For the other champions, the day of the first task was special because their families were allowed to attend. For Harry, who's family had been at the castle every day training him for the event, it was just another day of preparation.
Sirius and Berg made him spend the morning reviewing lists of creatures and spells whilst Hermione, Theo and Neville sat their History of Magic exam. By the time they all congregated for lunch the Boy-Who-Lived was thoroughly ready to start the task, just to escape the classroom. Mordred had chosen to remain corporeal for the occasion, his sword belted around Sirius' waist and he sat opposite them, looking regal in a sapphire Gorlois cloak and silver circlet. Ginny was already there, ribbons woven through her hair in a clashing shade of dark Potter-red and a matching, transfigured Gorlois cloak. The white grim stood out sharply across the back, but not as much as the massive white Grim lounging beneath the end of the table.
'Cavella!' Hermione cried, rushing forwards to greet her hound. The grim had been missing since she learned to apparate at the start of term.
'One of Nott's friends found her haunting a graveyard in some town called Little Hangleton, scaring the living daylights out of all the muggles.' Sirius explained, leaning down to rub the grim between the ears. She panted happily and dropped a possessive paw over Hermione's feet as she sat at the bench. Magical drool pooled over her shoes, vanishing before it could soak into the leather.
Anneken and Krum joined them shortly afterwards at the Slytherin table, both wearing red. Hermione couldn't help but notice that the shades of red worn by Durmstrang and Gryffindor students was only slightly brighter than both the Bulgarian Quidditch team, House Potter and House Lintzen. Really, they could have passed as one large group with allegiances to either party.
It was a rowdy meal. Sirius Black was always a noisy and disruptive presence and he seemed determined to upset the order of the Slytherin table as much as possible. Hermione had to threaten to take his wand to stop him charming Malfoy's goblet to spit in everyone's faces. Harry did it anyway, just to spite her, which made everyone laugh.
They spent the afternoon walking around the grounds and listening to Sirius reminisce about his Hogwarts days. A dreamy, contented smile drifted across Harry's face as his godfather painted the story of his mother and father's budding romance, picked out in memories of last minute revision and summer heat.
Harry's nerves only reemerged when they finally rounded the bulky castle walls and reached the quidditch pitch. From the outside it was mostly unchanged; wooden scaffold structure barely hidden by warped planks, weather worn and shimmering with magic after countless repairs. A deep growl rumbled through the earth beneath their feet and something shrieked in reply. Mordred hastily pointed at some feature of the castle; an overhanging parapet that Hermione had never noticed before. She knew it's purpose, but Harry was distracted and barely glanced back at the pitch as he was led away. Hermione and Sirius shared a look of relief and hurried after him.
By dinner, even stories of bloody battles and Harry's father couldn't distract him anymore. He was pale a fidgeting, barely touching the nutritious meal that Ginny put on his plate. Krum was no better, although he hid it with his usual surly silence. The others in the party were nervous as well; a maze seemed too easy, after the lengths they'd had to go to to complete the task in the lake and to defeat the dragon. Anneken had barely touched her sausages and Berg studiously buried his peas in his mashed potato. Hermione ate her peas one at a time, concentrating on spearing each pea with a separate tine of the fork before lifting them to her mouth.
'Last supper, Potter?' Malfoy jeered, leaning out around Crabbe. Harry pursed his lips, tucking his head further into his meal and shifting his shoulders uncertainly.
'He's managed this far.' Daphne Greengrass answered, dropping into the seat between them and effectively blocking Malfoy's line of sight. She winked at Hermione. 'That's more than you managed, Draco? You didn't even manage to get across the age line, did you?'
'Because I'm not stupid enough to want to fight a dragon.' Malfoy retorted, sounding defensive.
'So you weren't researching age lines with Astoria in the library?' Montague twisted in his seat, large frame looming despite him not standing.
'Malfoy!' Daphne gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth with exaggerated horror. 'I only granted permission for her to study unchaperoned… and now I discover you were lying to me?'
Malfoy had flushed a deep, mottled red and he hunched his shoulders so that his robe rode up around his ears, slouching between his two goons as tidbits of the scandalous discussion reached along the table, drawing more and more attention.
'Mr Potter?' Hermione jumped, then berated herself for allowing the Gryffindor head of house to get so close without notice; her situation awareness was meant to be better than that, even considering the professor's feline grace. The professor peered down her nose at all of them, fixing each member of Hermione's party with her stern gaze before looking back at Harry. Her expression softened infinitesimally.
'It's time, Mr Potter.' McGonagall explained, glowering at Karkaroff who'd thunked a heavy hand onto Krum's shoulder. The Durmstrang Headmaster's expression was dark, but Hermione could see traces of stress in the gauntness of his cheeks and the lank way his hair hung about his face. She'd half expected the turncoat death eater to confront her already, but was almost glad that he hadn't. She didn't like him and wanted him nowhere near her allies, although she'd never refuse anyone aid if they asked for it.
'Good luck.' Ginny bid, jumping up and embracing Harry in a rush of crimson cloak and hair. Harry staggered under the enthusiasm of her hug, arms hanging limply by his sides until she pulled away.
'You'll be fine.' Theo assured, serious eyes burning beneath heavy brows.
'For Gorlois and for glory.' Mordred bid and Hermione shoved at him ineffectually, the powerful dark knight absorbing her teenage strength easily.
'We're here if you need us.' Hermione assured, taking her own turn to embrace him and sending a quick fizzle of power down the sect bond between them. Harry smiled weakly, allowing Hermione to release him to Sirius' powerful bear hug before he trailed off after McGonagall.
They sat in sombre silence for a long time after he'd left, thoughts on the future and whether they'd prepared Harry suitably for the task. Finally, fed up with waiting, Hermione announced that she was going to find seats. The rest of the group made various noises of agreement, climbing to their feet and pushing aside their untouched meals. Cavella made a mournful noise and hauled herself to her feet to follow; she'd grown huge over the past year, and now her bony shoulders came up to Hermione's waist and each stride of massive paws was almost the size of Hermione's. It felt like walking beside a lion.
The final task was open to select members of the public and they were already beginning to arrive as Hermione's group made their way down to the pitch. Most were ministry officials, presumably people involved in organising the event, but Hermione also recognised the Bulgarian Minister of Magic and there was a huddle of well-dressed wizards wearing medals with the Durmstrang crest on their chests; presumably the Durmstrang board of governors. Fleur Delacour's family were identifiable by the fact that they were a visible display of the nerves that Hermione felt and the way passing men oogled Fleur's half-Veela mother.
They were allowed into the VIP stand, where the teachers usually sat during quidditch matches. The row of seats below the announcer's podium had been reserved for the headmasters of each school but only a quick glance at the maze below revealed that this task would be poor spectating. The hedges had grown to be twenty foot high, with the paths between them so narrow that there was no hope of seeing the champions below. From the VIP box, they could see straight down to the small clearing where the champions would start, and Hermione was fairly sure she could see a couple of the obstacles within the maze; a strange light on the hedges off to the right that suggested some kind of enchantment, swaying branches where some large creature passed about half way across the pitch and spider webs draping across the far end, big enough to be visible even from a distance and strongly suggesting the presence of acromantulas.
'Can you see the middle?' Sirius asked, rising onto his toes and squinting out at the maze as if that would help him see through the gathering darkness.
'I think that's it.' Ginny pointed towards the maze unhelpfully, then clarified quickly, 'behind that really thorny patch. See how that clearing looks a little bit silvery.'
With the improved description, Hermione could see the clearing in question. It did look rather central, but without tracing the paths she wouldn't know. She shrugged, realising that it didn't make much difference when she couldn't use her knowledge to help Harry.
'Lady Gorlois!' The Bulgarian minister had spotted them and he bowed awkwardly between the benches.
'Minister.' Hermione greeted in return, nodding her head slightly in acknowledgement of his greeting.
'I heard you had a wonderful party on the equinox.' He grinned and Hermione blinked in first confusion, and then in surprise and dawning concern. The entire group of students were as tightly bound by secrecy agreements as she could make them, so how had the Bulgarian found out? Had someone managed to find a loophole? At least he was someone who had already admitted being part of a group that followed the old ways, but if word had spread to him, who else knew?
'Oh?' Hermione forced her reactions under control and acted embarrassed, as though she'd just held an innocent party in the common room and was surprised that a foreign minister of magic had heard about it.
'Oh yes.' The minister agreed eagerly. 'An event like that… well, after so long without any good parties, it's not surprising that it was an inspiration at other small parties across the continent!'
'Across the continent?' Hermione echoed, dumbfounded.
'Oh yes.'
'No… yes, I'm aware.' Hermione struggled to wrap her mind around the concept. The minister had felt their ritual. He'd been at his own ritual - a small one, presumably, and theirs had been so powerful that it had been detectable across the channel.
'Fascinating stuff. I'd love to learn how you do it; I didn't even know it was possible to have a guest attend a party from such a distance.'
And Hermione found herself lost. The code had made sense, because the party was the ritual, but she couldn't think of anyone who'd participated that wasn't in the Chamber of Secrets.
'What?' She asked eloquently.
'Your betrothed.' The minister elaborated. 'I was impressed to discover that he could join the festivities even from isolation.'
Which meant that Gellert had also performed some ritual that night; the minister seemed to believe that he'd somehow been a part of Hermione's ritual that night, but Hermione knew he'd had nothing to do with their enchantment. He couldn't have because he didn't have any scars from Umbridge, which was the whole focus of the ritual she'd performed.
Which meant he must have performed his own ritual. She was almost afraid to know what he'd done, without reagents or anything to channel his magic.
But that explained the sudden and irrational reaction of Alice. She was traditionally trained, despite her determination to pretend otherwise, and if the minister of magic and his friends had felt the rituals taking place; both Hermione and Gellert's, Alice would have as well. And Gellert had distracted her by sending her after Hexemeer, hunting for some unknown piece of evidence.
That at least suggested that Gellert had intentionally sent her out, which meant the island was either a wild goose chase and the evidence didn't exist or he was utterly confident she would never find it.
That was a relief, even if the knowledge of Gellert's ritual was not.
What had he done?
She hated him for his past, which meant she could never completely trust him.
'Gellert has always defied the realms of possibility.' Hermione said suddenly, realising that it had been a fraction too long since the Minister's comment and that everyone was waiting for her reply.
Umbridge cleared her throat behind them, rescuing Hermione from her little gaff. The whole group closed down immediately, turning cold eyes on the ministry witch.
'Minister Lindholm.' Umbridge spoke slowly, gesticulating wildly at the Bulgarian minister. 'Minister Fudge.' She pointed at Fudge, who was talking with Dumbledore at the top of the stairs, 'would like you to join us,' Umbridge made a swirling motion and then pointed at herself, 'in our seats.' She pointed at a row of seats, made slightly more comfortable by some purple cushions.
'Your ministry is full of imbeciles.' The Bulgarian minister lamented to Hermione in German.
'I agree.' Hermione forced herself not to laugh, knowing that Umbridge would draw the worst conclusion and inevitably take it out on Hermione and her allies.
'I vill come.' The Bulgarian informed Umbridge, then bowed deeply to Hermione 'It vas good to talk, Lady Gorlois.'
Her allies waited until the two officials were standing with Fudge and Dumbledore before converging on Hermione to demand she translate the conversation to them. She would have, but they were interrupted by a round of fireworks and a loud drumroll from the assembled Hogwarts band. Ludo Bagman's amplified voice rolled out across the stadium from the announcer's podium, welcoming each competitor into the stadium in reverse order; first, Fleur, accompanied by a tinkling anthem that had the rest of the school contingent performing a cheerleading routine. Cedric was next, waving to the large Hogwarts crowd who cheered him in with thunderous applause. Durmstrang roared as Krum was called in, then Harry was announced as the current leader. Cavella howled when he entered, as if to drown out the ridiculous Hogwarts anthem and the defence group cheered loudly enough to make up for the booing detractors.
Dumbledore appeared next with the portkeys; Hermione had insisted that they were all checked before the event after the goblins reported that Quirrel had returned to Britain. Each key was given to a competitor, slung on a coloured ribbon. A key could be used to withdraw from the maze if required, or they could be inserted into the chest that held the trophy, pulling the champion to the start of the maze. They'd all come up fine; each key was a portkey and the chest would activate them. Neither chest, keys or trophy held any malignant curses or poisons.
Harry took his key, looping it over his neck. A silvery sheen of magic washed over his skin; another of Hermione's requirements once it had been announced that no other magic items beyond wands would be allowed into the arena - a transparent attempt to stop the Gorlois team bringing another creature or artefact that allowed them to circumvent the difficulty of the task. The key would track his position in the maze, along with his state of health and provide protection against deadly injury.
They task began shortly afterwards with great fanfare. Harry headed off into the maze first and was instantly swallowed up by the darkness. The other champions were sent in at five minute intervals until everyone was inside the maze. The cheering finally died down and a slightly awkward silence settled over the arena as people realised that they couldn't actually see anything going on within.
In the sudden quiet, there was the occasional sound effect which hinted at goings on in the maze; a roar, a screech, a muffled incantation accompanied by a flash of light against shiny leaves. Slowly, bored conversation began to drift across the stadium, drowning out even the faint noises. At a loss, ministry officials conjured a large map above the maze, along with glowing pins which signified the positions of the champions and the various challenges. It was vaguely interesting, but without being able to see what each challenge actually was, all it did was increase Hermione's anxiety.
'This is the most boring challenge ever.' Ginny complained, the first of the group to speak a word since Harry had stepped into the maze. She shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench to emphasise her point. 'And considering the last one was just an hour staring at a lake…'
'You'd think they could at least have a commentator on a broom.' Theo drawled, looking derisively up at Bagman. The head of magical games looked rather frazzled as he conferred with several other ministry officials, perhaps receiving instructions to make the event more interesting. Across the stadium, wixen were beginning to stir with boredom. In the ministry box, Umbridge was hovering at Fudge's elbow as the minister pandered to several wealthy looking guests.
Reaching out with her magic, she could feel a little more. Harry was obvious, his usual glorious light familiar to her and connected through the sect. She could find Krum as well, heading in the opposite direction at the other end of the pitch. The obstacle infront of Harry was a spell of some sort; she could feel a net of magic, which she didn't doubt Gellert would be able to understand with his instinctive understanding of nets. Hermione was less practiced, and could vaguely figure out that it was a charm that probably altered perception.
Harry faltered at the obstacle and Hermione felt him tangle with the web, snagging strands of magic and springing the trap. A moment later he must have broken the illusion somehow because the whole spell net unravelled and he was moving again.
A sudden collective gasp broke Hermione's concentration and her eyes snapped open just in time to see Fleur Delacour collapse into tears in the clearing at the start of the maze, portkey clutched in her fist. Madam Maxime thundered down from the stands to greet her, along with Madam Pomfrey and her family. To Hermione's war-hardened eyes, she looked perfectly fine; perhaps a little scratched and dirty, but the young witch was all to aware that in the magical world, a lack of visible injury didn't necessarily mean a lack of injury all together.
Fortunately, it seemed that in this case, Fleur really was just shaken. Hermione's attention shifted back to the three remaining contenders.
Harry had covered a significant distance during Hermione's short distraction and seemed to have come up against some kind of creature. He wasn't casting spells, but neither was there any panic sending spikes through his magic.
Diggory was the next to emerge from the maze, his portkey dragging a thick mat of acromantula silk with him. His mother let out an incoherent wail and had to be physically restrained whilst Madam Pomfrey levitated him away to deal with the gruesome shoulder injury that was still leaking clear venom.
The two remaining contestants were beginning to draw near the prize by that point. Total darkness had fallen across the grounds, leaving the hovering map of the maze with the two coloured pins converging.
'He's almost there.' Theo assured, peering at the maze.
Suddenly, Harry's magic spiked with panic and a moment later Hermione noticed an odd writhing and rippling in the carpet of hedges infront of them.
'There.' She pointed at the disturbance, noticing the little pin that signified Harry accelerating.
A minute later, the same shivering appeared at Krum's end of the maze, as if they had run out of time. The shifting maze sent both champions hurtling towards the middle of the maze, but Harry was fractionally closer. His little pin burst out into the clearing first and paused. There was a quick surge of magic - powerful, as though Harry had just blasted away the final obstacle.
On the conjured map, Harry's little pin merged with the pin that signified the trophy. Bagman announced the impending victory, the band stood up and lifted their instruments, Flitwick bustled to the head, flexing his wrists in preparation to conduct. Collectively, breath was indrawn and the audience leaned forwards, ready to cheer for the Hogwarts champion.
Umbridge looked oddly smug; not what Hermione had expected when her least favourite champion had just won.
The two merged dots on the map blinked out.
The band started playing a victorious score… Krum appeared several second later. He was out of breath, muddy and streaked with blood from a scrape on his cheek, but decidedly alone.
The music trailed off.
Hermione swore. A crude word she'd picked up from Sirius that she would later deny all knowledge of. Harry was gone; the bond between them stretched so thinly that she was willing to bet he was either on the continent, or in the south.
Fudge was spluttering uselessly in protest, Dumbledore seemed concerned but not particularly upset and Umbridge was wheedling about runaway children.
Hermione stood up sharply, wondering if the pit of dread in her gut was what Lady Grindelwald had felt every time she or Gellert disappeared on one of the adventures.
'Berg, send a patronus to the guardians at Avalon. Have Flighty bring your healing kit and then close the wards. I want the island on lockdown. Black, Mordred - sect bonds and locator charms. Find out where he's gone. Theo, summon one of your elves. I need to know if your father's heard anything in his circles. Ginny, get that key from Krum and have Berg check it for magical signatures. Neville, go with her; she could use some muscle.'
Her court jumped to follow her orders, a bustle of movement among stunned spectators. That galvanised others into action… unhelpful action.
'Arrest her!' Umbridge screeched. 'Theft of a priceless artefact.'
'Oh shut up you toad.' Sirius growled, 'why would she steal something she just won?'
Umbridge spluttered, then subsided as Fudge placed an arm on her elbow.
'Perhaps… yes, Aurors?' The peacetime minister was so lost that she didn't know if he was ordering action or asking for advice.
'Yes. Aurors.' Hermione drawled, distracted as she plunged into her bonds, tearing along Harry's. 'Oculus Nexo'
The bond surged with power; harsh and unforgiving, the cruel nature of the sect. Magic burned behind her eyes, the world spotting black before clearing to reveal what Harry was seeing.
Hermione had never performed the spell before and it was sickeningly disorientating. She could feel the warmth of the torch in the quidditch stands, the press of Berg's shoulder against hers and the undead chill of Mordred. She could hear the roar of panicked noise, Fudge's spluttered orders and the shouting of aurors and teachers as they began scouring the maze. But she couldn't see it.
She saw the gluey blood that seeped from the deep cut in Harry's calf, but she couldn't feel the pain. Thick ropes lashed him to a stone angel; a tombstone, the largest in the graveyard by a significant margin.
Her attention was caught by the hooded figure and the massive cauldron he laboured over. Easily as big as the cauldron used to brew the Ostara potion and full of silvery sloshing liquid that was as likely to be poison as water. As she watched it began to spark, brighter and brighter, spewing out thick clouds of steam which mingled with the swirling fog and obscuring anything she could have used to locate Harry.
Quirrel - she recognised the face, even if it had grown gaunt in Azkaban, picked up a bundle of twitching cloth. A live creature as an ingredient could only signal a dark potion. The fabric wrapping slipped, revealing a creature so repulsive that it shattered Hermione's concentration, hurtling her back into her own body.
'What did you see, Priestess?' Mordred demanded before she'd even blinked the black spots from her eyes.
'Voldemort.' Hermione breathed, then announced louder; 'Quirrel has Voldemort, and he's doing something to him, with a potion. They're in a graveyard.'
Desperately, Hermione scoured her memories for any identifying details. There'd been a manor on a distant hill, a little church and the lights of a quaint village. In Britain, that was as good as saying there was grass.
'What were the ingredients?' Mordred demanded sharply, abandoning his efforts with Black to grab her shoulders.
'I don't know.' Hermione admitted, shaking her head.
'Hermione! My father knows nothing.' Theo informed her quickly, snatching her attention form Mordred's sombre expression. The dark knight forced it back to him with hard fingers on her chin.
'I'll deal with this. Take Potter's eyes again, find the ingredients of that potion. If it's what I think it is… Harry's the sacrifice that will bring back his body.'
Hermione's breath hissed between her teeth, filling her chest with ice.
'Oculus Nexo!' She cried again, eyes burning and the bond between her and Harry searing with power again.
A moment later she was back in the graveyard, in Harry's body, seeing what he saw.
The potion had moved on. Quirrel was whimpering and stuttering, a silver athame pressed against the skin of his wrist. The gravestone Harry sat on was cracked, leaning threateningly into a void of undead must.
Quirrel's mouth moved, speaking an incantation that Hermione couldn't hear. His face scrunched in fear as he pressed the blade into his skin, drawing blood. The potion bubbled, a vivid, toxic blue, spitting every time a droplet of blood hit the surface. Then, he suddenly brought the blade up in a flash of steel and brought it arching down. His scream of pain was so expressive that Hermione could hear his phantom scream. The severed hand fell into the potion, which flared as brightly crimson as a lithium flare.
Then, shuffling, severed hand clutched to his chest, Quirrel edged towards Harry, reaching out with a glass vial and a knife.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, severing the connection to take her information to Mordred as quickly as possible.
'Something from the long dead… bone?' Hermione announced, drawing Mordred's attention immediately. 'Flesh and bone of the living; a hand from the wrist down.'
'Harry's?' Mordred asked, main clinking as he knelt infront of her. She couldn't help but observe the colour and intensity of his eyes; almost black, they held the darkness that he'd delved into in his life.
'No. Quirrel's.'
'Flesh of the servant.' Mordred concluded and Hermione nodded. 'Harry's blood next?'
Hermione nodded again. The dark knight breathed a sigh of relief, which felt so wrong that she almost hit him.
'A sloppy method, but Potter will survive the ritual. That gives us time.' Mordred concluded. That was a start, but it still left her ward alone against the darkest wizard of the century. Hermione doubted Voldemort would leave the Boy-Who-Lived alive for long.
'Okay.' Hermione acknowledged. And with that word she shoved down her fear and worry. 'Okay.' She slammed the doors of her mind closed on her emotions, built a fortress of Grindelwald authority and Gorlois power. 'Okay.'
The High Priestess stood up, her dark knight at her elbow.
'Voldemort is making his return tonight.' She announced, her voice carrying past the frantic work of her own court and to the nervous bystanders. 'Using an archaic ritual.'
'Preposterous!' Umbridge screeched, her face a shade of puce. Aurors had appeared since Harry's disappearance and they now flooded the stadium. 'A desperate ploy for attention, Minister. You-Know-Who is dead.'
'Yes.' Fudge was as pale as a sheet, supported by a lion-like mane that Hermione recognised at the head of the Auror corps.
'Why would you think that?' Dumbledore asked, expression unusually grave.
'Bone of the father, unknowingly given. Flesh of the servant, willingly given. Blood of the enemy, unwillingly taken.' Mordred shot at him. 'A resurrection ritual for the desperate and depraved.'
Dumbledore's eyes widened, then he cast a quick glance at Umbridge and the minister. Then his eyes slid over the back row where a distinctive hook-nosed figure was concealed within the shadows before drifting towards Karkaroff, who was leaned in to talk in dark, private undertones to Krum.
'Severus, if you could visit the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow. I believe Miss Gorlois left something of importance there?'
'A plain diary.' Hermione supplied, recognising that for once they were on the same team.
'Minister, might I suggest a visit to those suspected of death eater activity in the last war?' Dumbledore suggested mildly.
'The last war…' Fudge echoed weakly. 'No, no. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead. Gone.'
'I'm afraid not, Minister…' Hermione turned away from the headmaster, leaving him to deal with the useless Minister of Magic and his lackey.
'Theo, warn your father.' Hermione instructed quietly.
'Already done.' Her classmate muttered in reply. He was pale, nervous, but well occluded. Hermione nodded in acceptance and turned to Ginny and Berg.
'Nothing.' Berg informed her. 'Harry's must have been the only one tampered with.'
'We think he's somewhere in the midlands.' Sirius pointed to a map, crudely carved into the wooden bench with Mordred's dagger. Several droplets of a dark, swirling substance that Hermione realised was the equivalent of his blood gathered around the midlands, shivering like the bench was vibrating.
A jolt of movement drew their attention to the busy maze entrance. Karkaroff had jolted away from Krum, his face going white as a sheet and his hand flying to meet his arm. A resurrected Voldemort had sent for his followers.
'Grab him!' Hermione cried, brandishing her finger in his direction. Mordred reacted immediately, dissolving into dark smoke and reappearing right behind the Durmstrang headmaster. The dark athame that had scratched the map onto the bench pressed a line across his throat. Several people screamed, but in the chaos of aurors blasting the maze to pieces the drama was missed. Sirius bounded over the barrier, landing in agile canine form and prowling towards the captured man. Cavella barked and followed, light winding with dark as the two Grim's approached. Hermione, after a moment of debate over the height, followed.
'Take us to him and you'll have my protection.' Hermione called. Karkaroff bared his teeth in a brutal approximation of a grin.
'Not a chance.' He spat. 'I have a plan to ensure my own safety. I'm not going near him.'
Cavella howled suddenly, tearing the attention of everyone in the vicinity to her. It was an unearthly sound that pierced her eardrums and seemed to tug unsettlingly at her soul. The sound cut off sharply, the hound fixing her eyes unwaveringly on Karkaroff.
'Looks like you've decided your fate.' Mordred snarled, thrusting him forwards so that he fell at Hermione's feet. The death eater had gone incredibly pale, his eyes shifted between Hermione, Cavella and the crowd.
'Bring us to Voldemort and I will ensure you're protected.' Hermione promised, quietly, kindly. Good cop to Mordred's bad. 'One service and you can live out the war behind Avalon's walls in absolute safety.'
For a moment, she thought Karkaroff would agree. His wide, terrified eyes stilled on her for a moment and he took in a steadying breath. It felt like every auror in the clearing around them was holding their breath as well.
Then he sneered, hand coming up to grasp at a golden ring on a chain around his neck.
'You cannot grasp the power of the Dark Lord. Your castle will fall as fast as every other ancestral home; I'm not fool enough to fall with it.' Karkaroff spat. Then, with the distinctive blue flash of a port key, he disappeared.
Sirius transformed back and swore, punching a fist into the wooden stands. Mordred uttered something similarly foul in Ogham and sheathed his knife with an aggressive snap. Show over, the rest of the aurors returned to their assigned tasks; shepherding spectators from the stands, searching the maze and dismantling the traps within.
'We must hope that Lord Nott can help us now.' Mordred growled. Hermione hissed out a breath, forcing everything back behind her occulumency barriers. She hadn't seen this side of the knight before; the Witch King, who'd used the darkest magic to seize control of a kingdom. The playfulness was buried as deeply as her fear, leaving a ruthless and experienced leader in it's place.
'Snape.' Hermione realised, glancing back up at the stands where Dumbledore was still in deep conversation with Fudge.
'Gone.' Sirius spat.
'Dumbledore had him looking for the diary. It's hidden in the roots beneath the Whomping Willow.'
'Right.' Sirius transformed back into canine form, bounding out of the stadium.
'What's he seeing Priestess?' Mordred asked. The darkness in his demeanour had faded somewhat, revealing a return to the knight she was more familiar with.
She cast the spell again, seizing the sect bond and using it to steal Harry's eyes for the third time.
Harry was still bound to the headstone in the graveyard, but the resurrected Voldemort prowled in the place of the cauldron. He was immensely tall with paper-pale skin made worse by pitch black robes. Slitted crimson eyes glowed evilly above a serpentine nose and thin, bloodless lips.
Surrounding him were the death eaters, arranged in a circle peppered with gaps that marked the dead and imprisoned. Hermione had never seen a death eater in garb before and now she thought it looked like some foul recreation of Samhain robes. Hermione had worn an iron mask in the shape of a skull every year as the ritual channel, an ancient artefact passed down through centuries that was so lifelike that it made her into an undead figure herself. These were crude replicas, lacking hollow cheeks and protruding bones and with grills over the mouth instead of the complex working of a skeletal jaw. They wore hooded battlerobes, like the ones that Lord Nott favoured, with tooled black leather breastplates and sleeveless, hooded robes, loosely fitted leather gauntlets and wand holsters at their belts. Perhaps the benefit of the loosely fitted uniform was that it throughly concealed any identifying features. Even Lord Nott, with his long silver beard and familiar stature, couldn't be picked from the rest.
Voldemort prowled around the circle, speaking with some and passing by others. One already shivered with the unmistakable after effects of the cruciatus, but the wand in his holster was pale wood. Hermione knew Lord Nott used a dark wand; he was safe so far. Quirrel, she noticed, had a new hand; it gleamed silver in the low moonlight… and then she finally found a recognisable feature of the man she'd been looking for.
Lord Nott was identical to the other death eaters in dress, except for the ring on his finger. None of the others wore their identifying family rings and he was no different. But on his fourth finger, where one would expect a wedding band to be, was the black goblin forged ring that Hermione had given him as an emergency portkey. He was next to Quirrel, beside a large gap and neatly across from Harry.
Then suddenly, unexpectedly, Voldemort twisted on his heel and lashed out with his wand. Crimson spell fire erupted from the tip and hit Harry's defenceless form… but he wasn't defenceless. Harry might not have his wand or be adept enough at wandless magic to work it without his hands free, but Hermione was his High Priestess and she could wield her magic through him.
You couldn't shield against an unforgivable but you could block them and the air was thick with fog, ripe to be turned into ice.
The spell collided with the delicate barrier, shattering it into crimson knives with a bell-like crash. Death eater's dropped in a desperate attempt to avoid savage shards. Voldemort flicked his wand, looking somewhere between shocked and furious.
'What is this?' He hissed, wand arching savagely with another spell. Hermione hastily shielded, but she'd only ever channelled magic through Mordred, who was as well equipped as she for wandless magic. Harry was good, but not at their level and she could feel him trying desperately to wandlessly sever his binds despite the panic and fear that pounded through his magic. Her shield took the hit, exploding with a concussive boom that sent the closest death eaters flying like rag dolls.
Hermione's vision tilted sickening as Henry succeeded in freeing himself and she withdrew hastily, knowing that he needed his eyes to survive the fight. But she didn't hesitate upon returning to her body. She send her magic racing out across the bond again, bolstering his strength. The magic of the sect surged through as well in a desperate tidal wave. Harry was alone against thirty adult wizards, including the most powerful wizard since Hermione's own brother.
'He's fighting.' Mordred informed the others for her. She could vaguely recognise that Neville, Theo and Ginny had joined them in the clearing, huddled in the shadows of the stadium above them but her concentration was consumed by her attempts to assist Harry's desperate fight. She felt him take a hit, then another. She seized control of his faltering shield, letting him focus on offence and retreat, weaving wild wind and furious family magic into it. Her ward was threatened and the family would not stand for it. Mordred's own dark fire joined her own, offered freely by her vassal as the shield was hammered by spell after spell.
And then, abruptly, it stopped.
Harry's magical presence flared to life right in front of them, accompanied by the blue flash of a portkey.
'Harry!' Ginny cried, reacting faster than all of them to reach his side. Berg was only fractionally later, medical kit already in hand. Hermione barely hesitated to conjure her patronus, sending the terrible unseelie creature galloping away to tell Sirius that Harry was back. Then she joined Berg at Harry's side, letting him recount the whole story through gasping breaths as Berg tended to his many small injuries.
The key had been a portkey, but it had taken him to the graveyard instead of back to the safety of the clearing. Quirrel had met him there, binding him and brewing a potion to bring Voldemort back to life.
For the benefit of those who hadn't been able to see it happen, Hermione let him tell the story to her gathered allies. Sirius bounded back into the clearing half way through, roughly embracing the recently healed champion and swearing revenge on everyone who'd been involved in the tournament.
From there, Harry's story continued. Hermione hadn't been able to hear the words that Voldemort spoke so she hadn't heard the story of his death and rebirth that had formed the monologue that she'd seen before the attack.
Harry then recounted duel - he'd been aware of it starting. He'd heard the incantations and Hermione's defences, but he hadn't been able to see the spells until she released his eyes back to him. He'd taken the intrusion remarkably well, trusting her to protect him whilst he focused on freeing himself. It was humbling, to hear the way he considered it a blessing rather than a violation.
When Hermione had withdrawn, he'd been forced to retreat and evade for the seconds it took to get his bearings. He'd managed a wandless shield, and then when Hermione had taken control of that it gave him the time and space to summon his wand and he was pretty sure he'd managed to jinx a couple of death eaters before they realised he could duel cast despite the power of his shield charm.
He'd managed to hide behind the shield until a death eater had snuck up behind him and Harry had almost jinxed him until the man spoke and he realised it was Lord Nott. At that point, Harry opened his hand to reveal the very same emergency portkey that Hermione had identified him by through Harry's eyes. Goblin forged silver, peaking through black stone in delicate Celtic knots and runes, unique to the wizard she'd gifted it to. Hermione reached out and took the ring, hoping desperately that Voldemort never learned that Thoros had given it to Harry and that the wrath of the dark wizard was withheld until she could return it to it's owner.
With the story finished, Hermione's allies finally allowed Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, Fudge and his unfortunate tail of Umbridge in to speak to Harry.
'Is he back?' Dumbledore demanded, before Madam Pomfrey had even had a chance to check him over.
'Yes.' Hermione snapped irritably.
'He's going to release the Lestranges and Pettigrew from Azkaban and bring back the giants.' Harry informed the headmaster and Minister urgently. 'And he said he has a servant at Hogwarts, who changed where my portkey was going.'
Fudge took a breath to respond but Umbridge surged forwards before he could.
'Really, Minister, this is the absurd, attention seeking behaviour that I have been warning you about all year. The Dark Lord has been dead for more than a decade, it's far more likely that Mr Potter is conspiring with Miss Grindelwald to incite panic. There is simply no proof that the Dark Lord had returned, or is even still alive.'
'Except for the bit where he possessed a teacher in our first year.' Neville pointed out, uncharacteristically angry. 'And where he unleashed a basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets two years ago and tried to murder muggleborns.'
'More attention seeking, Minister. It's clearly recurring behaviour - nobody except for Mr Potter and Miss Grindelwald witnessed this supposed exorcism, and lets be honest, an exorcism at eleven? Even if she had finished school in the 19th Century that would be unlikely. And the events of two years ago, again the only witnesses to the Dark Lord's appearance were members of her little group of friends.'
Fudge looked astounded.
'And think of the public panic that the Dark Lord's return would incite. Surely we need solid proof rather than the deluded declarations of a child.'
'Yes, yes.' Fudge looks rather frantic still, but at Umbridge's suggestion he visibly calms. Hermione's party looked on in disbelief.
'I can give you names.' Harry declared, 'Avery, Macnair, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle. They were all there; I wouldn't know that if I hadn't seen them there.'
It briefly looked like Fudge might be swayed by the simple proof, but then Umbridge spoke again.
'Hardly proof, Minister. Lord Nott has been a player in Grindelwald's circle since the beginning. He was a well known follower of the Dark Lord during the last war, even if we couldn't land a conviction. He could have easily shared those names with Mr Potter… Or he could have found them in trial records from the time.'
'You can't be serious?' Sirius demanded incredulously. 'Harry just told you that Voldemort has returned and you're saying it was an attempt to get more attention? You're going to ignore it?'
'Well… not quite, Lord Black. Delores is right, we need to gather evidence. We will of course send aurors to the estates of those named and interrogate them…'
'You know that won't stick, Fudge.' Black growled, 'it didn't last war and it won't now.'
'What about the key?' Neville suggested. 'Harry's key would show where he was taken. You can visit the graveyard and see proof of the ritual.'
'Yes!' Ginny agreed, 'we've already figured out that its in the midlands somewhere.'
'A graveyard in the midlands, Minister, that may show proof of a ritual described to us by Potter, in collusion with Miss Grindelwald. Might I remind you that Grindelwald employs a number of disreputable characters and any one of them might have prepared "evidence" at a graveyard.'
'Yes, yes, very true. Yes, I think the best course of action will be to investigate those named and discover their whereabouts tonight.' Fudge seemed mollified by the escape from admitting that Voldemort was back. Hermione's court watched in outrage as he bustled off, instructing the aurors to speak to the named parties the next morning - because disturbing them at this time of night was quite rude and unnecessary.
They were left alone with Dumbledore. The headmaster looked very grave.
'I shall, of course, reconvene the Order of the Phoenix.' Dumbledore informed them, looking meaningfully at Sirius.
'My place is with Harry, and Harry's place is with the one person whose consistently looked out for his interests.' Sirius gestured to Harry and Hermione.
'Of course. The Order of the Phoenix has always been voluntary.'
'And useless.' Berg muttered under his breath. Dumbledore ignored him.
'I would hope to regard you as allies in the fight against Voldemort.'
'Of course.' Hermione agreed, 'Avalon will always be open to those seeking safety.'
'Gellert Grindelwald was always one for action as well.' Dumbledore suggested leadingly and Hermione sneered.
'We are not your mindless followers, ready to risk life and limb on your whim. Perhaps, if there is justifiable need, I might risk our lives, but we are not pawns in your master plan.'
'I seem to remember the Order had a specific policy against underage members.' Sirius asked pointedly.
'Ah.' Dumbledore had the grace to pretend to be embarrassed. 'But by her own admission, Miss Gorlois is older than her years. And there are a significant number of you over age, and of not insignificant power and ability. I imagine Gellert will be rejoining your number at some point as well…'
'And will you stop us?' Hermione asked sceptically.
'I will try, of course, but I am wise enough to know that I am unlikely to succeed.' Dumbledore conceded, 'and my only solace is that he is unlikely to outlive the decade.'
Hermione gritted her teeth, remaining silent on the pages of notes kept in a hidden safe in the heavily warded Morgana Tower in Avalon. Gellert would not remain frail for much longer if she could help it and their enforced separation was beginning to force her hand on when to release him.
'Well, don't you have a flock of phoenixes to gather?' Berg demanded eventually, after the silence had stretched.
'Yes, he does.' Hermione confirmed, almost turning away from the headmaster before sharply turning back again, 'And an agent of Voldemort to find.'
'Of course.' Dumbledore breathed heavily, glancing up at the sky, then turned on his heel and strode out of the arena.
'We are all going to Avalon for the night.' She declared, checking for objections. 'Umbridge can eat her wand if she disagrees.'
There were no objections.