Warning: Violence, deaths. Also, very long chapter, with over 10k words.


- CHAPTER TWELVE -

Cooking with a Dark Lord

"Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to the third task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed over the stands of the Quidditch stadium.

The Quidditch field in the centre of the arena was completely unrecognisable. The over twenty-foot-high hedges of the maze covered almost the entire pitch.

From where Harry was sitting in the stands, he observed Hermione and the other competitors on the field below him. The champions had assembled at the entrance of the maze, close to where the judges were sitting in the stands. It was early in the afternoon, and the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, but the passage between the hedges beyond the entrance of the maze still looked dark and creepy.

Harry and his friends had occupied seats in the first and lowest row of the stands close-by. Harry sat between Luna and Neville to his right and Ginny and Dean to his left. From where they were seated, it was impossible to look into the narrow passages of the maze.

Harry shook his head, once more amused by the stupidity of the tournament organisers. He doubted that the spectators further above in the stands would be able to see much more. Though, he also doubted that anything would be happening within the maze, anyway.

Soon, Bagman's introductions came to an end.

"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me remind you of the current ranking. In the first place, with eighty-seven points, we have Miss Hermione Granger of Hogwarts!"

Harry cheered for his girlfriend, along with most of the audience. Hermione flashed him a bright smile when she briefly caught his eyes, but she quickly returned her attention towards the maze, a determined expression on her face. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit worried, even though he was confident that one of their safer plans would work.

"Miss Granger will start first, of course," Bagman continued. "Mr Viktor Krum of Durmstrang is one point behind with eighty-six points. He will start one minute after Miss Granger."

The spectators applauded again, and Bagman went on, "Then, Mr Cedric Diggory, with eighty-one points, will enter the maze five minutes after him, followed by the Messrs Weasley one minute later. And then... Well, I doubt that it will matter. We'll get to the others once things are underway."

Among the remaining champions, Fudge and Fleur both looked offended by Bagman's dismissal, while Crabbe and Goyle wore their usual blank expressions.

"So... on my whistle, Miss Granger!" Bagman shouted. "Three - two - one -"

The spectators cheered as Bagman gave a short blast on his whistle.

Hermione, however, didn't enter the maze. After the whistle had sounded, she turned her head and briefly glanced over the judges in the stands, slightly raising an eyebrow at them.

Then, she looked back at the entrance of the maze before her and raised her wand.

"Accio Triwizard Cup!"

Everyone heard Bagman's enhanced voice as he moaned, "Oh, bloody hell, not again! ... She isn't supposed to do that... Quite unexpected, I'd say..."

"Unexpected?" Crouch exclaimed from the seat next to him. "Are you telling us that you still haven't warded the cup against Summoning Charms!?"

"Now, see here, I don't think that's fair!" Bagman said defensively. "I mean, who could have possibly foreseen this?"

"Everyone!" yelled Karkaroff.

"Uhm, now, I don't think-" Bagman began but then paused abruptly and sighed.

The reason for this became evident to Harry a moment later, when he spotted the Triwizard Cup zooming over the hedges towards his girlfriend.

Behind him in the stands, people laughed and cheered, though there were also a lot of angry and disbelieving shouts.

Harry smiled widely as the cup rapidly flew towards Hermione. As it got closer to her, she reached out for the trophy with both her arms to catch it. A moment later, her hands closed around the handles of the cup.

Harry was about to jump up and cheer for his girlfriend, but he halted when he noted how her expression changed the instant she got hold of the cup.

For a brief moment, Harry wondered about the sudden surprised expression on his girlfriend's face, before she disappeared in a swirl of colours, much to Harry's shock.

He jumped up and gaped at the spot from where his girlfriend had vanished. All around him, spectators gasped in surprise at Hermione's sudden disappearance.

#

#

Half a second later, there was another swirl of colours five yard to the left from where Hermione had disappeared from.

There, Hermione reappeared a moment later, slightly dazzled but otherwise clearly unharmed.

She frowned at the cup that she was still holding before there was a flash of realisation on her face.

It took Harry a few seconds longer until it occurred to him that the cup probably had been a Portkey designed to transport the winner of the tournament from the middle of the maze back to the stands before the judges and audience.

Immensely relieved, Harry laughed out loud and joined in on the applause of the spectators around him.

But while a large minority of the audience cheered loudly, especially among the Gryffindors in the stands, most people only clapped a few times at most. Most spectators seemed to be at a loss of what to make of the event and were visibly disappointed. Harry couldn't really fault them. If it had been anyone else who had won, he would have also been upset with the tournament organisers.

Among the judges, Bagman seemed highly embarrassed, while Dumbledore failed to hide his amusement. The other judges were enraged. Sitting close-by, Harry could easily listen-in on their exchange.

"Who made a dimwit like you a Department Head!?" Crouch shouted at Bagman.

"He did!" Bagman answered, gesticulating at the similarly furious Fudge on the field in front of them.

"Why?" Karkaroff asked angrily.

Bagman shrugged his shoulders. "Uhh, well, I was a popular Beater, once..."

"What does zat 'ave to do wiz anyzing?" Madame Maxime asked disbelievingly.

"Ask him!" Bagman exclaimed desperately, motioning towards Fudge once more. "I don't know either."

Harry shook his head, once more astonished by the Ministry's incompetence.

He then excused himself and left his seat to join Hermione on the pitch. Quickly, he descended down the stairs of the stands and made his way into the centre of the arena.

When he arrived on the pitch, Hermione was surrounded by Fred, George, and Cedric. All three boys were congratulating Hermione on her victory, though Fred and George did so with much more enthusiasm than Cedric. The Hufflepuff seemed rather miffed. Understandably so, in Harry's opinion.

"You did it!" Harry shouted as he reached Hermione and engulfed her in a tight hug, almost toppling her over. "I knew that you would win this thing!"

"Ooof... Harry, let me breathe!" Hermione complained, though she did laugh while she said it.

"Sorry, I'm just relieved that you're fine," Harry apologised. "I'm glad that you weren't in any danger."

"I guess we shouldn't be surprised that Plan A worked again," Hermione said with a smirk.

"No," Harry agreed, "Though most of the judges seem to be slightly annoyed with Bagman for it."

"Idiots," Hermione muttered. "It's their mistake as much as it's his. They could also have done something."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "It's-"

He paused when he spotted Bagman, Crouch, and Dumbledore entering the Quidditch pitch.

Crouch was still visibly angry. His glare was alternating between Bagman and Hermione as the three judges approached the teens. Bagman had a very sullen expression on his face, while Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Well," Crouch gnarled out with gritted teeth as he halted in front of Hermione. "I suppose I have to congratulate you on your victory."

He roughly pushed a large bag into Hermione's arms.

"The prize money, one thousand galleons," Crouch said curtly. "Even though you have done little to deserve it."

"Now, Bartemius," Dumbledore interjected, "I don't think we should fault Miss Granger for our own shortcomings. You can hardly blame her for choosing the easiest solution available to her. I'm sure that Miss Granger had adequate plans in place in case the Summoning Charm hadn't worked."

"I doubt that," Crouch muttered.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "I did have other plans. Have you warded the maze against being flown over with a broom?"

"Uhm..." There was a pause during which Crouch shot a questioning glance at Bagman, who did his best not to look at any of them.

"I take your silence as confirmation that my Plan B also would have worked," Hermione said with a smug smile, and Harry snickered.

"Were the hedges protected against fire?" Hermione asked next.

Bagman perked up at the question, visibly relieved.

"Ah, we thought of that, Miss Granger," he answered. "There are wards against magical fire in place."

"Magical fire? But not fire?" Hermione asked.

Bagman shrugged. "What's the difference?"

"The hedges would burn if they were set aflame by non-magical means," Hermione said very slowly as if she was explaining something to a toddler.

Bagman, however, laughed.

"You can't burn something without using magic," he said condescendingly.

Hermione took a deep breath, but then she only shook her head with exasperation.

"Forget it," she said, "Thanks for the money. Are we done here?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore confirmed with a smile, "My congratulations, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Hermione answered brightly.

"Yes, and good luck with the Wizengamot," Harry added, knowing that Dumbledore would be heading there immediately after the task. The election in the Wizengamot for the Interim Minister of Magic was scheduled for the late afternoon.

"Thank you, Harry," the Headmaster replied much more soberly. "I will do my best."

Dumbledore gave Hermione and Harry a nod as he left together with Crouch and Bagman.

Harry noted that during their conversation, the stands had almost completely emptied, and most of the other champions had left the arena. Only the twins had stayed back. They were talking with Neville, Luna, Ginny, and Dean at the exit of the arena, all of them clearly waiting for Hermione and Harry.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" George called out as Harry and Hermione approached their friends. "We have to get to your victory party!"

As they followed their fellow Gryffindors and the lone Ravenclaw up to the castle, Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. He noted her worried expression and could tell that she wasn't thrilled about the prospect of a large party. He wasn't much in a mood for celebrations, either.

"It doesn't feel right to celebrate while Malfoy might get elected as the next Minister," Hermione said quietly to Harry as they walked along.

Harry nodded. "I agree. How about we skip the party this time? We could just make ourselves comfortable in our abandoned classroom, and wait for the news from London."

Hermione smiled back at him. "I'd like that."

A few minutes later, their group entered the castle and traversed the entrance hall.

Harry was about to inform his friends about his and Hermione's decision not to join them when a voice called out for him from a corner of the hall.

"Potter, a word, please?"

Harry turned around and saw Professor Moody looking at him expectantly.

"It's all right, I'll wait for you, Harry," Hermione told him as they all halted. She turned around to their friends and added, "And you can go ahead, we'll catch up with you later."

The others nodded and left, while Harry walked over to the Professor.

"Potter," Moody said with a low voice when Harry had reached him, "We could use your help. Could you come to my office as soon as possible?"

"Oh, all right, Professor," Harry said with surprise. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Excellent. See you then," Moody replied and shuffled away towards the staircase leading to the Defence corridor.

With a slight frown on his face, Harry walked back to Hermione at the other side of the entrance hall.

"Professor Moody wants to talk to me," Harry told his girlfriend, whose eyebrows rose at hearing that.

"Now? Why?" Hermione wondered.

"I don't know," Harry replied with a shrug. "Should we meet in our usual hiding place in a few minutes, and I tell you what this is about?"

"Sounds good," Hermione agreed. "I'll wait in the abandoned classroom next to the library, then."

Harry nodded. "Great! See you in a few minutes."

With that, he turned around and made his way to Professor Moody's office in the Defence corridor.

#

Half a minute later, Harry knocked at the door of the Defence Professor's office.

"Come in, Potter," the gruff voice of Moody sounded from inside.

Harry opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed Vincent Crabbe standing at the end of the room next to a large stone cauldron. Moody stood in another corner of the office next to his desk. He was looking onto a parchment in his hand that Harry recognised as the Marauder's Map.

"Glad that you could join us, Potter," Moody said with a smirk and laid the map on the desk.

"Uhm, sure," Harry said hesitantly, unsure of what to make of the situation and the company he found himself in.

"Why so surprised, Potter?" Crabbe drawled.

"I'm just surprised that you're here, too," Harry answered, trying to maintain a neutral tone. "I wouldn't have been surprised to see Barty Crouch, but-"

"Hah!" Moody chuckled. "Just wait a few minutes. The Polyjuice will wear off soon."

Confused, Harry's eyes darted back and forth between Moody and Crabbe. Something about this felt very, very wrong.

"You're using Polyjuice?" Harry asked the person that looked like Crabbe. He wondered why Crouch would be using Polyjuice to pose as Crabbe. The moment he asked the question, Harry realised that he absolutely didn't want to know the answer, but it was too late.

A hint of annoyance flashed over Crabbe's face. He shook his head and sighed. "No, only Crouch is. Unfortunately, Polyjuice doesn't work for me in my current state. I had to take full possession of the foolish boy's body.

"Ah... Uhm, I- I see..." Harry said slowly. Internally, he was screaming in confusion. Possession? WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON? But he knew instinctively that it wouldn't be a good idea to display his feelings to the two persons in front of him. Whoever they were, they thought of him as a friend, and he would do his best to not disabuse them of their notion.

Harry was suddenly very grateful for his many Occlumency training sessions with Hermione. Only thanks to his Occlumency shields was he able to control his emotions and keep a calm demeanour.

"So, uhm, why are we here?" Harry asked, trying to play for time and gain more information. At the same time, he walked as inconspicuously as possible towards the desk at the side of the room, where Moody had placed the still activated Marauder's Map.

"Today, we will conduct a ritual to restore my body," Crabbe answered, motioning towards the cauldron. "And we hoped that you could help us in acquiring one of the key ingredients."

Restore his body? Harry repeated the boy's words to himself internally. But that could only mean...

Harry had now reached the desk and glanced down on the Marauder's Map. Quickly, he located the Defence Professor's office.

Then, he saw the names displayed on the map: Harry Potter, Bartemius Crouch, Alastor Moody, and... Tom Riddle.

Harry quickly turned his head away from the other persons in the room, as he knew that even with his Occlumency, he would be unable to hide the shock from showing on his face. WHAT. THE. FUCK. He was in a room with Voldemort! And Voldemort was talking to him! Talking to him as if he was a friend. Why? What was going on!?

On the map, the name Bartemius Crouch was displayed a short distance away from him, right where Professor Moody was standing. Moody's name was displayed in another corner of the room, which was empty apart from a large trunk. And the person who looked like Vincent Crabbe was identified by the map as Voldemort.

Harry took a deep calming breath. As weird as it was, he was apparently not in any imminent danger. He decided that it would be best to play along for now, even though he was utterly confused about the whole situation.

He then realised that he had been quiet for too long.

"Uhm, yes... that sounds interesting..." he said slowly while looking down on the map. He hoped that it would seem as if he had just been keeping watch on their surroundings.

He looked back up at Moody and Crabbe – or rather, Crouch and Riddle.

"I'll be happy to help in any way I can," Harry stated.

"Excellent." Riddle, in the body of Crabbe, smirked. "I knew we could count on you. So, we-"

Riddle paused as the Moody-lookalike suddenly groaned and stumbled to the floor. Indifferently, the Dark Lord watched as the man began spasming on the ground. Harry knew that this had to be the effect of Polyjuice wearing off.

The man's skin was bubbling, and his features were being distorted grotesquely. The wooden leg got loose, and a real leg grew in its place. At the same time, the magical blue eyeball popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it, while the magical eyeball rolled across the floor.

A few moments later, a completely different man sat on the ground. He was skinny, had light brown hair and pale skin.

"I hate this every time," the man muttered as he shook his head briefly and rose back to his feet.

Harry was utterly bewildered by now. The map said that this man was Bartemius Crouch, but that was clearly not correct.

When the man locked eyes with Harry, the older man laughed out loud. Harry cursed himself as his confusion must have shown on his face.

"I know, I know," the man said towards Harry. "I look nothing like my old man. I guess the name is the only thing we have in common."

"Yes, yes," Riddle interrupted with an annoyed expression on his face. "As you now have made the acquaintance with Barty Junior, let us get on with things, Potter."

"Oh, of course, uhm... my- my Lord," Harry answered. Suddenly, things made much more sense. He recalled that Sirius had told him that Crouch had a son who was imprisoned for being a Death Eater. That must have been Bartemius Crouch Junior. And somehow, the Death Eater must have escaped from Azkaban.

Harry then tried to remember his conversations with the guy that he had mistaken for Moody, but who had actually been Barty Crouch Junior. They had never been very precise in their conversations, so Harry supposed that it was possible that Barty Jr would have gotten the impression that Harry was an ally. Especially after Harry had given the Marauder's Map to the Death Eater. Harry cursed himself for his stupidity.

Well, as it now allowed him to spy on Voldemort himself, maybe things would work out in the end. He would stay calm and see how things would play out.

"Good, then back to your assignment, Potter," Riddle then said, "There are three key ingredients for the ritual, and I need you to acquire one of them."

"I will do my best, my Lord," Harry answered, trying to appear eager at helping his mortal enemy. "But... could you maybe explain more about this ritual? Uhm, you see, I... uhm... I am sure that it is a most impressive feat of the Dark Arts, and as I'm very interested in those myself, I'd like to learn more."

Riddle chuckled. "Ah, such an inquisitive mind! You remind me of myself when I was a student here, delving into the fascinating mysteries of the darkest forbidden magics."

The Dark Lord nodded appreciatively. "Very well, let me tell you what we are about to do today. We will restore my original body tonight. Because only then will I regain the power that I had before... well, before I had that unfortunate misunderstanding with you and your parents in 1981."

"It's all right," Harry said quickly, not wanting Voldemort to think too deeply about the events of that fateful night, lest the Dark Lord would start to wonder why Harry would be willing to work with the killer of his parents. "It was for the best, really."

"Ah, yes, that's good," Voldemort said with a smirk. "I wasn't particularly fond of my parents, either... I killed my father and his entire family myself, you know."

Harry nodded, trying to appear impressed by that.

"Well, anyway," Riddle continued, "back to the ritual. We will heat up the potion that you can see in the cauldron. It is a mixture of water, unicorn blood, and snake venom from my familiar. Then, I will have to submerge myself in the potion and rid myself of my current physical form. Then, Crouch will add the last three ingredients. First, bones that we have collected from my father's grave..."

Riddle gestured towards Crouch, who walked to the trunk and opened it with a key. He left the key in the lock as he opened the lid and took out a roll of cloth. He laid the bundle on the desk and unwrapped several bone fragments.

Harry nodded again, once more trying to appear impressed instead of disgusted, and Riddle continued, "The next ingredient that will be added is the flesh of my servant."

Despite his best efforts to remain calm, Harry's eyes bulged at hearing that.

At the same time, Crouch stepped forward. "I humbly request that you take my flesh, my Lord. I have done much more than the boy to prove myself worthy of such an honour."

"Yes!" Harry immediately agreed, very relieved. "Be my guest... Uhm, I mean, yes, sure, I agree. You really deserve it much more than I do."

Riddle chuckled in response. "Yes, that was always the plan. Don't worry, Potter, you are here to provide something else. Namely, the last ingredient for the ritual: The blood of my enemy."

Harry gulped. Did they know? Was he the one who had been fooled here all along?

Harry was much relieved when Riddle continued, "I admit, we were originally going for your blood, Potter. But now that we know of your true allegiances, that will of course not be possible. In fact, using your blood might have even killed me, despite my best efforts to stay immortal. Dark rituals tend to have really nasty side effects when you make a mistake."

"Oh, no!" Harry exclaimed. "That would have been terrible!"

"Indeed. Let that be a lesson for your own experiments. Always be extremely careful with dark rituals! The slightest contamination could prove fatal," Riddle said with a grave voice.

Harry nodded. Yes, he would definitely keep that in mind.

"Now, we were going to go after Dumbledore instead," Riddle went on to explain. "But I'm currently not strong enough to subdue him, and the old man is surprisingly vigilant. So, we have to change the plan..."

"Who is the new target, my Lord?" Harry asked, doing his best to hide his apprehension.

"The girl that's constantly at your side-" Riddle began.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to remain calm.

"Yes, that's the name," Riddle said, "Is she also a secret supporter of our cause, or is she really just a Mudblood that you let pose as your girlfriend to keep up appearances?"

Harry knew that he had to devise a plan fast. He could see where this was going, and he needed to think quickly of way to both protect the girl he loved and sabotage Riddle.

"Uhm... the latter," Harry said after a pause.

"Good, so she would be an enemy. And I gathered that she is quite powerful for a Mudblood?" Riddle inquired.

Harry nodded again. "She is," he said, trying to sound displeased at this fact.

"Excellent, so she would be a suitable replacement," the Dark Lord replied. With a cold smile, he added, "By the way, we only need a few drops of blood. So you can even keep her if you like."

"Ah... fine, whatever," Harry replied with a shrug, doing his best not to betray his emotions.

Riddle chuckled. "Well, how fast can you deliver her to us?"

"Within the hour, if need be," Harry replied.

With a plan forming in his mind, Harry then added, "But... to divert suspicion if I'm forced to subdue her, it might be better if I looked like someone else. Could I maybe have some of Crouch's Polyjuice to disguise myself?"

"Excellent thinking, my boy, I'm impressed!" Voldemort exclaimed. "You shall have it."

The Dark Lord nodded at his servant, who opened the trunk again and fished out a vial of Polyjuice.

"Thank you," Harry said as Crouch handed him the vial. He then walked towards the door of the office. "I'll be back with... with the Mudblood as soon as possible."

"Good luck," Riddle replied with a nod.

Harry returned the nod and quickly stepped outside the office. As the door fell shut behind him, he let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

He took several deep breaths, trying to gather himself. He didn't know how to best deal with the bizarre situation he was faced with. He had some ideas, but no real plan yet, and he knew that he needed to come up with a solid plan fast. He needed to find his girlfriend immediately.

With that thought, he darted off towards the abandoned classroom where Hermione was waiting for him.

#

Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot Chamber

"I now call to the floor Mr Lucius Malfoy," Albus Dumbledore announced with a grave voice to the assembled Warlocks of the Wizengamot.

Applause rose in the high hall, from the seated Warlocks in their high benches behind Albus as well as from the visitor gallery to Albus's right, that was filled with reporters and spectators.

Albus was sitting in the elevated chair of the Chief Warlock in the middle of the first row of the stands. From there, he watched as Lucius Malfoy strode towards the speaker's lectern below him.

With a worried expression, Albus then turned his head and surveyed the assembled Warlocks in the benches to his sides and behind him. He knew that Lucius had greased the hands of several Warlocks in the Neutral block already. However, the despicable man would still need to convince several more Warlocks to get elected as Interim Minister.

Unfortunately, Amelia hadn't exactly endeared herself to the Neutrals with her decidedly progressive speech earlier. Albus knew that even with his endorsement, Amelia's odds didn't look good today.

It wasn't for the first time that he could lament that the Chief Warlock position was mostly a representative role. He couldn't do much if the Ministry or a majority of the Gamot was against him.

There were sixty seats in the Wizengamot; twenty-four were held by members of the Progressive faction, fourteen by the Neutral faction, and twenty-two by the faction that called itself Traditionalist. Though, in Albus's opinion, the Neutrals were the ones that should be called traditionalists or conservatives, while the Dark faction was better described as a group of reactionary Pureblood supremacists.

Seats in the Wizengamot were not inherited, but seat-holders were appointed for life. Whenever a seat was vacated, the Wizengamot selected a new seat-holder by a majority vote. With the Gamot divided as it was, there had been an understanding in the last decade that any faction that lost a member would get to nominate the successor. This effectively froze the status quo.

It was not ideal, but Albus knew that a more aggressive, heavy-handed approach by him and his allies would only drive the Neutrals into the camp of the Supremacists.

It was for the same reason that he felt so powerless today. While he would probably be able to somehow prevent Lucius Malfoy from getting elected, Albus knew that it would cost him dearly. If he set a precedent to discard the lawful process, the Neutrals would fully side with the Supremacists, he would be dismissed from his office, and the Supremacists would just get another Minister elected. With the precedent set, they could then justify ignoring the laws as well. No, underhanded interference would only pave the way to tyranny. That Albus was certain of.

He could only hope that Malfoy would overreach in his speech now.

Albus was brought out of his musings when Lucius Malfoy raised his voice from behind the lectern.

"Thank you, esteemed Warlocks of the Wizengamot," Lucius began. "I know that some of you might have some reservations about me, mostly due to the lies spread about me by my enemies. These enemies of mine might tell you that I once was a follower of the pretentious Muggle-born Tom Riddle who called himself a Lord. But the truth is, that I was one of his first victims, as I suffered under his Imperius Curse for many years."

"I wasn't his only victim!" Lucius continued with a raised voice. "Many of you who are sitting here today have lost family members to the mad Muggle-born's grab for power. No one suffered worse in the last war than the old Pureblood families!"

The Warlocks seated on the benches to Albus's right applauded loudly. Albus glanced behind him and saw that several Warlocks in the middle of the hall also nodded in agreement.

"But after the war, were we ever compensated!?" Lucius shouted out. "No! No one ever thought of those who had lost the most! Instead, laws were passed to grant even more privileges to Muggle-borns and Halfbloods! When it was a Muggle-born who had started the war in the first place! I ask you, where is the justice in that?"

Again, the Supremacists applauded and cheered, and this time, more of the Neutrals joined in.

Albus sighed. Things were not looking good.

#

Back at Hogwarts, abandoned classroom near library

"WHAT!?" Hermione shouted.

Speaking quickly, Harry repeated what he had just told his girlfriend, "Voldemort is possessing Crabbe. He is attempting a resurrection ritual today. Barty Crouch Jr, a Death Eater, is helping him. He's polyjuiced as Professor Moody. He's the son of Barty Crouch Sr. Remember, Sirius told us that Crouch had a son who was a Death Eater? He's been posing as Moody for the entire school year."

They were in the unused classroom near the library, where Hermione had made herself comfortable on a few conjured pillows, but she had stood up when Harry had entered the room. Now, all plans for a relaxed evening were forgotten.

"But- but- you were talking to each other! You were offering to help him!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah, well... we- we were kinda talking past each other..." Harry said sheepishly.

"Talking past each other!?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "How can you talk past each other so terribly that you confuse advancing gay rights with helping Voldemort to take over Britain?"

Harry sighed. "We don't have the time for this. Just look for yourself!"

"Oh... all right," Hermione muttered, slightly taken aback.

She raised her wand at Harry, who gave her an encouraging nod.

"Legilimens!"

Looking into Hermione's eyes, Harry concentrated on his past interactions with the man he had taken for Alastor Moody. As he showed her his conversations with the impostor and his talk with Riddle, Hermione's eyes grew wider and wider.

Finally, his girlfriend lowered her wand and shook her head disbelievingly.

"I- I- that's... wow! I can't even really blame you," she muttered. "How were we supposed to know that there were two persons named Barty Crouch? And, well, in hindsight, maybe you should have been clearer in your conversations with Moody – I mean Crouch – but you really had no reason to do that back then..."

She took a deep calming breath. "All right, we have to tell Dumbledore!"

"He's at the Wizengamot meeting right now," Harry reminded her. "And Riddle will do the ritual this evening. We'll have to stop him ourselves."

"Wait! What about Professor McGonagall? What about the other teachers?" Hermione asked.

"Remember how we went to her about the Philosopher's Stone in our first year? Would she even believe us?" Harry asked. "And even if she does, she couldn't really fight Voldemort. Even all the teachers together might not be able to subdue him. And even if they do, that would only delay his resurrection, but he'll still try to come back eventually."

"No," he continued, "I think we have to use what we have to our advantage. We should try to sabotage the ritual."

Harry was relieved when his girlfriend nodded reluctantly.

"All right," she said and frowned. "How would we do this?"

"As you saw in my mind, there are three main ingredients that will be added to the potion," Harry began.

Hermione nodded. "Bone of his father, flesh of a servant, and blood of an enemy," she muttered, repeating what Riddle had told Harry.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, "While it might have been possible for me to let him take my flesh, that's no longer an option. And I wouldn't have fancied maiming myself, anyway. We could maybe switch out the bone, but it would be difficult. At least, I have currently no idea how we could reliably do that."

He shook his head. "No, but I think we could do something about the blood. I thought that it would be best to simply replace you with someone else."

"Wait! That's why you requested the Polyjuice, right?" Hermione asked. "To pretend that someone else is me? Replace me with an ally of Voldemort?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "My first idea was to kidnap Draco Malfoy, but then I remembered-"

"-that he isn't an ally of Voldemort any longer," Hermione finished. "Right. But who is?"

"Only members of his Slytherin fan club," Harry said. "I thought that the best option would probably be his Yule Ball date."

Hermione frowned. "The girl? What was her name? Rosier?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, that's her."

Hermione didn't appear very convinced by his proposal. "Could we really kidnap an innocent girl like that?" she asked.

"She's a Voldemort supporter!" Harry argued. "And she wouldn't really be harmed; they only need a few drops of blood."

Hermione sighed. "I still don't feel comfortable with it."

"But it's the best we can do..." Harry said.

"No!" Hermione said decisively. "No, we won't do that! And it might not really work, anyway. The ritual might not work, but it wouldn't necessarily fail catastrophically for Riddle. We don't know if Rosier is truly an ally of Voldemort. Maybe she's only a friend of who she thinks is Vincent Crabbe."

"Oh..." Harry had to admit that he hadn't considered this possibility.

"Also, we have to assume that Crouch Jr will be checking the Marauder's Map," Hermione continued. "It has to be me."

"Shit," Harry muttered, his shoulders slumping as he realised that Hermione was right. "What would you suggest, then?"

"We have to contaminate the potion another way," Hermione stated. "Remember what Riddle said? 'The slightest contamination could prove fatal'. And we'll make sure that the potion will be more than just slightly contaminated."

"But how?" Harry asked hesitantly, though he was intrigued by the idea. "I could try to switch the bone with something else that's transfigured to look the same without them noticing... I'd have to create some kind of distraction... Maybe-"

"Wait!" Hermione exclaimed. "Why so complicated?"

She grinned at Harry. "The blood of the enemy will be the last ingredient, right?"

"Yes."

"Riddle will be submerged in the cauldron, right? He said he would have to lose his physical form."

"Yeah."

"And Crouch will maim himself, which would almost automatically put him out of combat?"

"Right," Harry confirmed. "Where are you going with this? Wait! You don't mean-"

"Yes," Hermione said excitedly, "all you have to do is to take out Crouch after he has maimed himself, and Riddle and the ritual will be left completely defenceless!"

Harry gave his girlfriend a stunned look as he realised that she was right.

Hermione continued, "You bring me – yes, me, no discussion! – to them, they start the ritual, and before they can take my blood, you take out Crouch by surprise. Then, we have all the time we need to sabotage the ritual by adding some other ingredients to the potion."

Harry nodded slowly, a grin appearing on his face. "Like what?"

"Let's see..." Hermione began and frowned. "Oh, I need my potion-making kit!"

With that, she rushed to the door of the classroom, leaving Harry behind. Harry chuckled slightly as he watched after his girlfriend running out of the room.

While he was waiting for Hermione to return, Harry reflected upon the plan they had thought up. He had to admit that it was rather elegant in its simplicity. Their success, however, would depend on some convincing acting from both of them. If Riddle or Crouch became suspicious, things would get ugly very quickly. Despite the danger, Harry was determined to go ahead with the plan. He had been incredibly lucky so far, but now he would do his best to make the most of the advantageous situation he found himself in.

A few minutes later, Hermione returned, panting loudly and holding her bookbag in her hands. She dropped the bag on one of the desks in the classroom and took out her potion-making kit.

Harry walked to his girlfriend's side while she sorted through the various vials, muttering to herself.

"I guess we should add some kind of blood... to complete the ritual on some level... Viper blood... no, too kindred to Riddle in its nature... rat blood, yes, that's perfect... Baneberry extract, Hemlock, Foxglove flowers, essence of Belladonna... yes, all of those are poisonous... Hmm... Let's take all of them... Porcupine quills to heat it up... that will do it..."

One by one, Hermione put several small vials in the deep pockets of her robes.

A few minutes later, she turned and looked at Harry. "All right. This isn't very precise, but most contaminations should do. And I think I have a good assortment of additional ingredients to make sure that the ritual fails horribly."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

Hermione hesitated for a moment before she gave a confident nod. "Yes, I'm sure," she confirmed.

Harry smiled. "Brilliant. So... how should we do this, then? Should I stun you before I bring you there? Or should I just pretend to drag you there at wand-point?"

Hermione nervously nibbled her bottom lip before she replied, "I would prefer to stay conscious. I think I'll be able to pull it off, to act convincingly. Maybe you should cast an Incarcerus Spell and a Silencing Spell on me before we enter the office. But not yet, as we have to get to the other side of the castle, first."

"All right," Harry said and took a deep breath, stepping towards the door. "Let's go, then."

#

Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot Chamber

With a deep frown on his face, Albus stared at Lucius Malfoy at the speaker's lectern in front of him, while the former Death Eater continued to ramble on with his election speech.

"Minister Fudge was a good man, but he has been too weak to protect our way of life. Too afraid, to speak the truth. When the truth is, that the Muggle world poses an existential threat to our world! We have to finally admit to ourselves, inconvenient as it may be, that the Muggle and magical world have to be kept separated, lest the tragedies of the last war will repeat themselves."

"Hear, hear!" several voices exclaimed, both from behind Albus and to his right.

"Muggle-borns..." Lucius went on and paused dramatically, "They're introducing dangerous ideas. They're poisoning the minds of our children. They're bringing crime. And some, I assume, are good people... But we have to defend our country from those that want to harm us! From those that want to destroy our traditions that have served us well for hundreds of years!"

Again, many Warlocks in the benches voiced their agreement, and others applauded loudly.

Albus shook his head angrily. If this day had made anything clear, it was that the leniency shown towards the suspected Death Eaters after the last war had been a grave mistake. All those who had been accused back then were now once again working to advance their hateful ideology. None had taken the second chance offered to them to change their ways and seek redemption.

While Albus himself had argued for harsher punishments, back then, he also had to admit to himself that he had been too complacent after it had become clear that such measures wouldn't have sufficient support in the Wizengamot.

Yes, he should have tried harder to bring all of the Death Eaters and their supporters to justice. Albus knew that now. He could only hope that the wizarding world wouldn't soon pay dearly for his failings.

#

Back at Hogwarts, Defence corridor

"Right... Let's do this," Harry muttered and embraced his girlfriend one last time.

They stood in an alcove in the Defence corridor, a few yards away from the Defence Professor's office.

As they separated, Harry could see the anxiousness displayed on Hermione's face, and he supposed that he looked similarly nervous.

He took a few deep breath and recalled some of their Occlumency exercises to calm himself down. At the same time, he observed how Hermione also visibly relaxed as she engaged in the same exercises. Soon, she had an almost completely blank expression on her face.

Once they had both gathered themselves, Hermione gave Harry a determined nod.

"Do it," she said.

Harry raised his wand at Hermione and cast, "Silencio! Incarcerus!"

Conjured ropes shot out of Harry's wand and wrapped around Hermione's torso and upper arms. Hermione opened her mouth, but no sound escaped her lips, confirming that the Silencing Spell had taken hold, too.

They nodded at each other again, before Harry stepped behind Hermione as they walked towards the office.

Harry knocked on the door a few moments later.

"Come in, Potter," the voice of Crouch called out from inside.

Harry pulled open the door and pushed Hermione inside, with his wand pressed against the girl's back. She was moving her lips, screaming soundlessly and looking enraged.

"Ah, that was fast," Crouch said with a smirk.

"Well done, Potter," Riddle said appreciatively.

"It was very easy, and no one saw us," Harry said as he shoved Hermione towards an empty chair in front of the desk. He pushed Hermione in the chair and cast two more Incarcerus Spells to bind Hermione's wrists to the armrests.

It was hard for Harry to keep his calm when he noted the fearful expression on his girlfriend's face and knew that it wasn't entirely an act. But thanks to his Occlumency training, he was able to keep on playing his role.

"I had to keep her silenced," Harry said as he turned towards Crouch and Riddle. With a sneer, he added, "I would lift the spell, but I don't think anyone here wants to hear whatever nonsense this Mudblood is spouting."

"You got that right," Crouch snickered.

"Excellent work, boy," Riddle said and turned towards Hermione, causing Harry to tense.

"I'm sure you're wondering what you are doing here, girl, but why spoil the surprise? I think it would be much more impressive if you just watch what will happen," the Dark Lord in the body of Vincent Crabbe said derisively.

Riddle then walked towards the cauldron. It was only then that Harry realised that the fire under the stone cauldron had been lit, and the potion inside it was simmering slightly.

"Let us begin, then," the Dark Lord stated, his anticipation clear in his voice.

Without using a wand, Riddle muttered a spell, and instead of clothes, he was suddenly shrouded in dark shadows.

Then, Riddle muttered another long incantation. Harry gasped as Riddle rose into the air and floated over the simmering cauldron.

The Dark Lord began to slowly descend into the cauldron, and the potion started to hiss when he touched the surface. White steam rose from the cauldron.

Harry was sickened by what he saw next. As Riddle slowly submerged into the potion, the flesh almost seemed to melt off his bones. He shrunk, taking the form of some grotesquely disfigured homunculus with serpent-like features and greyish-white skin before he fully sank below the surface. The potion sent out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire, and the steam was thickening.

Once the potion was no longer bubbling violently, Crouch slowly stepped closer to the cauldron, his wand raised. He pointed his wand at the bone fragments still lying on the desk and levitated them over the cauldron.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" Crouch chanted and let the bones fall into the potion, which immediately turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

Crouch then pocketed his wand and pulled a long, silver dagger from inside his cloak. He stretched out his left arm over the cauldron and placed the blade to his wrist.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master," Crouch said loudly.

He squared his shoulders and swung the dagger downward, cutting clean through his wrist. The cut-off hand splashed into the potion, that immediately changed colours into a burning, glowing red.

Crouch groaned in pain and pressed his right hand against his bleeding stump. Blood was spurting from it. Harry winced at the gruesome sight.

Without letting go of the bloody dagger, Crouch pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and pressed the fabric against the stump. Breathing heavily, he then turned towards Hermione.

"Now, the Mudblood," he mumbled.

"Sir," Harry interrupted, "may I heal your hand before we continue? We wouldn't want you to make a mistake because you're not perfectly focused..."

Crouch halted and turned towards Harry. "Right, Potter, I would appreciate it."

Harry stepped closer and aimed his wand at the Death Eater. He pretended to aim his wand at the bleeding stump, but in the last moment, he moved his wand, so that it pointed straight at Crouch's chest.

"Stupefy!"

The spell hit Crouch square in the chest from a distance of only a few inches. The Death Eater collapsed before he could even realise that he had been betrayed.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and then quickly walked over to Hermione. He vanished the binds and dispelled the Silencing Spell he had put on her.

As soon as she was able to move, Hermione jumped up from the chair and hugged Harry tightly.

"Well done, Harry," she exclaimed. "Now let's finish this."

Slowly, the two teens approached the simmering cauldron and the unconscious form of Crouch lying on the floor next to it. The man was still strongly bleeding from his stump, the blood forming a puddle on the floor.

Hermione drew her wand and stunned Crouch again for good measure.

"What should we do with him?" she asked.

"I think we should make sure that he won't die from blood-loss so that the Aurors can question him later," Harry answered.

"Right," Hermione agreed. She began moving her wand in rapid patterns, and a few moments later, a bandage was wrapped around the wound, forming a basic tourniquet.

Hermione then pulled out the six small potion vials from she had pocketed in her robes and handed them to Harry.

"All right, I think we should start with the poisons, then the rat blood, and then we throw in the porcupine quills and run," she stated.

She then took the vial of poisonous Baneberry extract from Harry's hands, opened it and raised it over the cauldron, ready to pour it into the simmering potion.

"Not too much!" Harry cautioned. "We want Riddle to die, but not too fast."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked aghast and pulled back the vial.

"Remember how Dumbledore told us that Riddle's followers feel it when Riddle is in pain? He also said that they might be affected in other ways if he dies, especially if he doesn't die suddenly," Harry replied. "That might be our chance to disrupt whatever is currently happening in the Wizengamot. I don't know what will happen, exactly, but I think we should try it."

Hermione looked at him hesitantly, and Harry knew that she was trying to ascertain the morality of his suggestion.

"Please," he pleaded. "They are about to elect Lucius Malfoy as Minister. We don't know exactly what will happen, but if there's a chance to stop them, we have to take it!"

Finally, Hermione gave him a determined nod. "You're right."

She took a deep breath and raised the vial back over the cauldron. She tipped the flask and poured a quarter of the Baneberry extract into the cauldron.

The potion began to fizzle slightly, and Hermione quickly grabbed the other vials of poisonous potion ingredients, pouring a quarter of each flask into the cauldron.

Then, she emptied the vial of rat blood into the bubbling potion, causing it to switch colours to dark black.

Hermione gulped and fished two porcupine quills out of the last vial.

"Let's get out of here!" she called out and threw the quills into the cauldron.

The two teens ran towards the door of the office, leaving the smoking and rumbling cauldron behind them. They also left behind the prone form of Barty Crouch, but they had no time to worry about the Death Eater now.

Hermione pushed open the door and ran out into the corridor, Harry following directly behind her. As Harry closed the door, he threw a last glance back at the cauldron. A black shape was emerging from it that looked very similar to the homunculus that had entered the cauldron a few minutes ago, except that its skin was a charred black instead of greyish-white.

Harry turned around and slammed the door shut behind him just as the homunculus started to scream with a high pitched voice.

"AAAAAARRGGHH! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!? POTTER! NO!"

Breathing heavily, Harry leaned against the shut door. He exchanged a look with Hermione, while the screaming from inside the office continued.

"AAAAAARRGGHH! SAVE ME! SAVE ME YOU FOOLS! AAAAAARRGGHH! SAVE ME! GIVE ME YOUR POWER!"

"It- I think it's working!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's somehow affecting the Death Eaters."

"NOOO! AAAAAARRGGHH!"

Harry nodded. "I think so, too. I don't know wha- Ouch!"

Harry winced when he suddenly felt an immense piercing pain emitting from his scar. His hand shot towards his forehead, and he grimaced in pain.

"Harry? Harry!? What's wrong?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but then his vision blurred, and he saw the floor moving towards him. He felt Hermione catching him before he hit the ground, but then blackness surrounded him.

#

"Harry! Please, Harry! Please be alright! Please!" Harry heard his girlfriend sob out.

He realised that he was lying on the cold stone floor, with Hermione half-way draped over him, holding his face with her hands.

Blinking a few times, he opened his eyes and looked in the tear-streaked face of his distraught girlfriend.

"Harry? HARRY!" Hermione exclaimed, her relief clear in her voice. "Oh, what happened!? You were fine, and then you grimaced, and you fell down, and then you had some kind of seizure, and then some black ooze came out of your scar, and then you didn't move at all, and then-"

"Mione!" Harry interrupted his girlfriend's ramblings. "I'm fine."

Hermione looked at him with apprehension.

"Fine?" she repeated with a hitched voice. "With you, that only means that you're not currently clinically dead."

"No, really, I'm alright," Harry insisted. He frowned. "More than alright, actually. I feel great!"

It was true. He felt as if a pain that had always been with him, that he had grown accustomed to, was suddenly gone.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked timidly.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Harry repeated. He quickly rose to his feet and then helped up Hermione.

"What happened while I was out of it?" he asked his girlfriend, glancing at the door to the now silent office.

"The screaming stopped, roughly at the same time as that goo came out of your scar. Since then, I heard no noises from inside the room," Hermione informed him.

"All right, let's check," Harry said and stepped towards the door. Hermione followed along, and both teens readied their wands before they stepped inside the office.

Harry winced as a disgusting stench of sulphur and burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils. He surveyed the room and saw that the stone cauldron had several cracks in it, leaking some black, tar-like substance onto the floor.

Crouch still lay on the floor, unmoving but otherwise seemingly unharmed. Harry and Hermione each shot another Stunning Spell at the man just to be safe.

"All right, seems like Riddle is gone," Harry concluded as he walked through the office. "Hopefully, Dumbledore will be able to tell if he's actually dead this time or not."

"Should we inform the teachers now?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah... just one more thing..." Harry replied and walked towards the desk where the Marauder's Map was still laid out. "According to the map, the real Alastor Moody is in this room, approximately in that corner with that trunk." Harry pointed his finger towards it. "But how can that be?"

"Oh, that must be one of those enchanted trunks that are larger on the inside!" Hermione exclaimed. "I bet that's where Crouch has been imprisoning Moody the whole time. He would have needed him alive and close-by to use his hair for the Polyjuice potion."

She approached the trunk and knelt beside it. The key, one of several on a set of keys, was still inserted in the lock.

One after another, Hermione placed the keys in the lock and opened the trunk, revealing different compartments each time.

When she placed the seventh and last key in the lock and threw open the lid, she gasped in surprise.

Harry stepped closer, and his eyes grew wide when he saw that the trunk contained an underground room ten feet below the floor, that was accessible with a ladder.

In there, on the ground, lay the real Alastor Moody. He was apparently fast asleep, and much thinner than the impostor had been. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing.

Hermione exchanged a worried glance with Harry before she aimed her wand at the man below them. She levitated Moody out of the trunk and gently landed him on the ground in front of them.

"Enervate," she cast next, and Moody groaned weakly before he opened his eyes and blinked several times.

"Huh?" Moody muttered and sat up, taking in his surroundings. "Who are you? What happened?"

"Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, Professor," Hermione replied. "We subdued the impostor and found you."

"Huh... well done, lass, well done..." Moody muttered and tried to rise to his feet, only to immediately stumble as he was missing his wooden leg.

"Your leg and... uhm... and your eye are on the desk," Harry said.

"Ah, yes, thanks." Moody hopped towards the desk and sat down in the chair in front of it.

Harry and Hermione watched in silence as Moody affixed the wooden leg to his leg stump and inserted his magical eye into the empty socket.

The former Auror then approached the unmoving form of Barty Crouch on the floor and bent over him, searching his pockets. Soon, Moody found his wand in one of the pockets, took it and aimed it at the Death Eater.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Incarcerus! Incarcerus! Incarcerus!"

The Death Eater was soon wrapped up in thick ropes.

Harry chuckled as Moody lived up to his reputation of being overly paranoid.

However, Moody then frowned and bent over Crouch once more. He muttered another spell that didn't seem to provide the intended result before he kicked the man with his wooden leg.

"Right," Moody said and turned around towards Harry and Hermione. "He's dead... Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Your doing?"

Harry gulped and exchanged a questioning glance with Hermione. Did Crouch die because of his wound? Or because of what they had done to Riddle? Hermione only shrugged her shoulders in response to his unasked question, clearly unsure herself.

"I don't know," Harry answered the Professor, "Maybe indirectly. Though I would prefer to tell the story only once. Maybe we should get the other Professors."

"All right," Moody agreed. "That should be quite a story. You'll tell me how you found out about me then? And how you knew where to find me?"

"Oh, I knew that because of that magical map of the castle," Harry answered and pointed at the Marauder's Map that still lay on the desk.

Moody reached for the parchment, and his eyebrows rose in surprise as he studied it.

"The map is mine, actually," Harry added, "You can have it for now, but I'd like to have it back."

Moody nodded, but then his eyes suddenly narrowed, and he eyed Harry and Hermione with suspicion.

"It's your map?" Moody repeated.

Harry nodded.

Suddenly, Moody's wand was pointing at the couple.

"Then you must have been aware of all of this much sooner. Why didn't you do anything?" Moody demanded to know.

Harry gulped and chuckled nervously. "Well, you see, it's not as if I'm observing the map all the time. And the map only displays the first and last name of each person, so when I saw your name and the name Bartemius Crouch in your chambers on some evenings, I just assumed... uhm... well... I thought it was Crouch Senior, and that you were having an affair... sorry..."

"Oh..." Moody muttered with an incredulous expression on his face, though he seemed to believe Harry as he lowered his wand.

A moment later, Moody laughed out loud.

"Oh, Merlin, no!" he exclaimed. "And even if I did swing that way – Crouch? Really?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

"Besides," Moody said grimly and motioned towards his wooden leg. "The curse that took my leg? Also chopped off my... well, yeah."

Harry winced, and in that very moment, he decided that despite his tentative interest in the career, he would most definitely not become an Auror.

Hermione paled slightly, too.

"Anyway," Hermione said into the ensuing uncomfortable silence, "I think we should get the other Professors, and try to contact the Headmaster. And the Aurors, too."

"Aye, lass," Moody agreed, "Go and get some reinforcements. I'll stay back and keep watch on the scene, lest someone stumbles over this mess and tampers with the evidence."

Harry and Hermione nodded and quickly left the room to inform the teachers of what had happened.

#

Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot Chamber, a few minutes prior

Despondently, Albus sagged back in his chair as the Warlocks to his right and behind him cheered and applauded in response to another of Lucius Malfoy's outrageous statements.

Once the hall had quieted down again, Malfoy continued with his speech. "Madam Bones admits that she wants to implement reforms that increase the democratic participation in the political process." He spat out the words with contempt.

Motioning towards where Amelia was sitting in the visitor gallery, Malfoy went on, "In her misguided quest for Muggle-born rights, Madam Bones forgets that all demands for democracy are nothing but thinly veiled calls for a tyranny of the masses. Will you, esteemed Warlocks, willingly submit yourselves to the rule of Mud- ahem, Muggle-borns and Halfbloods that want to destroy our way of life? Are you prepared to give your seat away to some upstart Muggle-born who knows nothing of this world?"

Albus heard many angry denials from the Warlocks in the Neutral bloc behind him.

He closed his eyes with desperation. Amelia had all but lost this election already. Nothing short of a miracle could stop Lucius Malfoy from becoming Minister now.

The cold smile creeping on Malfoy's lips as he went on indicated that he knew this to be true as well. "Unlike Madam Bones, I know that the public at large could never make wiser decisions than all of you, esteemed Warlocks of the Wizengamot! If you place your trust in me, I promise that as Minister, I will ensure, tha-"

Suddenly, Malfoy paused. He grimaced slightly, and his right hand shot towards his left forearm.

Albus noted that some Warlocks to his right also fidgeted in their seats or cursed silently.

Malfoy shook his head and tried to continue with his speech. With gritted teeth, he stated, "I will ensure, that all- all... a- ouch!"

He hissed in pain and looked down on his left forearm, gripping it tightly with his right hand.

"Ow! What is this!?" he exclaimed. "Who's doing this!?"

To Albus's right, other Warlocks were jumping up from their seats, screaming in pain.

"Aaargh!"

"Aaahhh!"

Dumbledore rose from his seat in shock as the entire Wizengamot chamber descended into chaos in the course of a few seconds. He surveyed the benches to his right and saw that almost the whole Dark faction seemed to be affected by whatever it was that was happening. Albus was surprised to see that among the Neutrals in the middle benches, the Warlocks Davis, Knighton, Eastchurch, and McLaggen were also thrashing around in their seats, screaming in pain.

"Our Lord, he's punishing us!" Warlock Parkinson shouted in panic.

"Merlin help us!" Nott cried out desperately.

"AAAIIIII!"

"AARRRGGGHHH!"

"AAAAAH! IT BURNS!

"CUT IT OFF! CUT IT- AAAAAARRGGHH" Jugson screamed before he collapsed.

"ARRRGGGHHH!"

"AAAAAAHHH!"

Just like the Warlocks on the other side of the chamber, Albus just stood and watched, frozen in shock, as one by one, the Warlocks on the right side of the benches fell to the floor, spasming on the ground a few times before going limp.

Soon, Malfoy was the only former Death Eater left standing. He was leaning on the speaker's lectern to remain standing upright, a tortured expression on his face.

"No! You're... not... taking... me!" Malfoy choked out in pain. Trembling violently, he raised his wand and aimed it at his left arm near the elbow.

"Di-di-diffindo! AAAAAARRGGHH!"

The Cutting Charm tore deep into his flesh, but it wasn't strong enough to sever the arm completely. With his halfway cut-off left forearm dangling around, spraying blood everywhere, Malfoy collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

A few rattled breaths later, his breathing stopped altogether, and his body went limp.

He was the last one to fall. Among the twenty-two Warlocks of the Dark faction, only three very pale-faced young men still stood between the bodies of their fallen allies. The Warlocks Nott, Burke, Carrow, Parkinson, Avery, Rowle, Mulciber, Gibbon, Birch, Farley, Snyde, Montague, Selwyn, Pucey, Daley, Murton, Gifford, Randle, and Jugson all lay on the floor, unmoving and most probably dead.

While no more tortured screams sounded through the Wizengamot Chamber, the room was still a bedlam of shouting, screaming, and running people. The frightened Warlocks and visitors in the gallery were talking loudly to each other, some had their wands raised in defensive positions, and some were calling for the Aurors.

Albus left his seat and slowly approached the benches to his right. He cast a diagnostic charm on Warlock Parkinson, who lay closest to him, that revealed that the man was indeed deceased, even though he had no physical injuries.

Albus shook his head and walked down the stairs to the floor below the stands. As he slowly strode through the chamber, Albus surveyed the dozens of dead bodies in the room.

He noted that at the entrance to the chamber, Auror Corban Yaxley lay dead on the floor, and over a dozen more bodies littered the floor of the visitor gallery. Among them, Albus recognised Lucius Malfoy's close acquaintances Crabbe and Goyle, and Amycus's sister Alecto Carrow.

Albus frowned, trying to work out what had happened. Most of the deceased had been suspected Death Eaters. He wasn't sure if all of them had gripped their left forearm, but many of them had. And clearly, Malfoy had thought that it was his Dark Mark that was torturing him when he had attempted to cut off his own forearm.

Had all of the deceased been former followers of Tom? Was he somehow behind this? Shocking as that would have been, it seemed like the most probable explanation for why exactly these people had been affected. But that only explained the Who, not the What.

Surveying the gruesome scene before him once more, Albus shook his head in disbelief. What in Merlin's name had just happened?


A/N: Was that too dark? Nah, more like poetic justice, I would say. Though, I would understand if some people see that differently. But as I grew up somewhere where Grimms' Fairy Tales – like Hansel and Gretel, a story that contains depictions of child abuse, cannibalism, and burning people alive – are considered perfectly fine bedtime stories for young children, I don't consider this chapter as overly dark or violent even for a mostly humorous T-rated story. Sorry!

Hermione using the Summoning Charm again probably didn't come very surprising. I won't apologise, though. In the book, Harry also summons the Triwizard Cup in the graveyard after his duel with Voldemort. The charm clearly works on the cup in canon, too.

Anyway, the Triwizard Tournament is over, and so is most of the story. I won't continue the story into the fifth year, so there'll only be one last chapter to wrap things up. Thanks for sticking around so far, and thank you to all who have favourited, followed, or left reviews!