The Third Task

The day of the third, and final, task meant a feast. Since the contest was scheduled to begin at dusk, the serving was early. Harry sat with the rest of the Dursleys at the Gryffindor table. They were joined by Pansy, to the disapproval of the Slytherin Death Eater wannabes.

"Where's your friend, Hermione?", Petunia asked.

"She couldn't make it", Harry didn't want to explain why, and hoped Ron would keep his big yap shut for once.

"Not feeling well?", Petunia asked.

"Something like that. She's staying in the airliner".

"Hope she's feeling better".

"How about you?", Vernon asked, "how're you doing?"

"I've been through two of these contests already, so it loses its anxiety factor. Seems pretty straight forward: run the maze, get the Cup, win. It's not like dodging dragons, or having to search the whole lake for your friends. Dumbledore assures that there's no real risk here, and during the last contest, the merpeople were looking out for us".

"I'm still not very happy, your being here, and I don't trust that old billy goat", Vernon shot a glance to the staff table where Dumbledore sat in his finest dress robes.

"Wasn't my idea..."

"That's what I'm talking about", Vernon explained, "you shouldn't have been in this Tournament in the first place! If he'd done his damn job, there'd be no reason for us to worry".

"It isn't just Dumbledore, there's also the Ministry, and Cornelius Fudge'll be a judge for the finale. I don't see how anything can happen, right under the nose of the Minister himself".

"From everything you've told us about this Ministry, that doesn't reassure me. We enrolled you in Beaux Batons to get you away from this place, and all the incompetence and corruption. Yet here you are: right back at Hogwarts, back under the thumb of that irresponsible excuse of a Headmaster. I keep asking myself why I bothered. I keep asking when these magi are going to leave you be".

"Once I'm through with this last event, it'll be over..."

"Until the next time Dumbledore's incompetence or irresponsibility hurts another of your friends, like what happened to Ginny and Professor Hagrid. It shouldn't be left to you to always be cleaning up hismesses".

"I believe Harry can do it", Pansy reassured.

"Miss Parkinson, it's not Harry's chances of winning I'm worried about so much, but the fact that these supposedly responsible adults leave it up to kid wizards to do their damn jobs for them. I don't know how much you know about the normie world, but things like that only happen in fiction – kids' stories where kids are always smarter than every responsible adult around them who save the world when the adults could not. Not in real life".

"Well, I don't really know all that much", Pansy confessed.

"And that's another thing, your inadequate preparation..."

"Vernon, Dear", Petunia headed his rant off, "I think you've made your point".

After the plates cleared, Dumbledore took to the owl shaped podium for a speech:

"To all the families, I offer you welcome to the third, and final, task of the revived Triwizard Tournament. For those of you who may not be aware, the Triwizard Tournament has a long tradition of fostering greater understanding of, and co-operation with, the magical communities of other countries. Hogwarts has the honour of hosting the revived games. The Tournament pits the best of three magical schools: Hogwarts, of course, the Beaux Batons Academy, and the Durmstrang Institute in contests of magical ability, ingenuity, and courage. In the future, it is my hope that more schools will participate.

"Regardless of who wins, we can be proud of all of our Champions. All have been selected from among their peers for their courage and magical ability. All have given their best efforts towards their ultimate victory. In the end, however, there can be only one victor. Who that is will be decided here, starting in a few moments.

"If our Champions would come forward..."

Dumbledore waited until Harry, Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric made their way up front.

"Mr, Bagman will lead the Champions to the third task for a briefing while our spectators will head for the stands. Mr. Weasley will lead the families to the family box. If you would..."

Dumbledore motioned the families forward. Percy Weasley led the families of the Champions to their special box.

Once the audience seats were filled, Ludo Bagman used the amplification charm to address the spectators.

"Welcome to the third and final task that will determine the winner of our revived Triwizard Tournament. All our Champions have spent the academic year preparing for this moment. Earlier today, the Triwizard Cup was placed in the center of this maze you see before you. The Cup is also a Portkey that will bring the winner straight back here to this stage. After his/her arrival, Cornelius Fudge, our Minister of Magic, will conduct the awards presentation.

"The standings are as follows: Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum, and Fleur Delacourt. I warn you: you will meet challenges along the way. If you find yourself in difficulty, just use your wand to send up a red flare, and one of our staff will come right away for you, should you opt out. Are we clear on the rules?", Bagman asked.

Harry and the others indicated they were ready.

"Very well, then, Mr. Potter, pick your entrance".

There were four entrances to this maze. He noticed Mad Eye Moody subtly pointing off to his left. Harry took that entrance. Why not? There was no indication that one way was better than another. Mad Eye did say that cheating was part of the tradition, and he'd never steered Harry wrong yet. If he sent him down the most difficult path, oh well… Still, Harry had been assured by all the officials that his chance of winning were as good as anyone else's.

As soon as he was inside, the hedges grew over the entrance, the sounds of the audience in the stands suddenly silenced. It was the last of the twilight, and the first stars were coming out. This made the maze look gloomy.

Harry had spent the previous month walking the outside perimeter; he observed from the owlery through the Omnioculars from the World Cup, so he knew he needed to be moving in a northwesterly direction.

"Point me", he cast the compass spell.

He moved forward, keeping as much to the north as the passages allowed. He wondered when the others would be coming in, how much of a lead he would have. He knew from owlery observations that it was an intricate maze, filled with dead ends intended to disorient. As the sky grew darker, so did the maze, as the ability to see ahead diminished greatly. "Lumos", he lit his wand. What he really wanted was a good, high intensity Mag-Lite. Inwardly, he cursed himself for not owling Vernon and Petunia to send him one.

Left, right, dead end, backtrack try another lane. Wash, rinse, repeat. To his chagrin, he found himself going down the same dead end passages twice. Still no sight or sound of the other champions. Were they having the same difficulty? He could only hope. So far, no signs of anything dangerous, and that, in itself, was unnerving.

Finally, a sign of life: Cedric appeared from an intersection he'd just passed.

"Damn Blast-Ended Skrewt", he complained about his scorched robe, "that fucker must've been twelve feet at least".

"So Hagrid didn't lose them all?", Harry asked.

"We were hopin'", he said.

That was Hagrid's project from last year: Care of Magical Creatures was all about raising these new creatures, but they kept fighting among themselves. It was a disaster Harry was happy to miss.

"You?", Cedric asked.

"So far, I haven't seen anything the least bit dangerous. How about Viktor and Fleur?"

"No sign of 'em", Cedric said. "Best be getting' on with it".

Cedric and Harry parted ways down different paths. Harry saw something at the edge of his wand light. Coming closer, he saw that it looked like a wall of mist. He wondered: was this a toxic cloud?

"Reducio!", he fired a spell into it to no effect at all. This spell only worked on solid objects.

There were two choices: back track to avoid it, but that would mean going off course, and he knew he was going too far to the east, or take a chance…

He took a deep breathe, held it, and stepped into the mist. At first, this seemed to be the key: don't breathe any of it. Then, the whole world turned upside down. The sky was below him, and the ground all that was above. It felt as if he'd drop into the sky forever if he tried to take a step. It was vertigo inducing, the whole world suddenly upside down. He closed his eyes against the vertigo, and went for it by taking a step. He didn't fall, and the spell broke, as the world was back to normal after he opened his eyes. He could breathe again once through this field of strange, vertigo mist. He looked back at the mist shimmering in the light of a rising moon. Otherwise, it wasn't a potion that had after effects. Back on course again. For once, he seemed to be making progress in the right direction.

He heard a scream: "Fleur!", he called out. He got no answer.

"FLEUR! YOU OK?!"

There was no answer, and no flare. He didn't know how to get to her, and it was hard telling the direction of the scream through the hedges, nor any way of knowing how long it would take to find the area. Did the lack of a flare mean Fleur was OK, perhaps just startled by something? He recalled the assurances of Dumbledore and the judges that nothing fatal would be allowed. He pressed onward. Down more paths, always trying to keep moving in a westerly direction to get back on course, through more dead ends. Then, finally, a long path that went in the right direction.

"Viktor! What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!", it was Cedric, and they were in the very next passage off to his left.

"Crucio!", Viktor cast the torture curse, and Cedric screamed.

"Reducio!", Harry fired at the hedge wall. He blasted away enough to make a small hole that he could just barely squeeze through while kicking aside branches.

Viktor saw him, and ran for it.

"Stupify!", Harry took him down, as the spell hit him in the back.

Cedric was still on the ground, and Harry helped him up. He was trembling from the effects of the curse that set every nerve ending on fire.

"I thought he was an OK guy", Cedric said.

"So did I", Harry agreed. "What happened?"

"He caught up to me from behind. I turned around and he had his wand on me, and he fired off that curse… He'll go to Azkaban for life, using an Unforgivable", Cedric announced the obvious. "How can anyone be that desperate to win?", he was leaning against the hedge wall for support. "What do we do with him now?"

"We could leave him here, but then the skrewts might eat him".

"He'd deserve it".

Harry picked up Viktor's wand and fired off a red flare: "They'll come and get him, and disqualify Durmstrang. Then the judges can get to the bottom of his behaviour".

"You think he got to Fleur too?", Cedric asked. "I heard her scream… back there".

"I don't know; I hope not".

"Thanks for your help, but I'm feeling better now…"

"...So we're opponents again?"

"You got that", he said as he took off down the path, and around a corner.

"Point me", Harry got himself reoriented.

That meant two Champions eliminated: it was up to Harry and Cedric, and the competitive urge returned: Harry knew he might just win this thing. From just trying to survive as Lucius and Sirius suggested from the very beginning to actually hoisting that Cup and 10,000 Galleons back at the arena. Wouldn't that show 'em the futility of making him an illegal entrant. Igor's rant would be epic and something else to look forward to. Down the next path, and Harry came face-to-face with the Blast-Ended Skrewt. Cedric wasn't exaggerating about its size.

"Stupify!", the spell glanced off its tough exoskeleton, and accomplished nothing more than to really piss it off. It was advancing, and that was at least a good thing in that its built in "rocket motor" was pointing the opposite way.

"Impedimentia!", this spell, too, bounced off harmlessly, and Harry ducked just in time to prevent spelling himself.

It was close enough to deploy its stinger like an over grown scorpion, snap with its jaws, or claw with its front feet. Harry backed away, tripped, while firing another Impedimentia. This time, he hit the less well protected underside, and that was enough to stop its advance. Harry got out of there, as the spell wouldn't last forever, and there was no telling how soon the skrewt would regain the use of its legs.

He headed back the way he came, and used the Compass Spell to find another path that both went in the right direction, and put as much hedge between him and a by now very pissed off skrewt. The growing darkness meant he was getting closer to the center of the maze, and its prize.

Down a long, straight path, his wand illuminated a wondrous sight. He'd only seen pictures in his Monster Book of Monsters he had back when he was still attending Hogwarts. A real, live sphinx, just like the one in Egypt. The body of a lion, complete with a tail tuft, huge paws, the powerful build of a lion, but with the head of a woman. She wasn't crouching, so didn't look to be about to attack. All she was doing was patrolling, blocking passage any farther.

She ceased pacing, fixing him in her gaze: "You are very near that which you seek, and the fastest way to your objective is down this path", she announced.

"Kind of you to say so", Harry agreed, "so may I pass?", he asked.

"It won't be that easy", she informed him.

"No, I suppose it won't", he agreed.

"I will let you pass on one condition: you solve the riddle I'll give you. You have two choices: you can go back the way you came, or you can choose to solve my riddle. If you answer correctly on the first attempt, I will allow you to pass. If you choose not to answer, I will allow you to leave in peace. However, should you answer incorrectly, I attack you. Do you understand?"

"I got that", Harry told her.

"Fine, then what is your choice?"

"Can I hear the riddle?"

"There's a man who lives a life of danger
To everyone he meets, he stays a stranger,
Next, tell me which is the first to mend,
The middle of the middle, or the end of the end?
Finally, give me the sound often heard,
During the search for a hard to find word
String them together, and riddle me this:
What animal would you not want to kiss"

"What will you do?", she asked.

"OK, can you run that by me again, slower this time?", he asked.

"Of course", and she recited the lines again.

"OK, we have a secret agent", he was thinking out loud. Damned clever, he thought, using lyrics from a very old muggle song no wizard was likely to hear. Unless Johnny Rivers was played on the Wizarding Wireless Network, which he doubted. "A secret agent spies… he's a spy – wait! That's not my answer!"

"Go on", the sphinx said, giving no indication he was on the right track or not.

"Mending middles or ends? Incomprehensible bullshit… sound heard while trying to find a word? Ummmmm… or Errrrrr… – that's a sound", he said. He considered it: "Spy… errrrr…

"I got it! The animal I wouldn't want to kiss is a spider".

"Is that your final answer?", she asked.

"It is"

"You have answered correctly, so you may pass, and good luck in your quest. You are very near".

He had no reason to believe she was lying: "Thanks", he said as she stepped aside.

His wand was telling him he was definitely on course, and he trotted down the path to its end. He had a choice of going right or left.

"Point me", he checked again, and took the path leading to the right. Down the lane a short way, and around a corner, and there was something glowing brightly dead ahead. It took him a few seconds to recognize the Triwizard Cup, glowing as it sat on a plinth just about a hundred yards ahead. He was running now, when Cedric appeared out of an intersection just feet in front of him. Any closer, and Cedric would have bowled him over.

Harry's dress wasn't fit for running, but the hem was above his knees while Cedric's robe was almost to the ground, so he had that advantage. Cedric, on the other hand, was taller with a longer stride. Harry had to run in high heels, and cursed himself for not kicking them off. Now, it was too late.

Cedric, thinking about that prize, and that he was winning this for Hufflepuff and Hogwarts, that no one could call Hufflepuff the "House of Losers", drove him onward with the determination to get there first to claim the Cup.

Harry gave it his best, but wasn't able to catch the older, faster, Hufflepuff Seeker. He was almost within reach when Cedric grabbed a handle of the Cup and disappeared from the spot, back to the stage and declarations of his victory.

The contest over, the hedges moved aside, making a straight path back to the arena, and a second place finish. He was back, followed shortly by Fleur. He looked around, as perplexed as anyone in the audience, and especially the judges.

"Where's Cedric?", Harry asked Fleur.

"I 'ave no idea", she said. "I never saw 'im after entering zee maze".

"What happened back there?", Harry asked.

"Zomevun vas cheating. I vas stunned", she explained.

"Krum?", Harry asked.

"I didn't zee anyvun".

"He got the Cup", Harry explained, "so why isn't he here?"

The judges: Dumbledore, Madam Maxime, Igor Karkarov, Ludo Bagman, and Cornelius Fudge left the judges' stand with Percy Weasley, Dumbledore in the lead. Suddenly, Harry's head felt as though a jack hammer split his skull. He grabbed his head, and dropped.

"'Arry!", Fleur called out, "are you all right? Izz zere zomet'ing I can do?"

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Cedric looked around, this wasn't right. He wasn't at the arena. He wasn't anywhere near Hogwarts as the mountains he'd been seeing from the campus since his arrival as a Firstie were nowhere in sight. This was an old graveyard, and he was sure this wasn't Dufftown either. There was an ancient yew tree off to his right, and beyond that, a chapel. The old graveyard looked in some serious need of maintenance, as it was overgrown, and for so long, it looked like nature was well on its way to reclaiming it. He could barely make out the outline of a fine house on a distant hill off to his left.

Squinting through the darkness, he could barely make out a figure who was coming towards him between a line of graves. As the figure got closer, Cedric took out his wand. Whoever this was, was short. He was wearing a hooded cloak with the hood pulled up to conceal his face. It looked like he had something in his arms. The way he was carrying whatever it was looked like a baby, or perhaps it was just a bundle of rags. What it didn't look like was a bag filled with 10,000 Galleons.

"Oi!", Cedric called out, "I thought the ordeal was over after I claimed the Cup?", he said as he held up the Triwizard Cup. "There's more to this task?", he asked.

The figure said nothing as he came to within six feet. Cedric held his wand up, as he wasn't liking what he was seeing. Could this be another trick of the maze? Was he hallucinating this? He knew he wasn't. He knew something, somehow, had gone horribly wrong.

"Stupify!", the stranger dropped him before he could react.

"Master", Wormtail explained, "it… it's not... Potter. What shall I do now?"

"Fools and incompetents", Voldemort complained, "I am surrounded by fools and incompetents. We have no choice now, we've waited too long… we use him instead, and then I shall have a word with that servant who has failed me. Bring him".

Wormtail used the Levicorpus to take him to a monument in the shape of a tall marble angel that stood watch over a family plot. The angel's stony wings surrounded the inert Cedric.

"Ennervate", Wormtail reversed the Stupify.

"Hell's going on?!", he demanded. He struggled.

"The more you resist", Wormtail explained, "the tighter my angel's grip becomes"

Already, it felt as though ribs were on the verge of cracking.

"And you might be?", Wormtail asked.

"Cccccedric… Dddddiggory… What… in Merlin's name..."

"Well, Mr. Ccccccedric Dddddiggory", Wormtail said sarcastically, "you're taking Potter's place".

"Potter? Harry Potter? What's he got…"

"Silencio!", Wormtail shut him up.

Wormtail left his bundle on the ground, and he could see there was something moving inside. Wormtail disappeared from his line of sight, but he could hear the small man struggling with something heavy. He looked down to see a large serpent slithering beneath his feet. He watched as the last of its tail left his field of view.

Wormtail returned, pushing and pulling an iron cauldron that was big enough for a man to sit in, though not comfortably. It was much bigger than any cauldron Cedric ever used in Potions. He could hear some liquid sloshing around inside. Next, the small man conjured a grate, and levitated the cauldron and its contents. He started a roaring fire beneath the cauldron. Cedric hoped that the conflagration would draw attention.

Whatever was in the cauldron looked to heat up unnaturally fast. That much water would take at least an hour or more to begin bubbling. Whatever was in the bundle was stirring more vigorously. He could see the surface roiling with the first bubbles. It then began to give off sparks, like it was on fire.

A cold, high pitched voice like a child's called from the bundle: "Hurry!"

"It's almost ready", Wormtail announced. He kept the fire going. Steam began to rise, obscuring Wormtail from Cedric's view. No way was this just water, he decided. The whole surface was now covered in sparkles, like floating diamonds.

"It is ready, Master", Wormtail advised.

"Do it now", the unseen voice said.

Wormtail unwrapped the bundle to reveal what was lying there. If Cedric could scream, he would have. It was like overturning a rock to reveal something nasty, slimy, horrible, but orders of magnitudes worse. It was in the shape of a crouched child, but no child could possibly look like this thing. It looked like a severe burn victim who'd lost a nose. Nothing but slits. The eyes red, looking like they glowed with their own light. The arms and legs stick-thin and feeble. It looked nearly helpless.

As Wormtail bent down to pick this creature up, it wrapped its thin arms around his neck. His hood fell back, but he was unable to completely conceal the look of disgust as he carried the thing to the rim of the cauldron. As he set the creature into the sparkling liquid, there was a hiss, and it disappeared under the surface of the boiling liquid.

"Let it drown", Cedric thought to himself. "Whatever this is, let it fail, let it die"

Wormtail was making preparation, as he tightly wound a cord around his right wrist. After he did this, he pointed his wand (he was a south paw) at the marble crypt beneath Cedric's feet.

"Diffindo!", he fired, cracking the marble slab. He levitated what looked like a femur from the grave he'd desecrated.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you shall renew your son".

Wormtail looked frightened beyond his wits, as he dropped the bone into the cauldron. The cauldron hissed, threw sparks in every direction, as the contents turned icy-blue.

Wormtail was whimpering as he took a long, silver dagger from inside his robes. He laid his right hand on a chopping block he'd conjured.

"Surely he wouldn't…", Cedric thought, "he… couldn't".

He did. Wormtail cut off his right hand, dropped to the ground screaming…

"Let someone hear, let someone notify even the muggle police", he thought.

Wormtail forced himself to his feet: "Flesh… of the servant… wwwwillingly given, you shall renew your master", as he dropped his severed hand into the "broth", which responded by turning a bright, burning red. It sparked even more vigorously than before.

Wormtail was advancing on Cedric, who could do nothing about it, that dagger in his remaining hand. He slashed open the sleeve of Cedric's robe, then made a cut in his arm that bled profusely. He dropped the knife, rummaged in a pocket for a glass phial. He let the blood fill it before staggering back to the cauldron.

"Blood of the enemy, taken forcefully, you shall resurrect your foe", as he poured in the blood. The liquid instantly turned a blinding white that turned the immediate area from night into day. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees and flopped onto his side, gasping and sobbing. The cauldron sent its diamond sparks in all directions.

It didn't look like anything was happening: "Let it have gone wrong", Cedric thought, "let it be dead".

Suddenly, a thick plume of steam rose from the cauldron. So thick it obliterated the sight of anything else, the cauldron, Wormtail, the surrounding country side.

"It's gone wrong", Cedric thought. "It's dead, it's drowned by now… please… please let it be dead…"

The steam plume settled down, and there was a figure emerging from the cauldron, tall and slender, the figure of a man.

"Robe me", he ordered in that high, cold voice. Wormtail struggled to his feet, took up the robe he'd been carrying, and, one-handed, placed it over the head of his Master who stepped from the cauldron while adjusting his robe. He looked Cedric in the eye, his face snake-like with those red, reptilian eyes, slits for nostrils. The apparition from his father's nightmares: Lord Voldemort was finally back.

Voldemort then turned his nose to the sky, inhaling deeply, filling the lungs he hadn't had for over a decade with air while savoring the night scents. He ran his hands with long, thin fingers over his body and face, as if he could hardly believe it himself. He held a hand before his eyes, his expression exultant. Then he reached into his robe and took out his wand from an inside pocket. He caressed it gently, then pointed it at Wormtail, who was still twitching and whimpering as he held his mutilated arm. He levitated Wormtail against a head stone next to where Cedric was being held. He slid down the stone to a sitting position.

"My Lord, please", Wormtail was saying, "you… promised… you did promise…"

"Hold out your arm", Voldemort requested.

"Thank you, Master… thank you so much…", as he held out the stump. Voldemort laughed at him, but it was a mirthless laugh.

"Not that arm, Wormtail, your other arm", Voldemort said, to the look of utter confusion on Wormtail's face. He did so, offering his left arm.

Voldemort rolled up the sleeve of his robe to reveal what looked like a vivid red tattoo: the Dark Mark, the same one Cedric saw in the sky above the World Cup. He examined the Mark closely.

"Master… please", Wormtail begged, "please..."

"Very good", he said, "excellent. They should all have felt it by now", he said as he pressed a finger to the red "tattoo".

Wormtail screamed again in agony. As Voldemort took his finger away, the Mark turned jet black.

"Now we shall see", he said, "how many will be brave enough to return, and how many will be foolish enough to stay away".

Voldemort looked up to the sky; he looked all around the graveyard.

Turning his attention to Cedric: "Mr. Diggory, you are above the grave of my late father, the muggle son of a bitch that betrayed my mother, and couldn't bother to be a father to his son. It was I who sent him here long ago, and see how useful he's proved himself to be in death, much moreso than he ever did in life".

Voldemort said it in perfect self-justification.

"You noticed that house on the hill?"

He pointed in the direction of the house on the hill.

"My father lived there with his muggle parents. He fell in love with a magician who lived on the out skirts of the village. She, of a pure blood family, but a family which lost its fortune centuries ago, and poorer than the lowliest church mice. He was her ticket to a better life, he, the scion of the wealthiest family in the whole area, fell in love with the beautiful but impoverished Merope Gaunt. He abandoned her once he learned who she really was, what she was… He didn't approve of magick, my father. It didn't matter to him that she was carrying his child. He left before I was born, and let Mother die, and me to be raised in a muggle orphanage. The fool who gave me my name: Tom Riddle…

"Listen to me carrying on… I've become quite sentimental in my old age… But look!", he exclaimed, "My true family arrives now!"

He swept an arm before him. From between graves, from behind the yew tree, from every shadowy space, wizards were apparating. They all wore the same black robes and silver masks. They approached slowly, cautiously, as though they couldn't believe they were here, what they were seeing. One dropped to his knees, and approached the standing figure, like those pious Catholics approaching a high prelate. This kneeling figure kissed the hem of Voldemort's robe:

"Master… master…", he said.

The others followed his lead, all on their knees, all kissing Voldemort's robe. They backed away, on their knees before standing to form a large circle around their Master, and Cedric. There were gaps in the circle, as though they were waiting for more arrivals, yet Voldemort didn't seem to think anyone else was coming.

"My Dear friends, my Death Eaters", he began his speech in a pleasant tone that paradoxically sent shivers through the assembly. "How long has it been since last we met, and yet you come as though it were yesterday. Yet it wasn't yesterday, now was it?"

Voldemort stepped over to one of his followers to rip off his mask. He dropped dead on the spot, burning to ash.

"It's been twelve. Long. Years", he said as he killed two more of his followers. "I see you standing here, all of you fit and with all your powers. Maybe some of you are a bit grayer, maybe with that middle age spread, all of you have grown in your powers, have you not? Yet, none of you ever thought to come to the aid of your Lord and Master when he needed you the most…"

One broke ranks to fall at Voldemort's feet: "Forgive me, Master, forgive the weakness of my faith…"

He took out his wand: "Crucio!", he sent the Death Eater into paroxysms of torment.

"Avery, Lord Voldemort does not forgive, nor does he forget. You want forgiveness? Well I want twelve years from you before I will consider forgiving you. Oh, and Wormtail? Wipe that self satisfied smirk off your face before I do it for you. You did not act out of love or loyalty, but fear. You deserve this pain and suffering, don't you, Wormtail?"

"Yyyyyyesssss Massssss-terrrrr".

"It's good that you understand that you do deserve it. However, you, alone, helped me when no one else would. Lord Voldemort helps those who help him".

Voldemort raised his wand again, and something looking very much like mercury poured out. It formed into the shape of a hand that attached itself to Wormtail's right wrist. The binding around his wrist fell away, the agony gone. Wormtail looked in wonder at his prosthetic silver hand. He worked the fingers which responded as would the hand he cut off.

"Master!", he said in wonder, "it's… beautiful. Thank you so much, My Lord".

"You are quite welcome, Wormtail; do not allow your loyalty to waver again".

"I shall not", he promised.

"You see", Voldemort carried on, "that Lord Voldemort is not lacking in mercy. Though not all are so willing. Look around you: some of us are missing".

Voldemort walked around inside the circle, pointing out a gap: "Here we have space reserved for two Death Eaters who have fallen in my cause. They shall long be remembered with honour".

He pointed out another gap: "Here should be the Lestranges, but they can not be with us as they are languishing in Azkaban. Not for long, though, not for too much longer. The dementors will come over to our side, and when they are freed, they shall receive rewards beyond their wildest dreams, as Death Eaters who remained loyal and accepted the consequences of refusing to deny me. Unlike those who were too afraid to brave Azkaban".

Next, he pointed to an especially large gap: "Here we have more Death Eaters who can't be with us as they were executed by that Amelia Bones. She shall be dealt with in my own good time".

Yet another gap: "Here we have three Death Eaters who received my call, and failed to answer. If they are merely tardy, they shall be reminded of the emphasis Lord Voldemort places on punctuality. If they have fled, they will be killed, of course.

"I ask myself how it is that my loyal followers failed me so? How is it that all of them returned to their lives, some pleading bewitchment, some denying me in the face of the authorities. Did you not swear an oath of allegiance? While I was still with you twelve long years ago, did you not witness extraordinary magick? Did you not believe me when I pointed out that I, Lord Voldemort, had gone beyond every other wizard in the Dark Arts to vanquish death once and for all? Did you think it an empty brag?

"Then I wonder if the answer to these questions is 'Yes' (finger quotes) Or, perhaps, you believed there was another: another with greater powers still. Of course, I refer to that meddling, mudblood-loving, foreigner-loving, muggle-loving fool: Albus Dumbldore and his faithful sidekick, Harry Potter. The same Harry Potter who, through a stroke of extraordinary good luck, managed to vanquish me. It was through his mother's foolish self sacrifice, a bit of old magick that I unfortunately had forgotten. I should have killed the little bastard with my bare hands, but, alas, I did not, and the Killing Curse backfired. Agony on agony, as my body was thoroughly destroyed without a trace. Even I do not know exactly what I'd become. Something more than a ghost, or a mere spirit. I retreated to the forests of Albania to recover and regroup. I'd mentioned Albania to you before, and I thought my faithful servants would come looking for me. I waited in vain. Long years passed, and not a single one came. While I could posses people and animals, I dare not posses a person lest the aurors discover me. Possessing animals didn't allow me to do wand magick, and they never lived very long after being possessed.

"Then, finally, a miracle happened. A marginally talented wizard stumbled across my lair in the forest. He was a professor of Dumbledore's school on sabbatical. Weak of will, but head filled with his own overblown sense of importance, he easily bent to my will. It was he who brought me back to England where I possessed him before the start of another term. Albus Dumbledore brought into the school a Philosopher's Stone, which I sought for myself and reincarnation. The old fool thought his pathetic defenses would stop the greatest wizard in three centuries, even though I was greatly weakened, I defeated them with ease. I would have succeeded, but for the meddling of Potter, once again. He continues to elude me, but his luck is about to run out.

"I retreated to my lair in Albania. I figured when word of what happened at Hogwarts got out, it would finally prompt one of my followers into action. Once again, I waited in vain; once again, I was disappointed to see no one came. This was my darkest hour, depths of despair you can not imagine. It was then that a follower finally came, Wormtail. Though a life-long coward, and a strictly average wizard, still he came, and brought with him a Ministry official, one Berta Jorkins. Wormtail, being an animagus, has a special affinity for rats, don't you Wormtail? His furry friends informed him of a place deep in the woods where a shadow caused the deaths of many of their kind. This is how he found me.

"Wormtail should have known better than to be visiting inns in his human form where Ministry officials on holiday can see him and recognize him, especially when he's supposed to be dead. Fate was with Lord Voldemort on that day, as Wormtail convinced her to accompany him into my lair. It was there that Wormtail, under my instruction, was able to break a powerful Memory Charm, to reveal the secrets she was keeping. Secrets about the World Cup, and a revived Triwizard Tournament. She also had information about a most faithful servant who was also thought dead. Of course, in the process, her mind was permanently ruined. However this didn't end her usefulness to me, as we were able to take her life force to give me a very rudimentary body. At great risk to my health, Wormtail brought me back, once again. It was here that we made the plans for my return. However, my servant was as lacking in competence as he was in displaying enthusiasm for our cause. He failed me by failing to send me Potter. Instead, he sent a substitute. He shall be reminded of the importance of following my instructions to the letter".

Voldemort stepped up to Cedric: "Finite Incantatum"

"I well remember your father", he said, "a fanatic in his opposition, wasn't he? An enthusiasm for opposing dark magi which you inherited".

"Ummmm…", was the best Cedric could do.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself, Mr. Diggory? Maybe this will loosen your tongue? Crucio!"

Cedric screamed again, two Crucios in one day.

"Now, Mr. Diggory, tell us how you came to be here instead of Potter?"

"Iiiiiittttt… jjjjust… happened", he explained, still unsteady from the latest taste of the Torture Curse. "Hhhhharry put up a good effort… almost made it… I was… just faster… that's all".

"So that's what it came to? You were faster, as for my servant?"

"He… took out two champions. Tried to take me out, but Harry arrived, stopped him. We got through the maze OK, then it came down to a race for the Cup".

"Potter, again Potter, spoiling my plans: I shall deal with him in good time; I'll deal with you later".

"My Lord", someone called out, "we crave to know how you accomplished this miracle".

"Ahhhhh, but that's a secret. Let us just say it involved a potion made of unicorn blood and other special ingredients and a ritual of my own design. I have spent more time delving into the Dark Arts than any wizard in history. I have had long years of experimentation. That's all I have to say on the subject, and I strongly advise that none of you mentions it again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master", they intoned as one.

"Good, now let us deal with Mr Diggory", he turned to Cedric.

"Before you, you see the grave of my late father. It would be a pity to see it go to waste. Avada Kadavra!", he ended Cedric's life instantly.

Then he levitated the body into the grave and restored the marble crypt slab with the name: Thomas Riddle.

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Dumbledore was the first to get to Harry as he writhed in agony on the ground. As Dumbledore leaned over, Harry grabbed the lapels of his robes: "He's back… Dear Merlin, he's back…"

"What's he saying?", Vernon asked.

"Voldemort: he's back… I saw… I felt… his reincarnation… he's killed already, he's killed someone…"

Amos Diggory was also looking for answers: "What's going on, Dumbledore? Where's Cedric? Why hasn't he come back with the others?"

"Amos, I don't know", Dumbledore said.

"Nothing was supposed to go wrong! You, Bagman, and Crouch guaranteed nothing would go wrong!"

Mad Eye Moody was a late arrival, given his wooden leg. He offered Harry a hand.

"Come with me, Mr. Potter. I'll need to talk with you…"

"Can't this wait?", Vernon complained.

"He's right…", Dumbledore started.

"No, it can't wait", Mad Eye insisted. "I'll need to debrief Mr. Potter, now, while his memories of this apparition, vision, dream – whatever you want to call it – are still fresh, before he begins to forget like the last time".

He fixed a stare at Amos Diggory: "It might help us find your son", he said.

"Just a goddamned minute here…", Vernon objected.

"Vernon, Dear, let the aurors do their job", Petunia advised. "They know what they're doing".

"They'd better", Vernon said.

"Come, Mr. Potter", Mad Eye said as he led Potter back towards the castle and his office.

"I'll need to know everything", he said as they went, Harry unsteady on his feet. "I have a potion that'll fix you right up".

"Shouldn't we see Madam Pomphrey?"

"Soon enough, but first I have to hear what you say before your memories fade. Help me and you might be helping your friend".

Moody closed and charmed the office door locked, though Harry didn't notice this. The office not changed since his last visit, all his dark detectors inert.

"Here, drink this", Moody offered a potion that burned like a slug of hot sauce.

"Better now?", he asked.

The potion did relieve the head ache, and steadied him greatly. His vision cleared, as did his head. Moody took his place behind his desk, and Potter a seat before him.

"Tell me what you saw", Moody asked. His electric blue cybernetic eye fixed on him.

"It was someplace… an old, overgrown graveyard. Wormtail was there, and Whatshisname came out of this cauldron. This time, he wasn't a wraith, he was whole, fully human".

"How did he appear?"

"Tall, thin, with a grotesquely distorted face, white as a skull, scaly-looking, with two slits instead of a nose, like it was cut off or burnt off, a lot like a burn victim. Red, reptilian eyes… so bright red like self illuminated. He did something that activated Wormtail's Dark Mark, then he said something about how many would be brave enough to come, and how many would be foolish enough to stay away".

"They came? The Death Eaters?"

"Yeah, esssss-loads of 'em".

"How did the Dark Lord greet them? Did he forgive them?"

Harry thought this a somewhat strange question. Why would Moody care whether he forgave Death Eaters or not?

"I… don't think so… he complained, and hit one with the Cruciatus for asking for forgiveness, but he didn't attack anyone else that I know of… I sensed he killed someone… I don't know who… some things aren't real clear. It was all mixed up, happy to be back, upset with his followers for not doing more to find him. Contempt and gratitude towards Wormtail…"

Harry hesitated to recall.

"Go on", Moody growled at him.

"There was something else, a servant inside Hogwarts… we have to let the Professor know!"

"That won't be necessary".

"Why not?"

"I already know who Voldemort's agent inside Hogwwarts is".

"You figure it out? Let him know already? Who is it, Karkarov? Snape? Someone else… Bagman, perhaps?"

"No, none of them. Karkarov took off as soon as he felt his Dark Mark burn".

"You didn't try to stop him?"

"Why should I? No, Harry, he wasn't the one. I know this because I am that Death Eater insider…"

"You… Are you saying you betrayed everything you said you stood for… everything you stood for?!"

From everything Harry knew of Mad Eye Moody, he was the least likely to have taken the Dark Mark. Did he turn that cynical after his retirement? Cynical enough to turn traitor to the Ministry he served so long and with such distinction – to betray his long friendship with the Professor? He'd heard all the rumours about how jinx-happy Moody was, how paranoid, how he was seeing conspiracies everywhere. Had the PTSD from the last wizarding war gotten to him?

"Everything I stood for is now and has always been the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord and I have very much in common, Harry. Both of us had very disappointing fathers, very disappointing. We both suffered the indignity of being named after our fathers. And both of us had the pleasure – the very great pleasure – of killing those disappointing fathers.

"You, not that Cedric, was the one who was supposed to go to the graveyard. You see, Dumbledore trusts Mad Eye Moody implicitly. He had no objections to my casting the Portus on the Cup to bring the first person who touched it back to the arena. As I was taking it into the maze, I redirected its charm to send the one who touched it to my Master. That should have been you, and I made sure to get the rest of the champions out of your way. I took out Miss Delacourt, and put Krum under the Imperious to take down Cedric. I have failed my Master, but there is one way that I may redeem myself".

Mad Eye came close, his face in Harry's, the cybernetic eye fixed on him, the normal eye bulging. He looked crazy. Could that be it? Somehow, Moody lost it?

"The Dark Lord has wanted you dead ever since the night he fell from power. You have interfered again, first by stopping his recovery of the Philosopher's Stone, then thwarting his efforts to revive himself with the life force of a first year student. Potter: you have interfered for the last time. Now, he is angry, very angry, and I shall be the one to claim your life. The Dark Lord will honour me above and beyond every other Death Eater".

Harry knew his only hope for survival was to keep him talking.

"What makes you think so? If you kill me, haven't you denied the Dark Lord his vengeance? How do you know that won't really piss him off even more than he is now? What can I give him that Cedric couldn't? Hasn't he returned anyway?"

"I don't know why he wanted you, and it's not my place to ask, or question his orders, but to do. As for Cedric, who knows what the Dark Lord will decide? As for you, Harry Potter, the Dark Lord has spoken…"

"What, exactly, did he say? Did he actually order any of his followers to take me out? Or does he prefer to do that himself, especially if I've been such a thorn in his side?"

"The Dark Lord will reward me as he rewarded no other Death Eater before me, once I give him your lifeless carcass".

"You're mad…"

"Mad, am I? We'll see who's mad when I am seated at the Dark Lord's right hand, closer to him than any son could ever hope to be as we ring in the New Dark Order..."

The office door was blown off its hinges. Harry hit the deck.

"Stupify!", three spells hit Moody at once. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape had arrived. Dumbledore flipped the inert form onto his back with his foot. This time, there was no twinkle in his eyes, no grandfatherly expression. Every line of his face radiated fury.

"We should see Mr Potter to the infirmary", McGonagall suggested.

"No, Minerva, not just yet: Harry needs to hear this, as does a house elf named Winky, whom you will find in the kitchen, I think.

"Severus", he turned to address his Potions Master, "I will require the strongest Truth Potion you have available".

McGonagall and Snape left to carry out their respective assignments.

"Harry", Dumbledore asked, "are you well? He didn't harm you?"

"Not yet, he didn't, but you sure took your sweet time… Not much of a judge of character when it comes to hiring DADA profs, are you?", he asked sarcastically.

"Ah, but you see, Harry, this isn't Alistair Moody".

Dumbledore dragged the inert form across the floor to prop him up against the wall, beneath Moody's Foe Glass.

"I've known Mad Eye for longer than you have been alive, and the real Mad Eye Moody would never have led you away from us. We followed him to see what he was up to. As for the identity of our impostor, we shall find out soon enough".

Dumbledore went through "Moody's" pockets, confiscating his famous hip flask and the keys to his trunk.

After Snape's return, he handed over the flask. Snape poured out some slimy goop.

"Polyjuice", he confirmed.

"Then the real Mad Eye…", Dumbledore began.

"He would need hair", Snape confirmed. "I hope for his sake he kept him alive".

Dumbledore went to the trunk that had seven locks. Opening one revealed nothing more than a collection of books. He closed the trunk, trying a different key. The contents changed, this time, a collection of broken Sneak-o-scopes, quills, ink pots, and parchment rolls. There was also a silvery, conventional, invisibility cloak. He tried the third, fourth, fifth, sixth key, each revealing different contents. The seventh and final key revealed a deep pit. Dumbledore, despite his age, climbed in.

"Fetch me a blanket", he called out. "I've found the real Alistair Moody down here".

Snape went to look. Nearly unrecognizable without his trademark eye, was the real Mad Eye Moody. "Is he…", Snape started.

"He's alright, just put in stasis. It's chilly down here".

He wrapped the inert form of Mad Eye Moody, now without his wooden leg and cybernetic eye in the blanket.

"He will be fine here for now", Dumbledore explained as he climbed back out with Snape's help.

They waited, it wasn't all that long as the effects of Polyjuice last an hour or so. The scars on "Moody's" face began to fade. The gray hair turned straw, and grew shorter. The mangled nose began to revert to normal, and reduced in size. The wooden leg fell away with a clunk, as a real leg appeared. The cybernetic eye popped out of its leather band as a normal eye appeared in its place. Moody's cybernetic eye rolled across the floor, came to a stand still, but was whirling in every direction.

A much younger, much fairer, slightly freckled, man sat there.

"Who…", McGonagall started.

Harry immediately recognized Barty Crouch Jr from the memories he saw in Dumbledore's Pensieve.

"Barty Crouch… junior", Dumbledore explained.

"Do you have it?", he asked of his Potions Professor.

Snape handed over the same small phial with which he'd once threatened Harry. Dumbledore forced open Barty's mouth and placed three drops on his tongue.

"Ennervate", he cast the reverse spell.

Barty's eyes opened, but unfocused.

"Can you hear me?", Dumbledore asked gently.

"Yes, I hear you", he replied.

"Master Barty, what is you doing here?", Winky asked. "Why isn't you back home? Master must be worried sick about you!" She looked on in wonder, large eyes growing even larger.

"That's something I'd like to know as well", Dumbledore said.

"Your friend Moody is getting old, sloppy, and slow… too long from the Auror Corps. Hell, even a little girl took him down, in front of his entire class. It was not a problem, sneaking onto the campus. Wormtail was all too willing to show me how. Three days ago, I got the drop on Moody, took him down. Under the Imperious, he was all too willing to tell me everything I needed to know to impersonate him. Then I locked him in his own trunk".

"You is a bad boy!", Winky reprimanded. "A very, very bad boy!"

"How did Harry's name find its way into the Goblet?"

"That was Ludo Bagman's doing. You see, Ludo has a weakness for gambling, and fancies himself a book maker, but with one defect: he can't help but get high off his own supply. It was no big deal for one of our agents to arrange for the Weasley twins who are money-hungry and make no secret of it to place a high risk bet with Bagman. All it took was a simple compulsion. As an added bonus, they shared their knowledge with their friends. Being the greedy SoB he is, and believing he had a sure thing, he gladly took their bets".

"More agents rigged the World Cup, Imperioused the Bulgarian Seeker to throw the game, to catch the Snitch while the team was too far behind to win. Bagman was broke, and in some serious debt to the goblins, and he would do anything to pay that off. That was one of his tasks: to see that Potter was entered into the Triwizard Tournament. Being that he is head of the Department of International Games and Sports, and that his department owns the Goblet of Fire, he knew exactly how to make it accept a fourth champion of Bagman's choosing. He was tasked to do everything to make Potter the winner. However, some unknown someones fucked up all our plans by paying off all of Bagman's debts. He was playing it straight from then on, refusing to give Potter any more help.

"That's why my Master asked me to come to Hogwarts, to impersonate the one person Dumbledore trusted above everyone else, including the Minister himself: his DADA professor, the retired auror, Alistair Moody. I patrolled around the outside of the maze, and with Moody's eye, I could see past the hedge rows, and I cursed obstacles out of Potter's way. I stunned Fleur, and put Viktor Krum under the Imperious so's he would take out Diggory. He would have done it, but for Potter's interference, once again. It was Potter who stunned Krum to prevent his completing his mission to clear the way for Potter".

"What was the purpose behind all of this?"

"My Master needed Potter, but there was no other way to get at him. The Tournament was our best chance. In order for the Triwizard Cup to function, the anti-portkey wards needed to be suspended. With no opposition, he would be sent directly to my Master for his part in the ritual of reincarnation. I don't know why it had to be Potter. My Master didn't say and I didn't ask".

"It didn't work out that way", Dumbledore pointed out.

"No, it didn't. Someone was fucking with our plans, someone who will come to regret that very much. My Master will find out, and punish them until they beg him for death".

"And Mr. Diggory: what became of him?"

"Don't know; don't care. He should be grateful that he was allowed his part in the rise of the Dark Lord".

"Azkaban: how did you escape?"

"That was my father's doing. My mother knew she was dying, and she convinced my father to make the switch…"

"Master Barty! You must not tell", Winky interrupted, "you is getting your father and my Master in big trouble… Say no more!", Winky ordered. "You is getting your father in big trouble! You is making trouble for all of us!"

Harry knew all this already, having heard it from Lucius.

"...Then a riot unexpectedly broke out at the campsite after the match. I had stolen a wand from the jacket pocket of some girl sitting directly in front of me. Winky didn't see because she's terribly afraid of heights, and had her face hidden in her hands…"

"You is bad boy!", Winky said. "you is defying your father, who did so much for you! Is this how you repay your father? Is this how you honour your mother's sacrifice?"

"By now, I was free of father's Imperious. It was like waking from a long nightmare. Father left me in Winky's care when he went off to help rescue the muggles. If there's one thing I hate more than anything else, it's a Death Eater that walked free. These traitors to their vows to my Master, who renounced my Master the first instance when the going got just a bit tough, these fair weather friends. The ones that plead bewitchment, that used their gold to buy their way out of Azkaban, rather than remain true to their vows of loyalty. I wanted to fight them, but Winky used her magic to bind herself to me before leading me into the woods, away from the riot. I didn't want to go, but she dragged me along.

"If there's one thing I hate more than a Death Eater who walked by selling out my Master, it's a wannabe, a poseur. I don't know who those assholes at the campsite were, but they certainly were not Death Eaters. No Death Eater would call that sort of attention to themselves when they knew the Dark Lord was rising. It's the last thing they would want. I couldn't fight, but the one thing I could do was cast the Dark Mark, show them who the real Death Eater was. They fled at the first sight of my Master's insignia, proving they were frauds. That's when we were hit by Stunners from all sides. Winky and I were stunned. Father knew that if Winky was there, I had to be near. He found me under the Cloak. When the crowd was gone, he reversed the Stunner and put me back under the Imperious to take me home once again, a prisoner in my own home".

He leaned back against the wall, grinning a grin as though he was recalling the high point of his whole life.

"My Master came for me, he and Wormtail. They came just before midnight. My Master put Father under the Imperious and made him go about his business as if nothing had happened, but I was free! I felt more alive than I had in years. I accompanied my Master back to his home. I swore my loyalty as his faithful servant, perhaps his most loyal servant of all. I made it clear that I would have come for him, but for Father's interference. I had spent long years under his thumb, which is what restrained me.

"It worked for awhile, but Father, like me, began to fight off the Imperious. Before he was successful, he was taken to the Dark Lord's home and held there. He was made to send owl posts to fulfill his duties, all the while pleading illness and overwork. The Ministry was satisfied, and never bothered to check up on him. Then Wormtail allowed him to escape, and I knew full well where he would be headed: straight to Hogwarts and Dumbledore. I waited by the main entrance, and saw him arrive. Before I could do anything, I saw Potter and Krum with him. I waited until Potter left to get Dumbledore, I presume. I stunned Krum from behind. Then it was just a matter of eliminating my father. I killed him right then and there, and hid the body in the forest, under the invisibility cloak. After Dumbledore came, it was simply a matter of circling around to act as if I were just now arriving. I said Snape sent me, and knew I'd be believed and no one would ask later. I told him I hadn't seen any sign of him, and Dumbledore let that go without question. Later, I disposed of the body".

"How did you do that?", Dumbledore asked.

"I transfigured it into a bone and buried it in that patch of fresh earth by Hagrid's cabin".

"Oh Master Barty, what has you done?!", Winky said, tears filling her large eyes. "You has killed my Master! What will Winky do now? Why did Master send Winky away?"

Dumbledore cast the Body Bind on Barty: "Minverva, would you stand guard. Severus: would you inform the Minister and Madam Maxime, and let Poppy know we've found the real Alistair Moody: he'll need some looking after. Have them come up to my office, as this concerns her student. Harry: my office first, then I want Madam Pomphrey to examine you".

Along the way, Harry asked: "What about Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?"

"They're with Professor Sprout, as she's Hufflepuff's Head of House and knew him well".

Dumbledore gave the password, and the gargoyle stepped aside to allow admittance to the Headmaster's office complex. He held the door for Harry, took his place behind the desk.

"Hello, Fawks", Harry said to the scarlet phoenix on his perch. Fawkes chirped back at him.

"Have a seat", the Headmaster offered. They waited until Madam Maxime arrived.

"Madam Maxime", Dumbledore atarted, "I've asked you to be here since this concerns your student.

"I appreacite zat, Professor Dumbledore.

"You had another vision?", he asked.

"Yes, Professor, he's back… Voldemort's back. I felt it and saw a lot of what he was seeing", Harry explained.

"What did you see?", Dumbledore asked.

"I felt the exaultation he felt when whatever Wormtail did that reincarnated him, the mixture of contempt and gratitude he felt for Wormtail, the anger towards the Death Eaters who apparated for their failures to look for him. I saw them, just essssss-loads of them, the Death Eaters. Only minutes after he regained a physical form, he killed someone, maybe more than once. He was also complaining about those who felt the Dark Mark burn, but who didn't show".

"Where did this occur?"

"It was in an old graveyard, somewhere. I'm sure I never saw it before tonight. It was all distorted, like, I more feel his feelings than see through his eyes, unless it's something he sees and feels strongly about".

"Was Cedric there?"

"I guess so, but I didn't see him, so I can't really say one way or the other… I know it's not much to go on. I did get the impression he was expecting me, and wasn't very pleased to see I wasn't there".

"It's enough, and I do believe you're right: Voldemort's reincarnated himself. The last time, it was something he bragged about frequently: that he wouldn't die, and he would return. I don't doubt that he wanted you, after all, he and his followers went to great lengths to do everything that would send you to Voldemort. How did you not reach the Cup first?"

"Cedric was faster on his feet. He just got there first, that's all. Maybe he wouldn't have if I hadn't stopped Krum when I did".

"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley"

"Sir?"

"From Robert Burns, Harry, 'The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray'. It would seem that this is the case here. Voldemort's servant, young Barty Crouch couldn't account for everything".

"Cedric…"

"The wrong place at the wrong time".

"So you think he's…"

"Voldemort has little regard for life, and wouldn't hesitate to eliminate him once he'd served Voldemort's purpose for him. He would take out his anger against young Barty for not sending him who he was expecting on Cedric. I fear the worst. He, especially, wouldn't want to leave a witness behind. Harry: I'm deeply sorry I didn't foresee this sooner. I don't want you mentioning anything about this. Since we really don't know and only suspect".

"I see…"

"Best to be off to Madam Pomphrey's…"

"Is that really necessary?"

"You did almost pass out in front of everyone, and since you're a foreign exchange student, I think it for the best, just to make sure. In all likelyhood, we'll have you back with the Beaux Batons soon enough".

Dumbledore escorted Harry and Madam Maxime to the infirmary to make certain he actually went for the exam. He returned back the way he came once he'd seen Harry under Pomphrey's care.

"Vot 'appened, 'Arry", Madam Maxime asked. Vernon, Petunia, Dudley and Hermione were also there. So Madam suspended Hermione's confinement?

"Harry? What happened back there?", Vernon wanted to know. "Was it that irresponsible old git again? I should wring his neck, the bastard".

"It was nothing, really…"

"Eet deedn't look like nozzing. 'Ow are you feeling?"

"And you!", Vernon directed his ire at Madam Maxime, "how the hell could you allow Harry to come here in the first place! We sent Harry to your school to get him away from here!"

"Vernon, Dear, let's calm down and hear what they have to say".

"It was my scar acting up again because Whatshisname was acting up again. I explained before".

"Oui, I do remember".

"This has happened before?", Vernon asked, "then why didn't you say something?"

"What could you or Mum do about it?", Harry asked. "I'm afraid this isn't anything any normie doctors can treat. I didn't want to give you anything else to worry about".

"You really do live in your own little world, don't you?", Dudley asked.

Hermione said not a word as she was looking out the windows.

"Harry, over here", it was Madam Pomphrey, "in bed".

Madam Maxime wasn't the only one, as Molly Weasley was also there, along with the Twins and Ginny.

"Harry! Harry!", Molly called out.

"All this fuss over a head ache? Really!", Harry protested. "I can assure you, it was nothing. Looked worse than it really is".

"The boys flooed a message. Are you sure you're OK? I've been so worried ever since you were entered into that Tournament", Molly Weasley said.

"I appreciate the concern, but it's all much ado about nothing. Though, thanks for coming".

"What's your concern with all of this?", Vernon asked Molly.

"Harry did help save Ginny's life…"

"Yes, I remember", Vernon said. "But still…"

"Harry's practically a member of the family. It was our son, Charlie, the Dragon Keeper, who made sure Harry received advance notice of the dragons", she explained. "Arthur and I have been doing what we can to see Harry safe".

"I see", Vernon said, "you have my thanks for that… Unlike most of you lot".

"Sorry to break up this touching scene", Madam Pomphrey said, "but I still have a patient to examine. Mr. Potter, just lie still", Pomphrey ordered. Harry saw he wasn't alone as the genuine Mad Eye Moody was recovering from the stasis charm in another bed, his wooden leg and cybernetic eye on the night stand. She began to cast the diagnostic spells of her profession. Satisfied, she went towards her office. She returned with something.

"If you have any more pain, just take three drops of this potion. That should clear it up. Otherwise, I can find nothing wrong, and you're free to go".

"I can reassure you", the Healer addressed Harry's step parents, "Harry is perfectly fine, and has suffered no after effects from his ordeal".

"Is there anything you can do to make sure it doesn't happen again?", Vernon asked.

"I'm afraid not, there hasn't been a case like this that I can recall. Other than Harry, no one has ever been hit with a Killing Curse and lived to tell about it. As for the after effects of his surviving, it's uncharted territory in the annals of magical medicine".

Just then, there were voices in the hall way.

"How dare you bring that, that… thing inside the castle", it was McGonagall. "The Headmaster has said repeatedly that they are not welcome…"

McGonagall and Fudge entered.

"I thought I'd find Dumbledore here", Fudge complained.

"This is an infirmary, and I have patients here, take it outside!", Pomphrey ordered. For once, her order was ignored.

"Not until we get this cleared up", Fudge was saying.

Dumbledore and Snape arrived.

"Minerva?", Dumbledore started, "Has something happened? Didn't I leave you to watch over young Barty?"

"Thanks to him", she motioned towards Fudge, "that will no longer be necessary. The Minister ordered that a dementor be sent here. I told him you would never permit that thing inside the castle, but he ignored everything I said. As soon as they entered the room, that thing gave him the Kiss. There's nothing left to guard. I told him…"

"My Dear lady", Fudge began, "as Minister of Magic it is up to me to decide what security precautions I need before interviewing an insane, violent suspect".

Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall so livid. Not even close to when Ron mouthed off about her that first class in Transfiguration. Her cheeks were splotched with patches of red.

"Cornelius, is this true?", Dumbledore asked.

"As I was telling your Deputy Headmistress, it was my judgment call. I wasn't about to interview a raving lunatic without adequate back-up. A lunatic who's already murdered his own father in cold blood, and who knows how many besides. Dumbledore!"

"You have also deprived us of his testimony as to why he murdered his father", Dumbledore objected.

"We already know why! He's a criminally insane lunatic!"

"We also heard him confess that he was acting on Voldemort's orders. We needed to ask about accomplices. We could have asked what he knew of Cedric Diggory's disappearance. You may have prevented us from rescuing him".

"In his delusions, he thought he was acting for Youknowwho. How can you make sense out of insanity? As for Mr. Diggory, it was simply an unfortunate accident with a malformed Portkey. Accidents do happen, and it is most unfortunate that this has tainted the reputation of the revival of the Triwizard Tournament. I, as a supporter of the revival, shall take my share of the responsibility".

"I'm afraid that Voldemort has made good on his promise to return…"

"Return from the dead? He's gone. Period. End of discussion".

"It isn't that simple, I'm afraid. Voldemort said that he was immortal, that he would return should the unthinkable happen. Mr. Potter's vision of Voldemort's reincarnation…"

"Seriously, Albus, the delusional brag of a megalomaniac, and a vision? This is all you have to go on, the vision of a boy who has funny turns in class…"

"Been reading Skeeter again, Mr. Minister?", Harry spoke up for the first time.

"And so what if I have? Do you deny that you've been having head aches? Deny being a Parseltongue? Do you deny you've been having these dreams, nightmares, hallucinations? It would seem there's been quite a lot that your Professor has been concealing about you, including your constant attention-seeking, and your penchant for exaggeration".

"Mr. Minister, I can assure you this was no hallucination. As for Skeeter, she has long been known for muckraking, exaggeration, and sensationalism. I know that the scar I got from Whatshisname acts up in his presence, or when he's feeling strongly about something. I knew this ever since we discovered that Whatshisname had possessed the unfortunate Professor Quirrel. Why should it be any different now?"

"I can assure you, Mr. Potter is as sane as you or I", Dumbledore said. "The scar he got the night his parents were murdered hasn't addled his brains. His story lines up with what Barty Crouch told us under Veritas, and agrees with the sequence of events of the past summer".

"Is that a professional opinion? May I see your mind healer's license? Are you that determined to set off a panic that will tear down everything we've worked to rebuild these past twelve years? All because of a boy with a penchant for having head aches and telling tall tales that keep getting taller with each retelling. How can you be so naive?"

"Mr. Minister", Snape drawled, "it has been no secret of what I think of Mr. Pot-ter. He inherited all James' arrogance, but little of his talent. Pot-ter is an insufferable know-it-all who, since the first day he set foot on this campus, has believed that rules are for everyone, but not him. Last time I taught Pot-ter, I caught him cheating in my class, and I failed him for it. Despite that, I believe every word he says concerning the return of Youknowwho".

Snape rolled up his left sleeve, showing the Dark Mark. Fudge involuntarily backed away upon seeing the Dark Mark.

"Youknowwho has burned his Dark Mark into every one of his followers. The Mark serves to set us apart, enable us to recognize one another, and serves as a means of calling us to his side. Any time he touches a Dark Mark, all the rest of the Dark Marks burn, calling us to apparate to his side immediately. As you can see, it's faded a bit over the last hour or two, but it has never been so clear in over a decade. I knew the Dark Lord was on the rise for well over a year now, so did Karkarov, so did every other Death Eater. I felt the Mark burn, and so did Karkarov, which prompted his sudden flight and disappearance. Karkarov had betrayed all too many followers to ever believe he'd be accepted back into the fold.

"Mr. Minister, there is only one individual who can make these Marks burn, and that's the Dark Lord himself. When I felt my Mark burn, I knew. Knew the Dark Lord had returned, and that was before hearing Mr. Pot-ter's story of his vision".

Minister Fudge had always struck Harry as being somewhat pompous, maybe a little too full of himself, always asking what's in it for me in the political sense. Maybe a little too easily swayed by flattery. Despite that, he seemed to be of good nature. Now, he was being totally unreasonable, looking to take the easy way out.

"He… couldn't… really be back… could he?"

Fudge fidgeted with his trademark lime-green pot hat as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Cornelius, you are at a historical cross road. Depending on how you decide, you can go down in history as one of the greatest Ministers we've ever had: the Minister who rallied Magical Britain to thwart Lord Voldemort's attempted rise to power once again. Or you can be remembered as the Minister who refused to accept reality, who stepped aside and allowed Lord Voldemort to regain all the power he had some twelve years ago.

"The first thing you need to do is recall the dementors from Azkaban…"

"Recall the dementors?! Dumbledore! Half the population sleeps securely because they know the dementors are patrolling the grounds. There is no way the Wizengamot would ever go along with that…"

"The dementors aren't going to remain loyal to our side. They will defect the instant Voldemort asks them to switch their allegiances. He, not the Ministry, can offer them the widest scope for their natural abilities, and their inclinations. They will not remain at their posts, I'm afraid. They will happily throw open the doors of Azkaban for the worst of Voldemort's worst. They, backed by the dementors, will form the core of a formidable army that the Ministry will be hard pressed to fight.

"You should send envoys to the giants and the werewolf packs…"

"This is absolutely insane! If I suggested any such thing, I would be laughed out of office! You know what giants are like: savage, brutal, stupid, and you can't reason with them anyway. Who would volunteer for such a mission? They would be killed the instant they tried".

"Meester Meeneester, I can assure you zat Moi is not savage, brutal, and certainly not stupid!", Madam Maxime objected. "An' neizzer ees Monsieur 'Agreed"

"The people hate them!"

"Voldemort won't hesitate. He will promise the giants and werewolves he will honour their rights and freedoms. Let us also not forget the centaurs, merpeople, house elves and goblins – all the non-humans and semi-humans we have been treating like their lives didn't matter – all ready allies of anyone who comes along and offers them a modicum of respect. Of course, those offers won't be made in good faith, as Voldemort has never cared about anything or anyone besides himself. He will use his useful idiots until they're no longer useful and then discard them with no more consideration than throwing out a used tissue. They, unfortunately, won't see that as he makes them a far more attractive offer than the Ministry. What we need is to meet with their respective leaders, point out this most obvious fact, and win, if not their allegiance, their neutrality.

"You are blinded by your blood prejudice. Didn't your dementor just destroy the last of a pure blood family as ancient and noble as any? I have always said that it doesn't matter how you are born, but how you grow up. Look at young Barty Crouch: what did he do with his life? Attitudes like those towards the giants, weres, the half-bloods, the mudbloods needs to change, otherwise, it will be one dark lord wannabe after another. It wasn't all that long between the fall of Grindelwald and the rise of Voldemort".

Harry thought to himself that was rich, coming from Dumbledore. In every case that involved Dumbledore and the causes of the less-than-pure-blood or the intelligent non-humans, he refused to act, saying "his hands were tied" – despite being both the Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump. Case in point: the Hogwarts house elves were neither free nor paid wages. Another case in point: Buckbeak the hippogryph. Dumbledore was willing to offer his Care of Magical Creatures Professor a shoulder to cry on, but he wouldn't lift a finger, spend even a slight modicum of all his political capital, to save that one life. Then there was Sirius Black, whom Dumbledore consigned to life in Azkaban without a trial, and Hagrid, whose name he refused to clear despite knowing of his innocence in the Chamber of Secrets affair.

Lucius had complained on more than one occasion about Hogwarts' house elves and their inability to help, due to the binding enchantments. That was a policy he could have changed a very long time ago, had he so chosen. Dumbledore had never done a damned thing that would ever see the influence of the pure-bloods diminished in any way. Or the causes of the non-humans and semi-humans advanced in the slightest. He had done absolutely nothing to head off the passage of Fudge's new law furthering discrimination against the weres. That's why his supposed friend and ally, Remus Lupin, had never worked a day in the magical world.

"I'm not promising it will be easy, Cornelius, but that's what being a leader is: doing the right thing, no matter how unpopular, no matter how difficult, that may be as opposed to going along with the mob's transient passions. And, yes, Cornelius, sending envoys could see you removed from office for so going against the grain. However, it's better to try and fail than to fail to try. You also need to be honest with your public, let them know what's really going on…"

"Say Voldemort's back?! That would create a panic. Especially when we have no real evidence…"

"What more evidence do you need? You've seen with your own eyes what Professor Snape has shown you; we've heard from Barty Crouch that Voldemort's back. A full page ad in the Daily Prophet making the rebirth announcement? We all know that is not how Voldemort operates. He will work from the shadows for as long as possible, gathering allies, positioning his players, consolidating his strengths, shoring up his weaknesses. You say you are concerned about a panic? A panic is coming whether you like it or not. You can act now to contain it, or react to it after it occurs. There's that being a leader aspect of your office again. Are you so unwilling to believe in the very people who selected you to be their leader?"

"Now see here, Dumbledore, I do have a lot of respect for you. I haven't always agreed with your decisions, but I have given you quite a bit of discretion when it comes to how you run Hogwarts. There aren't many Ministers who would allow you to admit werewolves as students, or let you promote Hagrid to a full professorship based upon no professional qualifications whatsoever other than an unnatural affinity for "critters", or allow you to hire a known Death Eater on nothing more than his say-so that he's reformed, or allow Argus Filch or Sybil Trelawney to remain. I have been more than willing to let you set your own lesson plans independent of the Ministry and the Board. However if it is your intention to oppose me…"

"Cornelius, I intend to oppose no one other than Lord Voldemort. If that is also your intention, we remain on the same side. If that is not the case, then I'm afraid we've come to a parting of the ways. I have never sought your office, and I do not seek it now. You shall have my support if you want it, but I have to do what I have to do".

"I see… I need to return to the Ministry, to review Hogwarts' educational standards among all the other business I have. Good day".

"And a good evening to you, Mr. Minister".

Fudge was almost out the door before returning, stepping up to Harry to hand over a heavy bag.

"I almost forgot, your winnings, 10,000 Galleons".

"Mr. Minister, I didn't win…"

"We judges ruled unanimously that Cedric Diggory forfeited when he failed to return with the Cup. As you were the second place finisher, that leaves you as winner. I'm sorry the awards ceremony couldn't take place. Congratulations on becoming the first Champion of the revised Triwizard Tournament".

Hermione let one of the windows drop with a loud bang.

"Miss Granger!", Pomphrey reprimanded, "just what do you think you're doing?"

"Nnnnnn… othing".

"We don't need cold air in here, and we don't need you making enough noise to wake the dead. If you can't be quiet, I'll ask you to leave".

"Yes, Ma'am".

The Minister left the infirmary, and Dumbledore waited until his footsteps were no longer heard.

"Molly", Dumbledore turned to Mrs. Weasley, "there is much work to be done. Am I right in assuming I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can. We know what Cornelius is like, that Arthur has been denied promotions because of his fascination for muggle tech. Fudge has said repeatedly that Arthur is lacking in wizarding and blood pride. It's been holding him back ever since he joined the Ministry".

"I'll need to send a message to Arthur. Being a Ministry insider, he's well placed to contact others at the Ministry who are not as short sighted as Cornelius. We need to persuade as many who are open to accepting the truth as we can", Dumbledore explained.

"I'll let him know", Bill Weasley volunteered.

"Be discreet, we don't want Fudge to have any reason to believe I'm interfering with Ministry business".

"Leave it up to me".

"Minerva, I would like to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible, Madam Maxime, too, if she will consent to come…

"Poppy, you will find a most distressed house elf in Moody's office named Winky. See what you can do for her".

"I'll see to it", she agreed, though reluctantly.

"I'll also have to contact Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, Ted Tonks… the old crowd".

Turning to Snape: "Severus, you know what I must ask you to do", he said. "If you are ready… if you are prepared..."

"I am", he said, but was looking paler than usual.

"Then good luck, Severus", Dumbledore said as the Potions Master swept from the infirmary, but not without a trace of apprehension on his face that he couldn't completely keep concealed.

"Now I must see the Diggory's", he said. "Harry, Hermione: I want you to go directly to the airliner and stay there. I will see Madam Maxime, see if I can get you excused from the rest of your classes off the airliner. In light of recent events, the less reason for anyone to be paying you attention, the better".

Back at the airliner, Hermione had something to show off: a large beetle in a glass jar with some leaves and twigs.

"See who I found snooping around outside the infirmary", she announced, "Rita Skeeter in her animagus form. I put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar so she can't transform. It was you who gave me the idea, Harry, when you mentioned bugs. Viktor said he found a 'water beetle' in my hair after the second task. That's when he asked if I'd be willing to visit him in Bulgaria, which she mentioned specifically in that article".

"There was a beetle outside during Trelawney's class where I had that vision", Harry recalled. "I also remember seeing a bug in the garden set up for the Triwizard Ball. I remember because I thought it odd they'd include bugs in the garden – a bit too realistic, I thought. Anyway, how do you know it's Skeeter?"

"Look closely", Hermione said, "at the markings around her antennae, just like those hideous glasses she's always wearing".

"Ah, yes, so she is", Harry said. "You should have stepped on her back at Madam Pomphrey's".

"I brought my muggle make-up kit", Alessandra offered, "a little nail polish remover on a cotton ball, drop it in there, and she won't be writing any more nasty articles about you".

"A little Spell-o-tape to cover the holes in the lid", Gabrielle suggested.

"But that's… murder!", Hermione objected.

"She's an illegal, and unregistered, animagus so it wouldn't be murder, just an unfortunate Oooopsie! No one would convict you", Harry said.

Skeeter was frantically buzzing around the jar. She still understood every word, and thought they might actually to something like that.

"She'd deserve it", Alessandra said.

"I have other plans", Hermione explained, "I've offered to let her go provided that she not write another word for one year from the date she's released, and after that, that she do honest reporting. If she doesn't, then the Ministry will be informed, and it's off to Azkaban. What say you, Rita? We have an understanding? I'll let you think about it for a couple of days"

Harry's vision meant another owlpost to Lucius, and another midnight sneak into the Room of Requirement so Lucius could view the memory of the vision. Lucius' memory thief program pulled up details Harry didn't recall at first. One confirmed the unfortunate demise of Cedric Diggory.

"Don't worry, Harry", Lucius reassured, "there will be an anonymous tip to the Ministry. Just in case, another to Mr. and Mrs. Diggory. Then we figure out what we're going to do about Voldemort. Given Fudge's attitude, that he doesn't want anyone's upsetting his comfortable little world, we can't count on any help from that quarter".

"What will we do?", Harry asked.

"As of right now, I haven't a clue, but I promise you this: it's gonna be a long, hot summer".

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Just before the End of Term Feast, Hermione and Harry dropped in to see Hagrid.

"Good ter seeya", he greeted as he answered the door.

They noticed two of Hagrid's over sized cups on the table before the fireplace. He noticed their noticing.

"Juss been havin' a cuppa with Olympe", he explained, "yer juss miss her. How boud ye?"

"I'm always up for your herbal tea", Harry said, "one of the few things I missed from Hogwarts".

"Tankee fer sain so", Hagrid said, as he put on the kettle.

"So you've made up?", Hermione asked.

"Doan know whatcher talkin' boud", he said, as he fetched more normal sized cups and saucers from the cupboard. He filled the normal sized cups, and the big one for himself. He also put out a platter of doughy cookies.

He settled opposite Harry and Hermione, fixing Harry with his beetle-black eyes.

"Ye all rye?", he asked.

"Sure, I'm OK", Harry replied.

"No yer not", Hagrid disagreed. "Course yer not. But ye will be".

Harry had nothing to say, certainly nothing about Lucius, which is why he felt OK.

"Knew he was comin' back, course he was. Ah've known it awl-long. It was sumpin what had ter happen. Known it fer years now. Now thah it has, we'll just have ter get on widdit. Migh' be able to stop him beferr he gets a good hold. Course we'll fight, that's Dumblederr's plan inniways. Great man, Dumblederr. So long's we have him on our side, Ah ain none too worried".

All the while Hagrid was praising Dumbledore, Harry had to work very hard to keep his contempt from showing. Dumbledore was not anywhere close to being great, and Harry was definitely worried about the outcome of a Voldemort/Dumbledore showdown. He was also worried about his large friend, the friend with his blind faith in the very one who fucked him over as a thirteen year old Third Year.

"No sense sittin' 'round an worryin' boud it. What comes is what comes, den we deal widdit".

"What did Dumbledore ask you to do?", Hermione asked, "you know, that night when he said he wanted to meet up with you and Madam Maxime?"

"Oh dat, well, he asked Madam to 'scuse you an Harry from lessins outside ter airliner, an' he got a lit'le job fer me over ter summer. Olympe – dass Madam Maxime ter yers – mibbee comin' too. T'ink Ah've godder persuaded. Mine ye's, Ah ain 'pose ter be sain nuttin', not even ter youse two, so let's keep that down on thuh QT, Kay?"

"We didn't hear a thing", Harry said.

"Sorry, but I think I'll have to see Madam Pomphrey over this come and go deafness", Hermione told him. "What were you saying?"

"How boud comin' ter hepps me wiff ter lass skrewt?"

He noticed the horrified look on their faces.

"Ah'm juss jokin'. Juss kiddin".

Harry was dreading the Leaving Feast, and would have preferred remaining in the airliner, but as a representative of Beaux Batons, Maxime insisted he attend. Thanks to Lucius Lutra's anonymous tip, the aurors confirmed that Cedric was dead, and had been buried in Tom Riddle's grave. He'd been careful to avoid any mention of Potter, instead, he made it look like a confession from one of the Death Eaters who'd witnessed Voldemort's rebirth and was having second thoughts. Still, he was blamed for it – the accusations that he and his school cheated his way into the Tournament – especially from the Badgers whose glory he'd stolen, regardless of how much he protested that Cedric, not he, was the true winner. House Hufflepuff had damned little glory, and now, their moment to really shine was snatched right out from under them. Furthermore, they had been deprived of their star Seeker, who at least made them winners on the Quiddich Pitch.

He'd tried giving the 10,000 Galleons to the Diggory's, but they refused. They knew Harry wasn't to blame, and accepted the decision of the Triwizard judges.

He was able to corner Fred and George to offer them the gold. They, at first, refused to accept what they saw as charity.

"Fred, George: don't think of it as charity", Harry had explained. "Take it, use it to continue with your inventions, like those Canary Cremes; use it to rent a store front in Diagon Alley and make Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes a reality. I know I could use a good laugh… I expect we all are going to be needing a good laugh in the coming days. Think of it as an investment, and I'll take ownership as a percentage of your start-up. I don't think we'll need the goblins, and if my handshake is good enough for you, your word is good enough for me. Just do me one favour…"

"That would be?", George asked.

"Buy Ron and Ginny some new robes and books and tell them it's from you two. If you don't accept, I'll drop the gold in the sewer when I get back home".

The last Leaving Feast Harry attended saw the Hall decorated with the banners of the House which won that year's House Cup. This time, there were no house banners, no Hogwarts banners, but black bunting for Cedric Diggory. At the staff table, Hagrid was having what looked like an amicable conversation with Madam Maxime. The real Mad Eye Moody was there. He looked none the worst for spending three days in stasis. The rest of the faculty, McGoangall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape were there as well. Snape caught his eye, and Snape looked as sour as usual, but his expression hard to read. What did Dumbledore ask of him? From the Pensieve, he knew Snape had been the Order's double agent. Was that what he was doing now? Spying for Dumbledore? He had gotten away with it once before, and Harry felt a pang of guilt for every time he'd wished the demanding, unpopular, Potions Master would come to a bad end to free his class of his unpleasantness – the hounding of students simply for being in Gryffindor, the favoritism shown the Slytherins, the enmity he harboured for Harry over what James and his gang had done. This time, he knew the "odds are he won't live to see tomorrow". This could very well be the last time he saw Severus Snape alive.

Harry was brought back to the here and now as Dumbledore took to the owl-shaped podium:

"And so, another year comes to a close. I have seen many an academic year come to a close, said farewell to many graduating classes, said see you next year to many a class of under graduates. To say we've had an eventful year would be quite the understatement. There is much that I would like to say, but first, I would like to acknowledge one of our Hogwarts family who can not be with us. I speak of Cedric Diggory. Cedric exemplified all the best of House Hufflepuff. He was a loyal friend, he worked hard, and played fair…"

Pomona Sprout and Cho Chang were both wiping their eyes.

"...Let us raise a glass to Cedric's memory", Dumbledore stood.

Everyone, Hogwartians and foreign visitors alike, rose with the scraping of benches against the stone floor, glasses of pumpkin juice in hand.

"To Cedric Diggory", Dumbledore said, as he raised his glass.

"To Cedric Diggory", the assemblage intoned as one.

"I know his death has touched us all, regardless of whether you knew him well or not. Therefore, it is my belief that each and every one of you needs to hear the truth. Now, I know there will be those who believe you should not. Some of your parents may feel you're too young to deal with this knowledge. There are interests best served by sweeping this under the rug, chalking it up to an unfortunate accident with a malformed Portkey. Those who would rather believe a pleasant lie that poses no threat to their comfortable world. I think better of each and every one of you.

The truth of the matter is this: Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort".

There was a buzz around the Hall, whispers of disbelief, of horror. Dumbledore waited until the Hall grew quiet again.

"The Ministry of Magic does not want my telling you this. However, I believe the hard truth is preferable to the pleasant lie. To go on allowing you to believe that it was just an accident, or what is even worse, that Mr. Diggory contributed to his own death by some blunder on his part, is a desecration to his memory.

"There is, of course, one other name which needs mentioning here: Harry Potter. Harry was Cedric's closest competitor, and as such, was declared the winner when Cedric didn't appear at the arena, and was declared forfeit. This wasn't Mr. Potter's doing, but that of the judges, of which I was one. At the time, we had no idea as to what really happened. Had we done so, we would have ended the Triwizard Tournament with no winner. Due to the interference of Voldemort's agents, the whole Tournament should have been declared null and void as it was never a fair competition from the very start. Alas, as they say, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and what is done can not be undone.

"The whole purpose behind the Triwizard Tournament has always been to improve international relations and closer co-operation. In these times, these ideals are more important that ever, not just platitudes that are as empty as sweet. Lord Voldemort's talent for sowing enmity and discord is enormous. We need to fight him with open minds and open hearts. Our greatest weapons are strong bonds of friendship and trust. I say to all our foreign guests: you will always receive a warm welcome at Hogwarts any time you wish to return. Differences of language, differences of custom and culture are nothing if our aims are identical.

"I usually conclude this talk by wishing you all a pleasant summer. This year, in good conscience, I can not. I say – and I hope that I am wrong – there are difficult times ahead. Some of you have already suffered much loss during Voldemort's last rampage. Families have been torn asunder. A student has been taken from our midst. Remember Cedric. If the time should come where you have a choice between doing what is right, and what is expedient, remember a young man who was kind, and good, and brave. Remember what happened when he crossed paths with Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory".

Harry, Hermione, and Ron and the Twins were watching luggage being loaded into the Beaux Batons airliner. The Hogwartians waiting for the carriages to take them to the Hogsmeade train station to catch the Express to King's Cross. Harry thought of Aunt Petunia's flower beds at 4 Privet Drive, colourful and leafy, and hot down in the low lands much farther to the south. That meant gardening chores he wasn't especially looking forward to.

Fleur joined up: "Ziss summer, I am 'oping to get a job 'ere to improve my Eenglish. 'Ope vee can see each uzzer".

"I hope you do", Harry agreed, "I think we will".

"Your English is pretty good", Ron stammered to Fluer's smile, and Hermione's scowl.

"How do you think they'll get back?", Ron asked of the students boarding the Durmstrang ship. "Can they steer it without Karkarov?"

"Karkarov never steered", someone had overheard, "he just sat in his cabin vile vee did all the steering", Viktor Krum explained.

Being under the Imperious, he was held blameless for having attacked Cedric with the Cruciatus. He'd come to say his farewells to Hermione: "May I have a vord?", he asked.

"What's on your mind?", she replied as she walked off with Viktor.

Ron busied himself watching for the carriages.

Hermione and Viktor returned after a very brief conversation.

"I alvays liked Cedric", he said to Harry. "He vas alvays polite to me, despite being from Durmstrang, despite being vith Karkarov".

"I appreciate your saying so… What will Durmstrang do for a High Master now?"

"'Oo knows", he shrugged. "Ve do have somet'ing like your Board of Governors, so I suppose it vill be up to them to find a replacement. Anyvay, pleased to meet you, Harry Potter", he offered a hand.

"Nice meeting you too", Harry agreed.

"Keep up the flying and maybe vee match vits on the Quiddich pitch".

"I'd like that".

"Don't forget to owl us", Fred and George called out.

"Wait!", Ron called to Viktor, "may I have your autograph?"

"Certainly", Krum said as he took out a quill and a slip of parchment.

Hermione and Harry settled into their seats on the airliner, and buckled themselves in for takeoff. They watched as the wings unfolded and locked into place. The airliner lifted, and they could see the Durmstrang ship was getting underway. The airliner pointed its nose towards Black Lake as it began to accelerate and climb to cruising altitude. The Express was on its way to pick up the Hogwartians.

"What do you suppose will happen now?", Hermione asked Harry.

"I wish I knew".

"So", she said, "he's really back, isn't he?"

"I wish I could tell you otherwise, I wish I didn't see what I saw, know what I know. Yes, Hermione, he's back".