

"Yeah, I did." Cedric admitted, "Sorry for lying to you."

The arms tightened around him as a small laugh adorned his speech, "O, gentle Cedric, no harm canst thou give. Thy words have no poison and 'tis that cause for me to love thee so."

A warm feeling rose in Cedric's stomach and he smiled. Of course he'd see through me. I was only teasing. He felt a rush of affection towards Teacher. Recently, he'd begun to think the nocturnal man more as he would a father than the man downstairs with his wife. He moved his arms around Teacher's waist and held onto him,

"Sweet friend," Teacher murmured into Cedric's hair, "I could call thee a son."

"I'd like that." Cedric nodded,

"O!" Another laugh came into his words, "Dost thou mean to deny thy father? However, my affection, bear in thy sweet heart the orders of our Lord. 'Honour thy father and thy mother'. My name shall by Teacher in thy mouth and leave father off awhile."

"If you say so." Cedric sighed, a little disappointed,

"Mark that I say merely 'awhile'." whispered the invisible man, "Now, what news from thy house?"

"Well, Teacher," Cedric said, smiling, "we've managed to get tickets to see the Quidditch World Cup."

"Oh, most excellent." He could feel the smile, "Where will I find thee?"

"In a Muggle campsite. Owned by someone called Mr Payne. Right next to the stadium, apparently. We're going to be going with the Weasleys by Portkey."

"Didst thou say Weasley?" Teacher asked, suddenly curious,

"Yeah. Mind you," He added, "they're not staying in the same campsite. In a place owned by a Mr Roberts."

"Is that fellow not o'th'gift?"

"He's a Muggle, yeah."

Teacher leaned in closer, like he always did when telling him about something important, "With them goes a villain."

"What?" Cedric looked up, amazed. He couldn't imagine that the Weasleys would bring anyone untrustworthy but Teacher never lied,

"Aye, boy. Thy gracious mind is so gentle, thou knowest naught the terrible plot! Ay, me!" He groaned, "Thou most soft of spirit, thou canst not know. Nay, ask not!"

"What is it?" Cedric asked, desperately, "You can tell me."

"Alack, tempt me not!"

"No, come on! Please!"

Teacher sighed, "Since you would buckle my back to't, I must tell thee…"

The village of Little Hangleton was quiet by night. The Hanged Man, the village pub, was dark and quiet, having closed about an hour ago and only a few lights were on in the houses. The streetlamps were dotted around the place, giving the only bright light in the place.

But, if the villagers had cared to look up to the old Riddle house, they would have seen a light on in one of the upstairs windows. If someone did notice, they would make up something about the owner of the house finally paying a visit or perhaps a gang of boys from the village who sometimes sneaked into the house.

But someone else saw it and came to quite a different conclusion. Flying over the village on the air currents, his hair rippling in the wind, his eye caught the light. 'Tis he, sure! Now that I have the boy, I will crown the alliance upon this weak Lord.

Lighting on the window ledge, he undid the latch and strode in. He was greeted by a cry of shock and a spell in his direction. With a bored flick of the hand, Incubus sent it careering away from him into the door, which blew apart on contact,

"What unkindly porter is this?" Incubus glared down distastefully at Wormtail, who quivered in fright at the sight of him, "Dost thou speak in spells?"

"Incubus," came the high, cold voice from the chair, "I have heard much about you. I did not expect a personal visit, though."

"Who is thy messenger?" Incubus stepped boldly into the room,

"Wormtail here has told me much about your deeds. You are a most superb creature indeed: you are a vampire and yet perfectly capable of walking in daylight. You are extremely capable with magic and make maiming and murder look like child's play."

Pushing Wormtail aside, he replied silkily, "My hands are blood-steeped. Lives were mere toys in my nursery days. When I was but four and ten years upon this traitorous and brutal earth, before my body was so changed, I didst dispatch a young, cherub-faced girl that had tasted the poison'd honey of life for but five years."

"For what cause?" questioned Voldemort, curious,

"For the crime of her blood." Incubus's face twisted in a scowl, "For that foul Malfoy name stamp'd upon her, I plucked her from her parents and dashed out her brains upon the verge!" He said this with such vehemence that Wormtail actually cowered in a corner, keeping his watery eyes on the long fangs that protruded from his mouth,

"Malfoy?" A trickle of surprise came into Voldemort's voice, "You have killed one of Lucius' ancestry?"

"Aye." Incubus nodded, "Twice seven days later, I didst slay her brother in the prime of his youth. That besmirched boy was their heir and his last great act was to dispatch my beloved sister."

"An act of vengeance." Voldemort paused, "You have first killed at a younger age than I."

"I know of thy tale." Incubus nodded, smiling, "Of how, in the sixteenth year of thy life, Tom, thy father, and his parents bid this world goodnight. By your young hand."

"You know much." A trance of bitterness came into his voice, "It was in this very house that I killed my filthy father's family."

"Rightly so." Incubus added, "But, what of thee now? What doth thou, most skilled of Dark mages, intend upon the boy you and I hath common desire with."

"You wish to kill Harry Potter?" The cold voice said, wonderingly, "I wonder, perhaps you would be a worthy ally."

Incubus's lip arched slightly, "I am a vampire of no common rate! I'll not bow to thee as my Lord."

Wormtail flinched, fully expecting Voldemort to attack. But none came. Instead, the high voice said, "What are your plans for the Potter boy?"

"I have a boy," Incubus said, slowly, "that is not yet bowed to my service but doth love me and I make him all my joy. He shall shed the villain's blood and then, become of mine."

There was another pause. Wormtail kept well in the shadows, not wanting to get in the way of either of them. Voldemort, after a long period of time, spoke again,

"There may be something you can do for me."

"What ist you speak of?"

"I have received intelligence that a faithful servant of mine whom I thought dead lives. He is unable to contact me because of his father, who imprisons him under the Imperious Curse."

"Wilt thou have me murder this foul-weather father?" Incubus licked his strangely pale lips hungrily,

"All in good time, my blood-lusting friend." Voldemort spoke with slight amusement, "I must tell you that this father is Bartemius Crouch. Have you heard of him?"

"I know of such a man." Incubus nodded, "Whose son, alike to my person, hath turned from him to thee?"

"You have good informants." The man in the chair sounded impressed, "I have learned through torturing Bertha Jorkins that he lives at his father's house. I wish you to bring the message to him that his master will be coming for him shortly. After he is at our side again, we will devise other ways for our alliance to prevail."

Incubus gave a short bow, "Then, fare thou well. My wench awaits me." With an elegant swoop, he leapt from the window and glided easily away up into the clouds.

A week later, Harry, Baron, Zirconia, Hermione and the Weasleys were sitting together at the Quidditch World Cup Stadium. The Malfoys, John and Edward were sitting behind them. Edward had a very enjoyable day at the campsite. He'd strode around the site, wearing his usual bright and gold red robes, pretending to be Lucius. When the Minister had greeted them, it was clear that he had been convinced.

Draco had privately rolled his eyes, I knew it would cause confusion. Lucius spent a few minutes convincing Fudge that it hadn't been him while the twins explained to an increasingly amused Mr Weasley what they had seen of Edward.

Edward himself stayed as a spirit and very close to the side of the top box, shouting unheard encouragement to the players. About halfway through the match, Draco's eyes turned to him again,

Edward? He leaned over. What is it? Hey! Edward!

Edward had got up onto the side of the box. He was now standing on the edge, watching a player in red intently, looking like he might leap off the edge any minute, "C'mon," he murmured, "Just a bit closer..." Baron looked from his father to the player (who turned out to be Krum) and realised,

"Father..." but before he could issue a warning:

WHOOSH!

Krum shot past the box, they blinked and, for a moment, it looked like Edward had disappeared. Then, as Krum swerved, Edward was visible. His red coat was billowing behind him as he held out his arms like a surfer, the golden embroidery glittering more than ever...not sitting but standing on the back of Krum's broomstick with superb balance. His cheers and whoops echoed all around the stadium. If anyone else could hear him.

Baron, John and Zirconia leapt to their feet, "FATHER!"

"VENGA! GET BACK HERE, EDWARD!"

"Wa-hey!" He waved his arms around to them so they could all see him.

Baron covered his face with his hands, shaking his head, exasperated, "Always..." Harry thought he looked very like a teenager embarrassed by a ridiculously acting parent,

"Hey! Guys!" He called up as Krum stopped for a look round, "I can see our tents from here! WHOA!"

He nearly lost his balance when Krum suddenly put on a burst of speed and shot off again. He whooped happily, punching the air. His cheers were more audible to them than the crowd's noise and twice as wild. It was amazing that his hat stayed on. He whooped and shouted as he jumped from player to player as they passed each other.

Draco's eyes followed the red streak that was Edward with amazement, as he stood tall even faced with the speed of the brooms. If anyone else did that, they'd be dead!

Baron shouted from the edge of the box, "FATHER! I BESEECH THEE RETURN!"

Edward wasn't listening to a word. He leapt from broom to broom like they were stepping stones. The people who could see him had nearly forgotten about watching the match. They were amazed that he hadn't made himself solid yet. It was strange to see Edward having his way with them and they were completely oblivious. At one time, he even used the Irish Keeper's broom as a springboard and flew up to the enormous hoops, where he stood overlooking the pitch, grinning.

Baron had given up shouting now and refused to look. Instead, he looked around the box at the other people present. They all looked very official, even though they were cheering wildly. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something. An empty seat in front of them. A house-elf covering her eyes was seated next to it. The seat seemed to be empty but...

Edward scanned the place and spotted a dark shape overhead. At the time, he thought nothing of it. Probably a flag that came loose. Happens now and then.

With that, he leapt back on the Keeper's broom and, with equal speed, was standing on the back of Krum's broom again. He had his eyes on the box now, his body ready to jump. As Krum passed the box again, he leapt off and landed as neatly as a gymnast in the box. His hair was even more ruffled than usual and his grin was even bigger,

"Whew, that was fun!" he laughed, "I'm telling you, mates; that never gets old!"

Baron took his head out of his hands and glared at his father, "Father, are you mad? Have you no wit?" He growled in the voice of a parent. Edward pouted like a disgruntled teenager,

"Honestly," he said in a loud mutter, "the way you're talking, you'd think brooms were for sitting on!"

A/N: That last scene gave you a good idea of Edward, didn't it? Loved that last line!