A.N.: Continuing in the theme of 'What if the adults actually behaved like experienced, mature wizards?'

Eldest of the Pleiades

The Pensieve

The great bear-like black dog stared at Dumbledore for a moment, tilted his head to one side, and suddenly, Sirius the man was sat so close beside Harry that he was almost in his godson's lap.

For the first time all night, Harry got a good look at his godfather, and was quite pleasantly surprised by what he saw. The last time they had spent time together was their visit in the Three Broomsticks, where Sirius had thrown caution to the wind and grinned at his own daring as he transformed to sit with Harry, Ron and Hermione in one of Madam Rosmerta's private parlours for tea, crumpets and counselling - ironically enough, discussing the madness of Mr Crouch.

Harry glanced from Sirius to the captured Death Eater, stunned at the hollow victory, finally figuring out what it all meant.

He was a touch gratified that their instincts had been on point.

Since the night Harry had helped him evade the Kiss by fleeing into the mountains on the condemned Buckbeak, Sirius' appearance had changed dramatically. A jaunt in foreign, exotic climates, good food and freedom had worked wonders, and perhaps a good amount of magic, too, for Sirius' appearance was remarkably more similar to that of the handsome young man who had laughed at Harry's parents' wedding - older, of course; Sirius was now thirty-five, not twenty. Harry had sent him new robes, chocolate, some books and a cake whipped up by the house-elves for his birthday in November, the first Sirius had received in thirteen years - Harry had felt the same way he thought Hagrid must have, that night in the hut on the rock when he had told Harry he was a wizard, and given Harry his first ever cake… Pride. It had felt like giving Sirius a home-coming, a well-deserved "Welcome back."

His first reappearance since last June, Sirius had sported a very severe haircut. His dark hair had now grown out, thicker and healthier than Harry remembered, though it was past his shoulders again, and tousled from his change; he tossed his head and his hair settled with a kind of casual elegance that Harry's would never achieve. His tall frame had bulked out considerably, and Harry was sure Sirius' muscles could give the Weasley twins a run for their money, for life as Madam Rosmerta's pet at the Three Broomsticks meant a high protein diet of anything he wanted from the pub kitchens, and unfettered freedom to roam the village and pelt across the Hogwarts grounds with Fang the boarhound, a not unusual sight nowadays. Students knew him as Madam Rosmerta's dog and gave him scraps from the House tables if they saw him.

Harry's only concern had been Snape, tipping the Ministry off.

He hadn't, and Sirius showed signs of starting to recover physically from his time in Azkaban. He no longer looked skeletal and horrifying; his cheekbones would always be dramatic, Harry thought, and he reflected dejectedly on his godfather's impressive jawline and the vivid grey eyes that settled with a challenging, imperious kind of arrogance on the group of Aurors - were they a group? A cluster? An antagonism of Aurors? - as he sprawled beside Harry, almost goadingly.

Mrs Weasley jumped as if jinxed, shrieking, "Sirius Black!"

"It's alright, Mrs Weasley," Harry reassured her tiredly.

"A charming hunt you've led me on, Black," said Shacklebolt in his deep voice; Sirius didn't look the least bit apologetic, in fact, he wasn't even looking at the antagonism of Aurors, all of whom had their wands drawn.

Sirius was looking at Ellaria Scamander.

And it was only as her gaze locked on his that Harry saw a flicker of uncertainty, of contrition, dart across Sirius' face.

His wife…

In an instant, Harry realised three things: That Ellaria had had no idea that Sirius was an unregistered Animagus; that this was the first time Ellaria and Sirius had seen each other in years; and that he, Harry, was unwittingly sat between them, a human shield.

Suddenly the air seemed breathless, seemed to crackle with tension. Harry shrank down where he sat, and Remus squeezed his shoulder lightly.

Sirius stood slowly, unfolding to an impressive height, his eyes locked on Ellaria's face as if mesmerised. "Hello, Ell." Ellaria's expression was stricken, her warm cocoa skin paling noticeably. Faster than Harry expected, Sirius dived toward her, gripping her wrist so her wand pointed away before her jinx could hit him, the jet of light dislodging a picture. No-one intervened as Sirius pulled Ellaria closer. He was taller than her by half a head, but he ducked to press his forehead against hers, raising his other hand to cradle her cheek. They never broke eye-contact, and Harry stared, feeling flushed, unable to look away, feeling like an intruder in a searing, intimate moment. His thumb tenderly stroking her scarred cheek, nuzzling his nose against hers, it was an intimate, heart-breaking reunion. With a look of intense relief, Sirius rested his forehead against hers, their eyes speaking, and her wand-arm lowered, her wand held loosely in her elegant, ringed fingers.

"Come here," he murmured, and drew her into a tight embrace. Harry caught the brief look of complete devastation flicker across Ellaria's face before she clutched her hands in his robes. He whispered something in her ear that made her lower-lip tremble, even as she gave a throaty laugh.

Harry thought he heard Sirius murmur, "You still drip sex, Ria," before they broke apart, and Ellaria flashed him a searing look, smirking.

"You look good, Sirius," she replied casually, and Sirius shrugged, but he looked pleased when she reached up to cradle his cheek in her hand. Dark and light, scarred and worn, the two had definitely had a hard time of the last thirteen years, much like Remus, who still stood beside Harry with his hand on his shoulder, as if he wanted to reassure himself that Harry was still there.

Then the atmosphere changed, and Harry was aware that Dumbledore was looking at him, and he suddenly realised, this was the part he had dreaded the most. Dumbledore was going to ask him to relive it. The sense of numbness and complete unreality that had settled in him since Crouch's testimony started now started itching, shedding itself, under the solemn gaze of Professor Dumbledore behind those half-moon spectacles. Harry avoided his gaze.

"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the Maze, Harry," he said gently.

Mrs Weasley and Sirius blurted their heated disagreement at the same time - "We can leave that 'til morning, can't we?" - "He needs a Healer, Professor, just look at him!" Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward the two of them, but Dumbledore paid them no mind; slowly, unwillingly, Harry raised his head, and looked into those blue eyes.

"If I thought I could help you," he said gently, "by putting you into an enchanted sleep, and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."

"Dumbledore…you have a Pensieve, do you not? I think I remember one in your office." It was Ellaria who spoke, and when Harry glanced up, he realised that she was looking shrewdly at the Aurors and the two reporters gathered in the room, the professors, Lupin, Bill Weasley. "Sometimes showing is more effective than telling."

For a moment, Harry thought Dumbledore was going to ignore Ellaria. Then, he let out a small sigh, let his blue eyes roam over Harry's blood-soaked, exhausted form, and nodded.

"You are right, of course," he said, eyeing the Aurors, Madam Bones. "Harry…do you consent to us examining your memories of this evening in the Pensieve?" Harry glanced at Sirius, who gave him a grim smile. Harry nodded. Dumbledore glanced at Madam Bones. "As Headmaster of Hogwarts and charged with the care and custody of Harry Potter, will it suffice that I give my permission for Magical Law Enforcement to encroach upon Harry's memories?"

"Indeed, Dumbledore," Madam Bones nodded sternly.

"Then - Severus, might I ask you to remain and stand guard over Crouch until the Hit Wizards arrive from the Ministry?" Snape gave a sharp nod, glowering at the captive.

"Sir, the elf?" Ellaria murmured, glancing at Winky.

"Ah… Winky…" Dumbledore addressed the tiny, grubby elf. "When Hit Wizards from the Ministry arrive, I am afraid they will escort Master Crouch back to Azkaban, where he will await retrial. You may be called upon to testify in front of the Wizengamot… I do not wish you to be harmed, so I therefore ask that you not interfere when they make the arrest." Winky's eyes filled with tears, but she dipped in a clumsy, grief-stricken curtsy, still holding on to the shimmering silver chain. "Winky…I commend you, for such extraordinary loyalty to your family. You took such great care of them, it could not be more evident how deeply you loved them." Winky's lips trembled, and tears coursed down her face.

"I is - I is loving them for all of my life," Winky choked and squeaked, and Mrs Weasley suddenly reached out. Winky shuddered and cried, and Mrs Weasley's eyes were damp as she patted the tiny elf's shoulder, looking stricken.

Harry stared at the elf, and for a moment, was relieved that Mr Crouch had given her clothes. She had not been in the house when Lord Voldemort appeared and wrought such devastation on her family; Harry felt certain she would have been collateral damage, thought no more of than Voldemort had thought of Wormtail, twitching and bleeding on the ground.

He wondered what Hermione would think to Crouch's testimony.

Ellaria produced another of the small chocolates from her seemingly bottomless pockets and gave it to Winky, who cradled the sweet in one long-fingered hand, tears still coursing down her face, but as the adults gathered and started making their way to Professor Dumbledore's office, Harry saw her unwrap and eat the chocolate, gazing sadly at Barty Crouch, but no longer crying.

Sirius and Remus helped Harry hobble to Dumbledore's office, past the gargoyle, and he was the only one given a chair in front of Dumbledore's great desk. The Pensieve was brought out from its cabinet, the memories emptied into labelled vials, and there was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix had taken flight across the room, landing lightly on Harry's knee.

It was Ellaria who approached Harry, her wand drawn. Sirius had his hands bracingly on his shoulders, but Harry didn't flinch, even at the sight of Ellaria's scarred face and shudder-inducing damaged eye. After what he had seen tonight, if what he had endured tonight was a taste of what Aurors went through… Harry thought she was all the more beautiful because of her scars.

"It won't hurt, I promise, Harry," she said gently.

"What - what do I have to do?" he asked, never having given a memory for the Pensieve before.

"Picture what happened in your mind, Harry, when you touched the Portkey," Ellaria said gently. Fawkes settled neatly on his knee, but Harry winced and glanced down at his battered leg, and he was suddenly remembering the Acromantula, arguing with Cedric over taking the Cup, taking it together, appearing in the shadowy cemetery, and everything that happened after. Regret burned in his veins, that he hadn't taken it when Cedric insisted, and Ellaria had placed the tip of her wand gently to his temple, already removing a shining silvery memory.

He wondered fleetingly why bad memories weren't a different colour, and watched as his memory was transferred to the Pensieve. He could still - he could still remember everything in the Maze, the graveyard, the memory had not been stolen or erased, and a sense of grief settled in the pit of his stomach. He had been hoping the memory would be gone.

The Pensieve glowed with his memory. Safe in Dumbledore's gargoyle-guarded office, with Fawkes a comforting warmth on his knee to watch over him, Harry was finally, blessedly, and for the first time all day, left alone. He didn't have to answer any questions, didn't have to think, didn't have to do anything but sit and stroke Fawkes's warm feathers. One by one the adults descended into the Pensieve, into his memories, even a pale Mrs Weasley, who seemed torn between staying with Harry, and witnessing first-hand what he had endured.

He felt sure he had been in the Pensieve longer, when he fell into Dumbledore's thoughts, but perhaps time worked differently in memories. In what felt like no time at all, the Pensieve was regurgitating everyone back into the office. Mrs Weasley was white as a sheet and had her hands clamped over her mouth in horror; Ellaria looked like she had been carved from stone, her face was so stoic, but her eyes were burning, flashing with intent; and Lupin looked completely devastated. Tears glinted in Sirius' eyes, spilling over his cheeks, a muscle in his jaw working…Harry thought he had been affected by seeing his parents… McGonagall was paler and the line of her mouth thinner than Harry had ever seen it, her eyes sparkling. A wide-eyed Tonks was shaking all over, leaning on straight arms over Dumbledore's desk, retching; Lupin turned to gently pat her back, murmuring something soothing as she panted and gasped.

Fawkes tilted his head to one side, and let out a quavering note that slipped down into Harry's stomach like his favourite treacle tart, soothing every one of the adults, who looked shaken and upset.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs Weasley gasped, her face tear-stained.

"It's my fault," he said hoarsely, staring at the rug at their feet, as Kingsley Shacklebolt clambered out of the Pensieve, followed by Rufus Scrimgeour.

"What?" Sirius barked gruffly, frowned at him as if utterly bemused, blinking tears away. He reached up a shaking hand to wipe his face, his eyes bright.

"I told Cedric to take the Cup with me - it's my fault." His voice broke, and Sirius' face went slack, his eyes very bright.

"It is not your fault!" Mrs Weasley cried vehemently, and she did something no-one else had yet done. Fawkes fluttered out of the way as she descended upon Harry, and pulled him into a hug.

Harry had no memory of being embraced like this, as if by a mother.

His throat burned, his eyes stung, and he shook with violent, silent sobs, clinging to Mrs Weasley, as she whispered, "You brave boy…oh, you brave, brave boy…" over and over again, stroking his hair.

Any questions the Aurors had were answered by Harry's memories, or by Crouch's testimony. Eventually, Mrs Weasley let go of him, settling him back into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, more exhausted than he had felt all night, and Fawkes ruffled his feathers, resting his head against Harry's leg; Harry reached down and gently stroked his head, barely listening to the adults talking over each other, their fear and a new sense of urgency palpable.

They discussed Voldemort's speech - the theft of Harry's blood had Sirius and Dumbledore examining his arm, Ellaria bewildered by Voldemort's thoughtlessness - "Lily's blood, Dumbledore... I would not have believed his supreme arrogance if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes…" His parents' old friends were grief-stricken by Lily and James' reappearances during what Dumbledore called Priori Incantatum - the reverse-spell effect… Harry learned that his own wand's phoenix tail-feather core had come from Fawkes…as had Voldemort's. The Aurors had irrefutable evidence of the Death Eaters roaming free, and were vibrating with fury, bristling with purpose, arguing amongst themselves as to the best course of action.

"Harry…" Dumbledore spoke gently, and the adults quietened respectfully to listen. The ancient wizard gazed at Harry with clear blue eyes brimming with pride. "I will say it again… You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort 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 we have a right to expect from you."

Harry flicked his gaze from face to face, almost embarrassed to linger; but he saw something etched into the grim lines of their faces as they stared at him. Deep respect. They suddenly all seemed much older, even handsome Bill and colourful Tonks, and Ziggy's prettiness had hardened to resolve.

The Aurors' scars seemed more vivid, more poignant because of his experience tonight.

Whatever they had read about him in the Daily Prophet was forgotten; Harry's true character had shown itself in the Pensieve and the attention-seeking boy they might have thought they knew was replaced by an image of their own creation. A fighter - a survivor; a brave, stubborn, emotional boy who had risked his neck to bring a dead schoolmate home to his parents, who had made sure the first thing he did on his return was to warn the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared…

They wanted to go over Harry's memory in detail: The Death Eaters; Harry's blood, the potion that revived Voldemort; the obscure phenomenon that occurred when two wands met their brothers and were forced to duel; the absurd obedience of the snake Nagini; Bertha Jorkins and the Muggle man; and Crouch's testimony.

They argued about what had to happen next.

It was in the midst of the clamouring that Cornelius Fudge made his appearance.

He blustered about Aurors and Hit Wizards descending upon Hogwarts without his approval; irritated that he had been left to "deal with" Mr and Mrs Diggory alone; dismissive of the story Snape had told him about Crouch's testimony; and apoplectic at the sight of them all gathered around Harry, seeking answers and guidance from Dumbledore. Sirius was conspicuous as a dog, again, growling low and menacing as Fudge shouted.

Had things been different, the war that followed might have gone a drastically different course.

As it was, the shrieking argument that followed, about Crouch's "lunacy", Fudge's tantrum about Dumbledore summoning his Aurors and Heads of Department to Hogwarts after an accidental death - "children died in the Tournament all the time, Dumbledore, Diggory is no different, an accident in the Maze, a counter-curse gone wrong, for all we know that half-cracked boy's just trying to cover up Diggory's death, he may even have caused it" - and the snide, cold way in which Fudge now regarded Harry - "You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Minister" - was one Harry would remember for years to come.

It was the exact moment when Fudge lost the respect of everyone in the room, some of the most talented and influential people in the country. The most dangerous people in the country.

It also marked the beginning of Fudge's swift and dramatic descent from power.

Debates Harry knew nothing about, over actions that were deemed, merely a week ago, to be too drastic, were decided in the breathless, disdainful silence following Fudge's tantrum - quietly, but definitively.

Everyone in Dumbledore's office saw Fudge for what he was - a blustering, angry little wizard too frightened of losing his own power to acknowledge the true, devastating danger they were all in.

Fudge left, and the adults turned to Dumbledore, as if they had never even interrupted. Harry briefly wondered what it meant that their Minister for Magic, the head of their government, could so easily be disregarded at this most crucial moment.

"Fudge's attitude, while not unexpected, changes everything," Dumbledore sighed, when the portly wizard had disappeared with a slamming of the door that made Mrs Weasley tut about her children showing more maturity. Sirius reappeared, scowling dangerously at the door, staring at it as if he was seriously considering chasing Fudge down, but he turned to Dumbledore as if awaiting orders.

"What next?" he asked.

Dumbledore surveyed everyone gathered before him, his eyes solemn. Harry wondered vaguely how many of them had been his students, and how many of them had been brought up in front of the Headmaster as often as Harry had.

"We reform the Order of the Phoenix." There were a lot of confused faces, but Ellaria, Sirius and Remus exchanged looks that mingled excitement with relief and a nod, as if this was natural; the others looked bemused. "During the War, I headed a secret society fighting tirelessly against Lord Voldemort. Ellaria, Remus and Sirius here are all surviving members. In light of what has transpired tonight, after what we have seen in Harry's memories, and after Cornelius' exhibition, I invite you all to join us. To fight Lord Voldemort - and to win. Lord Voldemort can never again regain the foothold he once had; we need to ensure measures can be taken to prevent this."

"You leave the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to me, Dumbledore," said Madam Bones grimly, exchanging a look with Rufus Scrimgeour and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the elegant Auror, Holmes. Madam Bones had stood silent and shocked and staring during Fudge's outburst, as if seeing the Minister for the first time, and appalled, disdainful, and lacking any respect for what she saw. Now recovered, she looked determined, and Harry was reminded again of Mrs Weasley, who still had an arm around him.

"Can the Auror Office be relied upon?" Dumbledore asked.

"We'll send a team out to the cemetery now. I doubt there's much to find but maybe they got careless in the confusion," Scrimgeour said, and Tonks nodded. "We've Potter's testimony and Crouch; we'll gather as much intelligence as we can and decide how to proceed."

"I appreciate your decisiveness, and wanting to take immediate action, Rufus; I was, however, referring to the integrity of your staff…" Dumbledore fixed Scrimgeour with a look over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "It gives me no pleasure to say it; our Ministry is pockmarked with those who lack a courage and nobility in their entire bodies that you possess in your little finger."

"As I said, Dumbledore," Madam Bones said, rather coolly, but she looked respectfully at Dumbledore, "leave it to me." Dumbledore held her gaze for a moment, and nodded. Scrimgeour looked over Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, Holmes, and finally Madam Bones, who, after a brief pause, gave an imperious nod that seemed to convey an order Scrimgeour had been waiting for. The Head of the Auror Office set his jaw, and gave orders to his colleagues. One by one, the Aurors trickled out of the office. Holmes gave him her gentle, transformative smile, touching his shoulder gently as she passed; Tonks tripped on the edge of the rug and fell into a tight handshake, nodding at him. Finally, Harry was left with Sirius, Mrs Weasley and Bill, McGonagall, Ellaria Scamander, the two journalists and Madam Bones.

"Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian were part of your Order, weren't they," said Bill, very shrewdly, and Professor Dumbledore gazed at him over his half-moon spectacles as Mrs Weasley gasped.

Dumbledore looked Mrs Weasley in the eye when he answered, "They were, indeed. Extraordinary wizards, the both of them…as was Edgar." He glanced at Madam Bones, whose lips parted, staring at him, looking startled for the first time.

"Well, count me in," Bill said grimly. "I'll do what I can. Charlie will want to, as well, I know."

"A contact within Gringott's would be more than we had last time," Dumbledore bowed his head to Bill. "And we must have as many foreign contacts as possible. Word must be spread that Lord Voldemort has returned, before international communications become more fraught. We must all be ready."

"You can count on the Phoenix," said Shelley Franklin, Ziggy nodding behind her; their pens had recorded every single word of Fudge's tantrum, tucked behind the large Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry was sure he had seen one of Ellaria's marbles glowing in the sweet-dish on Dumbledore's desk, passed surreptitiously to Ziggy as Fudge slammed his way out of the office.

"I cannot impress upon you the seriousness of the risk you take upon yourselves, but the quill usually is a great deal mightier than the wand," Dumbledore said solemnly. He gazed at Shelley Franklin for a moment, something passing between them unsaid.

"Luckily I've got a few old hats at subterfuge and social revolution in my contacts," Shelley said, nodding at Ziggy - and, interestingly, Ellaria. "We know what do to. If we haven't had Fudge booted out of office by Easter, I'll eat that phoenix." She nodded at Fawkes, who ruffled his feathers in a rather affronted way. Harry glanced down at the movement, realising with a jolt that his leg was completely healed; Fawkes' pearlescent tears had healed him.

"I would prefer you did not, no matter the outcome," Dumbledore said, with a twinkling smile, and Fawkes lifted his head, sang a pure note, and took wing, landing elegantly on his golden perch.

"We'd better go; we're in for a long night," Shelley said, glancing at Ziggy, who was still scribbling furiously. She glanced up only to give Bill Weasley a fierce look, something blazing from her eyes that Harry did not quite understand.

When they had gone, Dumbledore turned next to Lupin. "Remus, might I ask you to alert the old crowd. Arabella, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis, Elphias - and start making enquiries. As many people as possible must be alerted to the truth, before other forces start to work against us."

"Start with my family," Ellaria said, glancing at Remus. "Granddad's itching to get back into the fight. My brother and sister; Benjen's sons are especially well-placed. They're excellent wizards and decent boys." Lupin nodded.

"Any others, Professor, off the top of your head?" Lupin asked.

"Fortescue, and Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. And after what happened between their wands, I do fear for Mr Ollivander's safety. Wand-lore is difficult to come by, and there are few more knowledgeable; Lord Voldemort bought his wand from Ollivander all those years ago, he will seek answers," Dumbledore said. "Garrick will take some convincing. But he will need protection, not least because he is the finest wand-maker in all Europe; he arms all of Britain. We cannot leave ourselves vulnerable by abandoning Garrick to whatever fate Lord Voldemort would deal him. Also contact Aberforth and Rosmerta, have them make the rounds in the village. St Mungo's would be advantageous, too; try Healers Curie, Lark and Watson. And, Remus - as many of your old contacts as are still around."

"I'll try. But things have gotten no better, even with Wolfsbane."

"Make them an offer, Remus. A subsidised Wolfsbane Potion dispensary," Ellaria spoke up, seeming to surprise Dumbledore. "No questions asked. And a hot meal the day after the full-moon."

"It is a start," Dumbledore said heavily, and Harry wondered at the slight frown on Lupin's face as he stared at Ellaria. Lupin turned to Harry.

"I'm afraid I have to go now, Harry," he said sombrely.

"What? No -"

"I must do my part, you understand?" Remus said, and Harry opened his mouth to protest.

"But -"

"It won't be for long, I can only promise you that," Lupin said gently, glancing over his shoulder at Dumbledore, who glanced briefly away from Ellaria, who was leaning down to murmur in his ear. "I have no doubt we will see each other very soon, but it is crucial we alert as many people as we can to what's happened… We have fair warning, something we never had last time, Harry, and that's all because of you…your bravery." He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, bending to look him in the eye. "I am so proud of you, Harry… What you did for Cedric…for his parents…goes beyond anything anyone could have asked of you. Your parents would have done no less; and that is the highest praise I can give you."

Lupin gathered him up into a tight hug, and Harry wanted to stay there. Too soon, they broke apart, Lupin bright-eyed, his lips twitching, and Harry sniffed, his eyes burning. Lupin embraced Black like a brother, kissed Ellaria's cheek, gripped Harry's shoulder one last time, and swept out of the office.

"Molly…am I right in thinking I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," Mrs Weasley said passionately, as if she had been holding this in for a good while. She was still white to the lips after her trip into the Pensieve, but looked resolute. "He knows what Fudge is, it's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride… Fudge believes there's a distinction between purebloods and Muggle-borns…or should be…" Mrs Weasley looked gloriously contemptuous, and had since the moment Fudge started attacking Harry.

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," Dumbledore said calmly. "All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and Arthur is well-placed at the Ministry to contact those not as short-sighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," Bill said, "I'll go now."

"Excellent," Dumbledore nodded, sighing heavily. "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, until we know the lay of the land."

"Leave it to me," Bill said, and clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, briefly clasped his hand in a firm handshake, with a solemn nod, kissed his mother, and hastily followed in Lupin's footsteps.

"Molly…I think it is finally time that Harry be allowed to rest in peace, and quiet. Please could you escort him to the Hospital Wing? I would appreciate if you would stay with him," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes sliding from Mrs Weasley, who was nodding vigorously, to Harry, who was suddenly relieved that the fiery, maternal woman would be staying by his side. "If you wouldn't mind giving this to Madam Pomfrey…" He handed Mrs Weasley a sealed letter.

"Professor…" Harry said quietly, glancing at the Headmaster. "Where are Mr and Mrs Diggory?"

"They are…with Professor Sprout. She was Cedric's Head of House and…knew him best," Dumbledore said, and his voice, which had been calm throughout the entire night, now shook slightly. Mrs Weasley's lip trembled, and her eyes were bright as she helped Harry down the revolving spiral staircase. She didn't seem to want to let go of him.

It seemed a long walk to the Hospital Wing, where they found a very harassed Madam Pomfrey holding her own against Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins. At the sight of their mother's bloodless face and Harry, sweat-stained and covered in dried blood, the Weasleys fell silent, Hermione's lips parted, but a look of relief swept over them all, and they seemed to relax.

"What are you all doing out of Gryffindor Tower?" Mrs Weasley demanded sternly.

"Harry, what's - "

"All of you - bed."

"But Mum -"

"No. Pomona, here - from Dumbledore. The lot of you - you are not to ask Harry any questions, do you hear me; he needs something to eat, a Sleeping Draught - and peace and quiet," Mrs Weasley said sternly, looking each of her children and Hermione in the face.

"But - what's happened?" Hermione asked quietly, staring at Harry.

"Voldemort's back. Couldn't stop him. Pettigrew killed Cedric. It was my fault."

Madam Pomfrey dropped a bottle of potion. The Weasleys paled to the last freckle, looking to their mother, for confirmation, or reassurance. Ginny dropped back onto a cot; it was the first time Harry had ever seen the twins speechless. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and sat down firmly on the nearest bed.

While Mrs Weasley hugged each of her children, and Hermione, Madam Pomfrey helped Harry out of his ruined robes with trembling hands, healed his cuts and bruises. She dosed him with a draught of Dreamless Sleep, and for the first time in his memory, Harry was tucked into bed. Mrs Weasley leaned over to kiss his forehead, and he was asleep before he realised she was gently taking the glasses from his face, folding them neatly on the nightstand, and taking up a quiet vigil at his bedside while her children and Hermione climbed onto cots around him, refusing to leave the Hospital Wing without Harry.

A.N.: If only, eh?