Author notes: Thanks to everyone for their encouragement, especially Wicker Basket who reminded me to post this chapter!! Much appreciated! In this chapter very little is revealed, but it is fundamental to the rest of the story. Plot seeds are sown here. Watch this space.
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Chapter Four
"Give it to me." It was a command, not a request. He himself may have been the one in his full body, with all his bones intact, excepting one finger which for his own survival, had been forsaken. But he knew who was boss. He slowly placed the crumpled paper on the side of the chair.
"Yes." The voice sounded satisfied. "That should be satisfactory... that should... and..." It suddenly stopped.
"My Lord?" Pettigrew asked, when after several minutes he could only hear the heavy breathing of his master.
"Silence!" He retreated into submission again. "There is a problem with the Hogwarts Champion."
"Surely you, with your powers, can overcome any problem, my Lord..."
The flattery rarely worked, and when it didn't, Peter found he could always tell instantly. He heard the roar and crouched to the ground, his knees shaking.
"You are a coward, aren't you, Wormtail?" Peter winced at the sound of his old nickname being used by the... thing... he had forsaken that name for. "But then again, how else could I have had you to serve me otherwise? James Potter wouldn't have betrayed his friends... he preferred to die instead, the fool. But you - you were most useful. Even if it was the only task you ever performed for me."
"You will come in use again, though, I trust. This Diggory boy, I find, may be impossible to trace - for the moment at least. His father is a Ministry official... almost as hard to get to as Potter... it would be unwise to tread so closely to discovery. For I have not my full powers. But you will ensure that I do have them..."- here the voice paused, as a cruel smile grew across the distorted face - "...Wormtail."
"What do you plan to d-do, Master?"
"You will learn in good time, my dear Wormtail! The plans involving the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons champions are underway?"
"Yes, M-My Lord."
Voldemort gave a triumphant smile. Peter tried to block out the face of James Potter, which had entered his head at that particular moment. Survival meant blocking out sentimentality. Everyone knew that.
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"It is possible that he may be of help," said Arthur Weasley wearily, "but I somehow doubt it, Percy."
"Minister Fudge should be informed at once!" Percy responded briskly. "I do understand Professor Dumbledore is slightly concerned about his initial reaction to the affair, but he is an extremely, ah, liberal man, even if we have to, ah, make contact with the giants."
"From what your mother and Bill told us, there seems no likelihood of that ever coming to pass. Cornelius seemed vaguely frightened of the idea."
"Well, of course he would seem that way, but Father, the Professor just sprang that announcement on him! With no warning at all! How could Mr. Fudge be composed? The giants, after all, have caused innumerable deaths among the wizarding community!"
"You-Know-Who is back, Percy, it had to be sprang' on him, as you put it. There is no time to lose. I doubt very much if the man will change his mind now."
"But- " Percy looked as if he had more to say, but was cut short immediately by his father.
"Percy, you will not utter a word of this to anyone in the Ministry, I hope! Promise me. It would not be honourable to break your word."
"I promise, Father," Percy said pompously, in a louder voice than Arthur would have liked. "Except to Amos, of course. Since he is still part of the plan, I presume?"
"He is, as far as I have been informed." Arthur sighed. "Poor Amos. To think, that if Cedric hadn't touched the Cup- " He didn't continue. Percy had already disappeared into the depths of his office. His father sat down on the step opposing the doorway of the Department of Magical Co-operation and wondered where he and Molly had erred in the bringing up of Percy that had been different to the others.
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Severus Snape polished the small test tube with a ferocity that he rarely applied to anything else. His beloved potions equipment must be spotless before use - and now was the time that he needed the use of his own personal set more than ever.
A sudden change in the air alerted him to an arrival. He immediately raised his chin with importance, before turning to stare the visitor in the eye.
"Ah, Professor Dumbledore." Fancy meeting you here. But of course, he had been expecting the Headmaster for some time.
"Severus." His eyes twinkled slightly, but not quite with the humour that Snape usually expected.
"Is there bad news?"
"Ah, not quite. You know about Diana Fletcher, I presume."
"I heard it on the WWN." Snape gestured to the wireless radio to the other side of his collection of test tubes.
"Ah. Then I have other news to import on you." Dumbledore paused. "You may not like to hear it."
"I have no choice either way, do I?" Snape asked him bitterly.
"I presume that was a rhetorical question, Severus, but you are quite right, you don't. My first piece of news is that your past pupil, Mr. William Weasley, will be joining our team very shortly."
Snape made a face. Another Weasley - terrific. Even if he was slightly better at Potions than his younger siblings. "I am so looking forward to working with him."
"Dear, dear, Severus, the summer sunshine hasn't addled your brain at any rate." Dumbledore's eyes showed their more familiar twinkle once more. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, I must remind you. The second announcement I have to make is that Mr. Weasley will be joined by our friend from Canada, Monsieur Raymond Laverne."
Snape's eyes bulged and his nose twitched with a sudden anger. "Laverne! That French-Canadian twat who-"
"Severus, you will cooperate with him. It is trying enough for me to organise some sort of truce between you and Mr. Black, without you wishing to wage war on another of our colleagues." Dumbledore looked calmly into Snape's face, watching his jaw tighten at the thought.
"This bloody war means we have to cooperate with all sorts, doesn't it?" He spat on the ground as a thought came to him. "Like you had to cooperate with me." Dumbledore said nothing in response. Snape's mind returned to Laverne, and his blood boiled.
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"This whole magical malarkey of yours, Hermione, is really starting to get to me," Richard Granger announced to his daughter. Viktor had left the room without ceremony to wander about the grounds of the house, and they remained in the room with Hermione's mother. The two elder Grangers were more than a little alarmed by the sequence of events that had commenced after Viktor's return from Quidditch training.
"Sometimes I don't like it either, Dad, but it's part of me. It's in my blood!" She had had this argument with them several times before, but never had she felt in more danger. It was getting harder to sound confident about the situation.
"Who is this Yuliya they keep talking about?" Daphne Granger asked, for what Hermione thought must be the thousandth time.
"I- I don't know, Mum, but I think you shouldn't ask Viktor about it. He's very upset."
"As if I would!" crowed her mother, but Hermione had a feeling that had she not checked her, Daphne might have done just that.
"Hermione, I hope you're going to tell that boy that we have to leave here very soon," her father added gruffly. "You know it's difficult for us- "
"I know," Hermione interrupted shortly. "And I will - just... give me a little bit of space. He's really upset. Go to bed, right?" she finished lamely.
"You know best, dear." Daphne Granger kissed her daughter's head. "Come on, Richard!" Hermione could hear the click of her heels as she left the room, and the sound carried on, though more distant, as she strode down the corridor. Richard, however, remained standing before his daughter.
"Tell him, Hermione," he said more gently. "Before it's too late." And he turned on his heel to follow his wife, before Hermione could make any reply.
She waited a while in silence, listening to her father's footsteps echo away, and then pursued Viktor.
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"Viktor, you know my parents are Muggles."
"Yesss," he muttered, eyes averted from Hermione, half his face in shadow.
"And they're scared at the moment. You coming back from Quidditch practise with all that blood, and your mother overreacting like that, it's alarming for anyone. It was alarming for me, imagine what it was like for non-magical people like them!"
"If they don't like it, they can leave." He seemed unresponsive, not like his usual self.
Hermione started, amazed at his lack of concern. "Then you know where you can-" Whack. She'd knocked him clean over. She gaped at his still form beneath her. "Viktor, I didn't mean to hit you that hard... I only wanted to..."
"I know what you wanted to do," Viktor replied slowly, again without feeling.
"Well, then can you answer me something? Who is Yuliya?"
No answer.
"Viktor, please." Hermione persisted. "Is she your sister?"
"I have a sister - but not her. My sister's name is Vanya, she is ten years my senior. She is a Potions Assistant at the École Magicale de Laverne."
Though part of Hermione was impatient with Viktor for changing the subject, the tone of his voice intrigued her. She suspected he needed to unload some thoughts, and so she continued the conversation with: "I thought Beauxbatons was the only recognised wizarding school in France."
"It is, yes. Laverne is in Canada, in Quebec."
Aha! No wonder. That would mean it couldn't have been in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, thought Hermione, briefly distracted by the fact. She soon got her mind back on track however. "But... I don't understand, Viktor. How come you never mentioned Vanya to me?"
"There vos no need," he said, avoiding her earnest look. "I do not see Vanya often."
"Because she lives so far away, you mean?"
"Well... yes, there is that. It is complicated."
"Tell me," said Hermione.
Viktor exhaled deeply. "Vanya and I - she is not my full-blood sister. My father vos married vonce before - to Vanya's mother. Vanya is my half-sister."
"I see."
"Ven Vanya vos nine, her mother, Hristina, and my father split up. A veek following their divorce, Hristina learnt from a mutual friend that my father had married a young vitch, just graduated from Durmstrang - my mother. She never forgave him for that. I think she suspected that they had been having an affair during their marriage, and that vos the reason he left her."
"And Vanya is bitter towards your mother because of that?"
"Yes, most certainly. Vanya's mother encouraged her to hate her. My father alvays had trouble ven Vanya came to stay."
"But she likes you - even though you are your mother's son?" Hermione was incredulous.
"I am more like my father than my mother. Besides, Vanya vos an only child before I vos born. She has no brothers or sisters apart from me."
"Why did she leave Bulgaria?" They were walking further away from the house as she spoke.
"Many reasons. She got a degree in Chemistry in a Muggle university in Sofia. And then... she did not vish to stay. Her mother had died halfvay through her college education, it vos hard to find work, and she did not vant to rely on my father, not vhile my mother remained in the house. Also, she vanted to specialise in Magical Chemistry, and everyvun knows there are only two places to do that."
"Boston, USA. Is that the one?"
"No, she vent to the other one. Greenwich, in London."
"London? But..." Hermione was at a loss. "I never knew of such a place!"
"It vos set up during the var between Voldemort and the Light Side. The Ministry there took steps to make sure it vos never heard of, in case the Death Eaters got vord and destroyed the place."
"And then after she finished in Greenwich, she got that job in Canada."
"Precisely, yes." Viktor's face looked troubled.
"So who is Yuliya?"
Again, Viktor avoided her gaze. "Do not ask me that, Hermione. Not now."
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Harry frowned as he read over the owl, which Hermione had sent him half an hour previously. He had known Hermione was a worrier usually, but this was ridiculous.
Harry,
Stay safe. I read about Diana Fletcher. Remember - you're not to leave the Muggles. Dumbledore said so. And if staying with the Dursleys means You-Know-Who can't get at you, then I fully agree with him.
Love from,
Hermione
Did she really think he wanted to get killed? To end up like Cedric? To let his mother's sacrifice be for nothing? No - more than ever before, Harry wanted to live.
"BOY!" Uncle Vernon's bellow from downstairs told him there was something amiss. "Come here this instant! I told you if I ever saw any of your friends around here again-"
My friends? thought Harry blankly. Perhaps it was Ron, come round to cheer him up on account of not being able to go to the Burrow this summer. Or maybe Fred and George? He just hoped they hadn't brought any Ton-Tongue Toffees again, he didn't want to suffer the sound of Aunt Petunia's squealing again. Rushing down the stairs in an effort to get to the Weasleys as soon as possible, he tripped over something on the last step. Hastily he picked it up and stared in amazement. It was a silken scarf unlike any he had seen Aunt Petunia wear.
"Hello?" he called hesitantly.
A lithe figure approached him, followed by an irate Uncle Vernon. "'Ello, 'Arry," it said. "It ees wonderful to see you again!"
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