Disclaimer: Oops. Kinda forgot to do these. No worries though! This is all J.K.'s characters. Well, most of them. And a lot of it is her plot as well. BUT. I'm starting to bring some of my stuff. Even if it's not as good x)

"Well well well," came the high pitched, sadistic voice of the Dark Lord. "Thank you for dropping by, Mr. Potter!" He eyed Cedric's body when he said the word 'dropping' and Harry's already body-consuming hate flared.

"You don't deserve to talk about him," he whispered fiercely.

Voldemort cackled, "And why don't I? Filthy halfblood," he said dismissively, kicking Diggory with a bare foot. Part of Harry's mind was disgusted at how talon-like his toe nails were. The rest of it wanted Harry to kill the wizard before him.

"You. You...," Harry hissed, spechless with rage.

"Oh be quiet, that's enough Potter," spat Voldemort, "I'm tired of listening to whining." He eyed his servant disdainfully, who was crouched over his bleeding stump of an arm and weeping softly.

"Your weakness is sickening Wormtail." The man could only cower, "Please master, please..."

Despite himself, Harry felt a very small twinge of pity.

"I suppose... You have been useful," pondered the Dark Lord, the shorter wizard could only nod pleadingly from his position on the ground.

"Not as useful as I might have wished but... Instrumental nonetheless. Congratulations Wormtail, I find myself pleased with you. And the Dark Lord always rewards those who are loyal." He held out his arm, and crawling forward the squat man pulled another wand from his robes, pressing it into the profferred hand.

"Ah, my wand..." Voldemort closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply, savoring his regained power. Harry thought he may be sick.

Voldemort drew his wand slowly through the air, leaving a trail of silver in its wake. He waved his wand once more, and the shiny substance coalesced into a hand, floating in the air.

Wormtail gasped in shock, the hand's fingers twiddled as though saying hello.

"Here," said the Dark Lord dispassionately; he beckoned and the hand attached itself to where Pettigrew's used to be.

"Master..." whispered Peter in awe, "How can I thank you, I, its perfect." He gazed raptly at his glittering digits.

"It is of no consequence to those who are worthy of it," said Voldemort dismissively. "And speaking of lending a hand..." he looked to Harry with wild eyes, "thank you, Harry Potter." He spat out the last name.

"For what?" questioned Harry darkly.

Voldemort laughed a high, piercingly laugh, but just as suddenly it cut off "For this," he gestured at his robed form. "For your blood." Harry's own ran cold.

"Yes Potter," he whispered "What runs through your veins runs through mines now. We're practically related. I could even touch you, if the thought of it didn't so repulse me."

"Repulse you?" said Harry through gritted teeth, his scar searing, "Isn't just being you enough to be repulsive?"

"Crucio!" he pointed at Harry, and his body contorted in agony. The pain from his head seemed to have spread through his body, so intense was his suffering. But he didn't scream, wouldn't scream. He wouldn't give Voldemort the satisfaction.

His vision ebbed, thoughts and faces springing unbidden into his head. Sirius. Cho. Ron and Hermione.

After what seemed liked several eternities, the torment finally ended. Harry panted, and he tasted fresh blood in his mouth. He must have bit his tongue sometime during the curse. Funny, he couldn't seem to remember.

Voldemort leered at him, no longer smiling or complacent. "Impressive Harry, very impressive, to take it in silence. Those of your... courage, although it should be more aptly called stupidity, are few. Your father was. So was your mother. Both of them died quickly."

Harry couldn't speak, but his eyes said it all.

"You though," continued the Dark Lord "won't be so lucky. But rest assured, they'll be witnesses for the noble end of Harry Potter."

"Wormtail!" he snapped at the man who was still admiring his new hand, "Over here. Now!"

Peter Pettigrew ran over quickly, "What is it master?"

"Your arm."

He lifted his left arm, knowing what Voldemort meant. The dark wizard yanked up the smaller one's robe, exposing a tattoo inked on his forearm. When he pressed his wand into it, Wormtail let out a yelp of pain.

There were a few breatheless moments when nothing happened, and then-

Sharp cracks echoed from every direction, and the sound of harsh voices reached Harry's ears.

"-e must be back! You felt your mark burn as well as I did!" he recognized the smooth tones of Draco's father, irate now.

"He can't be. But I'd like to give whoever did do this a piece of what I'm thinking." answered a deep, gravelly voice.

"And just what are you thinking Mulciber?" said Voldemort coldly.

All of the voices stopped.

"Master?" came Lucius' voice, breaking the silence.

Voldemort ignored him, "I am disappointed, my Death Eaters." Quietly, they entered the graveyard, arranging themselves in a circle. Harry found them strangely familiar, until he remembered seeing them at the World Cup.

Each one wore black robes, with peaked hoods on. Their faces were masked by what looked like human skulls; Harry could only hope they were fake.

"Master, I'm sorry, I-" The same robed figure who had been speaking ill before threw himself at Voldemort's feet.

"Silence." said Voldemort, cutting of Mulciber's apologies.

"I've been gone for night on thirteen years, thirteen years. But I did not have to be. Any of you, even the most moronic, Goyle, could have done what this blubbering dimwit did." He waved his hand towards Wormtail, who flinched.

"But did you? No. Did you even attempt to seek me out? You, closest of my friends, who knew that I could not die. I alone, who was invulnerable to the clutches of death."

"Master, I assure you-" began Lucius again, but Voldemort cut him off with a look that plainly said to continue would be to invite death. Gulping audibly, Malfoy ceased speaking.

"But now, I am back. I am back to finish what I started, that great cause that you committed yourselves to. But the mere fact that you are here is not proof of your loyalty to me. Those rotting in Azkaban as we speak are far more loyal than you. And my servant, stationed in Hogwarts, is perhaps the most loyal of all."

In Hogwarts. The man who was underneath it all, responsible for the deaths of Cedric and Fleur. Harry seethed quietly.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful however. This is your chance to show that you are still worthy of serving me. And it is simple my Death Eaters, oh so simple. You are here to witness, and then to spread the news of it."

"W-witness what, Master?" risked Lucius.

"Vengeance," replied Voldemort simply.

"I don't understand," came a slow, deep voice.

"You rarely understand, Goyle," replied the Dark Lord cuttingly "but think. Who would I crave vengeance for? Who sent me nearly to my demise, all those years ago?"

"H-Harry Potter?" replied Goyle after a long while.

"Yes," Voldemort smiled, although 'bared his teeth' would be a more accurate description. "Which leads me to the introduction of our guest. Harry, how are you keeping?"

For the first time, the Death Eaters noticed him. There were shouts of shock and anger, followed quickly with many hostile wands pointed in his direction. He glared back at all of them.

"No!" screamed Voldemort. "He's mine. Tonight, I'm going to really show you what should have happened. It was no Boy Who Lived, it was the Mother Who Died. It was... ancient magic. Something I could have, should have, foreseen. But no matter, it's finally time to fix that decade old mistake."

Harry's ropes were cut.

"Give him his wand!"

Wormtail walked slowly up to Harry, throwing him his wand when he was about five feet away. Not close enough for Harry to strangle. Wise man.

Harry stood as quickly as he could, while his injured leg throbbed beneath him.

"Now Harry, we're going to duel. You know how to duel, yes?"

Harry looked at him stonily.

"Mister Potter," Voldemort tutted while the Death Eaters cackled "we start with a bow. Come Harry, there are traditions you know." Harsh laughter echoed around the circle once more.

Standing rigidly, Harry glared at him with his wand held tight.

"Bow Harry," he leered, gesturing with his hand, and Harry's back bent involuntarily into a bow, which the Dark Lord returned mockingly.

"Crucio!" cried Voldemort, and Harry dived behind a gravestone to avoid the curse. "Not very honorable for a Gryffindor, hiding behind the remains of others," taunted the dark wizard.

Harry peeked out his head, only to draw it back quickly when a jet of purple light flew towards it, leaving a smoking crater where it hit the ground.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and his brain was working overtime to figure a way out of this. The Cup! If he could just reach it-

"Stop cowering!" Voldemort's voice cut off his thoughts. The tombstone Harry'd been taking cover behind flew out of the way. He scrambled to get up but his bad leg gave way, and he crashed to the ground once more. The Death Eaters howled with laughter, Voldemort smiled a thin lipped smile.

"I wonder, how did something as useless as you make it to the center of that delightful hedge maze?"

"And how did something as useless as you get people to call him Master?" spat back Harry. The Death Eaters instantly shut up, staring at their Lord in trepidation.

"You'll pay dearly for that Potter," whispered Voldemort, and before Harry could respond he shot a curse at him. Barely getting his shield up in time, Harry dove to the left before he got hit by the spells that followed. He was completely outmatched, even with an arsenal of more advanced spells, Harry didn't stand a chance against one of the most powerful wizards of all time. But then, it didn't matter, his parents' death had taught him that. It wasn't important that someone died, or at least, not as important as how someone died. And Harry intended to go like his father; fighting.

He limped, changing position, his movements obscured by the smoke created by that last attack.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Harry, pointing straight at the Dark Lord. But Voldemort was quicker still, and turned to meet him, "Avada Kedavra!" The spells collided in midair with a glorious fusion of scarlet and emerald light. Part of Harry's brain registered, in a slightly ironic way, that the color of his spell perfectly matched his opponent's eyes, whereas the green of Voldemort's matched his own.

The black haired Gryffindor shut his, fully expecting this to be the end. Briefly, he felt at peace, he had done as job to the best of his abilities, and he could finally meet his parents, tell them how he loved them.

But impossibly, he was still there. He heard Voldemort gasp in shock and rage, the screams of the Death Eaters seemed suddenly distant, and stranger still he heard the melody of Fawkes, of phoenix song. Opening his eyes, Harry too gasped.

Where the spells had melded, there was a small glowing sphere of light, with a golden thread connecting to each wand. More threads spilled from it, into the sky and spreading in all directions, forming a dome. There were flashes from outside of the sphere, and it appeared as though the Death Eaters couldn't penetrate the glowing filaments.

Voldemort glared at Harry, his slit-like nostrils flared.

The tiny ball of light moved slightly in Harry's direction, drawing both of their glances. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at it, and it began to creep away from him toward his opponent's wand.

Harry too focused on it, but when he saw that all he was doing was slowing it down, he redoubled his efforts and forced all of his will on it. The ball halted its procession inches from his wand, and drifted back towards Voldemort's. Harry suddenly realized that a whole new kind of duel was taking place, one that may be just as deadly as the previous one.

It passed the half way point, Voldemort looked furious. Harry's wand began shaking in his hand, more and more violently the further the ball got from it. His fingers began to ache, but his concentration never wavered.

The ball was so close now, it halted, wavering back and forth less than a foot from the Dark Lord's wand. Both of them bore down with their minds, and slowly, it began to move once more, still towards Voldemort. Harry was finding it difficult to keep a grip on his wand, but he knew that in the end it would be worth it.

With an almighty mental push, the ball entered Voldemort's wand. His blood red eyes widened in utter disbelief that the boy had done this, had defeated him on some level.

Something was coming out of the wand, and at first Harry thought it was the ball of light again, that Voldemort had forced it back out. But they were all in for another shock, because emerging from the wand tip, unmistakably, was the torso of Cedric Diggory. Still more of him spilled out, until a perfect representation of the other Hogwarts Champion paced the circle. His composition looked like Nearly Headless Nick, but more substantial; cloud rather than smoke.

"Hello Harry." Cedric smiled at him.

"How?" was all Harry could seem to manage.

He strived to maintain his grip on his unruly wand, lest Voldemort take advantage of his distraction. He needn't have worried, the Dark Lord too was staring at Cedric, eyes wide in what was unmistakably fear. He masked it quickly before anyone saw it, but waited just as eagerly as Harry for Cedric's explanation.

"Excellent work by the way. But I'm not really back, this is more of an... echo, I suppose you could say. This isn't me, I'm not alive, any more than her. Or him." He gestured back at the wand, and Harry's eyes widened; a plump woman he recognized as Bertha Jorkins paced the circle as well, and was soon joined by a limping, grizzled old man.

"Good job Harry!" she encouraged. "That's right, you fight 'im boy. 'E got me though." added the elderly man. Their words fell on deaf ears, because Harry suddenly realized that if the people Voldemort had killed kept coming out of his wand, why, then-

And Lily Potter's head began to emerge from the wand.

"M-Mum?" he whispered. "Harry," she replied lovingly, now formed down to the waist. Tears glistened in her insubstantial eyes, perfect replicas of Harry's.

"Mum," said Harry in disbelief, so overcome was he.

"Hold on dear, just a little longer," said Lily, her feet detaching themselves from the wand of a shellshocked Voldemort "your father's coming." She smiled at him sadly.

"Yes, good job Harry!" cheered Bertha, but the old Muggle and Cedric knew better then to interrupt this moment; they merely nodded at him.

"Son." Harry heard a heart breakingly familiar baritone voice. He looked, hardly daring to believe, but sure enough, his fathers head and broad shoulders had come out of the Dark Lord's wand, and the rest of him quickly followed.

"You've got your mother's eyes," grinned James Potter. He walked over, joining his wife, and together they strode towards Harry. He swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. His family was here.

"And your father's hair. Of all the rotten luck..." replied Lily, and they both chuckled, even though the sound was slightly melancholy.

"We're so proud of you," whispered James into Harry's ear, "just hold on a tiny bit more. When I tell you to, break the connection. Summon the Cup, get out of here. We can protect you," he looked around as the floating forms nodded "but not for long."

"We love you Harry," said Lily tearfully, and James hugged his wife.

Voldemort looked at them furiously, his fear turned into anger. "What are you? Leave!"

Harry's father simply smiled at the man, "If you like. Now!" he roared.

Harry jerked his wand sharply, and the golden string snapped. Voldemort attempted to reach him, but the misty and already disintegrating forms rushed him. He was obscured from view, yelling out orders in his cold voice. "The boy is escaping! Get him!"

Jinxes flew in every direction, Harry ran towards Cedric's body erratically; he couldn't leave him here. He worked to keep himself upright, his leg burning beneath him.

He stumbled briefly, but picked himself up just as fast, reaching the Hufflepuff's fallen form just as Voldemort cast off the smoky forms and yelled in fury "Potter!"

The Dark Lord burst into view just as Harry brought out his wand "Accio Cup!" The gleaming Portkey zoomed towards Harry, who grabbed it out of the air deftly. He was jerked forward from the center of his stomach just as the pursuing wizards fired off several curses. The last thing he heard before he disappeared in a swirl of color, holding Cedric's body, was Voldemort give a high pitched cry of rage.

Cheers. Bright lights and the roar of the crowd. Camera flashes, loud announcements.

Harry was back at Hogwarts, crouched in front of the bleachers, a dead body in his arms.

The people kept clapping and yelling, completely oblivious to the truth, to what had happened. Then the first scream. "Oh my god! It's CEDRIC! CEDRIC'S DEAD!"

And then came the pandemonium. The noise only grew, but completely changed. No merriment, only panic, fear, anguish. The Professor's quickly ushered them into the castle, still babbling. Some figures evaded them however, running towards Harry.

"NO!" roared the hearty voice of Cedric's figure. Mister Diggory came running, eyes wild, "Cedric! Not Cedric!" he pushed Harry roughly out of the way, and bent to embrace his son. His wife was right behind him, sobbing onto his shoulders.

The students were quiet, many Hufflepuffs were crying, as were some in the other houses. Harry could only sit, staring numbly at Cedric's corpse. Now that the adrenaline and anger from the graveyard had worn off, all he felt was cold and empty.

The Professor's quickly ushered the students into the castle, although some managed to covertly sneak back.

He saw people running towards them in his peripherals, but he didn't bother turning. Someone hugged him tightly from behind, smelling of jasmine. Warmth blossomed back into his chest as Cho buried her head in his shoulder. Tears spilled out, trailing down his grimy face and he grabbed the hands that were folded around him.

"Harry!" Dumbledore was rushing towards him, the closest to frantic that Harry had ever seen him. "Harry what has happened here?"

"Aye, I'd like to know the same thing," growled Moody. Cornelius Fudge was with them, looking like he was having a full blown panic attack. "Whatever will the reporters say?" he moaned, "First that debacle with Black, then that Delacour girl, and now this!"

"Cornelius!" said Dumbledore loudly, "Control yourself! Now is not the time to discuss social statuses."

The minister turned a shade of magenta that Harry had only seen in the sweaters that Mrs. Weasley knitted Ron. "W-well Dumbledore, it's only natural that-"

The Headmaster cut across him, "Natural that we get explanations. Harry I apologize, please, what is it you have to say. I believe," he surveyed the people gathered, himself, the Minister (who was giving him a very ugly look), Moody, McGonagall, Harry and Cho, and Cedric's parents "Yes, I believe that everyone here deserves to know."

Never letting go of Cho's hand, Harry spoke softly, his dry throat stumbling over words every now and then. He started with their arrival with to the graveyard and ended in their departure. No one spoke, even Mrs. Diggory ceased her sobbing to listen to how her son had died.

"My poor boy," whispered Amos, stroking Cedric's hair.

Dumbledore gave a long and deep sigh, looking old and tired like he never did. Alastor had an odd expression on his face, McGonagall's eyes were closed as she rubbed her temples, but Fudge was looking rather incredulous. Cho simply pulled Harry closer to her, "Are you okay?" she asked him quietly.

He nodded automatically, and it wasn't entirely a lie. In her arms, he felt halfway human again.

"I need to go check on the students," said Moody in his low voice, "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office later. Potter," he added, "I'd like to pick your brain on those ruddy Death Eaters, if you have the time." Nodding at them all, he made his way back up to the castle.

Dumbledore began to question Harry on some of the finer points, paying heavy attention to the part about their wands connecting. Nodding like this was to be expected, he then asked if Harry had known who the Death Eaters were. He began to repeat the names, until Fudge intervened with a start.

"Come now, you can't be serious Dumbledore! I mean," he snuck a nervous glance at Harry "he's wrong. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can't be back, he can't be."

"And why not?"

"Because he's dead! He died!" said Fudge fiercely. Cedric's mother whimpered.

"If he's back, then he obviously did not die." replied Dumbledore.

"And what do we have confirming this?" blustered Fudge.

"We have Harry, who performed in an exemplary manner tonight." said the Headmaster rather sharply.

"Yes, well," the Minister's lip curled up in a slightly derisive manner, "not much of a source if you ask me. I've been hearing funny things Albus, very funny things. Fainting everywhere, headaches, nightmares, and now apparently hallucinations."

Cho inhaled sharply in anger, but Harry held her down and prevented her from giving the Minister a well deserved crack to the face. And quite possibly a few hexes. But Merlin knows he would have liked to.

"You've been reading the Daily Prophet, haven't you Cornelius?" questioned Dumbledore softly.

"And so what if I have? News is news, Albus, and it's no different no matter where I get it from."

"What other explanation fits?" pleaded the Headmaster.

"Plenty do! And the one I happen to believe, the one that's most likely the truth, is that Diggory's death was an accident, and that Potter's a nutcase!" exclaimed Fudge angrily.

Thoughts of restraint left the couple's heads and Cho rose to her feet, Minister of Magic be damned, but Harry beat her to it. Cornelius Fudge reeled back, clutching his nose in shock. Blood seeped from between his fingers, and Harry's fist was still raised. "How dare you," he hissed furiously, "dishonor me like that. Dishonor him like that. Cedric Diggory was a great wizard, his death was no accident, it was murder."

Everyone but Cho looked at him, appalled. "If you don't mind Minister," she said sweetly, "I'd say you had that coming. And I would leave if I were you, those of us that know the truth have a war to prepare for."

"There will be consequences! This is assault! I'll have you all in Azkaban!" yelled Fudge, who was beside himself and trying to stem the blood flowing from his nose, which was slightly squashed.

"Really?" said Cho in a mildly surprised voice, "Because I don't think anyone saw anything, isn't that right? And whatever shall happen without witnesses..." She tutted thoughtfully. The Minister looked around to see agreement on every side. Even Cedric's parents were nodding their heads.

All the color drained from Fudge's face, leaving the once purple skin a pasty white.

"You people," he whispered, "are insane. I'm leaving. Now."

"I think that would be best Cornelius," said Dumbledore sadly.

Without responding, the Minister turned on his heel and marched away, threatening the air next to him. Harry chuckled, drawing his girlfriend in for a chaste kiss. "Ruddy brilliant," he murmured in her ear.

"That's Ravenclaw for you," she replied, giggling.

"I believe," said Dumbledore finally, "that that will be enough for tonight. Harry? Hospital Wing if you please." Everyone offered Cedric's parents their deepest condolences, before returning to the castle. They met Professor Sprout on the way up, who was rushing down to meet with her star pupils parents. Her eyes too, were tear filled.

"Mister Potter, Miss Chang," came McGonagall's voice as they split up.

"Yes?" asked Harry, his arm around Cho.

It was then that Gryffindor's Head of House did something that no betting man, no matter how drunk, would have put money on.

She gave them a wide smile, "Excellent straight right, 10 points to Gryffindor. And, Miss Chang, that was a superb cover up, 10 points to Ravenclaw." And with that, she bade them good night.

"Did that really just happen?" Harry asked his girlfriend, in awe.

"You know, I think it did," she replied, equally stunned.

Harry walked Cho to the Ravenclaw Common Room as soon as an indignant Madame Pomfrey patched him up. "Changelings! Really! I would have expected better sense even from someone as eccentric as our Headmaster!" she had ranted.

He walked to the Gryffindor Tower, fully intending to get some sleep, but he knew that there was still something he had to take care of. He changed directions abruptly, his feet leading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He had to talk to Moody; there was a traitor in Hogwarts.

"Professor?" Harry knocked on the door, and almost immediately it was opened. "Ah, Potter," said the grizzled man, "Come in, come in." he beckoned, leading Harry into his office.

Having only been there once before, Harry still found the multitudes of Dark Detection tools extremely fascinating. The foeglass unnerved him though, the faceless heads swirling in its depths, while the Sneakoscope rocked gently on its point.

"So Potter," Moody sat him down, "I'll have you start off. I have something rather important to say." Harry briefly considered the wisdom of what he was about to say before rushing on.

"There's an impostor in Hogwarts. A spy, they bewitched Cedric to kill Fleur, and they enchanted the Cup." he said quickly, unable to hold it in. "I didn't get a chance to tell Dumbledore, what with all the people around and..." he shrugged helplessly.

"It just so happens," began Moody slowly, "that I have the solution to your problem. I know who the traitor is."

"Who?" gasped Harry. Why had he kept that a secret? Why were they still on the loose?

"It's me," said Mad-Eye Moody, in a calm voice, completely at odds with the insanity that came out of his mouth.

"B-but y-you can't be! You're an ex-Auror! You hate dark wizards!"

"I never said that, did I? I told you the truth; I hate a Death Eater who walked free. Those who claimed that they had no loyalty to my master, the greatest wizard of all time..." he snorted. "They didn't even search for him! I would have but... I was, held up."

Oh please someone help, thought Harry wildly, but even as he did he knew that no one would come. They'd all think him safe in his bed, and even when he was gone, none would think to suspect the famous Dark Wizard catcher.

"But that doesn't matter anymore," continued the clearly insane man, "because-" he cut himself off, with a retching noise.

He gasped in pain, Harry in shock. Moody's body was shifting and changing, in much the same way as the creatures that Harry had fought earlier.

His mane changed, became shorter, thicker, the color of straw. The worn features on his face rearranged, his nose became whole, and the bright and swirling eye popped out as a real one re-grew in its place. The wooden leg fell off with a clump, the real appendage coming back.

The whole thing took mere seconds.

When the transformation was done, quite a different man was before Harry. A man he recognized from the pensieve in Dumbledore's office, and a man who had supposedly been dead for the past 13 years or so.

Lounged in the chair, wand pointed at Harry, was Barty Crouch Jr. There was a magnificent leer on his face, "Continuing what I said earlier. It doesn't matter, not when I kill you. I will be given an honored place at my Master's side for singlehandedly defeating his greatest enemy. Yes, yes, I know, wizard's duel and equal rights and such, but I don't have honor. I have something better, results."

He drew his wand arm back, preparing to cast the deadly curse.

Oh Merlin help me! Harry thought angrily. There he was, just waiting to be struck down and he had no way to stop this, no way to defend himself.

There was a small and unexpected popping sound, "Somebody call?" said a new, slightly surprised voice.

A large and handsome man stood behind Harry, with a mane of silver hair that rivaled Dumbledore's. Everyone froze.

"But that's impossible." said Crouch, "You can't apparate or disapparate inside this school."

The man snorted, "Please, I predate this entire thing. Back in my day, this whole place was covered by an iceberg. Your rules don't apply to me."

"So who wants to talk?" he continued pleasantly, but then he saw Crouch's wand, still aimed at Harry. He frowned, "Well, we can't have that can we?" he brought out a simple wand of his own, but with just a flick of it, Barty was in a steel cage, his wand was in a glass case. The stranger had even cleaned the shabby robes that the man who pretended to be Moody wore, and all with what was seemingly a single spell.

"I suppose it's you who's doing the talking," he turned to Harry, facing him head on for the first time. From this angle, the Gryffindor suddenly recognized the newcomer.

Harry had seen this face a thousand and one times, waving at him from Chocolate Frog Cards and magical textbooks. This was turning out to be quite the impossible night.

"You," Harry swallowed, his mouth dry, "You're Merlin."

Author's Note: Er... so how is it? I'm hoping it's alright... I tried to kind of stick to the canon, for the parts that needed to I mean. Read and review, I love feedback. All author's do. It's mother's milk to us. Without it, our bones don't grow.