CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: ZENITH
Voldemort looked away from Harry, beginning an examination of the body he'd just been given. Harry was silently urging Buffy to hurry, but with her injured and shaking hands, she was having problems getting the knife to hold steady. The ropes around Harry's ankles were at least three ropes thick, and the Slayer was having trouble.
Voldemort looked to a trembling Pettigrew.
"Hold out your arm," Voldemort said lazily.
Pettigrew extended the bleeding stump but Voldemort laughed a high, cold, mirthless laugh. "The other arm Wormtail."
"Master, please…please."
Voldemort bent down and pulled out Pettigrew's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Pettigrew's robes up past his elbow, and examined the mark upon the skin. A vivid red tattoo – a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth – the same image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup, the Dark Mark.
"It is back," Voldemort said softly. "They will all have noticed it…and now, we shall see…now we shall know…"
He pressed his long, white forefinger to the brand on Pettigrew's arm. The scar on Harry's forehead seared with a sharp pain again, and Pettigrew let out a fresh howl. Voldemort removed his finger from Pettigrew's Mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black.
A look of cruel satisfaction of his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head and stared around at the dark graveyard.
"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his flaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
He began to pace up and down, and his eyes lit upon Buffy as she continued to struggle with Harry's ropes. Voldemort bent down and grabbed hold of Buffy's wrists, and the Slayer cried out in pain as he dug his long fingernails into her skin.
"Ahhh, Slayer. It is admirable that you try so hard," he whispered. He grabbed Buffy by her hair and pulled her so that she had no choice but to rest her weight on her knees. He took hold of the hand that Buffy had her knife in and squeezed viciously until she heard bones snap. She held back a scream, but whimpers of pain still escaped, and several of the welling tears finally leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Voldemort grabbed hold of the knife, easily taking it from her broken hand.
He grabbed hold of her arm, forcing her sleeve up to the elbow. Harry struggled violently to get out of the ropes, wanting to save his cousin, who was fighting to stay conscious. Voldemort pressed the tip of the blade into the crook of Buffy's elbow.
"You've lost," he whispered softly. "Don't you realise this yet? And yet you still try. It is a beautiful quality, and rare in one so young as you. Yes, there is no doubt who you are…who your parents are…Potter and Black. Never did two families give me so much trouble as those two. And now I get to kill the progeny of both lines…Two of the strongest blood-lines, and now that blood flows through my veins…the blood of the boy who destroyed me, and the blood of a Slayer…"
He pressed the blade into Buffy's skin, pushing deeply into her flesh. He made two deep cuts, forming the shape of a 'V'. The wizard dropped the knife to the ground, and reached out to touch the blood that leaked from the cuts. He coated his fingers with it and brought it up to his mouth, licking it from his fingers.
Voldemort bent his head down and inhaled the wound, touching his mouth to the crook of Buffy's elbow. She struggled, but Voldemort lapped at the blood that seeped out until the flow of blood eventually stopped.
He pulled away from her elbow and placed his mouth close to Buffy's ear, his lips touching the outer shell, making her shiver in disgust at the close proximity that she'd been forced to share with a man she hated more than the Master, more than Angelus, and more than Snyder.
"I can taste your fear, your anger, your failure…nothing could have made me as strong as I am now."
You're the one that sets me free…if you hadn't come, I couldn't go…think about that. It was like being back in the Master's cavern so many years ago. It had been her blood that had released the Master, and now it was the same with Voldemort. Except it wasn't only her blood that flowed through the evil Wizard. It was her cousin's as well.
Buffy pulled back and spat in Voldemort's face. The newly revived Dark Lord threw her to the ground and quickly stood so that one of his heavy feet was crushing Buffy's ribs beneath the weight of his leg. She struggled to breath, trying desperately not to pass out from the pain in her body.
"My true family returns," Voldemort whispered as the air suddenly became filled with sounds of swishing cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one, they moved forwards…slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood there in silence and waited for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled towards Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.
"Master…master…" he murmured.
The Death Eaters behind him did the same thing; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees, ignoring the fact that Voldemort was standing with most of his weight on a struggling Slayer.
The Death Eaters then backed away and formed a silent circle, which enclosed Harry, Voldemort, Buffy and the sobbing and whimpering Wormatil.
"Welcome Death Eaters," Voldemort said quietly. "Thirteen years…thirteen years since we last met. Yet you answer my call as though it was yesterday. We are still united under the Dark Mark then. Or are we?"
Voldemort moved and began pacing around the circle, much to Buffy's joy. She struggled to roll over, pushing her weight onto her arms instead of on her ribs. She coughed up blood and vomited on the grass in front of her. She could feel several pairs of eyes on her as she slowly made her way back towards where Harry was still bound. She collapsed at his side, rolling onto her side and closing her eyes tiredly, hating that she was so close to Harry, but unable to do anything to help him due to her injuries and her exhausted mind. Harry frantically whispered his cousins name, terrified that he was going to have to watch her die.
"I smell guilt," Voldemort said. "There is a stench of guilt upon the air…Perhaps they now pay allegiance to another…perhaps that champions of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"
One of the men suddenly flung himself forwards, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to toe, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet. "Master!" he shrieked. "Master, forgive me, forgive us all!"
Voldemort laughed and raised his wand. "Crucio!"
Voldemort turned to address the still whimpering Pettigrew.
"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain Wormtail. You know that don't you?"
"Yes master," Pettigrew moaned. "Please, master, please…"
"Yet you helped me return to my body," Voldemort continued coolly. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me…and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers."
Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. It writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright in the moonlight, which soared downwards and fixed itself upon Pettigrew's bleeding wrist. Pettigrew's sobbing sopped abruptly. His breathing harsh ad ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground, and crushed it into powder.
"May your loyalty never waver again Wormtail," Voldemort said.
"No my Lord…never, my Lord."
Voldemort walked around the circle, addressing most of the members, speaking and listening to excuses and moving along the circle. It took nearly twenty minutes for Voldemort to go through the entire circle. Harry switched between watching Voldemort and checking on his cousin who was lying in absolute stillness on the grass, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow.
"There is one who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already re-entered my service. He is at Hogwarts," Voldemort said, "that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friends arrived tonight…"
Harry gasped and looked once more at his cousin, but Buffy remained motionless on the ground beside him. He tried to move his legs to nudge her, but he froze when Voldemort suddenly turned to look at him.
"Buffy, get up!" Harry whispered frantically.
The Slayer stirred and tried to push herself onto her hands and knees as Voldemort approached, his gait slow and predatory.
"Yes…Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honour. His friend, lying so pathetically on the ground is his cousin, and just so happens to be…" Voldemort stopped and chuckled. The Dark Lord grabbed hold of the scruff of Buffy's neck and lifted her, before slamming her head into a nearby gravestone. Buffy's body finally gave into the blissfulness of unconsciousness, despite the Slayer's desire to get out of the cemetery alive. "…the 'greatest' Slayer in centuries."
The other Death-Eaters laughed slightly as well as they took in the unmoving form of Buffy as she lay beside Harry.
Voldemort then explained to the Death Eaters how it was that he'd been restored. He explained about the previous attempts, and how he'd been foiled by Harry because of his mothers sacrifice for him. Voldemort explained about how he'd managed to find out all the information he'd needed to know about the Tournament that would take place at Hogwarts, and how he'd been able to place someone directly under Dumbledore's nose.
"…use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy and his cousin won the Tournament – that they touched the Triwizard Cup, not only first, but together as my servant knew they would. The Cup would be a Portkey to bring them here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here is he…the boy you all believed had been my downfall…"
Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand. "Crucio!"
It was beyond pain…and then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up at those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing wit h the sound of the Death Eater's laughter.
"Harry Potter escaped by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, where there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer Nagini," he whispered, and the snake slithered away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching. "Now untie him Wormtail, and give him back his wand. Malfoy, Nott…move the girl out of the circle. Wormtail, stand guard of the 'Slayer' when you are done."
The Death Eaters quickly complied with his orders and Pettigrew lingered by Buffy, making sure that if the girl awoke from unconsciousness, that she wouldn't try and jump into the circle.
Harry was untied and his wand was back in his hand. He considered running for it, but the circle of Death Eaters closed in around him. He squinted in the darkness, looking for his cousin, and saw her lying still with Pettigrew standing beside her, his wand pointed at her.
"We bow to each other Harry Potter," Voldemort said, bending a little, but keeping his snake-like face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed…Dumbledore would like you to show manners…bow to death Harry."
The Death Eaters were laughing again and Harry was not going to bow. He suddenly felt something like a massive hand bending his spine forward so that he was forced to bow to Voldemort.
"And now you face me, like a man…straight backed and proud, the way your father died…and now – we duel."
Voldemort raised his wand again and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, the Cruciatus Curse had hit him again. He was screaming in pain, and then it stopped abruptly. He rolled over and scrambled to his feet, shaking unaccountably.
"You don't want me to do that again, do you?"
Harry didn't answer, and Voldemort cast the Imperius, trying to make Harry answer, but he resisted as he'd done in Professor Moody's class so long ago.
"Answer me!" Voldemort yelled.
Harry resisted, pushing back the voice in his mind forcefully. "I WON'T!"
"You won't? You won't say 'no'? Harry obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die…perhaps another little dose of pain?"
Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was ready, with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground, rolling behind the marble headstone.
Voldemort approached, and Harry gathering up all of his strength, all of his courage, and everything else within him. He didn't want to die, and he didn't want to leave Buffy to deal with the Death Eaters. Just as Voldemort was about to reach him, he jumped to his feet and shouted "Expelliarmus!" at the same time that Voldemort yelled "Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as the jet of red light blasted from Harry's – they met in mid air – and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge was surging through it. His hand had seized up around it he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to – and a narrow beam of light was now connecting the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright deep gold. Harry, following the beam with an astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort's long white fingers, too, were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.
And then Harry felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They were gliding away from the tombstone of Voldemort's father, and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves. The Death Eaters were shouting, asking Voldemort for instructions, they were closing in, re-forming the circle, and then the golden thread connecting Harry's wand to Voldemort's suddenly produced a thousand more offshoots, criss-crossing all around them until they were enclosed within a golden dome-shaped web, a cage of light. Beyond the dome the Death-Eaters circled like vultures, their cries strangely muffled now…
"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening.
And then Harry heard something that lifted his spirits. It was a phoenix song, that came through the webbed cage, the tendrils of golden thread vibrating with the sounds of t, but Fawkes was no where to be seen. The sound of the song made Harry's heart lift with joy.
Don't break the connection. A voice whispered inside his mind, but Harry had already known that.
Outside the dome, Buffy stirred, the song of the phoenix penetrating her weary and abused mind. Her eyes remained closed and she focussed on the beauty of the song sounding in the air, breathing life back into her body. She slipped into a meditative state and tried to focus her energy on healing her shattered self.
It was a battle of wills as large beads of light suddenly began travelling across the thread that still connected Harry's wand to Voldemort's. The closer the bead came to Harry's wand, the more his hand shook, and the more his wand vibrated, and by his very force of willpower, he pushed the bead back towards Voldemort, who looked almost fearful.
Harry concentrated as hard as he ever had on that bead of light, forcing it back towards Voldemort, not sure what he was doing, but knowing he had to do it. The bead trembled a moment and then…it connected with Voldemort's wand.
At once, Voldemort's wand began emitting echoing screams of pain…then – Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock. A dense, smoky had flew out of the tip of it and vanished…the ghost of the hand he had made for Pettigrew. More shouts of pain, and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great greyish something that looked as though it was made of the solidest densest smoke…it was a head…now a chest and arms…the torso of an elderly man that Harry had once seen in a dream.
"He was a real wizard then?" the man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "You fight him boy…"
Another head emerged…Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes. "Don't let go!"
She and the shadow of the old man began pacing around the inner walls of the golden wed. Another head emerged from the tip of Voldemort's wand, and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be…he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment the body of the old man had emerged.
The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up and looked at him…and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back at the ghostly face of his mother.
"Your father's coming…it will be alright…hold on…"
And he came, tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoke shadowy form of James Potter. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke in the same distant echoing voice as the others, but quietly so that Voldemort could not hear.
"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments…but we will give you time…you must Portkey out of here…do you understand Harry?"
"How?" Harry whispered.
"The ring," his father replied.
Harry's other hand flew to the silver chain around his neck.
"What about Buffy?"
"She'll follow after you," James replied. "She'll know…be ready…do it now!"
"NOW!" Harry yelled. He didn't think he could have held on for another moment longer. He pulled his wand upwards, with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke, the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died – but the shadowing figures closed in on Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze.
Harry quickly shoved he ring onto his finger, praying that none of the Death Eaters would get to him before he could. He barely had a chance to blink before he was no longer in the graveyard.
As soon as the golden light had disappeared, Buffy had broken out of her meditation, jumped to her feet and smashed her unbroken fist into Pettigrew's face, knocking him off his feet. She quickly rummaged through his cloak, stealing back her wand plus his. She stunned him, grabbed hold of Pettigrew's silver wrist and slipped her own ring onto one of her broken fingers, both Pettigrew and Buffy disappearing from the graveyard.
Harry was waiting for Buffy in her room, and the two of them pulled their rings off, the rings automatically setting themselves for a return trip to Hogwarts. Sirius had taught Buffy how to set the rings to a particular location within Hogwarts before he'd been carted back to Azkaban, and Buffy was grateful for it. She didn't particularly feel like dragging Pettigrew all the way to the Quidditch Pitch, where no doubt, everyone would still be.
She reset her own ring and Harry's to take them to the Quidditch Pitch, but making sure that they wouldn't be placed in the centre. She had absolutely no desire to be in the middle of a maze ever again.
Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he saw Pettigrew's stunned form beside her.
"Why'd you bring him?" Harry asked.
"Proof," Buffy replied simply, her voice hoarse, and her breathing still ragged. She was holding onto her broken ribs with her spare hand, and clutching tightly at the Pettigrew's silver hand with the other.
Harry's eyes lit with understanding. They quickly put their rings back on and found themselves nearly deafened by the noise of the Quidditch Pitch.
People were suddenly rushing towards them, Professor Dumbledore, Giles and Professor Moody arriving there first.
As Harry's eye lit on Dumbledore, everything that had just happened in the graveyard came rushing back.
"He's back," Harry whispered as Dumbledore grabbed hold of his arm. "Voldemort's back!"
"What's going on? What's happened?" The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared over Harry, white and appalled.
Buffy's knees trembled, and she'd have fallen if Giles hadn't caught her and lowered her gently to the ground. "You're bleeding," he observed.
"Just…give us…a sec," she wheezed.
"Dumbledore," Moody said, his voice soft.
Professor Dumbledore turned away from Harry and gave his attention to Buffy. He noticed the blood stains on her hands, on her temple and the way she clutched her ribs. It was then that he noticed the pale balding man beside her.
"Pettigrew," Dumbledore whispered.
Fudge turned to look at the man with the silver hand as well, his eyes widening. "Good lord," Fudge said. "He…he's not dead."
Buffy looked up at the pain, smiling, despite her pain. "Told you…told you my father was innocent."
Fudge was completely shocked by the turn of events.
Moody suddenly moved away from Buffy, towards Harry who was trembling terribly. "It's all right son," Moody whispered to Harry, his hands on the boys shoulder. "I've got you…come on…hospital wing."
"Should stay…Dumbledore…" Harry replied.
"You need to lie down…come on now…"
Harry was half-dragged, half-pulled away, his eyes on his cousin as Dumbledore tended to her. People gathered around the fallen champion as Harry was dragged up towards the castle, all of them distracted by the injured Slayer as she lay on the ground, coughing up blood once more. Giles was rubbing soothing circles on her back, holding her hair away from her face, and feeling completely and utterly useless.
"Harry," Buffy whispered.
Dumbledore looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the boy still behind him. His eyes narrowed and he surveyed the crowd around him, trying to see who was missing.
Buffy began coughing even more violently, struggling to take proper breaths.
"We have to take her to the hospital wing Dumbledore," Fudge said. "And Pettigrew needs to be taken into custody."
Dumbledore nodded and conjured up a stretcher for Buffy. Eight Gryffindors and two worried ex-Gryffindors, a Watcher, a Wiccan and a muggle, gathered around Buffy, all of them voicing their concerns for the injured girl and questioning Harry's whereabouts. Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey joined the group quickly.
"All will be explained," was all that Dumbledore could say as they hurried up to the castle.
When they reached the second floor where Dumbledore's office was located, the Headmaster would allow only Buffy, Joyce, Giles, Madame Pomfrey and Cornelius Fudge to continue on. The rest were turned away, and told to return to their Common Room. With many protests, they did as they were told, all of them with masks of worry on their face.
Dumbledore didn't join them up in the office, instead telling them to stay up there while he searched for Harry. "I believe you have some papers to send to Azkaban, Cornelius."
The headmaster turned to Madame Pomfrey, looking at her imploringly. "I trust you to do all that you can for Miss Black," Dumbledore said softly. "Use whatever potions you need from my cabinet."
Pomfrey nodded and moved up the spiral staircase, following Joyce, Fudge and Giles, who had scooped Buffy into his arms and taken her up the stairs, rather than trying to manoeuvre the stretched around the curves of the staircase.
The Headmaster, the Potions teacher and the Transfigurations Professor quickly moved down the corridors.
"Where are we going Albus?" McGonagall questioned.
"To the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom," Dumbledore replied grimly. "I believe we have a traitor in our midst."
"Moody?" Snape asked incredulously. "He's an Auror…and while he may be paranoid, he was one of the best…how is that even possible?"
"We'll soon find out," Dumbledore replied.
------------------------
"Karkaroff's gone?" Harry asked incredulously. "But then – he didn't put my name in the Cup?"
"No," Moody replied. "No, he didn't. It was I who did that."
Harry heard but didn't believe. "No, you didn't. You didn't do that…you can't have done…"
"I assure you I did," Moody said, his magical eye swinging around, fixed upon the door, and Harry knew he was making sure there was no one outside it. At the same time, Moody drew out his wand and pointed it at Harry. "He forgave them, then? The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?"
"What?" Harry asked. He was looking at the wand in Moody's hand, very certain that this was all just some sick joke.
"Tell me he told the Death Eaters that I, I alone remained faithful…prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all….you."
"You didn't…it – it can't be you."
"Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire under the name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you winning the tournament? I did. Who nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons, even though your cousin had already so kindly informed you about them? I did. Who helped you see the only way you could beat the dragon? I did."
Moody's magical eye had now left the door. It was fixed upon Harry.
"It hasn't been easy, Harry, guiding you through these tasks without arousing suspicion. I have had to use every ounce of cunning I possess so that my hand would not be detectable in your success. I volunteered to help Buffy with Defence to gain her trust, as I knew that you would trust your cousin's judgement. Later when I discovered she was the Slayer, I already had her trust, and I was grateful for that, as she would be more suspicious that the average person," Moody continued. "Later, I was almost sure that you would fail the second task, but you managed to discover the secret to the egg…and then you found the book I'd planted in your room. The book I gave the Longbottom boy, don't you remember?"
"You had an easier time in that maze that you should have. I was patrolling around the edges, making sure you and your cousin would reach the Cup at the same time. I knew that the two of you would share in the victory. I'd known that since the first task when she told you about the dragons…she loves you, that girl does, and it's one of her biggest weaknesses. She helped you at every turn of the way, just as I knew she would…so instead of helping you, I helped her so that she would pass on my knowledge."
Harry had turned pale at the thought of how Buffy had been so easily manipulated by Moody. He'd seemed so trust-worthy, so completely genuine. He'd seemed like a nice person who wanted to make sure that Harry didn't die, but now Harry could see why he'd tried to keep Harry alive. So that Voldemort could have used Harry during the ritual.
"The Dark Lord didn't manage to kill you Potter, and he so wanted to," Moody whispered. "Imagine how he will reward me, when he finds out I have done it for him – the thing he needed above all to regenerate – and then I killed you for him. I will be honoured above all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter…closer than a son…"
Moody's normal eye was bulging, the magical eye fixed upon Harry. The door was barred, and Harry knew he would never reach his own wand in tome.
"You're mad," Harry whispered.
"Mad, am I?" Moody asked, his voice rising uncontrollably. "We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side. He's back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him – and now – I conquer you!"
Moody raised his wand, he opened his mouth. Harry plunged his own hand into his robes –
"Stupefy!" There was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door to Moody's office was blasted apart.
Moody was thrown backwards into the office floor. Harry spun to look at the three Professors that had just blasted open the door, and it was in that moment that Harry realised why Dumbledore was the only wizard that Voldemort had ever feared. The look upon Dumbledore's face was more terrible that Harry could ever have imagined.
McGonagall wanted to have Harry taken up to he hospital wing, to get him looked at, but Dumbledore was insistent that he remain.
"Moody," Harry whispered. "How can it have been Moody?"
"This is not Alastor Moody," Dumbledore replied quietly. "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew…and I followed."
Dumbledore bent down over Moody's limp form and put a hand inside his robes, pulling out Moody's hip-flask and a set of keys on a ring. He then turned to McGonagall and Snape.
"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess. Minerva, go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky."
If either Snape or McGonagall found those instructions strange, they didn't comment, and they hid their confusion well. They left immediately and Dumbledore walked over to Moody's trunk with seven locks and began opening the different layers within the trunk. When he'd reached the seventh layer, they were looking down into some kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below was the real Mad-Eye Moody.
Dumbledore climbed into the trunk and bent over the sleeping Moody.
"Stunned – controlled by the Imperius Curse – very weak," Dumbledore said. "Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry, thrown down the impostor's cloak. Alastor is freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems to be in no immediate danger."
Harry did as told, and Dumbledore explained about how the impostor had been drinking Polyjuice Potion from the hipflask, and how ingenious it was, seeing as Moody never did drink anything except from a hip-flask. They waited and watched as the man who had masqueraded as Moody for the last few months suddenly began changing right in front of them.
Snape, McGonagall and the house-elf Winky suddenly entered.
"Barty Crouch!" Snape suddenly cried.
Winky let out a distressed shriek and raced towards Barty Crouch Jnr. "Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?" She turned to looked at Dumbledore. "You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed master's son!"
"He is simply Stunned Winky," Dumbledore explained. "Step aside, please. Severus, you have the Potion?"
Dumbledore revived the Stunned man and Barty Crouch sat up, the Potion going down his throat easily. Dumbledore began what would be a forty minute interrogation of the man, getting him to explain absolutely everything that had happened over the last few years since his imprisonment within Azkaban.
Crouch explained about how he'd escaped, and how his mother had been put in prison in his place, and died soon after. He explained about his father Barty Crouch Snr, and the Imperius Curse and an Invisibility Cloak. He explained that Bertha Jorkins had discovered the truth of him, and how Crouch Snr had modified her memory. He explained how he'd been allowed to go to the Quidditch World Cup and how he'd been able to fight the Imperiius. That it was he who had stolen Harry's wand and set off the Dark Mark at the Match. He explained about Voldemort torturing the information out of Bertha Jorkins and coming to find Crouch Jnr, and how Crouch had then managed to get Moody, and switch places with him so that Minerva, would have a faithful servant at Hogwarts.
He explained that Pettigrew had been placed in charge of ensuring that Crouch Snr didn't escape, and how he'd bungled that task completely. He explained about his he'd killed Crouch Snr in front of Buffy, but that she hadn't recognised him. He explained about transfiguring his fathers body into a bone and burying it in the Forest.
"And tonight?" Dumbledore asked.
"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," whispered Barty Crouch. "Turned it into a Portkey. My master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honoured by him beyond the dreams of wizards."
------------------------
Dumbledore took Harry up to his office while Professors Snape and McGonagall stood watch over Barty Crouch. When Harry entered the office, he felt his heart lift completely. He ran to his godfather and hugged him with all of his might.
"How?" Harry whispered.
Sirius smiled and hugged his godson tightly. "Innocent after being proven not-guilty," Sirius replied with a smile. "Pettigrew being alive proves that I wasn't at fault."
Harry turned quickly, his eyes searching for his cousin. She was curled up on one of Dumbledore's large chairs, her eyes closed, but not sleeping, with Joyce sitting beside her, stroking her hair. Just behind them, Giles was pacing worriedly, still feeling as useless as he'd felt down on the Quidditch Pitch. Madame Pomfrey had patched up his Slayer up as well as she could, but there was still so much internal damage that would need to be fixed, and soon.
"Is she alright?" Harry asked worriedly. He'd seen her hit by the Cruciatus at least twice, and he knew that she'd been hit at least once more that he knew of. He'd seen the beating she'd taken at Pettigrew's and Voldemort's hands, and it had made him ill to have to watch her be tortured so thoroughly.
"She's tired," Sirius replied. "About two minutes after she'd seen I was alright, she just collapsed."
"We were able to begin to heal the cuts and bruises, but I fear that she is no where near out of danger," Pomfrey explained. "It was a good thing that you sent us to your office Headmaster…many of the potions that we needed wouldn't have been down in the hospital wing."
Dumbledore nodded knowingly. Most of the patients treated in the hospital wing were never that seriously hurt, but he'd known that the young Slayer needed more help than the infirmary would have been able to give.
Joyce suddenly jumped to her feet as her daughter suddenly went completely still.
"She stropped breathing," she exclaimed.
Sirius grabbed his daughter off the chair and laid her out on the floor, frantically trying to remember how to resuscitate someone who wasn't breathing. Madame Pomfrey and Giles hovered worriedly, Pomfrey frantically going through her memory banks for any sort of spell or potion that would help the injured student.
Dumbledore quickly went to the golden pedestal where Fawkes sat.
"Will you do a favour for a friend?" Dumbledore asked the bird.
Fawkes gave a gentle trill and flew across to the girl. Teardrops leaked from its eyes onto the places where Buffy was injured. Her face, her hands, her ribs, her legs, the vicious cut at the crook of her right elbow. The wounds closed and Buffy jerked suddenly. The wounds closed, leaving absolutely no scars…except for one at her elbow.
She scrambled to turn onto her side, struggling to her hands and knees and vomiting up the last of the blood that had gathered in her lungs.
Sirius dropped to his knees beside his daughter and held her hair, gently rubbing circles on her back, whispering soothingly in her ear. Buffy clung to him shakily and buried her face in his chest.
"Are you alright?" Sirius asked.
"Dad," she whimpered softly. "You're back."
Sirius closed his eyes and dropped a kiss on the top of his daughter's hair, holding her tightly and rocking them lightly.
"You're okay," he whispered. "You're safe now, I'm here."
Joyce dropped to her knees, embracing her daughter and her husband tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Harry watched, torn between jealousy, and happiness at the scene before him. His heart lifted when Buffy pulled slightly away and reached her hand out to him. Harry dropped to the ground beside them and was pulled into the hug, Buffy whispered apologies to him, telling him how sorry she was for failing him.
"Not your fault," he whispered back, just thankful that he was alive and back with his family where he belonged.
Dumbledore watched the reunion with tired eyes, thankful that Harry finally had a family he could turn to. He'd seen the affection between Buffy and Harry grow over the terms, and he'd been grateful for it. The cousins were more alike than they knew, and it was comforting that they were drawing their strength from each other.
Giles smiled softly, thankful that his Slayer was among family. While he may have been jealous of Sirius taking over the father-figure role, he knew that there wasn't a better man that could have stepped into the role that Hank Summers had never been able to fill. And Giles knew that Sirius Black loved Buffy with everything inside of him, and Giles couldn't have asked for more than that. His Slayer was definitely unconventional, but he wouldn't have had it any other way.
Dumbledore reluctantly parted them, and the Black and Potter family sat in four chairs across the room, Fudge lingering behind, listening as Dumbledore recounted everything that Barty Crouch Jnr had told them over the last forty minutes.
Fawkes settled himself on Harry's lap, leaking tears on the wounds that Harry had received, the cut to his arm, and the bruises and scratches he'd received over the course of the evening.
Dumbledore then asked Harry to explain his own version of the events, and the words spilled from his lips, explaining about the ritual, and about how Buffy had tried to save him, but had been hit by the Cruciatus.
"He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used anyone else's. He used my blood and Buffy's. Something about the Potter blood, and Buffy being a Slayer," Harry explained. "He said the protection my – my mother left in me – he'd have it too. And he was right – he could touch me without hurting himself."
"Very well," Dumbledore said, looking as old and weary as anyone in that room had ever seen him looking. "Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue please."
He explained about Voldemort's return, and the duel, and the golden beam of light connecting his wand to He explained about Voldemort's return, and the duels. His throat cut out when he thought about the old man, and Bertha Jorkins, his mother…his father.
"The wands connected?" Sirius asked. "Why?"
"Priori Incantatem," Dumbledore murmured.
"The reverse spell effect?" Sirius asked sharply.
"Exactly," Dumbledore replied. "Harry's wand and He explained about Voldemort's return, and the duel's wand shar cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenis. This phoenix, in fact."
"My wand's feather comes from Fawkes?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "Mr Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand the moment you left his shop four years ago."
"So what happens when a wand meets its brother?" Sirius asked.
"They will not work properly against each other," Dumbledore explained. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle…a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed – in reverse. The most recent first…and then those which preceded it."
"Which means…that some form of your parents must have reappeared," Dumbledore mused.
"James and Lily?" Sirius asked. Joyce too sat up with complete interest. "They came back to life?"
"No spell can reawaken the dead," Dumbledore replied heavily. "All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living people would have emerged from the wad…am I correct?"
"They spoke to me," Harry said, shaking again.
"I will say it again…you have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting He explained about Voldemort's return, and the duel at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it – and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion and some peace," Dumbledore said. "Buffy, Sirius, Joyce? You will be wanting to remain with him."
All three Black's nodded, and immediately went down one flight to the Infirmary. Giles followed, more concerned about his Slayer, though he was worried about Harry as well.
They were greeted by the Weasley family. George broke away from the group and raced at Buffy, enfolding her in a hug and kissing her, not even paying any attention to the bemused looking group around them. Harry grinned, thankful for anything that could make him smile.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and the two Gryffindor teens broke apart.
"I'm sorry to break up the reunion," Dumbledore said, his eyes regaining part of their old mischievous glint as he looked at the pair, "but Harry and Buffy both need rest, and plenty of it. I do not want you questioning either f them until they are ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.
The Weasley's were ushered out, George and Buffy sharing one last kiss before he was escorted from the room. Sirius and Joyce sat down in two comfortable chairs between two beds, Harry and Buffy lying down on either bed, and swallowing the Sleeping Potion that Dumbledore gave to them, immediately feeling the effects and drifting off to sleep.
Sirius sighed tiredly and looked up at Dumbledore.
"Voldemort's really back," he said softly.
Dumbledore nodded. "It is as I feared," the Headmaster replied. "Though I am thankful that we were fore-warned. Voldemort did not want us knowing he was restored until we discovered that Harry was dead."
Sirius shivered at the thought and glanced at the sleeping teen.
"Do you think Fudge will actually admit to it?" Sirius asked.
Dumbledore paused. He wasn't sure that Fudge had been convinced. He knew that living in denial was an easier choice than having to live with the consequences of a breakout of war.
"We can only hope that he had listened to everything that was said tonight," Dumbledore replied. "And if he refuses to act, then we shall have to work around the Ministry."
"He can't deny what happened tonight," Joyce said. "He saw what happened to Buffy and Harry."
"Only time will tell."
----