A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.

•~0~•

At lunch, Genevieve sat with Fred and George, taking a much needed break from the stressful exams by discussing Bagman, as well as plans for the joke shop.

Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Harry walked up to the Gryffindor table, Ron joining seconds later.

"Come on," Genevieve urged, and they moved to go sit by the lot. "I need to find out for sure if she believes all those lies Skeeter wrote."

They acted much the same, Bill flashed a grin at her, but Genevieve noticed that Mrs. Weasley avoided making eye contact with her throughout the meal. Halfway through, Hermione showed up, having just finished the research on Skeeter, which Genevieve had opted out of for the moment.

Harry looked curious. "Are you going to tell us — "

Hermione shook her head, looking at Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley greeted coldly.

Genevieve winced. Mrs. Weasley, at the moment, was still not acknowledging her existence.

Harry decided to tell her. "Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend, and Genevieve does not make Love Potions for her."

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, reddening slightly. "No — of course I didn't!"

Mrs. Weasley smiled at Genevieve, who sighed with relief. Fred and George had been too busy with Bagman to tell her, and she wasn't about to bother Charlie with convincing his mum of the truth.

Bill was looking at her rather curiously. "Charlie told me to tell you that he couldn't get time off to come see the task or visit you, and to say he's sorry."

Genevieve nodded. "Yeah, he's sent me a letter too." She held up a folded piece of parchment.

"I was just wondering — "

He was cut off. Lunch had ended, and it was time for Genevieve to take another exam. He smiled again, though it looked suspiciously like a smirk, and took off with Harry and Mrs. Weasley.

•~0~•

She sat nervously with Ron, Hermione, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley in the stands, the champions standing near the maze and looking twice as anxious. Genevieve hoped Harry would win, but also that he wouldn't get murdered in the process. For some reason, she had a bad feeling about the night.

Bagman began announcing. "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!"

The crowd cheered deafeningly loudly.

"In second place, with 80 points — Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" Nearly every girl in her vicinity swooned. "And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

Harry waved at them. Genevieve smiled and returned it.

"So . . . on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three — two — one — "

Bagman blew the whistle, and Harry and Cedric darted into the maze, disappearing from sight.

A while passed, and Bagman whistled again, signaling Krum to enter. More time passed, and it was Fleur's turn.

"How d'you think he's doing?" Genevieve asked worriedly, trying to peer into the maze.

"Dunno," Ron replied, oddly quiet.

"Oh I hope he's alive at the end of this," Genevieve whispered to Hermione, who nodded. They both knew not to say such a thing where Mrs. Weasley, who seemed fretful enough as it was.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream jarred them all.

"That'll be Fleur," Genevieve said, frowning. She craned her neck, but no red sparks flew up, which the champions were expected to send into the air should they need help.

Minutes passed, but it seemed like much more, time just barely moving, trudging slowly along. She caught a glimpse of red sparks, but when a professor came out of the maze with a student, it wasn't Fleur, but Krum. Her brow furrowed in confusion. What was happening in there?

For a long time, they waited. Genevieve had no clue how much; she was far too fidgety to even hazard a glance at the watch on her wrist. All they could do was speculate what was happening, what creatures were in there, who was winning.

Finally, Harry materialized, holding the Triwizard Cup, but something was . . . wrong. Something was very wrong. Harry was on the ground, hurt from the looks of it, and he was clutching tightly to something . . . someone, Genevieve realized.

Harry was clinging to Cedric Diggory. And Cedric Diggory was lying beside him, dead. Dumbledore and Fudge, who had replaced Percy as judge after the Crouch scandal, rushed up to him at lightning speed. Others were surrounding him too.

Voices reverberated into the night. "He's dead!" "He's dead!" "Cedric Diggory! Dead!"

Genevieve was frozen in shock. She didn't know how long she was there, unable to move. Then she was vaguely aware of the fact that she was being tugged along. The Weasleys and Hermione were all moving to the hospital wing, where they would likely find Harry. Hermione, looking equally stunned, was walking beside her.

After a long wait in the hospital wing, during which they had all crowded around Madam Pomfrey, interrogating her on the whereabouts and well-being of Harry, Dumbledore opened the door to the hospital wing, followed by Harry and a dog Genevieve knew to be Sirius.

Mrs. Weasley, barely keeping herself together, full out ran towards him, but Dumbledore blocked her.

"Molly," he said gently but firmly, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet." He addressed the rest of the group. "If he would like you all to stay with him, you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Mrs. Weasley took the chance to berate them all for a crime not yet committed. "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"Headmaster," Madame Pomfrey started, looking wth disdain at Sirius, "may I ask what — "

"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while," Dumbledore informed her. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry — I will wait while you get into bed."

Harry looked thankful at the order not to be questioned. Dumbledore went on.

"I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry. I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school."

And with that, Dumbledore glided out of the room. Madam Pomfrey directed Harry to a bed, pulling screens around him as she provided him with pajamas.

Once he was finished, the group surrounded him, each taking a seat near his bed. Genevieve looked over him. His eyes were drooping, but he was still trembling a bit.

"I'm all right," Harry assured them. "Just tired."

Trying to calm herself, Mrs. Weasley busied herself smoothing his covers.

Madam Pomfrey returned. "You'll need to drink all of this, Harry. It's a potion for dreamless sleep."

Harry took a bit of the potion and promptly passed out.

•~0~•

Genevieve sat tensely, listening to the voices around her, two getting louder by the second.

"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!" Mrs. Weasley said in a hushed voice.

"What are they talking about?" Bill asked, equally quietly. "Nothing else could have happened, can it?"

"That's Fudge's voice. And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

Just then, Fudge's voice boomed. "Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva — "

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" McGonagall said, giving Fudge the harsh reprimanding tone Genevieve had always feared.

The doors slammed open. Fudge, McGonagall, and Snape entered.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge asked Mrs. Weasley rather harshly.

"He's not here," Mrs. Weasley replied, infuriated they were bothering Harry. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to — "

Dumbledore joined the party.

"What has happened?" he asked, with none of his characteristic twinkle or calm nature. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch — "

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" McGonagall retorted shrilly. "The Minister has seen to that!"

McGonagall looked angrier than Genevieve had ever seen, red in the face and shaking.

Snape elaborated. "When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Desth Eater responsible for tonight's events, he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch - "

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall interrupted, seething. "I told him you would never allow dementors to step foot inside the castle, but - "

"My dear woman!" exclaimed Fudge loudly, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous - "

McGonagall carried on speaking as though she hadn't heard him, practically screaming by now. "The moment that - that thing entered the room, it swooped down on Crouch and - and - "

Genevieve understood. The dementor had sentenced Crouch to a fate worse than death. Crouch was no more; his soul had been sucked out by the dementor's kiss. He was alive, but worse than dead.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" Fudge claimed. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"

Dumbledore was almost glaring at Fudge. "But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius. He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them?" raged Fudge. "Well, that's no mystery, is it? He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius. Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge looked personally offended. For a second, he simply stared at Dumbledore.

"You-Know-Who . . . returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore . . ."

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you, we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggle out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

Fudge gave a disbelieving smile. "See here, Dumbledore, you — you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who — back? Come now, come now . . . certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders — but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore . . ."

Dumbledore replied with an evenness Genevieve would have been unable to muster, given the situation. "When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort. He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you step up to my office. I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge's smile almost widened. "You are - er - prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

Sirius growled. Genevieve knew why. Fudge had believed Skeeter's rubbish about him being insane. She glared at him.

"Certainly, I believe Harry," Dumbledore looked slightly angry now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who . . . well . . ."

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," Harry said softly.

Genevieve jumped in surprise. She hadn't noticed Harry was awake.

"And if I have? If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place — "

Genevieve balled up her fists, eyes narrowing. Dumbledore's response was cold.

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?"

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then? Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore said with a conviction and power Genevieve had never seen before. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before . . ."

Harry was struggling against Mrs. Weasley to get out of bed. "Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" he insisted loudly. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy — "

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge argued. "A very old family — donations to excellent causes — "

"Macnair!"

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle — "

"You or merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" Fudge said furiously. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them —the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"You fool!" McGonagall said. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" roared Fudge. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

Genevieve couldn't speak; she was so angry. Red flashed in her eyes as she shook her head at Fudge. How could he be so blind?

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore said once again. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors — "

"Preposterous!" repeated Fudge like a broken record. "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them! They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Fudge was so appalled he was rendered unable to speak. Dumbledore continued.

"The second step you must take — and at once is the send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge balked. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late, or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards can give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You — you cannot be serious!" Fudge backed away from Dumbledore as though he were dangerous. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants — people hate them, Dumbledore — end of my career — "

"You are blinded by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any — and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now — take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in our office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act — and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane," Fudge muttered, still retreating. "Mad . . ."

Genevieve didn't know this time if she was frozen in anger or shock. No one had ever, to his face, insulted Dumbledore in this way at his own school.

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit."

Fudge clearly thought Dumbledore was threatening him. He shook a finger at the man.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore. I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me — "

"The only one against whom I intend to work is Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said quite plainly. "If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

Fudge's answer was more of a beg than an argument. "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be . . ."

Snape walked up to Fudge and, without hesitation, showed him his left forearm. Fudge flinched and shrank back.

"There. There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Fudge just stepped back again, his head shaking. His response was almost inaudible. "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of his school. I must return to the Ministry."

He turned to go. Genevieve was still glowering at him from her seat, not trusting herself to stand up. He deposited a bag on Harry's bedside table. "Your winnings. One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances . . ."

He simply stuffed the bowler hat back on his head and strode our of the room, letting the door bang shut behind him.

Dumbledore turned back to the group.

"There is still work to be done. Molly . . . am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," she replied, unusually pale, but determined. "We know 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."

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur. All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

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

"Excellent. Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry — "

"Leave it to me," Bill gave Genevieve a small smile, patted Harry's shoulder comfortingly, kissed his mother's cheek, and pulled on his cloak as he left the room.

"Minerva. I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — Madame Maxime."

"Poppy," Dumbledore pressed on, turning to Madam Pomfrey, "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us." McGonagall left.

"Very — very well," Madam Pomfrey agreed, though slightly surprised. She also left.

"And now, it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius . . . if you could resume your usual form."

The black dog transformed into Sirius. Mrs. Weasley shrieked in fright, screeching, "Sirius Black!"

"Mum, shut up!" Ron shouted, trying to calm her. "It's okay!"

Snape's face had contorted to show pure loathing. Sirius' face revealed the same.

"Him! What is he doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," Dumbledore said, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other. I will settle, in the short term, for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."

The two exchanged the shortest handshake Genevieve thought possible.

"That will do to be going on with. Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

"But — " Harry protested.

"You'll see me very soon, Harry," Sirius assured. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said unconvincingly. "Yeah . . . of course I do."

"Severus, you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . ."

"I am," Snape said, blanching slightly.

"Then good luck."

Snape followed Sirius out of the room. Then, to Genevieve's shock, Dumbledore turned to her.

"Miss Snow," he said calmly. "Your mother was part of the original Order, as I'm sure your father has told you." She nodded. "I would like you to owl him tomorrow morning, informing him of what has happened, and asking him to join. If he replies in the affirmative, tell him to expect a letter from me."

Genevieve nodded again.

"I must go downstairs. I must see the Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."

After Dumbledore left, they sat in silence for a while, before Mrs. Weasley told Harry to take his potion, and then something caught Genevieve's eye.

She moved closer to the window. Yes, yes, it was her. Genevieve motioned for Hermione to follow her. They approached the window cautiously, without making a sound. Genevieve conjured a jar, handing it to Hermione, who, in a burst of sudden movement, swept the beetle into it and slammed the jar shut. They smiled at each other as the rest of the room looked over in shock.

"Sorry," they whispered together.

•~0~•

The next morning, at dawn, Genevieve slipped out to the Owlery, borrowing a school owl and sending it on its way to her father. Unable to sleep, she'd written the letter the night before. She already knew what her father's answer would be, and wondered how it would affect them.

At breakfast, Dumbledore gave a speech asking the school not to bother Harry. The next few days passed in a blur. Genevieve vaguely remembered visiting Hagrid, who informed her that he would also have a mission over the summer, but not to worry about him, and that Madame Maxime might go with him.

The Leaving Feast was not festive, as it usually was. The Great Hall was not decked out in the colors of the House who had won the House Cup. Instead, the drapes were black in remembrance of Cedric.

At the staff table, the real Moody sat, twitching nervously, and Hagrid and Madame Maxime we're conversing quietly. Dumbledore stood up.

"The end of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," Dumbledore motioned to the Hufflepuff table, which was uncharacteristically quiet, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

Without hesitation, Genevieve stood and toasted Diggory, whom she had never truly known, whom she had never spoken a full sentence to, though everything Harry had told her and everything she'd seen herself told her that he was a good person, the type who didn't deserve to be murdered.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend, A hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

Genevieve steeled herself for the blunt truth.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort. The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

Genevieve didn't dare take her eyes off Dumbledore.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter. Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Dumbledore raised his goblet at Harry, as did most of the Great Hall, with the exception of the majority of Slytherin house.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before."

He looked at every group of students.

"Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come where you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."