A loud CRACK split the night and Sirius, as on edge as he was, twisted his wrist at the last moment so his spell sizzled into the grass instead of into Kreacher.
"Master Sirius," Kreacher croaked, and all Sirius could smell was blood. "The- the…"
Because Kreacher wasn't alone; cradled in his bony arms-
It wasn't a conscious decision to drop to his knees or shove Kreacher out of the way. Harry's face was scratched and bruised, and covered in mostly-dry blood and sweat. His scar looked cracked open and fresh, and his skin - where it wasn't filthy - was a chalky white. Sirius could see a weeping black burn on his chest through a hole in the Walpurgis vest, his dragonhide vest - what could have done that? - and his arm- his hand-
"Harry?"
"Pa'foot," Harry slurred, and reached for Sirius but didn't - couldn't - grab him, at least not with one of his hands. He tried to sit up, and though Sirius was gentle in keeping him flat on the grass, Harry's face contorted and he writhed and gasped and arched beneath Sirius' hands. "He's b-back," he said, green eyes wild and panicked and not really present; they certainly weren't looking at him. Harry's hand was desperately tight on Sirius' robes and yet his grip was so weak. His other arm was slick with fresh blood, and enough of it that Sirius could feel it soaking his own robes as Harry tried - and failed - to hold onto him, shivering. Sirius could hear his heart beating, much faster than it should have been. "Vol'mort's back..."
"We know," Sirius said quickly, flicking his wand over Harry. "It's all right, kiddo, you're-" But he could see the results of his diagnostic now, and he'd never seen a worse one. To say that Harry was okay, or safe would have been a lie. According to the diagnostic, Harry was dying. "I've got you now," he said instead, voice cracking. Harry nodded, but there was no relief in his scent, no understanding, just pain and exhaustion, and blood.
"I…" But whatever Harry had been going to say was lost; his hand loosened and dropped back to the grass and his head rolled a little to the side. Kreacher made a shrill, panicked noise.
Sirius didn't try to wake him, didn't even send off a message to Dumbledore or Remus or even Pomfrey to say that he had Harry, because he wasn't sure he had time. Wasn't sure Harry had the time. With a trembling hand, Sirius lifted his wand and started trying to heal him.
He started with Harry's wrist, sealing it shut to try to stop the worst of the bleeding, and then started trying to replenish the blood Harry'd lost.
So much, according to the diagnostic.
Too much, maybe.
"Ampliumora," Sirius murmured. Potions were better for this sort of thing, designed for it. This spell was a variation on one more commonly used for refilling empty cups, and was completely dependent on the caster to control the volume. Rather than taking a fluid from one place and putting it into another, though, he was making more of an existing fluid - Harry's blood. It was not a spell designed for bodies - there was no way to see how much blood was replenishing - but Sirius didn't have potions, and so he didn't have a choice. Harry shuddered.
"Can you warm him up?" Sirius said to Kreacher, who sniffled. "Kreacher!" The air around them warmed and Kreacher went to kneel by Harry's head, hands fluttering anxiously, uselessly. Cloths and bandages were popping into existence around him - Sirius didn't think it was deliberate - but Kreacher made no move to touch or use any of them.
Sirius traced his wand over Harry's arms and legs, willing more blood into him, willing his existing blood to spread.
"I need Madam Pomfrey and her healing kit, Kreacher," Sirius said, and didn't recognise his own voice. "And then Moony. P-please."
Kreacher popped away and Sirius moved his wand over Harry's neck and body. He kept one hand on Harry's chest, making sure his heart was still beating, making sure his chest still rose and fell. He was so-
"Padfoot!" Remus was there, sprinting over the grass to throw himself down beside them; he must have been coming after Sirius, despite Sirius' insistence that he stay with Molly and Cedric. One of Remus' hands was on his shoulder, painfully tight and yet grounding him, the other casting another diagnostic over Harry. "He's- he's gaining blood, not- That's you?" Sirius nodded, slowly, carefully trickling more blood into Harry; too quickly and he worried he'd burst something, and then they'd have internal bleeding to worry about as well. Remus made a choked sound. "Sirius, his hand-"
"I know," Sirius said roughly. "I know-" His vision blurred and he wiped his face on his arm, focusing on his own diagnostics, on his spellwork. He'd not been able to help Harry - protect Harry - all night, but he could now and he'd do whatever he could, anything Harry needed, anything to get him through this.
Please let it be enough. Please, please, please.
"Ribs or leg?" Remus asked shakily, tracing fingers over the burn on Harry's chest, probably wondering - as Sirius had - what could have burned hot enough to destroy dragonhide. "Or that?"
"Leg," Sirius said. His diagnostic had shown four cracked ribs, but they hadn't punctured anything important, wouldn't do more than hurt but Harry wasn't awake to feel pain anyway, and Sirius didn't have a lot of experience with burns, especially one as nasty as that and knew Remus didn't either. His leg, on the other hand, had shown both an injury - though not a bleeding one - and envenomation. "Cedric said-"
"Spider," Remus finished for him. "Diffindo." There was a sound like tearing fabric, and then Remus paused, scent surprised.
Sirius glanced down, saw Harry's trouser leg had been cut off at the knee, and that his shin was wrapped in clean white bandages. Remus sliced them off a moment later, then sucked in a breath and got to work.
"Acromantula," he said, an eternity later, though Sirius knew - could feel the passing of time through each beat of Harry's heart beneath his hand - that it had only been a few seconds. "He'll need an antidote," Remus continued, without Sirius needing to ask, "just in case, but there's not actually much venom in him; it's such a messy bite I think most of it must have bled out."
Remus waved his wand and Sirius smelled antiseptic-
POP!
Kreacher had returned with Madam Pomfrey.
"Neither of you stop what you're doing," she said, falling to her knees opposite Sirius. She cast her own diagnostic, then put her wand between her teeth, eyes flicking over the results - invisible to anyone but her - while she pulled bottles and phials out of the healing kit she'd brought along with her. "Oh my," she said, faltering for a moment as she looked from her spell to Harry.
Sirius couldn't look at her,
He desperately wanted her verdict, and he also desperately did not; Harry was breathing - but shallowly - and Sirius could still feel his heartbeat - weak, but steady - but there was no colour in his cheeks and he looked so battered, so broken.
What if Sirius hadn't done enough? What if the blood he was conjuring into Harry wasn't enough, or was wrong somehow, or what if he was making it worse? What if Harry'd been too far gone already?
His nose told him what his eyes couldn't; there was horror in Madam Pomfrey's scent, and pity, and anger, but not fear.
Not grief.
Her hand curled over Sirius', gently forcing his wand down and for a moment his heart stopped, but then he saw she had a red bottle in her other hand - a blood replenisher, a proper one. She released him to reach for Harry.
Blurry eyed, Sirius traced his wand from Harry's chin to his chest, and repeated the motion again and again to make him swallow, as Madam Pomfrey opened Harry's mouth and trickled the potion inside.
When she was done, she looked down at her collection again:
"Antidotes," she said, thrusting a rack of thin phials at Remus. "I assume you've diagnosed it-"
"Acromantula," he said, and she gave a brisk nod:
"That's in there," she said, and Sirius heard the soft clinking of glass as Remus hurriedly sorted through the phials. "It's abysmal that Hagrid doesn't know better by now, but at least he gave me a list before the task so I could come prepared…" Madam Pomfrey turned her attention on Harry's ribs, setting them in place with a spell. Harry seemed to breathe easier.
Something tight and toxic uncurled in Sirius' chest and he let out a shuddering breath. His face felt hot, and wet. Remus glanced at him, eyes bright and face pale but less strained than before. He passed the phial - presumably the acromantula antidote - into Madam Pomfrey's waiting hand.
Small warm hands settled on Sirius' shoulders, and he twitched in surprise, but it was only Kreacher.
Sirius had forgotten he was there at all.
Kreacher moved a little closer, and it was only when his thin arms slid around Sirius' neck and shoulders that Sirius realised Kreacher was comforting him. Sirius wrapped a hand around Kreacher's smaller one and held it tightly.
The matron waved Remus away a moment later - something else in Sirius eased at the fact that Madam Pomfrey thought she could handle Harry alone - and he shuffled back to sit beside Sirius and Kreacher. With the hand not holding Kreacher's, Sirius reached for Remus' as the three of them watched Madam Pomfrey work over Harry.
"We've got him." If Draco hadn't recognised the patronus - a large, silvery dog - he wouldn't have recognised the hoarse voice as Black's. "Remus and I are with him in the Hospital Wing." Down by the entrance to the maze, an identical dog delivered what was presumably an identical message to Dumbledore, then faded as theirs did.
Coming from Black, him could only be referring to Potter, and while it wasn't quite news - they'd seen on the Map when Potter and Kreacher returned to Black, watched Lupin race to them, and Kreacher leave and return with Pomfrey while Potter's dot lay unmoving - Draco still went weak with relief, giving Granger's hand a squeeze.
"Well, that's good news," Lovegood said.
Granger burst into tears and She-Weasley - who'd returned a few minutes ago after loitering as long as she possibly could down by Dumbledore - rubbed her back and loosened the death grip she'd had on Lovegood's hand.
Baby-Lupin looked at Granger, scrunched up her face, and let out a wail, and Weasley shifted. Draco's shoulder, arm, and knee were immediately a little colder; Weasley was a tactile person, and with no spare hands, he'd settled for pressing his side against Draco's while they waited.
"No, no, she's crying because she's happy," Weasley said, bouncing her. There was no mistaking the sheer relief in his voice, even through the light, happy voice he was putting on for Baby-Lupin. "Sirius just said they've found Harry, and that he's with Sirius and your dad-"
He was interrupted by She-Weasley's exclamation and she went barrelling over everyone's legs to throw herself on Weasley One and Two, who'd just returned. Both of them were covered in what looked like sawdust, and had red eyes and faces, like they'd been crying.
"Mum…?" She-Weasley began, sounding afraid, and Draco was too, because they'd seen Mother-Weasley on the Map with the twins, seen Black and Lupin arrive, seen Crouch leave, seen the twins return to the stands, then seen them physically down below with Dumbledore and the Diggorys before they left again. Mother-Weasley had stayed with Diggory. She should have been-
"She's fine - guarding Cedric and his parents until someone else can take over." Weasley One gave a tilt of his head, towards the stairs, eyes scanning the stands as if wary of eavesdroppers; while they now had a fairly clear section because all the adults who'd been with them earlier had run off to do important things, and they were right at the front so there was no one below them, they were still getting curious looks; in particular, Longbottom, Thomas, Brown, Finnigan and the Patils - as well as Corner, Boot, and Brocklehurst were all looking down on them with interest. "Everyone's meeting in the Hospital Wing."
"I assume I'm not everyone," Lovegood said, and Weasley One looked awkward, but Lovegood only smiled and passed the Map to Granger. "Tell Harry I'm glad he's all right." Weasley One and Two exchanged a look at that, for once not joking, or playful, or shrewd; they looked grim and a little afraid. "Oh," Lovegood said. "Is Harry not all right?"
"We didn't really get a good look at him," Weasley One said, but he was being evasive, Draco could tell. "Pomfrey had him all wrapped up in blankets on a stretcher by the time we went past with the Diggorys."
"But we saw Sirius," Weasley Two said. "Covered in blood and..." He and Weasley One exchanged another look. "Upset. Lupin too." Baby-Lupin burbled at the familiar name, and Weasley Two waggled a finger at her, which she tried to grab. "And…"
"Not here," Weasley One said, looking around the stands. Weasley Two nodded.
"Right," Granger said, wiping her face, and ushering Draco out of his seat. "Well, I suppose we'll see for ourselves when we-"
Four pillars of silver, navy, and slate-blue flared at each of the maze's corners and the entire maze seemed to shudder. Draco looked to Granger.
"What was-?"
"That'll be Bill," Weasley said, not looking alarmed at all; She-Weasley had returned with the news that Eldest-Weasley had gone into the maze with Mrs Lupin to try and remove the spells on it. "Come on."
It was a quick, quiet walk from the pitch to the castle and then up to the Hospital Wing. Other than Weasley's occasional comments to Baby-Lupin, none of them spoke, until:
"The Cup was a portkey before it brought Cedric out of the maze," Weasley Two said. "It took him and Harry somewhere - Cedric mentioned a graveyard."
Draco walked into the back of Granger, who'd stopped right before the front doors. She-Weasley steadied him.
"He…" Weasley One glanced at Weasley Two, and Draco realised this was what they'd not said in the stands. "Cedric said Pettigrew was there, and… Him."
"Harry's been with Voldemort?" Weasley asked.
"Sounded like it," Weasley Two said, rubbing the back of his neck.
A look bounced between them, from Granger to Weasley to Draco - Weasley's stare was more loaded than Granger's had been, probably wondering if Draco had heard anything. Draco gave the tiniest shake of his head.
"That's not all," Weasley One said, looking uncertain.
"What else?" Weasley asked, adjusting his hold on Baby-Lupin.
"Cedric- he said He came back."
There was a pause, and then:
"Back?" Granger asked, a little shakily. "What do you mean 'back'?"
"That's all he said," Weasley Two said, looking at Weasley, a little helplessly. "The obvious conclusion is that back means back but…"
Draco's ears rang with the stunned, horrified silence that followed, mind working so quickly, so loudly that he couldn't think. She-Weasley had gone white beneath her freckles and very still. Granger looked like she wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words.
It was Weasley that Draco looked to, though; Weasley who would understand why Draco's mouth was suddenly dry, why his heart was racing. And Draco could see that he did, that he was afraid for Potter too, but that there was a secondary realisation there that none of the others would have, that none of the others could have.
That Draco would soon have to pledge himself to the Dark Lord. That Draco would take the Mark, as his father had - did his father already know the Dark Lord had returned? - and would serve.
Draco would begin his career as a spy.
For a long moment, Draco could only stare at Weasley - he was going to have to be ready, they both were, but Draco didn't feel like either of them were even close. Weasley swallowed. His expression didn't go blank as Draco's often did, or Severus', but it relaxed, changed into something a bit more controlled:
"S'pose that explains why Dumbledore's had everyone running around like nifflers after gold," Weasley said slowly, frowning. He wasn't calm - couldn't be calm - but he looked and sounded it and Draco was impressed despite himself. "And why he was so quick to cancel the task after Cedric got back."
"Cedric didn't tell anyone until after Crouch left, though," Weasley One said.
"Yeah, but it's Dumbledore, isn't it?" Weasley said, shrugging. "Here." Draco found himself with an armful of Baby-Lupin, while Weasley went to put an arm around She-Weasley's shoulders. She didn't respond at all but Weasley pulled her gently along until they were moving again. The twins fell into step behind them, and Granger shot Draco a quick, anxious look, then trailed after. Baby-Lupin made a small sound of protest, not liking that they were being left behind, and Draco forced himself to take a step, then another.
The Dark Lord… back?
Truly, properly back?
How? And what state was Potter going to be in as a result?
This would change everything. Certainly they'd been planning for it, talking about it - him and Severus at least, and Weasley here and there - all year, had seen touches of it in the chaos at the World Cup, but this, now, was different.
Up ahead, Weasley still had an arm over She-Weasley's shoulders, Granger looked dazed and frightened, and Weasley One and Two were unnaturally quiet and serious.
Draco wanted to give each of them a hug, wanted each of them to give him a hug because he thought he'd have more time to prepare himself but he didn't because the Dark Lord was back-
Baby-Lupin burbled and rested her downy head under Draco's chin. He held her a little closer, a little tighter. Weasley glanced back and his expression eased a little at the sight of Draco and Baby-Lupin.
It was a familiar expression, though Draco hadn't seen it since their first year; Weasley had often passed Scabbers the rat off to Draco, a veiled form of comfort when he knew Draco would refuse any other sort of comfort. This time Draco realised he'd used Baby-Lupin instead, and in this particular instance, it wasn't that Draco wouldn't accept a hug or a pat on the back or a squeeze of his hand, it was that he couldn't, any more than Weasley could offer comfort to him over She-Weasley. He rested his cheek against Baby-Lupin's warm little head, grateful.
As far as anyone but Weasley knew, he had no reason to be any more afraid than Granger - the muggleborn - or the Weasleys - bloodtraitors like him - no reason to be more worried for Potter than Potter's other best friends, than She-Weasley, who knew exactly what the Dark Lord was capable of.
I'm about to, though, Draco thought, and then took a deep breath and began to rebuild his mask, his control; Potter would be in the Hospital Wing, and Black and Lupin. It wouldn't do for his scent to give anything away before he'd even started.
Severus, Lupin, and Mother-Weasley were waiting outside the Hospital Wing when they arrived. Lupin looked like he'd just woken up after a full moon - pale and a bit sick looking. Mother-Weasley was covered in sawdust and red-eyed like the twins, and Severus, though Draco doubted anyone else would have noticed it, seemed agitated, even twitchy though he was still and blank-faced.
"Ron, I left Stella in your care," Mother-Weasley said crossly, even as she bundled her children together into a hug. "Thank you, Draco, dear-"
Lupin had also come forward, and Draco relinquished Baby-Lupin somewhat reluctantly; Lupin looked like he needed a hug even more than Draco felt like he did.
Draco felt light pressure on his mind, but before he could do anything about it, Severus' voice was in his head:
The Dark Lord has returned, he said.
I know, Draco replied. Potter-
Somehow managed to escape the Dark Lord, Severus replied. Draco couldn't have said what it was about his response that put him on edge - Severus' wording, perhaps, or maybe his mental tone, or perhaps the weight of his physical stare, or even the fact that he hadn't let Draco finish a question about how Potter was - but he was quiet for a moment, getting his mind in order. Severus probed a little deeper but Draco kept him at bay. Severus didn't say anything, but Draco felt his approval.
What happened?
That remains to be seen. Draco was aware of questions - lots of them - from the others - how was Potter, where was Black, was it true about the Dark Lord, was Diggory all right - and then Severus spoke out loud:
"Might I suggest we move this conversation out of publicly used corridors?"
"Everyone's still down at the pitch, Severus," Mother-Weasley said, but she began to usher Draco forward along with Granger and her own children. "We might as well settle in, though - set up some chairs-"
"Harry's hasn't woken yet, but he's stable," Lupin said.
"Can we see him?" She-Weasley asked. It was the first thing she'd said since Weasley One mentioned the Dark Lord was back.
"Absolutely not," Lupin said, startlingly firmly. A stunned, anxious silence followed. Lupin ran a hand over his face, but he didn't apologise and didn't explain himself, just turned and strode back into the Hospital Wing. Baby-Lupin squeaked at them from over his shoulder.
"Is- is it bad?" Granger asked Mother-Weasley.
"I haven't seen him," she said. Draco glanced at Severus whose expression didn't change, and, though the soft weight of his mind in Draco's was still there, he didn't comment. Draco took that to mean he didn't know either.
"What happens now?" Weasley asked, looking from his mother, to Severus, to Draco. Mother-Weasley gave him a helpless look and shook her head.
"Dumbledore will send someone to us, or he'll come himself when he can. Until then, we've just got to wait." She began to conjure chairs - comfortable and mismatched, like the ones at the Burrow - and Draco - though he'd been sitting down for most of the night - sank gratefully into his.
Us too? Draco thought, looking at the two curtained-off beds; one undoubtedly held Potter, and the other probably held Diggory.
Until the Headmaster arrives, Severus said. Then I will need to attend the Dark Lord.
You're going to see him tonight?
He summoned us all when he returned, Severus replied. I have not been able to go, yet - my absence would have been noted, even in all this chaos. He glanced out the nearest window, to the Quidditch pitch, which was still brightly lit. Better to wait until Dumbledore thinks to send me on his own terms, or dismisses me for the evening so I can slip away.
Draco was silent for a moment; as before, Severus was talking as if he thought it was possible for them to be overheard by the Dark Lord himself, or another Death Eater, but that wasn't possible, surely. Why was he playing his part in a private conversation with Draco? And then Draco realised that Severus must expect the Dark Lord to see the memory of this conversation, and rather than censor it, was scripting it.
But what role would Draco play? They'd never discussed it. Severus probed for Draco's thoughts and Draco pretending to fail at keeping him out; he swept those condemning thoughts away and gave him worry instead.
Severus was quiet, likely trying to figure out if the worry was genuine or fabricated, and what to do with it-
I'm sorry, Draco said, and let more worry flow. Just- what if Dumbledore suspects?
Then I can cease my charade and return to serving my Lord openly, Severus said. But I do not think it will come to that. I've had thirteen years to wrap Dumbledore around my finger. He trusts me implicitly.
And the Dark Lord? Draco asked. How will he receive you?
He doubts me, Severus said, with an edge to his voice. Though I have done nothing that should have made him doubt me - I have only done what he asked of me. Flashes of memory followed that - Morton's face, Fluffy the cerberus, blood, and pain, an ugly, flesh-coloured prosthetic. Severus put an abrupt end to the memories.
My father will vouch for you, Draco said.
I should hope so, Severus said curtly. And am I to vouch for you?
Draco didn't feel ready, and he doubted he ever would.
But this was the path he'd chosen, the third option in the choice between two that his parents had given him, and his conviction that it was the right one had only grown in the time since. He'd helped train Potter for each task in the Tournament, but not stepped into the arena alongside him as the others had. Draco had had enough of being a member of the audience.
He still wouldn't be in there alongside Potter and the others, protecting them with shield charms and subduing their enemies with wandless magic, or tricky spells, but he'd be fighting for them just as hard.
If he failed and the Dark Lord discovered the truth about his allegiance - and Draco survived such a discovery - then he'd happily step into the physical arena.
Until then, though, he'd use information, not spells, would use his mind rather than his body or his wand.
And if he did his job well enough, perhaps the others wouldn't have to fight at all, or at the very least could fight on their own terms, with whatever advantage Draco could secure for them.
Only if you're well received, Draco said, channelling Hydrus' loftiest, bossiest voice. He felt Severus' surprise. If not, I'll have my father broach the topic with the Dark Lord. I don't want any doubts he has about you tarnishing his first impression of me.
Draco felt Severus' sneer.
You are still committed to this, then? You're not about to baulk now that you must turn your talk into service? His tone was perfect - sharp, assessing, and a bit condescending - and Draco knew it was a real question, knew that if he had doubts, if he wanted to back out or needed more time, that now was the time to say so. You understand that if you step down this path, you cannot falter, cannot change your mind?
Obviously, Draco drawled, the same way he'd heard Severus say it a thousand times before. Severus understood it - both the verbal part, and the significance of Draco choosing to mimic Severus - a double agent himself - in his response.
So be it, he said, and withdrew.