Blood Bound
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Chapter 28: Devil take the hindmost
The Portkey dropped us back at Hogwarts. The music was blaring, and the crowd was cheering. As the world was spinning, I forced myself to focus on Cedric. He was still bleeding. His skin was becoming bone white as his eyes grew glossy.
"No, no! Stay with me, Cedric." I cried trying to cover the neck wounds. He was struck by a curse that covered his body with deep cuts all over his body. "Don't you dare die on me?"
I looked up seeing Fleur walking over and started screaming and covered her mouth.
"Madame Pomfrey, somebody help!" I begged. "Quickly, before he bleeds out!"
Once more I tried to stop the bleeding. Blood soaking into my uniform but I didn't care. I didn't care about my injuries. Not even the knife wound where Wormtail cut me as blood continued to pour out. No, what matters was Cedric. He needs to live.
Two arms wrapped around, forcing me away from Cedric. I cried out looking at the person seeing it was Principal Bishop. Dumbledore was hunching over Cedric along with Madame Pomfrey trying to heal Cedric. The Minister of Magic rushed over.
"For God's sake, Dumbledore, what's happened?" the Minister asked.
"He's back! The Dark Lord is back!" I sobbed. "Cedric and I tried to escape, but he and his Death Eaters…there were too many. We tried, we tried…."
Dumbledore took my hands, "It's alright, Bridgette. It's all right. He's home. You both are."
Principal Bishop combed my hair trying to calm me down. "You're safe now."
"Keep everyone in their seats!" The Minister yelled and walked over to Snape and McGonagall. "A boy had just been killed. The body must be moved, Dumbledore."
"He's not dead yet!" Snapped Madame Pomfrey, "Professor Snape, I need your assistance."
Snape glided over and assisted the injuries. He took his wand out and started treating Cedric with the other teachers involved.
Principal Bishop helped me up yet I couldn't move. The crowd was whispering; talking trying to grasp what was going on. The worse was when Cedric father rushed in to see what was wrong. He stopped eyes widen in fear.
"That's my son!" Mr. Diggory cried. "That's my boy!"
He fell to his knees as Madame Pomfrey instructed him to hold Cedric's head. Cedric tried to speak, though his father told him to stay strong and not leave him.
My dad came over and picked me up. He hugged me close seeing the injury. Too many people were making their way down to see it. Camera lights were flashing taking photos. Norman scowled trying to cover me from the jackal's view. All the teachers and friends were pushing them away. It was chaotic. The world was spinning out of control. Unable to hear the questions, drowned by Mr. Diggory wails.
Suddenly another arm wrapped around me.
"Easy, easy!" It was Mad-eye Moody; he tugged me to the side.
"No," I cried. "I can't leave him!"
"This is not where you want to be right now. Come on." He said in my ear
"Get her out of here," Dad said.
Professor Moody nodded, drying me across the pitch.
I tried to fight him off yet his grip was firm.
"It's all right." He murmured. "I got you."
Unable to break free my mind went numb.
.o0o.
After climbing countless stairs and many halls, we arrived in Professor Moody's office. My shock had calmed down, and the world stopped spinning. I held onto my right arm throughout the journey as the bleeding stopped. As we enter, he escorted me to a chair gesturing me to sit down by the fire. He then closed the door and locked it.
I flinched.
"Sorry, making sure no beetles come in," he said.
I nodded.
He came over and pulled himself a chair. Carefully he placed his hand on my shoulder, "Are you all right, Blackwood?"
I hesitantly nodded.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
I nodded again.
"Perhaps I'd better take a look at it." He said.
Remembering that night as a child, I trusted him. So with a nod, I removed my left hand showing the cut Wormtail inflicted on me. Professor Moody gingerly held my right forearm examining the wound. An extended deep narrow cut. The blood was already caking, though I either need stitches or a healer to seal the wound.
Then I remember the short assumption Cedric and I had at the graveyard. "Professor, the cup was a Portkey."
He tapped the wound, and I hissed.
"Someone had tampered it," I said. "You were the one who hid it. By any chance did anyone…"
"What was it like?" he asked. His magic eye was staring at me as this real held amazement and desperation. "What was he like?"
"What?" I asked confused
"You know what I mean. The Dark Lord," he asked, his gripped tighten around my arm causing me to wince. He got up walking away. "What was it like to stand in his presence?"
"Like staring into a monster," I answered gazing at the fire. "Meeting the devil's brother."
Suddenly he ran to one of the private quarters, and the sounds of glass moving could be heard. Doors opening and closing. He was in a hurry for something important. "Were there others? In the graveyard, were there others?"
This caught me by surprise. My thoughts linger back to the Quidditch pitch. How I looked into Dumbledore's eyes telling him what happened to Cedric and me. All I said to the teachers who surrounded us were the Dark Lord, Death Eaters and trying to escape. Never have I told the location in where the Cup took us. I told them who, but never the how, what, when, why, and most especially I did not say where. Then the Portkey, now that I think about it, Dumbledore noted Professor Moody hid the Cup in the maze. Many more thoughts came in how much Alastor Moody has been involved with me and the Triwizard tournament. His advice, his lessons, his existence of being here at Hogwarts.
It wasn't a coincidence.
"I…never said anything about a graveyard," I said
Mad-eye came out; his face was sullen as his eye began to droop. His voice changed to that of Hagrid, "Marvelous creatures, dragons, aren't they?"
He stormed to a counter opening a box, "Do you think that miserable oaf would've led Harry and his friends into the woods if I hadn't suggested it?"
I thought it was of the Weasley family older brother Charlie coming from Romania to deliver the dragons did they knew. He then went to an open glass cabinet searching further. "Think Cedric Diggory would've told you to open the egg underwater if I haven't told him myself? Did you think Neville Longbottom, the witless wonder..."
He moved away from the cabinet and went over to me with much anger and pride. "Could've provided you gillyweed if I hadn't given him the book that led him straight to it? Huh?!"
He then licked his lips while tapping his head. No, it can't be. It can't be him. This was not the man who saved me when I was a child. He zoomed to the other side of the room.
"It was you all along!" I gasped. "You put my name in the Goblet of Fire. You cursed Krum; you're ...you're him—"
"Yes, I am him." He said. "I am the monster you put in Azkaban. I knew of your family and its blood spell. I manipulated the Sorting Hat so you can be with Potter. I easily cursed those idiots who follow Malfoy to attack him. I snuck into his room and stolen his blood. Every chance I get, you drank Potter's blood. In the Great Hall, the tea, any flavor drink."
He walked back to me with a sinister glee," You won because I made it so, Blackwood. You ended up in that graveyard tonight because it was meant to be so. And now the deed is done."
He grabbed my right arm digging his nails into the wound. "The blood of Harry Potter that runs through these veins runs in the Dark Lord."
He pulled his hand back and licked his blood-soaked thumb. Then walked away until he sighed, gags and spit. He turned showing his face deforming. Whatever he used to disguise himself was wearing off. As his blue eye become brown, the deepest brown one would consider black. I stepped back trying to grab my wand. His eyes widen when seeing the Chimmerah wand.
"Imagine how he will reward me when he learns that I have once and for all…" he seethed and grunted. Moving closer as I went behind the ornate trunk. "…silence the last of the Chimmerah line."
He raised his wand as did I.
Before either of us could cast a curse, a third party used Expelliarmus, blasting the locked door open and sending us across the room. The smoke cleared, as Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and my father rushed in. McGonagall ran over to me while the men went to the imposter who was bound to the chair.
Dumbledore pinned him to the chair, wand aimed at his face, "Severus."
Professor Snape took a vial and poured a potion in his mouth.
"Do you know who I am?" Dumbledore demanded.
"Albus Dumbledore." He grunted.
"Are you Alastor Moody?" Dumbledore demanded. "Are you?"
"No," I answered. All eyes went to me. "He's Bartemius Crouch Junior."
All eyes were wide.
Dumbledore growled looking at the imposter, "Is he in this room?! Is he in this room?!"
Barty Crouch Jr. Eyes went to the ornate trunk.
Dumbledore in his fit of rage order us to get out of the way as Professor Snape opened the trunk with magic. The lid popped open, and quickly as if it was layer lifted up till reaching the top. Cautiously we moved over looking down an abyss to see a man in white holding onto his face. Oh, Merlin…
"Are you alright, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked.
"I'm sorry, Albus." The true man said.
I stared dumbfounded. Every time I was in this room, the wizard who saved me long ago tried to save me again by calling out whatever strength Moody ever had. And yet I ignored it taking the imposter word instead of my instincts.
Professor Snape opened the vial that Barty Crouch Junior drank from and sniffed it. "Polyjuice Potion."
"Now we know who's been stealing from your stores, Severus," Dumbledore said, and then looked at Alastor. "We'll get you up in a minute."
Our eyes shifted to the imposter as the potion he took finally wore off. His bodies tensed and face melting. He yanked out the magical eye dropping it to the floor. The Polyjuice must have been poorly made, as he grunted, gagged, tossing and turning into his seat until finally, he was of his true appearance. Sitting before us was a man with pale, slightly freckled skin and a mop of dark hair, but his face was lined and was much older-looking. Like those many years ago his posture was that of a diabolical mania.
I felt the air leaving my lungs and blood turn cold.
All year I have been speaking with the enemy.
Our eyes met.
In a blink, he launched at me, his hands wrapping around my throat. However, before he could grasp his fingers, Norman grabbed him and shoved him back to the seat. Both Professor Snape and Norman aimed their wands at him while Professor McGonagall held me in her arms seeing if there was any damage.
"Barty Crouch Junior," Dumbledore murmured.
He panted slowly, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
As he rolled up his sleeve revealing the dark mark. The tattoo was alive, as the snake began to move. The adults were in dismay as they try to hide it.
"You're arm, Bridgette," Dumbledore grabbed me showing the cut as it pulsed similar to Crouch.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Crouch said in glee. "He's back. Lord Voldemort has returned."
"I'm sorry," I panted in pain. "They forced me."
"Send an owl to Azkaban; I think they'll find they're missing a prisoner," Dumbledore said.
"Or one back from the grave," Norman sneered. "Get my daughter out of here."
"I'll be welcomed back like a hero." Crouch proclaimed proudly.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall guided me out. Though the older wizard countered back. "Perhaps. Personally, I've never had much time for heroes."
"I'll have my revenge, Bridgette Blackwood," Crouch shouted. "You'll die just like your mother."
I stopped and faced him.
Here stood the monster that killed my mother. The beast that tried to kill me with the killing curse and failed. The one who damaged my childhood, taking away my father's true love and my nurture. He was here and bound. One wave of a wand and he could be dead. I can say the incantation right here and avenge Edith Chimmerah-Blackwood.
Instead, I took a deep breath saying, "Devil take the hindmost."
His dark eyes widen in fear.
He doesn't own me anymore. Let fate of the Dementor's kiss finish him off.
With nothing else to say I walked out with Dumbledore and McGonagall. Never turning back to face him.
"Blackwood!"
What did you think of Bridgette and Barty Crouch Junior encounter? Should they have one more meeting or not?
So I think I wasn't clear on my explanation. So I decided, Blood Bound will be inspired by books four, five, and six. Deathly Hallows will have its own story.
Thank you for reading and please leave a review.
