Harsh Truths

Chapter 1


Harry's eyes widened as the red light of the Cruciatus Curse struck his chest. Time seemed to slow down for a sole moment, and he swore he could not feel the pain- only an odd tingling sensation. And then it hit him. He screamed.

He felt as if someone had removed his lungs from his chest, and that hot needles were digging into every orifice on his skin. He felt the desire to curl up into a ball and give up, and simply die. He needed this to end, for it to all be over. But he remembered who had cast this upon him- the same man who had taken away everything good away from him, and the same man who was the cause of everything bad in his life. He would not submit. He was better than this. And so he clenched his teeth and opened his eyes and forced his throat to stop the screaming, and so the pain dulled ever so slightly before vanishing. He looked up to see a trult grotesque smile stretched across the face of Voldemort.

"Did you enjoy that Potter? You endured it remarkably well for someone who's only felt it once before. Why, some of my friends here begged to die after after a few mere seconds of it. I suppose there is a reason you are the Chosen One after all. Though it shall not matter- your fate is to die here, tonight, at my hands."

Harry slowly clawed at the ground, picking himself up from the floor, eyes hardened in steely determination. He would not let Voldemort get the better of him again. He would live.

"I think we need to teach you a lesson first," said Voldemort with eerie mirth. "Imperio!"

But Harry was ready this time, flinging himself behind the gravestones that lay to his left and where Cedric's dead body lay just a few metres nearby, though out in the open. The Imperius Curse flew into the empty hair and dissipated in the night sky. "Come out Potter! Don't be a weakling like your filthy parents! Face me and die like a true hero!"

Harry felt a few tears splash against his rugged hands and worn out wand, the stark realisation coming to him that he was well and truly cornered. "Why was life so unfair?" he thought, coming to grips with the truth that he was most likely going to die. But he couldn't die. He was simply not allowed to. There was too much dependent on him. Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, the rest of his friends and whatever unlikely family he was going to make in the future. The fate of the wizarding world- all the children and women and men that saw him as the only saviour against the Dark Lord. Even Dumbledore- the most powerful of them all- had placed his hopes in him. He could not afford to let them all down.

Because that was the truth of his life- he could not live it how he wanted to. He was far too embedded in its mysteries, almost intrinsically connected with Voldemort through the acts that had taken place that fateful night. He was a symbol rather than a person, and he would have to embrace it if he wanted any chance of surviving and living as happy of a life he would be allowed to.

Before Voldemort could do anything more, Harry jumped out from the gravestones and yelled "Expelliarmus!" with a jet of light meeting Voldemort's "Avada Kedavra!" instead of simply being fired from his wand. The spells remained connected to their user's wands and joined in mid-air, where something unique began to take place. It was a battle of willpower now more than anything and they were evenly matched as far as Harry could no tell.

Where the two spells had connected had turned gold now, and there was a dome that had been erected around them. "Do nothing!" screamed Voldemort for he was far too prideful to request help from insubordinates.

Ghostly figures were now coming from the golden light connecting the two spells together. First the apparation of a hand emerged from the tip of Voldemort's wand before vanishing into the air, and then the bodies of Cedric, the old man from Harry's dream and Bertha Jorkins. They were pleading him to go on and win, and soon more figures began to emerge. His mother's head reared itself, almost making Harry stumble in disbelief and his father followed suit.

But he could not acknowledge them at this point. He had to do this himself- he could not let them die again for his sake, and he could not rely on their sacrifices any further. Harry gritted his teeth and held his wand with two hands, waiting for the most opportune time to let go. And it came shortly when he saw the slightest flicker of doubt in Voldemort's eyes, so he dragged his wand away all of a sudden, breaking the connection and ran.

Harry dodged the jets of lights of various colours knowing that a single hit would do unspeakable things to his hit; he jumped and ducked and controted his body to desparately avoid the streaming spells and ran over to Cedric's cold and lifeless body. Holding the wand in his right hand, he pointed it at the Triwizard Cup and hoped his guess would be right. "Accio!" he shouted and the cup flew to him. He grabbed it with his hand and felt a little tug onto his stomach, and looked around at the deathly star of Voldemort and terrified faces of his Death Eaters.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" screamed Voldemort just as Harry and Cedric's body vanished. The stream of green light frizzled against the ground uselessly.


Harry landed on the podiumm of the Triwizard Tournament and the crowd erupted with what was a very ill-fitting cheer. "And ladies and gentlemen- the winner of the Trizizard Tournament is...Harry Potter!" yelled the commentator revelling in the moment. "And who's he got with him? Is that...Cedric Diggory?" His voice had dulled a bit as he took in what was actually going on. "My word- they're not moving. And Potter's got blood all over him. Something's gone very wrong, somebody get some help! I think Diggory might be dead!"

This was what set the crowd off, the final statement, for they had too begun to realise that nothing everything was perfect. Harry could scarcely hear himself think over the erupting shrieks and yells of the people watching on, and before he could do anything further a pair of weathered hands seized him. It was Albus Dumbledore and Harry's erratic breathing calmed slightly as he realised the most powerful wizard in the world was beside him.

"Harry...Harry," he said as calmly as he could. "What happened?"

"He's back...Voldemort's back," gasped Harry still reeling from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. As he said this, the ungainly figure of Fudge appeared over his sprawling body.

"My god Dumbledore...Diggory's dead! He's actually dead." This ignited the crowd's fear even further and they're cries of panic now turned into a stampede that Harry could feel reverberating around his head. Shouts of 'He's dead' gathered amongst the crowd and soon the entire massing of people were echoing that, and this fear grew amongst them all.

"Voldemort's back," repeated Harry, "Voldemort's back...he's really back." That was all harry could manage to say, the image of the Dark Lord burned into his head. He could feel some strength start to come back to him, simply through natural recovery and the almost placebo-like effect of Dumbledore next to him.

"That's utter nonsense!" yelled Fudge. "He can't be back. You-Know-Who simply can't be back. You're lying," persisted Fudge unable to believe his ears. Everything that he had worked for could collapse in the few hours that would follow if the Potter boy was telling the truth- he could not allow that to happen. He's spent too long getting magical society up to this point.

"Cornelius," said Dumbledore with a hint of anger, "I hope you are not suggesting one of my students is lying."

"Of course not Dumbledore, but he's not telling the truth either. He can't be."

"Professor," gasped Harry. "Look at me. I'm telling the truth," said Harry as his eyes met Dumbledore's. "I swear he's back. I saw him myself. He killed Cedric...he did this to me." Harry gestured desparately at both Cedric's body and the blood streaming down his face and hands.

"Cornelius," said Dumbledore calmly. "If Voldemort truly is back, and I do believe he is, do you realise what this will mean? Everything could be destroyed. Society as we know it will crumble and people will die. All this will happen if you will not put aside your ego and admit he's back. And do you understand what will happen to you. You are the symbol of Magical Society- the Minister of Magic- and if you are taken out, it will send a message. You will be the first target of Voldemort's return, and even if you survive the public will go for your head first. A Minister too arrogant to accept his wrongdoings, one that caused the deaths of so many because he could not set aside his prejudices. Is that what you truly want, Cornelius?"

The twinkle had vanished from Dumbledore's eyes and had been replaced by unbridled fury that Fudge seemed to visibly melt under. "Well no, Dumbledore, but he can't be back," stammered Fudge uselessly. "There must be something else, anything else!" Dumbledore simply raised an eyebrow at Fudge's excuses.

But before Fudge could respond, Moody had come up to the trio. "The boy needs the Hospital Wing Albus," said Moody prying Harry away from Dumbledore. "I'll take him whilst you sort out this mess." Moody snarled at Fudge before helping Harry walk with him back into the castle, leaving the noise of the crowd behind them.


"No!" muttered Harry unable to believe his ears. "It couldn't have been you. You're mad- you're insane- they'll stop you-" The journey there was hazy in his mind but he had understood enough. Moody's confession, his admittance and explanation about everything that he had done was clear in his head and the shock had brought some clarity to his mind and he was beside himself in surprise.

"You really are thick Potter," growled Moody. "But it does not matter. The Dark Lord will reward me handsomely after I bring him news of your demise. For I will conquer you!"

Suddenly, the door flew off its hinges and smashed against the wall, and Moody was blasted back onto the floor of his office. Harry snapped his head to see the trio of Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape standing in the doorway, Dumbledore's hand gripped in his hand and eyes burning with fire. It was at this point Harry truly understood why Voldemort feared Dumbledore for the kind look he always had was gone and had been replaced by an aura of cold fury.

"Come along Potter," said McGonagall, clearly concerned about Harry's state. "You need to go to the Hospital Wing."

"No Minerva," said Dumbledore. "He needs to understand."

"But Albus-"

"Understanding is the first step towards acceptance. And only through acceptance can healing begin." Dumbledore kneeled over Moody's unconscious body and pulled his hip flask out, and gestured to Snape to bring something. "This is not Alastor Moody. For Alastor Moody would never remove you from my sight," he said to Harry. "Not after the events of today. That's when I knew he wasn't Moody."

"But who is it?" asked Harry

"That's what we're about to find out, Harry."


AN/ I don't want to rewrite stuff that everybody's read 100 times from the actual books, which is why I didn't bother with Moody's confession or why I won't write all off Moody's interrogation because it's quite pointless when everyone knows what is about to happen. This is the same reason why I don't think rewriting Diagon Alley scenes from book 1 is pointless unless there are major changes. Following chapters will definitely be longer.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter and feel free to leave a review!