CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: eXCITING

Despite both Moody and Professor Dumbledore searching the Forest, they found no sign of whoever had killed Barty Crouch Snr. Buffy was incredibly annoyed at herself for letting someone die when he'd so obviously needed help. When the others had found out about what had happened, they'd all assured her that there was nothing she could have done to stop what had happened, but Buffy still hated that she'd had to watch the man die and had been able to do nothing to stop it.

To stop herself from dwelling on the topic, she'd thrown herself into learning more magic for the third task. Moody was continuing to tutor her in Defence, and Buffy had learned some interesting tricks off the twins.

Harry was busy practising with Hermione and Ron, the redhead suggesting that they use Mr Filch's cat to practise Stunning Spells on instead of using Ron as a human guinea pig. When the bell rang, Hermione headed off towards Arithmancy, while Ron and Harry headed up to Divinations.

It was hot in the Divinations Tower, Trelawney had lit the ever-present fire, and when the lights were flicked out, Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes open. A gentle humming of an insect came from behind a curtain as he drifted off to sleep.

He was riding on the back of an eagle owl, soaring through the clear blue sky towards an old house on a hillside. They flew through an open window and into the hallways to a room at the very end.

He was suddenly standing watching as the owl fluttered across the room to a chair with its back to him. There were two dark shapes on the floor next to the chair. One was a huge snake, the other was a short, balding man with watery eyes and a pointed nose.

"You are in luck Wormtail," said a cold, high-pitches voice from the depths of the chair in which the owl had landed. "You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder had no ruined everything. He is dead."

"My Lord" the man gasped, "My Lord I am so pleased…and so sorry."

"Now Wormtail…perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you."

"My Lord…no…I beg you."

The tip of a wand emerged form the depths of the chair. It was pointing at Wormtail. "Crucio!"

Wormtail screamed as though every nerve in his body was on fire, the screaming filled Harry's ears as the scar on his forehead seared with pain; he was yelling too…Voldemort could hear him, would know he was there.

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of Professor Trelawney's room with his hands over his face. His scar was burning so badly that his eyes were watering. The whole class was standing around him and Ron was kneeling next to him, looking horrified.

"You all right?" he asked.

Trelawney was convinced Harry had had a premonition, but Harry had no desire to share it with someone he considered a phoney, plus the rest of his class. He lied about it being a simple headache and begged off to the infirmary. His path changed and he headed towards Dumbledore's office, randomly trying to names of sweets until he discovered the right password and the statue began circling to form the spiral staircase.

He went up the stairs and put his hand on the brass door-knocker, but something sopped him. He could hear voices inside.

"What do you thinks happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?" Professor Moody's growling voice asked.

"I see two possibilities Alastor," Fudge replied. "Either Crouch finally cracked – more than likely given his personal history – lost his mind and gone wandering off somewhere-"

"I saw him die!" came his cousin's angry voice. "Don't you get that?"

"Must have been imaging things," Fudge muttered.

"You think I imagined him being hit by that stupid Killing Curse? You think I imagined a bright green light? That I imagined watching him fall to the ground? Or maybe you think I imagined being hit by the Cruciatus?"

"Calm down, Summers," Moody said softly. "We should wrap this discussion up."

"Yes, yes, let's go down into the grounds shall we?" Fudge asked impatiently.

"No, it's not that," Moody replied. "Potter wants a word with you Dumbledore, he's just outside the door."

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After an exchange of pleasantries, Harry was left to wait in Dumbledore's office with an incredibly tired looking Buffy who was sitting with her legs curled beneath her in a large chair.

"Hey Harry," she greeted softly.

Harry took the seat beside her. "You okay?"

"Peachy," she replied. "What brings you up here?"

"I uh…had a vision," he replied.

That news woke Buffy up considerably. She straightened and looked at Harry in worry.

"A vision? When…how?" she asked.

"Just now up in Divinations. I kinda fell asleep," he admitted sheepishly.

Buffy grinned slightly and shook her head.

"Classy."

Harry just shrugged. "You mind if we wait til Dumbledore gets back?" he asked.

Buffy nodded, too tired to argue. She hadn't slept properly since she'd seen Crouch die in front of her eyes. She could still see the green light flash in front of her whenever she closed her eyes for more than a few seconds. She could still feel the sharp jabs of pain of the Cruciatus Curse. But what she still couldn't see was the full face of the man who'd attacked her and killed Crouch.

Harry saw that his cousin wasn't particularly in the mood for a chat. He stood and wandered about the room, quickly petting Fawkes and then gazing at Godric Gryffindor's sword that he had pulled from the Sorting Hat two years before, down in the Chamber of Secrets.

Something silvery made the blade of the sword glimmer and Harry turned to discover what the source of light was. He saw a silver-white light shining brightly from within a black cabinet behind him, the door hadn't been closed properly. Harry hesitated a moment, glancing back at his cousin who seemed to have fallen asleep in her chair, before walking towards the cabinet and pulling the door completely open. A shallow stone basin lat there, odd carvings around the edge. The silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, which were like nothing Harry had ever seen before. He could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was moving ceaselessly and looked like light made liquid or clouds made solid, Harry couldn't decide.

He wanted to touch it, but he knew better than that. He pulled his wand out and poked at the surface of the light, bending closer until his head was in the cabinet and the silvery substance had become transparent. He suddenly found himself sitting in an enormous room right beside Professor Dumbledore, but the Headmaster didn't even notice him even though Harry called out the Headmaster's name.

The door to the room suddenly flung open and two Dementors came in, flanking one man. The man was placed into a chair with manacles on the armrests, and Harry recognised the man as Professor Karkaroff. He was looking absolutely terrified, and when questioned, he eagerly shot out the names of his fellow Death-Eaters to a much younger Crouch. Harry watched with interest as every one of the names was shot back at Karkaroff, the man becoming even more panicked. What Harry hadn't expected though, was to hear Severus Snape's name among the listed. Professor Dumbledore stood and defended Snape, but Harry was completely shocked. Snape had been a Death-Eater. But he'd returned to Dumbledore's side and become a spy to gather information for the Ministry.

The scene suddenly changed, and instead of Karkaroff on the stand, it was Ludo Bagman who sat in the chair, but he was not strapped in. He was accused of passing information, but the jury found him innocent, mainly because of his fame on the Quidditch Field.

It changed again, and there were four people in four chairs, but the one Harry noticed the most was the petrified boy in his late teens. It was Barty Crouch's son, Barty Crouch Jnr, who was found guilty of being a Death-Eater, and had been sentenced to imprisonment in Azkaban. Harry was shocked that Crouch had been able to do that to his own son without a second thought.

And suddenly, there were two Albus Dumbledore's next to Harry. The one to his left put his hand beneath Harry's elbow and the dungeons that Harry had been in dissolved.

"Professor," Harry gasped. "I know I shouldn't've, I didn't mean…the cabinet door was sort of open and-"

Dumbledore reassured him and Harry calmed himself down. Dumbledore explained that the shallow stone bowl was a Pensieve and it was used to store thoughts and memories inside of it.

Harry felt calmer now that he knew he wasn't in trouble for anything. He cast another glance at his cousin who was still sleeping. He looked at her worriedly and Dumbledore followed Harry's gaze.

"She hasn't been sleeping," the Headmaster explained softly. "I slipped a very mild sleeping potion into a drink I gave her. It will only last for an hour, but it will be an hour more than she has had over the last few days."

"Will she be okay?" Harry asked worriedly.

Dumbledore sighed tiredly and nodded. "She should be fine. Your cousin is undoubtedly strong. She will recover from this, I'm sure of it. It is not easy to witness a death and feel so helpless. She feels tremendously guilty for what happened to Mr Crouch."

"I didn't know that," Harry whispered. He'd known that Buffy was upset about it all, but he hadn't realised how hard she'd taken it all. Looking at his small cousin now made him realise just how blind he'd been. There were rings beneath her eyes and she looked as though she'd lost weight that she couldn't afford to lose.

"She is a master at hiding pain," Dumbledore said quietly. "Now…what was it that you wished to speak to me about?"

"Well…I had a dream. A dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail…he got a letter from an owl. He said something like Wormtail's blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he did the Cruciatus curse on Wormtail – and my scar hurt. It woke me up, it hurt so badly."

Dumbledore made a few non-committal noises and wandered back to the Penseive, removing another thought from his temple and adding it to the bowl.

Dumbledore explained his theory regarding Harry's connection to Voldemort via the scar, as well as the connection between Bertha Jorkin's disappearance, Crouch's death and the death of a muggle, Frank Bryce in the town where Voldemort's father Tom Riddle senior had grown up.

The Headmaster could say nothing concrete on the matter, something that annoyed both Dumbledore and Harry. But Harry was certain that the dream he'd had during Divinations had actually happened.

Buffy suddenly woke with a start, her eyes darting around the room. When she saw herself in Dumbledore's office, she calmed down immediately.

"Miss Black awakens," Dumbledore said softly.

"Sorry," Buffy said sheepishly. "Must have dozed off."

"No harm at all," Dumbledore replied. The Headmaster winked at Harry who couldn't help but grin, thankful for a lighter moment after so many heavy ones.

"I had the weirdest dream though…I was flying on the back of his massive owl, and suddenly I was in a room with a snake and this short guy that looked like a rat."

Harry and Dumbledore both looked at Buffy with interest, and Harry listened as his cousin told him about the dream she'd had. It was exactly the same, detail for detail, and it confirmed Harry's suspicions. That had been no ordinary dream.

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Buffy sat in the stands of the Quidditch Pitch, staring quietly at the hedges that seemed to be growing more than half a foot with each passing day. She'd discovered that the abandoned Quidditch Pitch was the perfect place to sit if she wanted privacy and a quiet place to just sit and think. With each passing day, she'd been sleeping a little bit better, though she suspected that Professor Dumbledore had something to do with that. She was grateful though.

Her patrols had slowed down considerably, the Forest seemed to have become a lot quieter of late. She wondered if that was because the dark creatures had all discovered that there was a Slayer hunting there and they'd all fled, or if it was because she'd killed so many of them that they'd all been killed.

She sighed softly and tapped her pen against her journal. It was something that Merrick and Giles had encouraged her to keep, a diary of her thoughts, whether it was about Slaying, or her dreams, or about the random things that had happened during the day. It was surprisingly therapeutic, and very helpful to her for remembering her dreams.

"You are in luck Wormtail," said a cold, high-pitched voice from the depths of the chair in which the owl had landed. "You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead."

Wormtail. Peter Pettigrew. The man who had betrayed James and Lily Potter and who had left Sirius to take the blame for all of it. He was in the service of the Dark Lord. What Buffy couldn't work out was what the blunder was that Pettigrew had made. She could only guess that the 'he' in question was Mr Crouch.

Buffy sighed and tried to swallow the guilt that came with the memory of his death. She'd been unable to stop it, she knew that much, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"I thought I'd find you up here," a soft voice said, startling her out of her memories.

Buffy turned and smiled softly as the Headmaster took a seat beside her. She couldn't imagine Principal Snyder ever seeking out a student in pain so that he could talk to them. That was one of the many reasons that she enjoyed Hogwarts so much more than she'd ever enjoyed Sunnydale High.

"Hey Professor," she greeted him.

"Wool-gathering?" he asked.

Buffy laughed a little. "I've never understood what that really meant, but…yeah, I think so."

"Dwelling on Barty Crouch's death is not going to bring him back," Dumbledore said gently.

Buffy sighed and nodded. "I know. I just…I felt completely helpless. And I couldn't do anything cos of that damn Cruciatus Curse. I was just…completely gone. I mean, I'm the Slayer, I should've…I should've done something. All that I could think of was how much it hurt."

"Yes, that does seem to be the general thought about the Cruciatus Curse. It was why it was created. A beastly curse to cast on someone. If it's used on someone long enough, it will send them insane," Dumbledore explained.

"Who the hell was stupid enough to make a curse like that?" Buffy wondered.

"Very powerful, very dark wizards who enjoyed other people's pain," Dumbledore replied.

"It was around before Voldemort though, wasn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Long before."

"You'd think that there'd be a way to stop it from hurting," Buffy mused. "A counter-curse, something…anything. Protection spells can only work so much against them, according to Professor Moody. Shouldn't someone have come up with a quick cure-all by now? I thought that's what us magic types were experts at, y'know. Quick fixes."

Dumbledore just nodded sombrely, his blue eyes thoughtful and strangely serious. "I suppose if there were a quick fix, as you call it, the curse wouldn't be quite so heinous in the first place. And it is not a spell to be taken lightly…or one that can be used without consequences. And if someone can produce a solution to it, they will become both revered and hated. Perhaps that is why there has never been a cure."

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Again, I apologise for the lateness of this update. Life has been nuts! Mega thanks to everyone who responded to my survey! You guys all rock. You've completely disproved my original theory, so…rah! grins Actually, that made my life a lot easier really, so, tis all good.