Author's Notes:

Here we are, the last chapter of Harry Potter, the Valerians, and the Goblet of Fire.

As I'm sure I mentioned at some point earlier in this series, the further along we go, the harder it is to finish one story while still posting the one before it.

The story to follow this one, Harry Potter, the Valerians, and the Shadow War, still has six chapters to be written before I am willing to start posting it. In addition, I have some major events in my family coming up in the next couple of weeks, so it will likely be several weeks, as opposed to one or two, before I come back with it.

Still, I hope you enjoy the final chapter of

Harry Potter, the Valerians, and the Goblet of Fire

Chapter Thirty-Eight-The Memorial

Hogwarts grieves the loss of Cedric Diggory and Dumbledore appeals for unity in the time to come.


Despite only receiving a few injuries from both the tournament's third task and the fight in the graveyard, Harry wasn't discharged from the infirmary for several days.

Healer Silva, Blaise's Mind Healer, had been called in to do an assessment of Harry's mental well-being after the ordeal and she had advised another several sessions – either with herself or another healer, given that she was also treating a close friend of his – because there was a great deal that Harry was holding onto that she was certain he wasn't sharing with Tarana or his friends.

Pomfrey was likewise holding out on releasing him, citing magical and physical exhaustion in addition to the mental and emotional trauma he had been put through in the tournament alone.

The Diggorys had attempted to get in to see him the morning after the fight, but Tarana had refused them entrance, at least as far as it was to see Harry himself.

\/\/\/

"Please," Amos had all but begged. "We just…we want to thank him…."

"I understand that this is traumatic and difficult for the both of you," Tarana had said, not unkindly. "I've buried more children than I can safely account for. However, Harry was forced to watch as Cedric was killed last night. Please understand that, as much as I wish to ease the weight you suffer under right now, I also need to ensure that retelling that tale isn't going to break him."

/\/\/\

It was three days before Tarana sent for the Diggorys, and Harry met them in one of the hospital wing's side rooms, the three of them settling into armchairs as Harry slowly and painfully recounted the third task, the portkey, and their son's swift death at the hands of Desmond Zabini's spell.

"I am so very sorry," he said thickly once the telling was finished. "If it hadn't been for me insisting we do it together he wouldn't-" he trailed off.

Tarana hissed quietly between her fangs. 'If I recall correctly, and I know I do, I was the one who insisted that the two of you take that Cup together, as joint champions of Hogwarts.'

Harry ignored her, as he had been for the last several days.

"It was absolutely not your fault, Harry Potter," Cedric's mother had said, surprisingly sharp considering she was so grief-stricken she couldn't even cry. The façade slipped away quickly, and she was left as shell-shocked as she had been most of the conversation. "We just…we wanted to thank you."

Harry blinked, startled.

"You brought him back to us, Potter," Amos said, voice thick with emotion and tears. "You didn't have to but…."

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "I did."

He hadn't told the Diggorys anything that happened beyond Zabini killing their son. He wasn't sure if it was going to help or hurt to know that their son's final wish was only that his body be reunited with his family.

His firm assertion, however, seemed to upset the Diggorys and he averted his gaze, giving them a few minutes to get themselves back together again.

"Here," he said, pulling the sack of galleons that had been dropped at his feet days earlier from his pocket and offering it to Cedric's mother. "Cedric should have won this. You should have it."

She recoiled as though the sack was going to attack or bite her.

"I couldn't," she said thickly, shaking her head. "You…you should keep it."

Harry flicked a glance toward Tarana.

'I imagine it's too close to blood money, to take the winnings of the tournament that essentially killed their son,' the queen murmured sadly.

As the Diggorys were leaving, Amos seemed to pull himself, with great difficulty, from his grief to turn back to the Potter Heir.

"You fight them, Potter," he said firmly, eyes bloodshot and voice cracking. "Don't you let my boy's sacrifice…. Don't you let it be for nothing."

Harry's green eyes burned as he looked up at the man. "It will never be for nothing," he said sharply. "And either by my hand or theirs," he gestured to Tarana, but encompassed the entire Collective with it, "Zabini will pay for it."

Amos nodded, sniffed, and walked out the door, leaving Harry to sag back into his chair.

Later, he would feel guilty for putting that weight on a child, but now, with the power that backed the boy, he could only feel vindicated.

'Quite the promise you just made, Harry,' Tarana said, coming to sit before her charge.

"It's not like we don't have a host of other things we want to make Desmond Zabini hurt for," Harry reminded her, closing his eyes.

Tarana didn't reply.

The door opened before either could break the silence and Draco dropped into the chair Amos Diggory had left several minutes earlier.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"They're grieving," Harry answered tiredly, not bothering to hide it from the sharp eyes of the Malfoy heir. "Nothing I didn't expect already."

Draco eyed the sack still in Harry's hand and nodded toward it. "Declined it?"

"Blood money, Tarana says," Harry answered, letting it drop to the ground with the clink of colliding coins. "Not like I want it either."

Draco didn't say anything and they fell into a comfortable silence.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured eventually.

Draco blinked at him.

"You had to help me again this year…at this rate, I don't know if I'll ever be able to start paying back the debt I owe you."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You still on about that shit from the train last year?" he asked.

Harry tilted his head and opened one eye to watch his friend's expression. "Aren't you?"

Draco raised a brow. "Potter, I've been spending most of my free time with you this year, what the hell are you on about?"

Harry shrugged and turned his head. "Just…feels different, I guess, since last year. Farther away…."

Draco tipped his head back, eyeing the ceiling.

He wasn't wrong.

Draco had spent nearly as much time in the dungeons and library with Theo and Pansy – and by default his cousin – as he did his friends in Gryffindor this year, which was certainly more than he had in any of the years previous, even with the assistance he'd given Harry in researching ways to survive the tournament.

"They're…I grew up with them," Draco said eventually. "We grew up the same. I guess that's going to mean more now, than it did before, with the Dark Lord back and all."

Harry grimaced.

"What's your father going to do?"

Draco shrugged, not bothering to deny that Lucius Malfoy had likely been in the graveyard when Voldemort had returned.

"I don't know," he said. "I haven't spoken with him."

Harry watched him, before leaning forward. "Our house is always open," he said, ignoring Tarana as she turned her head to look at him, her pride and surprise flickering down the Bond.

Draco exhaled. "It shouldn't be a problem," he said slowly, remembering Fallen's assurances of the same. "Fallen's still written into the wards and hell will freeze over before he lets the Dark Lord onto the property."

Harry tilted his head, reading his friend's unease. "Desmond tore the wards from Yoko," he said for them both.

"Desmond was an easy target," Tarana said. "He had little to no care for anyone or anything, and I'm not entirely sure that the man wouldn't have done what he did at the Mansion even without being a Thrall to the Traitor. Lucius is already, by all appearances, loyal to Dark and their cause. There's no need to get access to Malfoy Manor when they already have access to the Lord of it.

"It would also prove useless when we're now watching for such strange behavior in those around us, particularly those protecting our sanctuaries."

Neither Harry nor Draco looked reassured by her words.

XX

Harry spent another two days in the infirmary before he was finally released.

In some ways, he wished he'd remained inside it.

The students of Hogwarts didn't outright ask him about what had happened that had resulted in returning outside the maze with a dead body and an enraged panther, for which he was thankful.

Ron had revealed that Dumbledore had requested that any such interrogation wait until Harry was ready to talk about it.

Instead, his schoolmates were pausing in the corridors to whisper to one another behind their palms and side-eye him in class.

Harry found himself too exhausted to worry about whatever it was they were saying, though he was sure it was some variation on Rita Skeeter's last article.

It had surprised them all that Skeeter hadn't reported on the end of the tournament or the death of Cedric Diggory – well, most of them anyway. Hermione had seemed rather smug when Ron had brought it up at lunch one afternoon.

At the end of his first full week out of the infirmary, Harry was surprised when the twins dropped onto either side of the end of his bed, jarring the velvet sack he'd been staring at for the last twenty minutes.

"Alright there, Harry?" Fred asked him.

Harry shrugged. "I still have to have sessions with Silva after we get back to the Cottage but…I guess I've been trying to distract myself. Figure out what I'm going to do with this." He nudged the bag until it fell over, the clink of coins loud in the empty dorm. "I've got money coming in from the businesses my family has and I don't need this. It's pretty much a payout from the Ministry anyway. I didn't really win the tournament, and they're going to be asshats soon enough that I'm pretty sure I won't want to spend it even if I had to."

The twins exchanged glances, not sure what to say, then Harry startled them by reaching out and tossing the sack to Fred.

"You two should take it."

Fred's eyes narrowed on the teen even though he'd instinctually raised his hand to catch the sack heading toward his head. "Harry-"

Harry leaned back against his pillows. "If you don't take it, I'll have to find a way to stash it into one of your trunks and, considering I'm sure you've got one product or another in there, Tarana would have to avenge me or something when I did it. Easier this way."

George frowned. "You sure?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "Yeah. But don't go thinking you can do whatever you want with it. I've got a say in where it goes."

The twins looked at one another, then back at the younger Gryffindor.

"What'dya have in mind?" Fred asked.

"Add it to whatever Draco's funneling out of his trust. Open that joke shop. We're going to need all that and more before long, I'm sure of it."

Fred laughed and George grinned.

"What gave it away?"

Harry shrugged. "Little things. You two spent more time in the library this year than I've ever seen you before, given how you pretty much float through all your classes and exams, and how you kept shoving parchment at him the last few months. At first, I thought it was because of whatever your other issue was, then I realized that Draco's been helping you since our First Year. I'm willing to bet that he'd be a silent backer, but only if you passed a list of requirements as tall as he is."

George rubbed his forehead with exaggeration. "You know, I'm pretty sure I've seen more books on business this year than exam ones." He admitted.

Harry snickered.

XX

The Leaving Feast was, usually, a cheerful affair, the Great Hall decorated in the colors of the House that won the House Cup of that year.

But when the Gryffindors walked in, the air was solemn and black drapes hung from the beams above and, instead of the House banners, the wall behind the Head Table bore four solid black ones.

A mark of respect for the fallen Cedric Diggory.

Dumbledore wasn't sitting at the table when they arrived, nor had anyone seen the Valerians all afternoon.

The Headmaster stepped out of the room beside the Head Table several minutes later, the Valerians at his heels.

The four of them sat - Arcana and Fallen on his left and Tarana and Yoko on his right - when the Headmaster stepped up to a golden podium at the edge of the stairs.

"The end," the man said solemnly, "of another year." He paused, casting his gaze over the assembled students, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang alike, gaze stuttering over the Hufflepuff table, home of the saddest, palest, and wretched faces in the Great Hall.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all," Dumbledore said, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured to the Hufflepuffs, though there was really no need. "Enjoying our feast with us. Please. Stand and raise your glasses to Cedric Diggory."

The Hall stood and solemnly echoed the teen's name in one, loud rumbling voice.

"This young man's death has affected you all," the man said as the echo faded and everyone returned to their seats. "I think, therefore, that you have the right to know exactly how it came about."

The Valerians straightened at the wizard's side but didn't speak.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

The words were like a shot in the silent Hall, causing whispers to sweep throughout it. As swiftly as they began, they ended.

"The Ministry of Magic," the Headmaster continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. Some of your parents may be horrified that I have done so – either because they do not wish to believe the truth of this, or because you are all still so very young…." He trailed off for a moment before gathering himself. "It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as a result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to the young man and does a disservice to his memory."

The Great Hall was rippling with tension, all eyes were on the Headmaster.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was, and has always been, to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened – of the return of Voldemort – such ties are more important than ever. We face this threat alongside the Crown and Collective of Valeria, but that does not dismiss the links and friends we have made with one another. Every guest in this Hall," his gaze lingered tellingly over the Durmstrang students, now without their Headmaster, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come."

The Headmaster bowed his head and Arcana got to his paws.

"In light of your Dark Lord's return," he said, "Valeria's Collective stands with those who would stand against him. Against the creatures and people that he will try and subjugate you with. Voldemort and his partner have a gift for spreading discord and animosity. For causing enmity where there has never been before. Many of those within these walls have suffered, indirectly or directly, at the hands of Voldemort and his allies in the past. Many years ago, families were torn apart by his actions. Even more recently, a student you have all known was killed simply because he strayed across that man's path.

"Voldemort is a danger. But he is not all-powerful. He is not without weakness. Stand together against this threat, even if you never grace a battlefield, and his strength will falter. Stand bravely against the hatred of Voldemort and Dark and remember the boy who did the same."

Arcana ducked his head as Tarana got to her paws.

"Cedric Diggory exemplified Hufflepuff House and the qualities held within it. A good, loyal friend who worked hard and valued fair play. I've watched this young man as he grew in my four years here. I watched as he put himself at risk not once, but twice to save a student that he barely knew. I watched him put his all into this tournament, to bring honor to the Hogwarts House people belittle and forget about. It is rare that I see such goodness in humans, particularly in one so young. I will remember him for that strength and devotion. For the spirit he brought to this castle. Valeria grieves with you tonight."

Tarana ducked her head but Fallen and Yoko raised theirs.

Fallen had a reputation as being a difficult to impress taskmaster and a terror to anyone who approached him.

He ruined it, by releasing a low, melodic howl into the grim air of the Great Hall. It shifted tones several times but it was always mournful.

Harry closed his eyes as memories of Cedric, wand raised, and expression determined as they stood against the acromantula in the maze.

Draco remembered the teen as he had descended in a maelstrom of malevolence and cold to help him and Fred prevent Harry from falling to his death, as everyone else fled a swarm of dementors.

Everyone had at least one memory of the Hufflepuff, where his loyalty and good nature shone.

And as Fallen sang – for there was no other word for it – Yoko twisted a tree, white with silver leaves, through the stone floor behind the Head Table.

When the song ended and Tarana had stepped back beside the Headmaster, the tree seemed to shine, casting a glow over the area around it.

"And I ask you all," Dumbledore said, "to remember him as well. If there ever comes a time when you must make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember the boy who stood. Who was good, and kind, and brave, who we have lost because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember the boy who chose what is right and will live forever because of it.

"Remember Cedric Diggory."