Hello there!

Welcome to the next chapter of Cruel Angel Thesis, this might be a last chapter of Year 4 or I might do one more before moving to Year 5. Anyway I hope you enjoy.

Now on to the reviews.

girani4: Nope, other stories just had my attention.

Flame Wolfe: Glad you liked it and as promised, this one is a lot longer.

And now story time.


Charles was standing in front of the stands, the stars had began to shine above them as the audience waited in anticipation for who the winner would turn out to be. Snape was standing beside him.

"Do you think it will work?" the potion master said.

"I hope so." Charles said as the maze opened once again, "We're entering the end game soon." His eyes widen in surprise when he saw who had come out of the maze and almost immediately he rushed to the person, gripping the shoulders.

"Harry, what happened?" Charles said confused, "Where is Claire? Where is Fleur?"

Harry had come back to the edge of the maze.

"I don't know..." he whispered, "We raced to the cup and when they reached it, they disappeared."

"No..." Charles muttered realizing what had happened. Letting go of Harry, Charles immediately turned around and intended to do what needed to be done when Snape stopped him.

"Charles." Snape whispered in a low voice, "Think about what your doing..."

"No Severus!" Charles shouted, making himself lose of Snape's grip, "I'm not losing her again!"

The fact that Charles raised his voice in such a way, the fear and panic slipping through his voice, startled even Snape. "Keep an eye on Harry." Charles growled as he strode away.


Claire felt her feet slam into the ground; her hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last.

"Where are we?" she said.

Fleur shook her head and they looked around.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles, perhaps hundreds of miles, for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right.

Fleur looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Claire.

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" she asked.

"Nope." Claire said. She was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie, "Is tis supposed to be part of the task?"

"I don't know." Fleur said, "Wands out, I guess?"

They pulled out their wands. Claire kept looking around her. She had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.

"Someone's coming." she said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Claire couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, she could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, they wore a hooded cloak pulled up over their head to obscure its face.

Several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time, they saw that the thing in the persons arms looked like a baby... or was it merely a bundle of robes? It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second. Claire and Fleur and the short figure simply looked at one another. And then, without warning, Fleur pushed's Claire back with a sudden push of magic.

When she suddenly heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare."

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light exploded before Claire's eye, and she heard something smash against a nearby gravestone near her.

Claire sat up to see Fleur laying slumped down against the slap of stone, a cut above her eyebrow staining her beautiful face.

"No." Claire mumbled as she felt herself being pulled to her feet.

The short woman in the cloak had put down her bundle, lit her wand to tied Claire against a marble headstone. Cord tying her from neck to ankles to the headstone.

The woman turned and hurried away. The bundle of robes that Claire had thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. She could hear noises at her feet. She looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where they were tied.

Then the woman came back within Claire's range of vision, and she was pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water, Claire could hear it slopping around and it was larger than any cauldron she had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.

Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Jorkins tending the fire.

"It is ready. Master." the woman said with a strained, yet dreamy voice.

She pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them.

It was as though she had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind, but worse, a hundred times worse.

The thing the woman had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Claire had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around the woman's neck, and she lifted it then she lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Claire heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

The woman raised her wand, closed her eyes, and spoke to the night, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The surface of the grave at cracked, a fine trickle of dust rose into the air and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

And now the woman pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside her cloak. "Flesh of the servant willingly given, you will revive your master." She stretched her left hand out in front, she gripped the dagger very tightly in her right hand and swung it upward.

Claire realized what the woman was about to do a second before it happened, she closed her eyes as tightly as she could. She heard a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. The potion had turned a burning red.

"Blood of the enemy forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

Claire could do nothing to prevent it, she was tied too tightly. She saw the shining silver dagger shaking in the woman's remaining hand.

She staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood, poured three drops of blood from the knife into it. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white.

The woman, her job done, dropped to her knees then slumped sideways and lay on the ground. The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened and then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished.

A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Claire, so that she couldn't see anything but vapor hanging in the air.

But then, through the mist in front of her, she saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletal thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me." the high, cold voice said from behind the steam, and the woman, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to her feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over her controller's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Claire and they stared back into the face whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils... Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Voldemort looked away and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cats, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant.

He took not the slightest notice of the cloaked woman, who lay on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling them again, hissing. Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Jorkin, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Claire was tied; she fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up.

Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Claire, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

"Thank you for your services, Jorkin." Voldemort said and in another green flash of light was dead. Voldemort then raised his wand shooting a blast of dark fog into the air. Creating a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth made out of clouds in the sky.

"They will all have noticed it... and now, we shall see... now we shall know...", he said softly, a look of cruel satisfaction on his face, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars, "How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it? How many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

He began to pace up and down before Claire, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Fleur, "Such a pretty face." Voldemort whispered.

Before he could touch her, Claire shouted, "Don't you dare to touch her!"

Voldemort gave a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face. "Ah, Claire Kent, I almost forgot you were here instead of Harry Potter." he hissed softly, "You stand upon the remains of my late father."

Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass. "You see that house upon the hillside? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was... He didn't like magic, my father..."

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born. Kent, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage... but I vowed to find him... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name... Tom Riddle..."

Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave. "Listen to me, reliving family history... Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" he said quietly, turning to Claire, moving his hand closer towards her.

Claire recoils, but has nowhere to go. They react to a feeling that passes between them, an energy they recognize in each other. And then it's gone, adversaries again.

"It was suppose to be Potter... The one's blood to be used in my resurrection... I had to settle for you." Voldemort said, then smiled slightly, as Claire tried to hold the tears from leaving her eyes, "Your family has disappointed you. You have potential Claire Kent, but you need a teacher, I can show you. Under my guidance you could be one of the most powerful sorcerers of all times."

Claire's eyes are fierce through the agony, "Get out of my head." she spat at him.

Voldemort laughed again and he stood up. "Why, I am growing quite sentimental... But look, Claire! My true family returns..."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward...

Slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes.

"Master... Master..." he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed the grave, Claire and Voldemort. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people.

Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.

"Welcome, Death Eaters." Voldemort said quietly, "Thirteen years... thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening. "I smell guilt. There is a stench or guilt upon the air.", he said, a second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare to step back from him.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact, such prompt appearances! And I ask myself... why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke, no one moved.

"And I answer myself." Voldemort whispered, "They must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment... And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?"

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort... perhaps they now pay allegiance to another... perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them, "Did they went cowering behind Dumbledore in fear of something... or rather someone. The Cruel Angel, Sephylon."

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet.

"Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"

Voldemort began to laugh, he raised his wand, "Crucio!"

The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked. Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.

"Get up, Avery." Voldemort said softly, "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years... I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you."

Voldemort now approached the man on Avery's right.

"Lucius, my slippery friend." he whispered, halting before him, "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius... Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay... until our masked nemesis appeared, but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert." came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood, "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me..."

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" Voldemort said lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly, "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius... You have disappointed me... I expect more faithful service in the future."

"Of course, my Lord, of course... You are merciful, thank you..."

Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space, large enough for two people, that separated Malfoy and the next man.

"The Lestranges should stand here." Voldemort said quietly, "But they were slaughtered by Sephylon. They were faithful. They would go to Azkaban rather than renounce me... The dementors will join us... they are our natural allies... We will recall the banished giants... I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear..."

He walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them.

"Macnair... destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide... and here." Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures, "We have Crabbe... you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"

They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.

"The same goes for you, Nott." Voldemort said quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyles, he had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there. "And here we have seven missing Death Eaters... three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return, he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever, he will be killed, of course... One who turned out to be a spy, she has already been killed, but maybe her daughter will take her place and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service."

The Death Eaters stirred, and Claire saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks. "He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived here tonight..."

"Yes." Voldemort said, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in their direction, "Claire Kent has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call her my unintended guest of honor."

There was a silence when it happened.

Above them, what appeared to be a bolt of crimson fire shooting through the sky, raining spells down on the cloaked men. The bolt landed gracefully between Voldemort, the Death Eaters and Claire.

The bolt revealed himself to be the Cruel Angel himself, Sephylon, his wand aloft.

A kind of electric charge surge could be felt through every particle of Claire's body when she saw him... She was saved.

"You." Voldemort snarled upon seeing his nemesis.

Sephylon gazed over the field, seeing Claire tied up and Fleur slumped over against a gravestone. "Yes." Sephylon growled, his calm tone betraying the fury behind the mask, "Me."

Without warning, an explosion of magic ruptured in the graveyard. Sephylon began to move so fast that it seemed his wand was a blur, when one of the Death Eaters cast a spell he evaded them as if moving on pure instinct, his spell's filled the air around them crackling with energy. A spell deflected by Sephylon burned the cord binding Claire to the gravestone.

"Stay close to me." Sephylon ordered evading another curse, before sending Death Eaters flying against a gravestone, where they crumbled in unconscious masses. He led Claire through the headstones, evading the curses following or deflecting them, hearing them hit the headstones, they was dodging curses and graves.

"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort, one tombstone stood between them and Voldemort.

Sephylon picked up Fleur in his arms, before shouting, "Claire, hold on to me!"

Claire didn't thought, she immediately obeyed in taking a full hand of his muscular arm.

A warm fiery feeling moved over her as if she was consumed by a powerful red flame. Claire heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment she was fully consumed by the fire. Sephylon sped her away in a whirl of red fire.


Claire felt herself slam flat into the ground, letting go of Sephylon's arm, her face was pressed into grass, the smell of it filled her nostrils.

She had closed her eyes while Sephylon transported her, and she kept them closed now. She did not move. Her head was swimming so badly she felt as though the ground beneath her were swaying like the deck of a ship.

A torrent of sound deafened and confused her; there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams, yells, explosions, gong like sounds and another fiery explosion was swallowed up...

She remained where she was, her face screwed up against the noise, as though it were a nightmare that would pass...

Then a pair of hands seized her roughly and turned her over.

"Claire! Claire!"

She opened her eyes.

Claire was looking up at the starry sky, and the first thing she saw was Dumbledore crouched over her. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer; Claire felt the ground beneath her head reverberating with their footsteps.

She had come back to the edge of the maze. She could see the stands rising above her, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above. Sephylon was nowhere to be seen.

"He's back..." Claire whispered, "He's back. Voldemort."

"What's going on? What's happened?"

The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Claire; it looked white, appalled.

"My God! Delacour!" Fudge whispered, "Dumbledore! Is she... Is she's dead!"

The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them...

"She'll need to go to the hospital wing!" Fudge was saying loudly. "She's ill, she's injured... Dumbledore, Delacour's parents, they're here, they're in the stands..."

"I'll take Harry, Dumbledore, I'll take him..."

"No, I would prefer..." Harry said having fought his way through his girlfriend, wishing to stay at her side, the pounding in his scar making him feel as though he was about to throw up.

"Let go of him Moody." Sirius said as he pressed his way through the crowd before enveloping his daughter into a tight hug.

"Claire! Thank goodness your alright." Margaret said, holding on to her niece, "What happened?"

"The cup was a Portkey. It took me, and Fleur to a graveyard... and Voldemort was there..."

"Voldemort was there?" Sirius said, "What happened then?"

"He killed Fleur... He made a potion to got his body back... And the Death Eaters came and then Sephylon saved us."

"Voldemort's back, how did he do it?" Margaret said.

"He took stuff from his father's grave, and from Bertha Jorkins, and from me, he took blood from..." Claire said, feeling ashamed for some reason, "From me..."


It was that same night that Charles merely raised his wand and with a blinding flash of red light, he broke the door apart, Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor.

He stepped into the office, disarming Moody from his wand before closing the distance and pressing him against the wall.

"Not going according to plan did it!" Charles shouted, his voice full of anger and grief, "Polyjuice Potion. Simple but brilliant. Moody never drinks from anything except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. But I think, in the excitement of tonight, you have forgotten to have taken it as frequently as you should have done..."

Charles threw him to the ground, as he watched the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled gray hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw.

Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place, next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

Charles looked at the man lying before him with pure hate, pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair.

"Barty Crouch junior." Charles said, aiming his wand at him.

"My master's plan worked, he is returned to power." Barty Crouch junior said, an insane smile lit his features, "So go ahead and send me zo Azkaban, once he breaks it open, I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

"Oh no, I don't think so." Charles said, his voice dropping dangerously low, "Your master took my love away from me... Do you think he will mourn you?"

The insane smile dropped at once, when he realized what is about to happen. There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor, Snape had arrived.

"Charles!" Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway, eyeing Crouch sitting on the ground, "What are you doing?"

"Taking out tis piece of filth!" Charles said over his shoulder, "He is the reason Harry was put in the tournament... He's the reason Claire's blood now flows through Tom... He's the reason she is dead!"

Charles stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. "Charles..." Snape said, "She isn't dead."

"What."

"She's resting in the hospital wing. Do you think..."

But Charles had already turned and rushed out of the office.


Claire looked up from her laying position of her bed, Harry, Alex, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Sirius and Margaret sitting around her as the doors were pushed open, revealing Jeager.

"Charles." Sirius said, "Did you catch him."

But Jeager ignored him, striding over to the other bed, where Madame Delacour and Gabriella were standing at the bed of a sleeping Fleur.

Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet.

"You'll need to drink all of tis, Claire." she said, "It's a potion for dreamless sleep."

Claire took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. She felt herself becoming drowsy at once. Everything around her became hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at her in a friendly way through the screen around her bed; her body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of the feather mattress.

Before she could finish the potion, before she could say another word, her exhaustion had carried her off to sleep.


Fleur woke up, so warm, so very sleepy. The room was still dimly lit; she was sure it was still nighttime. Close to her bed, sitting in a chair was Charles with his hands folded.

"Hey..." she said, her voice dry.

"Your awake..." Charles said when he noticed when she finally opened her eyes.

She looked to her side, to see that her sister had fallen asleep in her mother's lap, who herself was resting in the chair.

"Is everyone save?" she said.

"No thanks to you." Charles said, his wand in his hand as he created a invisible force field around them, giving them a a needed bit of privacy, "It was agreed upon that we would follow the Book of Prophecy. You had specific instructions to not intervene, and you did..."

"I was just trying to..." Fleur said.

"No! Zip it!" Charles suddenly shouted, as the glass with water on the nightstand began to show cracks because of his loss of control, "I was the only one who believed in you, everyone else called me crazy for bringing a eighteen year old, barely graduated witch into our group!"

He stood up from his chair, turning away and walking towards the window. Leaning against it, his head pressed against the cold glass as he tried to keep control of himself.

"What if someone died tonight? That would have been on you." Charles said, not turning to face her, "If you died... That would have been on me... And I can't deal with that shit right now..."

Then they heard shouting from the hall, people shouting and running toward the hospital wing.

"That's Fudge's voice." Charles said, "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva..." Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall, "When Dumbledore finds out..."

Charles removed the barrier, walking towards the hospital doors burst open. Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Charles.

"He's not here." Charles said angrily, "Tis is a hospital wing."

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

"What has happened?" Dumbledore said sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall, "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you, I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch."

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked, "The Minister has seen to that!"

In all the years he had known her, Charles had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and a hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events." Snape said, in a low voice, "He seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch..."

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall fumed, "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but..."

"My dear woman!" Fudge roared, "As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous..."

But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

"The moment that... that thing entered the room." she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "It swooped down on Crouch and..."

Charles did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" Fudge blustered, "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths'."

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius." Dumbledore said. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" Fudge blustered, "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius." Charles said, "Those peoples deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded to an extend. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared from Charles back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

"You-Know-Who... returned? Preposterous. Come now..."

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you." Dumbledore said, "We heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort, learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins. Went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry."

"But he didn't."

"No, that part of the plan failed. Instead he was forced to use Claire." Charles said, "But the rest of the plan did work. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

"See here, Jeager." Fudge said, a slight smile dawning on his face, "You... you can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who... back? Come now, come now... certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders but to take the word of a lunatic like that..."

"When Claire and Madame Delacour touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, she was transported straight to Voldemort." Dumbledore said steadily, "She witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office."

Dumbledore glanced around, Charles following his gaze to see that Claire was awake, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Claire tonight."

Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Claire, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are prepared to take Claire's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

"Certainly, I believe Claire." Dumbledore said. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Claire's account of what happened after she touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Claire before answering.

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer..."

"You fool!" Charles shouted angrily, "These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" Fudge shouted, his face purpling, "It seems to me that everything was a plot by Sephylon and his Knights to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years! And you seem intend to help his chaos."

"Voldemort has returned." Dumbledore repeated, "If you accept that fact straightaway. Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors..."

"Preposterous!" Fudge shouted again, "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" Margaret said suddenly, "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.

"The second step you must take and at once." Dumbledore pressed on, "Is to send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again, "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late." Dumbledore said, "Or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore, "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants... People hate them, Dumbledore... end of my career..."

"You are blind, Fudge!" Charles said, "Blinded by the love of the office you hold!"

"Insane." Fudge whispered, still backing away, "Mad..."

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius." Dumbledore said, "We have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I... I shall act as I see fit."

Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore." he said, waving a threatening finger, "I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me..."

"The only one against whom I intend to work." Dumbledore said, "Is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be..."

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

"There." Snape said harshly, "The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When the Mark of any Death Eater burns, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Claire's bed.

"Your winnings." he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Claire's bedside table, "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances..."

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


The sun could been seen rising over the mountains behind the window where Sephylon was sitting in the large room with the large and ornate round table with twelve seats.

"They blame..." Sephylon said, reading an early copy of this days the Daily Prophet, "Us for what happened?"

"It is as you predicted." Sandaion said sitting to his right, "Fudge is putting his head in the sand."

"Dumbledore is doing something." the booming voice of Raphion said, "He is resurrecting the Order of the Phoenix."

"But we all know, they would never work with us." the tiny Sadion said sitting to Sephylon's left, "They think we are too extreem."

"It's not like we have been known to go to extremes in our fight against Voldemort." Zaphion said, turning to their leader, "Especially what you did at Compound Fifteen."

"We are doing what is necessary." Michion said in protest.

Throwing the paper on the table, Sephylon stood up and placed his hands on the table. "The plan has changed slightly, now we have one more person to account for. Fudge's attitude is not unexpected." he said, "Now I have work for each of you."


And that's the end of the chapter, hope you enjoyed it.

Many thanks to everyone who read, review, favorite or follows this story as usual.

For now I wish you all a fantastic day, if you enjoyed my work don't forget to leave a review and I hope to see you ladies and gents next time.

Mischief Managed.