Chapter 42: Unspoken Bond

No, it's not that," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, "it's just that Potter wants a word with you, Dumbledore. He's just outside the door."

Albus blinked in surprise. Harry? What on earth was he doing here? But before he could say anything, Alastor had limped over to the door and opened it. Sure enough, Harry was indeed standing there, looking as startled as they did.

"Hello, Potter," Alastor growled. "Come in, then."

Harry did what he was told, and was looking over them all as he stepped into the room. All at once, Cornelius's bad mood seemed to vanish as he rushed forward and cried out, "Harry! How are you?"

Albus didn't say anything, but for some reason he felt a stab of annoyance at Fudge. He knew that Cornelius had always had a tenacity to suck up to others, and while he couldn't tell him off for simply talking to him, but when he started treating Harry like they were close old friends, he didn't like it one bit.

"Fine," Harry said, though Albus couldn't help but notice that he wasn't looking at any of them when he said that—something that he did when he knew that he wasn't being honest. He had to fight a smile; the boy was easy to read… however Fudge didn't seem to notice. Not that he was surprised…

"We were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up on the grounds," Cornelius said pompously. "It was you who found him, was it not?"

"Yes," said Harry. He hesitated for a moment before he added, "I didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere, though, and she'd have a job hiding, wouldn't she?"

He couldn't help but smile at him at those words; and resisted to act childishly and say to Fudge, 'I told you so.'

"Yes, well," Cornelius said, casting his eyes around to think of something to say, looking embarrassed, "we're about to go for a short walk on the grounds, Harry, if you'll excuse us… perhaps if you just go back to your class -"

"I wanted to talk to you. Professor," Harry said quickly, looking past the Minister to look at him. He looked at him hard for a moment—wondering what he should do. That was when he suddenly remembered that he had left his Pensieve in the cabinet behind him… and it gave him an idea.

"Wait here for me, Harry," he said with a nod. "Our examination of the grounds will not take long."

They left the office. As they walked, he thought back to what was sure to happen. He was sure that if Harry was as curious as he thought he was, then he would, without a doubt, spot the light coming from the cabinet and be compelled to see what it was. He felt bad about it, but Harry was an important part of this as well, and he knew that he had to see those memories as well as learn an important life lesson.

"You trust a student to be left alone in your office?" Alastor asked him as they left and walk out through the gargoyle. With Cornelius following behind them, Alastor limped up ahead to talk with him without Fudge listening in.

Albus smiled at him and answered, "Oh, we can trust Harry. It's not like I'll return to find it destroyed or anything. And I am curious to what he wants to talk to me about."

Alastor grunted. "Probably some teacher sent him up there."

"Most likely," he nodded, though personally, Albus highly doubted it. None of them said another word as they headed to the entrance hall, out the front doors and onto the grounds. They walked a short distance away to where they found Viktor Krum unconscious before he stopped and started pointing out the place to Cornelius. Alastor helped out as he informed them of the places that he searched—including the whole forest, but never found a trace of him. While Alastor talked Albus had noticed, to his great annoyance, that Cornelius kept glancing over to the Beauxbatons carriage with a knowing looking in his face. They walked around for a short time until the Minister said that he was needed back at the office, and he wasn't sorry to see him go.

He checked his watch after they saw the Minister off at the entrance; and he turned to Alastor and asked, "I believe that your next class is in fifteen minutes, Alastor?"

Alastor gave him an annoyed look and growled, "I know, I know. Who do you take me for?" he then limped off grumbling to himself—pulling out his flask as he went and taking a quick swig of it. Albus shook his head fondly before he headed back up to his office.

As he predicted, the first thing he noticed that Harry wasn't there—the second thing he saw was that the cabinet was wide open.

As soon as Phineas saw him, he cried out, "He's in your Pensieve, Dumbledore!" and then he pointed gleefully at the cabinet, obviously hoping that Harry was going to get into trouble. "He just walked right over and was looking in it and…"

Albus ignored him as he went over and dove into the Pensieve as well, landing in the courtroom, beside the boy. He made to interrupt him, but Harry was watching the scene where Barty Crouch and his son as though frozen—and thus obvious to anything else around him.

"I'm your son!" he screamed up at Crouch. "I'm your son!"

"You are no son of mine!" bellowed Barty, his eyes bulging suddenly; and Albus felt a terrible pain in his heart for how little Barty cared… though he had a sneaking suspicion that he loved his son more than he left on… he just never knew how to express it…

"I have no son!" at those words, his wife gave a gasp and fainted.

"Take them away!" Barty roared, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"

"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!" the scared teen cried, now being dragged by the Dementors. Knowing that it was enough, he said softly, "I think Harry, it is time to return to my office."

Harry jumped at the sound of his name and looked at him with wide eyes. He looked first to his past self, who was watching Barty Crouch Jr. being taken away, before he glanced back at him and realization dawned on him.

"Come," he said softly and pulled the boy back with him. The familiar sensation of rising up and everything fading around him before they landed back on their feet in his office.

"Professor," Harry gasped at once when he let go, "I know I shouldn't've - I didn't mean - the cabinet door was sort of open and -"

"I quite understand," he assured him as he lifted the Pensieve out of its usual cabinet and to his desk before he took his seat. He then gestured for him to take a seat as well, and when he did he continued to stare at how the Pensieve returned to its original form.

"What is it?" Harry asked shakily.

"This? It is called a Pensieve," he answered simply. "I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind."

"Er," said Harry nervously as he looked at it like it was something that might bite. He then explained, "At these times. I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

Suddenly understanding he asked carefully, "You mean… that stuff's your thoughts?"

"Certainly," he nodded as he decided to take out his wand and show him a demonstration. "Let me show you."

Simply just by thinking of the memories, he pulled them from his mind, feeling the memory being pulled and snapping off before he glanced at the single glistening strand of memory. He then added it to the bowl.

It was the memory of what happened the other night and Harry's face appeared to show him… he looked up to see Harry was staring dumbstruck at it. He didn't know why he looked so surprised. He has done many remarkable things… especially after everything that has happened this year…

He placed his hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it so that the image showed Severus, speaking, "It's coming back… Karkaroff's too… stronger and clearer than ever…"

Though he was aware of this already—even if Severus hadn't said a word to him. To be honest he would've been astonished if the Dark Mark didn't start to grow darker with everything that has been happening lately. "A connection I could have made without assistance," he sighed to himself, "but never mind."

He peered over the top of his glasses at the boy and explained, "I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting and put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention."

Actually, he had planned for it on the spot. Why he did, he had hoped that maybe it would show some kind of clue… or rather… it was to teach Harry a lesson?

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, not looking at him.

He shook his head, letting it know that it was alright. But Albus knew better than anyone how Harry's childlike curiosity had often gotten the boy into trouble. While no harm had been done this time, he hoped that Harry would take this lesson with a grain of salt. He had left the cabinet open on purpose so that he could see it…

"Curiosity is not a sin," he said to him. "But we should exercise caution with our curiosity… yes, indeed…"

He was hopeful that he would remember that from now on.

He looked back down at the Pensieve and frowned as he prodded them—wanting to see a particular memory of a former student whose curiosity often got her into trouble as well. And suddenly the ghostly form of Bertha Jorkins appeared when she was in her sixth year…

"He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir, I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday…" the memory of Bertha said, her voice echoing around them.

"But why Bertha," he asked sadly. That inquisitive nature of hers often got her into big trouble—what on earth could it have gotten her into this time? Though he had a bad feeling in his heart that it had probably been her final act… "Why did you have to follow him in the first place?" though he wasn't just asking about some forgotten memory…

"Bertha?" Harry whispered, staring at the figure. "Is that - was that Bertha Jorkins?"

"Yes," he sighed as he began, prodding the thoughts until the moment disappeared. While he knew that it was probably too late for him to have helped Bertha, he hoped that Harry would take that warning to heart and wouldn't make the same mistakes that she had once made. "That was Bertha as I remember her at school."

He sighed again, feeling older than he could remember… he could feel the effects of over a century in his bones and his memories mixing together. He shook his head and brought himself back to the matter at hand. "So, Harry," he said quietly, "Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."

"Yes," said Harry also remembering that there was a reason he came here, and looking up at him. "Professor - I was in Divination just now, and - er - I fell asleep."

He hesitated here, as if wondering if he was about to be told off. Personally, Albus didn't blame him. He had heard from his portraits that this happened to dear Sybill at least several times a year. If she'd only learn to put her fire out once in awhile and not to use so much perfume, maybe more people would be able to pay attention. "Quite understandable. Continue."

"Well," Harry said uncomfortably, as if trying to find the right words to explain what happened. "I had a dream." He said that last part as if it had been the only way to describe it. "A dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail… you know who Wormtail-"

"I do know," he said before he even finished the question, now listening very carefully. "Please continue."

He took a deep breath and went on without pausing, "Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like, Wormtail's blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn't be fed to the snake - there was a snake beside his chair. He said - he said he'd be feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail - and my scar hurt. It woke me up, it hurt so badly."

Albus just looked at him.

"Er - that's all," he finished awkwardly.

He looked at Harry long and hard, briefly looking into his mind to see the dream for himself. It was as he said, and if his scar suddenly started hurting he was willing to bet that it hadn't had been just a dream. It had been a vision—there was no doubt in his mind.

So, Voldemort had someone killed? And at once, Barty Crouch entered his mind… he bit his lower lip. It couldn't have been anyone else. And he was planning to feed Harry to a snake? He couldn't see how that was possible. There was no way he could've gotten to Harry anyway. Not that he'd ever get the chance if he had a say about it… him or any other student.

"I see," he said and asked him, "I see. Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, except the time it woke you up over the summer?"

"No, I –" but then he realized what he said and asked astonished, "How did you know it woke me up over the summer?"

"You are not Sirius's only correspondent," he answered with a slight nod of the head. "I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place for him to stay."

He got up and began to pace behind his desk trying to think of any possibility that Voldemort would be able to get to anyone here at Hogwarts. Every now and then, he would put any possible theories into the Pensieve to examine later.

"Professor?" Harry's voice interrupted him, reminding him that he was still there; he had a tenacity to get lost in his own thoughts from time to time. He stopped and looked back up.

"My apologies," he said quietly and returned to his seat.

"D'you - d'you know why my scar's hurting me?" Harry asked hesitantly.

He looked at him, wondering what on earth he could possibly tell him. He had long since come up with a theory to why that would be—but the idea was just so horrible that he couldn't stand thinking about it. But if what he suspected was true, then the answer was because there was a part of Voldemort in him.

Harry continued to look at him expectantly. What could he say? He took a deep breath and answered carefully, "I have a theory, no more than that… It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

"But…" Harry asked, a hint of fear in his tone mixed with confusion. "Why?"

"Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed," he answered simply. He felt terrible for what he suspected might be true, but he couldn't bring himself to ever tell him. "That is no ordinary scar."

Harry stared at him before he asked cautiously, "So you think… that dream… did it really happen?"

"It is… possible," he said simply, though he knew full well that it was more than possible. "I would say - probable." And though he feared the answer, he asked, "Harry - did you see Voldemort?"

"No," he said at once. "Just the back of his chair. But - there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there? I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he?" he stopped for a moment before he asked slowly, "But… but then how could he have held the wand?"

"How indeed?" he muttered to himself. Was it possible that Tom had returned to a somewhat, physical form? But even if he had, he was still far too weak to be able to do much. "How indeed…"

Neither of them spoke for some time, and even if Harry had said a word, he doubted that he could've heard him as he gazed across the room continuing to add memories to the Pensieve.

"Professor," Harry said at last, breaking his concentration, "do you think he's getting stronger?"

"Voldemort?" he asked, finally looking back at him. Trying to see what he could tell him. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew the answer was yes. "Once again Harry, I can only give you my suspicions."

He sighed again, the sleepless nights were catching up to him once more and a splitting headache was starting to take form. "The years of Voldemort's ascent to power were marked with disappearances," he said to him softly, "Bertha Jorkins has vanished without a trace in the place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch too has disappeared… within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I regret to say, do not consider of any importance, for it concerns a Muggle." He fought the urge to roll his eyes at that. Just because Frank had been a Muggle, they didn't think that he was worth taking any notice. "His name was Frank Bryce, he lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up, and he has not been seen since last August. You see, I read the Muggle newspapers, unlike most of my Ministry friends."

He gave him a serious look; glad to see that he was listening to every word he said. It's good to know that there was someone here who agreed with him. "These disappearances seem to me to be linked. The Ministry disagrees - as you may have heard, while waiting outside my office."

Harry turned slightly red at the reminder as he nodded. To be honest, Albus wasn't a hundred percent sure why he was telling him all this. But he supposed that it was probably necessary that he understood these things should Voldemort return to power.

Silence fell between them again, broken only but the rustle of his robes as he continued to put more thoughts into his Pensieve, or the soft clatter of Fawkes's claws on his perch.

"Professor?" Harry suddenly spoke up.

"Yes, Harry?" he asked.

"Er… could I ask you about… that court thing I was in… in the Pensieve?" he asked almost as if he was afraid to know the answer.

"You could," he sighed heavily. "I attended it many times, but some trials come back to me more clearly than others… particularly now…"

"You know - you know the trial you found me in?" he asked, "The one with Crouch's son? Well… were they talking about Neville's parents?"

He looked at him in surprise. "Has Neville never told you why he has been brought up by his grandmother?" he asked and Harry shook his head.

For a moment, he wondered if he shouldn't answer. If Neville didn't want to tell anyone… it wasn't really his place to tell him. But maybe… he tilted his head slightly as he surveyed him. He knew that if there was anyone who could understand… "Yes, they were talking about Neville's parents," he answered truthfully. "His father, Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort's whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you heard."

He went pale. "So they're dead?" he asked quietly.

"No," he said, anger boiling inside him at the thought of what had happened to two of some of his favorite students… the suffering that had been done so unnecessarily and the lives ruined. "They are insane. They are both in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, with his grandmother, during the holidays. They do not recognize him."

Harry sat there, staring at him in horror. He sighed again and went on, "The Longbottoms were very popular. The attacks on them came after Voldemort's fall from power, just when everyone thought they were safe."

He shook his head in disgust at that thought. "Those attacks caused a wave of fury such as I have never known. The Ministry was under great pressure to catch those who had done it. Unfortunately, the Longbottoms' evidence was - given their condition - none too reliable."

He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about what the two of them had been reduced to. To how their families had suffered… especially Neville…

"Then Mr. Crouch's son might not have been involved?" he stated slowly. Albus didn't know what to say to that. He simply shrugged and answered, "As to that, I have no idea."

He had often wondered that himself. He knew that Barty and his son didn't always see eye-to-eye… but could he have been so desperate for attention that he sought it from the wrong person? Harry hesitated for another moment before he asked, "Er, Mr. Bagman…"

"… has never been accused of any Dark activity since," he answered, guessing what Harry had been about to ask.

"Right," said Harry hastily, as he looked down at the Pensieve. "And… er…"

He glanced down, the form of Severus's face appeared and he knew what he was about to ask. He looked up to answer, "No more has Professor Snape," he said.

He looked into those green eyes before the boy suddenly blurted out, "What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?"

Not for the first time he had wanted to come out and tell him the truth about Severus. He knew that if he had learned the reason behind Severus actions it would make trusting him so much easier… but…

'But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear…especially Potter's son…I want your word…' Severus's voice came back to him.

He then said firmly, "That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."

Not long after that, Harry got up to leave.

"Harry," he called to him as soon as he had reached the door. When he looked back, he said seriously, "Please do not speak about Neville's parents to anybody else. He has the right to let people know, when he is ready."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, and Albus just knew that he would keep his word.

"And-" he added as he leaned over the Pensieve, fears and uncertainties filling his mind. He wasn't sure where this uneasy feeling suddenly came from or why… it was as if he could somehow sense that something terrible was about to happen. He stared at the boy for a moment as if expecting someone else to stand there before he said, "Good luck with the third task."

Harry gave him a rather shaky smile before he left. Once the door had closed, he sat back down, his mind racing again.

"I can't believe that you let him go without so much as taking points!" Phineas called down at him furiously. "Had it have been me, I'd taken fifty points and given him a week of detentions!"

"Well, you aren't me, Phineas," he sighed as he stood back up and put the Pensieve away. This time locking the cabinet.

"Normally, you're so careful with your Pensieve, Dumbledore," Everard asked him as he passed. "I can't believe that you would leave it unlocked."

Not in the mood to talk at the moment, he made a feeble excuse that he was going to take a quick nap before dinner and left the room. He walked into the back to where he had been keeping a particular book. He reached up and pulled out the large volume bound in faded black leather. Secrets of the Darkest Art

He flipped through the pages until he found the section that he must've read a dozen times. Though he knew it by heart, he couldn't help himself:

Tamper with the deepest mysteries—the source of life, the essence of self—only if prepared for consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind. For the Horcrux is a very powerful object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purpose of attaining immortality. Creating but a single Horcrux allows one to gain the ability to resurrect themselves as a sort of "phantom form" if their body is destroyed. It is possible to create more than one Horcrux and the more that one creates; the closer one is to achieving immortality. Creating multiple Horcruxes is suggested to be costly to the creator, by both diminishing their humanity and even physically disfiguring them. It is possible to put the wizard's or witch's soul back together, but it is excruciatingly painful. (See page 434 for more details how).

In his insane quest to become Voldemort, Tom had done everything to achieve immortality, from incantations, and potions, to unicorn blood and the murder of countless innocent people who stood in his way.

And although he hated the idea of having to kill anyone, he knew that this was the only way… Albus was old and wasn't afraid of to die when his time finally came… but he was tired of watching friends and students die or be led down the wrong path following a madman. He was tired of hearing about the Muggles being killed for no other reason than the fact that they were Muggles… hated seeing all the children losing their parents and being forced to see the horrors of war… hated having to see the fighting and living in constant fear…

His hands tightened on the book as he continued to read it. He bit his lower lip… he knew he was being foolish… Because of his continued delusions he had put yet another young soul in danger. Continuously, he allowed a mere child to fight through life-threatening situations that would make a fully trained Auror fall apart and run. The same child that he allowed to risk his life over and over was the only chance the wizarding world had should the worst arrive.

Albus knew that he had allowed that pain to happen… and even now, he continued to let that pain happen. He knew he was destroying another life just as he had his sister's…

At the thought of Ariana's face, it had caused a wave of emotions to crash into him once again. He gripped the book so tightly that if he wasn't careful, he might've ripped it in half. His eyes then fell onto a small part that he had also read countless time over the last few years…

Horcruxes can also be destroyed. If a person's body was destroyed, his or her soul would remain intact, whereas with a Horcrux it is the opposite, as the piece of soul depends upon its container to survive. Destruction of a Horcrux is difficult, but not impossible, and requires that the receptacle to be damaged completely beyond physical or magical repair the soul fragment perishes.

A burning anger that he couldn't remember feeling before erupted inside him, and before he realized what he was doing, he slammed the book shut and flung it across the room in suppressed pain… he watched as it hit the wall and slid down to land on the floor almost innocently.

Breathing hard as if he had been running he just looked at it; the book laid open on the page he had just read, and his fists tightened so that his nails dug deep into his palms. If what he suspected was true… then at least one more innocent soul will have to be offered to put an end to Voldemort…

And he hated himself to the very core for knowing this…

*Weeks later*

Over the next month, he had been keeping an eye on all the champions progress, ensuring that they would be ready in time for the Third Task. He wasn't willing to take any chances now that they were so close to the end. Cedric spent most of his time in the library looking up any spells that he thought might be useful… Viktor Krum had been spotted near the edge of the forest testing out spells while using the trees as targets… Fleur Delacour had also spent a great deal of time inside the carriage, obviously practicing as well… as for Harry, he and his friends spent all their free time looking up spells in the library before testing them out in a deserted classroom later on.

The mood in the castle as they entered June became excited and tense as the Third Task drew near. While everyone was looking forward to seeing the task, he was looking forward to seeing the end of the tournament and this dreadful year. He was so tired of wasting endless nights of sleep worrying.

He honestly didn't care who won so long as all the champions made it through alive. But just the other day, he was surprised to hear that Minerva had given the trio permission to use her classroom at lunchtimes.

"I hear the three of them all the time," she grumbled to him one lunchtime when she had arrived late. "They make so much noise! I'm sick of walking up there, expecting to see Peeves causing problems only to see them practicing. This time, I found Weasley out cold on the floor. I gave them permission to use my classroom when no one is there so that I don't have to worry."

"It will all be over soon," he assured her. "We just have to make it through one more task."

"Oh, I can't wait," she groaned in exhaustion. "Albus, please," she said as she helped herself to some Sheppard's pie, "The next time you want to hold a tournament, remind me to talk you out of it."

"I wouldn't ask for anything else," he told her wearily.

In what seemed like no time at all, the morning of June twenty-fourth had arrived and he was in his office making some final preparations and safety measures before he headed down to the pitch to enforce them. He knew that Igor had been making a lot of complaints about them, but he honestly couldn't care less about what he thought of anymore.

Just as he was getting ready to head down, the usual owl with the Daily Prophet flew through the open window and landed on his desk. Planning to read it on his way down, he took the paper and paid the owl as he flipped it open… and then he saw the headlines…

What he saw made him drop the paper.

'HARRY POTTER DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS'

"You have got to be kidding me," he groaned as he bent down to quickly read what it said. To his horror he read about how she found out about his scar hurting, and how he could speak Parseltongue.

"'Using Dark Arts to win the tournament'?" he repeated to himself in suppressed anger as he flung the paper into the bin. "My god… how could they have someone like her in charge of a paper? Only about five percent of that article is true! And even then…" he trailed off.

But how on earth did she discover this? She was forbidden to come onto the grounds so how could she have found out? Harry had told him that he had collapsed in Divination which was at the top of North Tower… there's no way that she could've been there… and as for Malfoy… he would have to have a word with that boy.

"I guess I don't need to ask if you've seen the paper this morning," said Dexter's voice.

He sighed and looked back up at him. "No," he said. "Gone off him a bit this time hasn't she?"

"How could anyone allow her to print something that is completely untrue is my question," Dilys demanded in a sour voice. "At least get some proof before getting that thing printed."

"I couldn't agree with you more," he sighed. "But it's too late now. The whole wizarding world will know by now…"

"This isn't going to make things easy for us will it?" Everard asked, though judging from his tone, he knew the answer.

"No," he groaned, running his hand through his beard. "I have to head down to the pitch to make sure that everything is set up for the maze. Is there anything I need to know?"

"Only that I saw Granger running up to the library and that the champion's families are here," he answered. "It was certainly nice of the Weasleys to turn up to support Potter."

A very brief smile appeared around his face for that moment. "Yes, they see him as part of the family, so they would want to be there."

He walked down to the Quidditch field, his headache now coming back… his only comfort was that by tonight, this whole mess would be over. Just one more day…

*Later that day*

He had just finishing up helping to add all the enchantments to the maze when Cornelius arrived. He had insisted on coming here to be the fifth judge tonight.

"Of course," Cornelius said as he walked beside him up to the castle for dinner. "I had other duties to full-fill, for being the Minister is a demanding post, but I would've have missed this for the world.

"Hmm," was Albus's only answer. Perhaps it had just been the stress that he had been under plus another splitting headache but he couldn't stop thinking how Mr. Always-in-the-Spotlight Fudge is conveniently subbing for Crouch in the most important task of the highly popular tournament.

He didn't dare say any of this though as he politely nodded to him and they took their seats at the staff table for their meals. He let him talk all he wanted to as he paid more attention to his food. But when dusk began to fall, and he had finished he stood up and the whole hall feel silent almost at once.

Almost having to force a smile, he called out, "Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

He watched as the four champions get up, their friends and families wishing them luck, before they all followed Bagman out the door and to the pitch. He watched as the rest of the students also got up and excitedly headed to the pitch, wondering what was going to happen, before he followed suit.

He calmly, followed them all to the Quidditch field—once in awhile, listening to the teachers tell off their students. He glanced at the twenty-foot-high hedge, having worked hard to place the silence and darkening charms around the maze so that the champions wouldn't be able to hear or see anything that's going on the outside. His eyes found the entrance… the dark and winding path before him seemed to stretch onwards into an infinite void…

He couldn't help but get a strong sense of foreboding from this. But he chose to ignore this as he watched the excited students beginning to fill the seats. It took about ten minutes for everyone to be seated and for his staff to come forward to the champions and quickly explaining their job of patrolling the outside of the maze.

He watched them all nod in understand before Ludo gave them all a little push towards the entrance and the teachers all left.

Ludo then pointed his wand at his throat, and soon he was calling out to the rest of the school:"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each - Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!"

As expected, the Hogwarts student's applause seemed to shake the very grounds. "In second place, with eighty points - Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" the Durmstrang students screamed out loudly, all them punching the air for Viktor. "And in third place – Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!" And he couldn't help but notice that a great deal of boys, as well as the Beauxbatons students, called out loudly when Fleur's name had been mentioned.

"So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" Ludo called out. "Three - two - one -"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and he watched Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze… little did he know… it would be the last time that he would see one of them alive…

*Later*

He and the other judges sat there, almost having to force themselves to make small conversation—when it happened. Almost half an hour in, there had been a shot of red sparks erupted over one part of the maze.

Ludo had spotted them and quickly called out, "That ladies and gentlemen is the signal that one of our champions is in trouble! Each of the champions had been warned before they entered the maze that should they need help, merely to send up those sparks! However, if they do so, then they will immediately be disqualified for the tournament. Now let's see who it is…?"

Albus half rose from his seat as he waited—finally Alastor appeared from one of the corners of the hedges, half dragging Fleur Delacour with him.

Madame Maxime got up from her seat and went over at once to see what had happened. He also got up and walked over to see how she was when Ludo called out, "It seems that Fleur Delacour had been the one who sent the sparks up high, and has now been disqualified from the tournament! But let's give up a round of applause for her for a valiant effort!"

As applause began around them, Albus had leaned over to see her half-opened eyelids, "It looks like she's been stunned…" Madame Pomfrey said at once, when she had been called over from the medical tent. "It's not serious," she assured Madame Maxime, "There shouldn't be any lasting harm done."

She conjured up a stretcher and floated her off in the direction of the medical tent so that she could be given some time to recover in peace.

Albus had then turned his attention back to the maze, hoping that one of the boys find the center of the maze soon and grab the cup so that this would finally end.

It had been about twenty minutes after that when Viktor Krum had been pulled out… once again, Madame Pomfrey had reported that he had been stunned and took him as well as Ludo turned to address the results to the crowd.

But Albus had grown uneasy. There was something very wrong here… Albus knew better than to doubt Madame Pomfrey's diagnosis, but the news had left definitely him rattled. Surely nothing in the maze had caused them both to be stunned like this? He knew every obstacle, enchantment, and trap that had been placed, and he couldn't remember ever placing something in there that would stun them both identically like this.

Karkaroff was more furious that Durmstrang had been put out of the running than his student being injuried, and would've probably have told Viktor off himself had he been conscious…

Albus ignored him once again, his mind still working furiously. First Fleur… now Viktor? Both of them were pretty much unscathed… just stunned… so how could they have sent up sparks?

Could it be that Harry or Cedric…? No, he couldn't believe that either boy would be trying to sabotage them. As Ludo announced that Viktor was unable to finish the task, everyone grew very tense—knowing that now it would only be a matter of time until the Hogwarts champion found the cup. The question was who?

Once again, Albus didn't care who won, so long as they both made it back unhurt. And though he filled his conscience with words of reassurances, he felt none of them. He just could not shake the feeling that something had gone very, very wrong. He could not stop those foreboding feelings in the pit of his stomach, some warning… that something terrible was about to happen?

Hours had passed. And with each second, he felt the need to pull out his hair—his fingers drumming anxiously on the table in front of him. What was taken so long? One of them would've surly found the cup by now? The stands were also growing impatient as well—wondering why nothing was happening. He sat there with the judges, watching intently.

Minerva glanced up at him half anxious/half irritated every time she circled the maze, the stars on her hat glowing slightly in the growing darkness; and he could see how worried she was in the way she walked… almost pacing the maze. Albus knew they both thinking the same thing… how, despite everyone's brave face, the teachers all knew that someone was behind all this. Ever since Harry's name had come out of the Goblet, someone had been plotting something.

He tried to find some means to keep his mind occupied and started looking around him—trying to find some kind of distraction… that was when his eyes fell on Alastor who was still limping around outer hedges.

Normally, he wouldn't pay too much attention… at least until he saw the excited look on his old friend's face. It was almost as if he looked happy that something seemed to be wrong. That wasn't like him… normally, he would've been the first one to sense that something dangerous was near. He watched Alastor limping around the corner, until he was watching the back of his head and he disappeared.

Slightly uneasy, he turned back to the hedge and stared at it—as if trying to bring both boys back through sear force of will. What happened to them? Was it possible that either of them lying there injured and defenseless? Unable to send up sparks? Horrible thoughts continued to play themselves in his head until at long last, what felt like several years, there was something happening at the entrance of the maze.

There was a faint glowing blue light shining there for a moment, the drowsy crowd had also noticed it as well and they were pointing it out to their friends and talking excitedly—obviously thinking that this had been part of the task. And at once, Harry Potter appeared out of thin air with Cedric Diggory and the Triwizard Cup. Both of them landed face-first into the ground and laid there unmoving.

For a moment, it was as if everything else around him was falling away around him. This was not what was supposed to happen; the champion who touched the Cup was supposed to trigger the end of the maze enchantments, not be whisked back here in front of them…

That was when there were shouts going on around him, pointing to the two boys who were lying there, still as stone. He ran, almost flew to get there before anyone else did—by the time he got there, neither boy had moved a muscle…

'No,' he silently begged as terror tore at his heart. 'No… they can't be… don't be dead… please don't be dead…'

He crouched down besides them and seized Harry, perhaps a little too roughly in his desperation, and turned him over, "Harry! Harry!"

For a moment, nothing happened… he just laid there as limp as a rag doll, his face was as white as a sheet, his glasses askew, and blood dripping from an injured leg… but then his green eyes slowly cracked open and were squinting at him, as if having trouble making him out

A breath that he hadn't even realized that he was holding was released as he felt relief. He's alive… but what on earth had happened? It didn't look as though Harry could focus on him… and he was gasping for breath as though he was having trouble breathing…

Albus turned his head, searching for Madam Pomfrey over the heads of the pressing crowd to come over, but then Harry did something that stopped him dead in his tracks. He had let go of the cup, and instead clutched at his wrist like it was his lifeline.

As if he hadn't even noticed the crowd pressing in around them, as though desperate to tell him something… what he said felt as if his whole world came tumbling down around him… he croaked out, "He's back… he's back. Voldemort."

Albus stared at him… to horrified to do anything else as those words echoed inside his head. "He's back… He's back. Voldemort."

No… this can't be… he didn't… he couldn't have… no… not again…

He felt as if he had been punched in the chest. Harry started gasping as if he'd run miles, he was having trouble just trying to hold his head up—as if every word was hurting him. He could see the truth before him… Harry wasn't in shock because of the maze's obstacles. He wasn't hurt and winded just because of some creature that had been hiding…

And he wasn't here because the cup would've… wait…

He turned and stared at the slightly glowing Triwizard cup… the cup! He recognized that blue light anywhere… it was a Portkey… but that could only mean… his eyes widened as realization him like an avalanche… they had been betrayed…

Someone here at Hogwarts had turned the cup into a Portkey and sent him to Voldemort…

"What's going on? What's happened?" cried a familiar voice behind him. Albus was too busy trying to grasp what was happening here to pay attention to Cornelius, who had come out of the crowd, who was looking around them in amazement. Harry had continued to hold onto his wrist desperately, as if afraid to let go, until his adrenaline seemed to have faded right before his eyes, and his hand slipped and hit the ground with a dull thud.

As he tried to help Harry sit up, Fudge said something that made him feel as if his insides had frozen… something that he had grown accustomed to the Dementors… as the Minister then shouted out so that no one could miss it—"My God- Diggory! Dumbledore- he's dead!"

(And so the tournament is over, but now the real work begins. Harry just made it back to him alive, but he still has no idea how it happened. The next chapter should hopefully be the end of the Goblet of Fire, and then we'll be moving on to the Order of the Phoenix. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter… and to those of you who are kind enough to leave reviews thanks for them. They have been a great help.)