Chapter Twenty-One
Brave
:.:.:
I felt myself slam flat into the ground, my face pressed into the grass. Harry tightened his grip on my right hand, and in my left, I still felt the smooth, cold handle of the Triwizard Cup. And in a way, I sort of wished I could stay there, that I could keep my eyes shut and just pretend everything that happened was nothing more than a dream, and it seemed Harry felt the same way. Neither of us made any moves to get up, because as long as we stayed there in the grass, eyes shut tight, we didn't have to face reality . . . but the peace didn't last.
There were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams . . . and then Harry's hand left mine, someone turning me over.
"Demetria! Harry!"
I finally opened my eyes and saw the starry sky, Albus Dumbledore crouched over both Harry and I. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around us, pushing nearer; I felt the ground beneath my head reverberating with their footsteps.
We had come back to the edge of the maze. I could see the stands rising above us, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above.
I let go of the cup, but I reached beside me to clutch Harry's hand again; he held mine just as tightly.
"He's back," Harry whispered to Dumbledore. "He's back. Voldemort."
"What's going on? What's happened?"
The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry and I; it looked white, appalled.
"My God — Diggory!" it whispered. "Dumbledore — he's dead!"
The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on us gasped it to those around them . . . and then others shouted it — screeched it — into the night — "He's dead!" "He's dead!" "Cedric Diggory! Dead!"
I remained frozen; each time I heard the words, it was another dagger in me, another tear brimming at my eyes. This was the reality I'd wanted so badly to avoid.
"Harry, let go of him," I heard Fudge say.
I knew if it had been me holding Cedric's body, I wouldn't have been able to let go. I knew that if I looked at him again, his grey eyes blank and still, it would destroy me.
"Harry, you can't help him now. It's over. Let go," said Dumbledore softly.
I could've helped him. I knew the cup was a trap. I knew something was wrong the moment it brought us to that graveyard. But I wasn't quick enough . . . I wasn't quick enough to escape the classroom, I wasn't quick enough to reach the cup, and I wasn't quick enough to save Cedric from the Killing Curse . . . I wasn't fucking quick enough . . .
The tears fell, once again, and I did nothing to stop them.
"He wanted me to bring him back," Harry muttered beside me to Dumbledore. "He wanted me to bring him back to his parents..."
"That's right, Harry...just let go now..."
Dumbledore raised Harry from the ground. There was nothing between Cedric and I now.
Don't do it, don't do it, I told myself. You don't need to see him like this . . . don't look . . . don't look . . .
But I did look . . . and I cried out, practically flinging myself onto his body. I rested my head on his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Demetria," said Dumbledore after a moment; I felt his hand on my back. "Demetria, I'm sorry. There's nothing you can do for him now."
I pulled my head up and placed my hand gently over his eyelids to shut them. I let Dumbledore help me to my feet. I saw Mr. Diggory running over now, but I couldn't find Harry. Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically . . . I didn't know where to go or what to do . . . but suddenly, I remembered something. I thought back to the classroom . . .
"Harry!" I called out into the air. "Harry! Where's Harry?!"
"He's ill and injured," Dumbledore calmly explained to me. "Moody is taking him to the hospital wing."
"No, no, no, sir, no," I muttered. So much was happening . . . there was so much commotion and screaming, my mind was going a mile a minute. "I told Snape! Sir, that's not Moody!"
"Severus did tell me," Dumbledore assured me. "I will follow them."
"I'm coming with you," I said, voice still shaken from crying.
Dumbledore looked, for a moment, as though he might protest, but he nodded and said, "Very well. Come on."
We moved rather slowly to ensure there was a decent amount of distance between us and them, although they were no where in sight. I didn't necessarily mind the pace, though, being that my mind was still reeling and I trusted Dumbledore would not let anything happen to Harry. Snape and McGonagall came with us.
"Mad, am I?" I heard Moody's voice cry out as we neared his office; we moved quicker. "We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him — and now — I conquer you!"
"Stupefy!" Dumbledore blasted the door apart, Barty Crouch Jr., still disguised as Moody, thrown backward onto the office floor.
Dumbledore stepped into the office first, placed a foot underneath 'Moody''s unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back, so that his face was visible. Snape and I entered next, followed by McGonagall, who went straight to Harry.
"Come along, Potter," she whispered. "Come along . . . hospital wing . . ."
"No," said Dumbledore sharply. I'd never seen him look so intimidating. There wasn't a trace of the usual twinkle in his eyes.
"Dumbledore, he ought to — look at him — he's been through enough tonight —"
"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand," said Dumbledore curtly. "Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why."
"Moody," Harry said, in a state of complete disbelief. "How can it have been Moody?"
"This is not Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore quietly. "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight, nor would he have locked Demetria in a classroom to keep her from the cup. However, that was when Demetria was able to discover who this man truly is. She informed Severus of this, who then relayed the message to me — and we followed you."
Dumbledore bent down over 'Moody''s limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody's hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned to McGonagall and Snape.
"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog with you back to the Quidditch field, and then bring both the dog and Remus Lupin up to my office. Tell them I will be with them shortly, then come back here."
If either Snape or McGonagall found these instructions peculiar, they hid their confusion. Both turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore walked over to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key in the lock, and opened it. It contained a mass of spellbooks. Dumbledore closed the trunk, placed a second key in the second lock, and opened the trunk again. The spellbooks had vanished and this time it contained an assortment of broken Sneakoscopes, some parchment and quills, and what looked like a silvery Invisibility Cloak. Harry and I watched Dumbledore place the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth keys into their respective locks, reopening the trunk each time, and revealing different contents each time. Then he placed the seventh key in the lock, threw open the lid, and I heard Harry let out a cry of amazement.
The three of us were looking down into a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should've held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing.
Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowering himself, and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He bent over him.
"Stunned — controlled by the Imperius Curse — very weak," he said. "Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry, throw down the imposter's cloak — he's freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger."
Harry did as he was told; Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip flash that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. The thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor.
"Also just as you suspected, Demetria," said Dumbledore. "Very well done."
"Thank you, sir." My voice sounded distant, even in my own ears. I was not at all feeling like myself enough to enjoy the compliment, or the victory of being right.
"Polyjuice Potion, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "You see the simplicity of it, the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair . . . The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done . . . on the hour . . . every hour . . . We shall see."
Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor. Harry and I stared at him too. Minutes passed in silence...
Then, before our very eyes, the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled grey hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.
The man lying before us now was pale-skinned and slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair. I still recognized him even though he was lined around the eyes now and looked much older.
There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had entered with Winky at his heels. McGonagall was right behind them.
"Good heavens...Barty Crouch," McGonagall confirmed, seeming slightly surprised despite the fact that I'd told her it was him. "So Harris was right, then..."
"Why the tone of surprise, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yes? Harris certainly is the trustworthy sort," Snape said, looking right at me; we nodded to one another.
"I am just...impressed," she admitted, also looking at me then. I gave her the same nod — a polite acknowledgement.
Filthy, disheveled, the house-elf I assumed to be Winky peered around Snape's legs. Her mouth opened wide and she let out a piercing shriek.
"Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?"
She flung herself forward onto Crouch Jr.'s chest.
"You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"
"He is simply Stunned, Winky," said Dumbledore. "Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?"
Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle of completely clear liquid which I could only assume was Veritaserum. Dumbledore got up, bent over Barty, and pulled him into a sitting position against the wall beneath a Foe-Glass, in which the reflections of Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and myself were all glaring down upon us all. Winky remained on her knees, trembling, her hands over her face. Dumbledore forced Barty's mouth open and poured three drops inside it. Then he pointed his wand at Barty's chest and said, "Ennervate."
Barty Crouch Jr. opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that their faces were level.
"Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
"Yes," Barty muttered.
"I would like you to tell us how you came to be here," said Dumbledore softly. "How did you escape from Azkaban?"
I thought I'd known this story, and I technically did, but there ended up being one detail I'd gotten wrong.
"My mother save me," Crouch began in a flat, expressionless voice. "She knew I was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draught of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother's hairs. She took a draught of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my hairs. We took on each other's appearance."
I'd thought Barty wanted to save his son because he loved him...
"Say no more, Master Barty," said Winky, trembling. "say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!"
Barty took another deep breath and continued in the same flat voice.
"The dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors.
"My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me."
"And what did your father do with you when he had gotten you home?" said Dumbledore quietly.
"Staged my mother's death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master...of returning to his service."
"How did your father subdue you?" said Dumbledore.
"The Imperius Curse," Barty said. "I was under my father's control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behavior."
"Master Barty, Master Barty," sobbed Winky through her hands. "You isn't ought to tell them, we is getting in trouble..."
"Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?" said Dumbledore softly. "Did anyone know except your father and the house-elf?"
"Yes," said Barty, eyelids flickering. "A witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house with papers for my father's signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently."
"Why is she coming to nose into my master's private business?" sobbed Winky. "Why isn't she leaving us be?"
"Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup," said Dumbledore.
"Winky talked my father into it. She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He wil be in his Invisibility Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell fresh air for once. She said my mother would have wanted it. She told my father that my mother had died to give me freedom. She had not saved me for a life of imprisonment. He agreed in the end.
"It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know.
"But Winky didn't know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father's Imperius Curse. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed outside his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw, in front of me, a wand sticking out of a boy's pocket. I had not been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. Winky didn't know. Winky is frightened of heights. She had her face hidden."
"Master Barty, you bad boy!" whispered Winky, tears trickling between her fingers.
"So you took the wand," said Dumbledore, "and what did you do with it?"
"We went back to the tent," Barty said. "Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They had turned their backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. They were free to seek him, but they did not. They were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent; he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.
"Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned.
"When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had been found and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me home. He dismissed Winky. She had failed him. She lad let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me escape."
Winky let out a wail of despair.
"Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then . . . and then . . ." Barty's head rolled on his neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. "My master came for me.
"He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant — perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door."
The smile spread wider over Crouch's face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. Winky's petrified brown eyes were visible through her fingers. She seemed too appalled to speak...finally.
"It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years."
"And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?" said Dumbledore.
"He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first —"
"You needed Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm.
"Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the potion. I drank it; I became Moody's double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set off the dustbins. Then I packed up Moody's clothes and Dark Detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole boomslang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it."
"And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?" Dumbledore asked.
"Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father's house, and to keep watch over my father."
"But your father escaped," said Dumbledore.
"Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchfil enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban.
"My master sent word of my father's escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything."
"Map?" said Dumbledore quickly. "What map is this?"
My guess was that it was the Marauder's Map.
"Potter's map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape's office one night. He thought I was my father. We have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape.
"For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and Demetria Harris. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I did not think I would have to harm Harris. My master told me the Harrises could be trusted. Carlisle Harris knew that I was alive. But Demetria Harris spoke to my father and began piecing things together. I Stunned Harris. I killed my father."
"Noooooo!" Winky wailed. "Master Barty, Master Barty, wht is you saying?"
"You killed your father," Dumbledore parroted. "What did you do with his body?"
"Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come.
"Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father's body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father's body. He became a bone . . . I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin."
There was complete silence now, except for Winky's continued sobs. Then Dumbledore prompted, "And tonight..."
"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," whispered Barty. "Turned it into a Portkey. I knew Potter would reach it first and didn't worry about the other champions, except Harris. She was too skilled and too much trouble. Decided it would be easier to keep her from the maze. Told her Madam Pomfrey wanted to check her wound from the second task. She followed me to a classroom where I locked her, but I knew I had to stay with her. Tried to manipulate the maze from there. Harris distracted me. Shot a flash of light at the door and escaped. Tried to save Potter. But my master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."
The insane smile lit his features once more, and his head dropped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side.
Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then he raised his wand once more and ropes flew out of it, ropes that twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, binding him tightly.
"Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry and Demetria upstairs?"
"Of course," said McGonagall. She looked slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched someone being sick. However, when she drew out her wand and pointed it at Barty, her hands were quite steady.
"Severus," Dumbledore turned to Snape, "please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me."
Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room.
"Harry? Demetria?" Dumbledore said gently.
When Harry got up he swayed a bit, probably on account of his leg. I put my arm around his back as we followed Dumbledore out into the dark corridor.
"I want you two to come up to my office first," he said quietly as we headed up the passageway. "Sirius and Remus are waiting for us there."
A kind of numbness and a sense of completely unreality were still upon me, but I didn't care; it even seemed better this way. I didn't want to have to think about anything that happened since I'd grabbed Harry's robes at the end of the maze. I knew my mind would never let me forget the things I'd seen . . . the things that kept flashing across my mind, as vivid as the visions Voldemort had forced me to see. Wormtail, slumped on the ground, cradling his stump of an arm . . . Voldemort rising from the steaming cauldron . . . Cedric, my love, dead . . .
"Professor," Harry mumbled, "where are Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?"
It seemed I wasn't the only one thinking of Cedric.
"They are with Professor Sprout," said Dumbledore. His voice, which had been so calm throughout the interrogation of Crouch, shook very slightly for the first time. "She was Head of Cedric's House, and knew him best, aside, of course, from Demetria."
I forced myself not to react to that.
We had reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore gave the password, it sprang aside, and the three of us went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open. Sirius and Remus were standing there, both with faces white and gaunt; in one swift moment, they had crossed the room. They voiced their concerns for both Harry and I, voices overlapping; Sirius helped Harry into a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. Remus and I followed.
Dumbledore began to tell them both everything Barty Crouch had said. I wasn't listening, though. I kept my mind occupied on other things by fiddling with various, interesting objects in the office. Then, there came a soft rush of wings. A phoenix had flown across the office and landed on Harry's knee.
"'Lo, Fawkes," said Harry quietly. He stroked the phoenix's beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. I supposed it belonged to Dumbledore.
When Dumbledore stopped talking, he sat down opposite of Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who avoided his eyes. Then he looked to me; my gaze shot down as well. He was going to make us relive everything.
"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze," said Dumbledore. I wasn't sure which of us in particular he was speaking to, if he was at all, but neither of us answered.
"We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" said Sirius harshly. I saw him put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let him have sleep. Let him rest."
"I'll tell you," I said, though my voice sounded distant and odd, yet again. The crying had closed my throat a bit, made my voice shaky.
"Demetria —" came Remus, carefully.
"It's okay, Remus," I told him. Though from the way I sounded, I was sure everyone knew it was anything but okay. "I want to get it over with."
I looked to Harry, and when he gave me a nod, I began to tell them. As I spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night rose before my eyes and brought me right back to those very moments.
Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and I was glad, because it was easier to keep going now that I'd started. I only hoped that once I'd finished, I would feel better...
When I told of Wormtail piercing Harry's arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry jumped in his seat. Remus and I stayed back as Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. I couldn't help but feel sort of...out of place. It didn't really seem like my presence was needed, especially when Harry started speaking.
"He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's," he told Dumbledore. "He said the protection my — my mother left in me — he'd have it too. And he was right — he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face."
"Very well," Dumbledore said, returning to his desk and sitting down again. "Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Demetria, continue, please."
"I'm sure Harry can take it from here, sir," I sounded as flat and expressionless as Barty after drinking Veritaserum. "If I'm not needed, I'll just —"
"You are needed, Demetria," he told me softly.
"I can take over, though," Harry offered. He looked back at me with nothing but kindness in his eyes and I was actually quite thankful to pass the reigns to him. I nodded and he continued the story.
He explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he could remember of Voldemort's speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel.
But when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort's wands, he found his throat obstructed. I considered stepping in again, but Sirius spoke instead.
"The wands connected?" he said. "Why?"
"Priori Incantatem," Dumbledore muttered.
"The Reverse Spell effect?" said Remus.
"Exactly," Dumbledore affirmed. "Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact," he added, pointing to Fawkes, still peacefully perched on Harry's knee.
"My wand's feather came from Fawkes?" Harry asked, amazed.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago."
"So what happens when a wand meets its brother?" Sirius inquired.
"They will not work properly against each other," replied Dumbledore. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle . . . a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed — in reverse. The most recent first . . . and then those which preceded it . . . Which means that some form of Cedric must have reappeared."
I immediately threw my head back, looking up at the ceiling to keep more tears from spilling. I couldn't believe I still had more in me.
"Diggory came back to life?" said Sirius sharply.
"No spell can reawaken the dead," said Dumbledore more heavily.
Remus did not stop me as I moved quickly to a spindle-legged table and fiddled with a curious silver instrument which whirred and emitted little puffs of smoke. I needed the distractions once again, but Dumbledore seemed to understand, as he continued speaking.
"All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand . . . am I correct, Harry?"
"He spoke to me," Harry said. "He wanted me to tell Demetria something..."
It was suddenly getting much harder to breathe. I kept my back to everyone.
"An echo," said Dumbledore. "which retained Cedric's appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared . . . less recent victims of Voldemort's wand . . ."
"An old man," Harry said. "Bertha Jorkins. And..."
"Your parents?" said Dumbledore quietly.
"Yes."
"The last murders the wand performed...in reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows . . . what did they do?"
Harry described how the figures that had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry's father had told him what to do, how Cedric's had made its final request . . . and then that was it, it was over . . . Well, the story at least. The memories . . . the pain . . . that would, surely, never be over.
"You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight," said Dumbledore. And though I had a feeling he was only speaking to Harry, he added, "both of you."
I finally turned around, everyone looking at me; I gave a breath of laughter.
"You do not agree, Demetria?" Dumbledore curiously asked.
"Harry was brave," I said after a moment. "I gave in."
And because neither Harry nor I had mentioned the part about me switching sides — twice — Remus and Sirius looked to me with confusion; Dumbledore, on the other hand, nodded understandingly.
"You did what you had to do," Harry told me fervently. "and then you switched back."
"Yes, always switching, aren't I?" There was emotion in my voice again, but it was dark. I sounded as cynical as . . . Dolohov.
"What's going on?" Remus asked. "Demetria, you joined them?"
"No!" Harry defended me.
"Yes, Harry!" I said. "I joined them! When I was seven years old, I pledged my allegiance to them! And it stayed that way until I came to this school . . . until I found out the truth about my family . . . and then I thought, 'no, I don't want this. My parents didn't want it, my grandfather doesn't want it, why should I?' So I switched — switched to the good side. But then, I was reminded of the consequences . . . so I switched back . . . and then I switched again . . . and again, and again, and again . . . and tonight, I gave in. Dolohov nearly gave me the Mark last month —"
"He what?!" Sirius growled.
"Oh no, it's all right, Sirius!" I said darkly. "I agreed to it! Because I've been so bloody selfish —"
"You did it to save your grandfather!" said Harry fervently.
I froze. Grandad. I didn't know if I'd ever see him again...
"Demetria, you stepped in to defend me," Harry continued. "You broke your allegiance with Voldemort nearly as quickly as you started it."
It sounded sort of mean, but considering the circumstances, it really wasn't, and I knew what he meant. But when more silence passed through, Harry spoke again, realizing what happened.
"Is that why you said what you did about your family?"
Tears.
"Demetria..." said Remus gently.
I walked back over to them and tried to speak, but my throat wouldn't allow it. Not only that, but I did not wish to repeat the cruel words. Harry did it for me. I tried to block them out, but they rang in my ears.
"I haven't considered Carlisle to be my family for a long time. You can keep him."
Remus wrapped an arm around me as my tears fell silently. I'd never cried so much...
"I said it to save him," I said so very quietly, "For months, now, I've been ignoring him . . . I've been furious with him . . . And tonight, we said our goodbyes . . . I'll never see him again . . ."
No one tried to make any offers from the bright side, because there wasn't one. This storm cloud did not have a silver lining. Now that Voldemort was back, there would be no way to sneak around him. And with Grandad being so deep in the inner circle, there wasn't a chance.
"Demetria, you do not believe you have shown bravery tonight?" Dumbledore asked again.
After a moment, I muttered, "I s'pose so."
"You have both shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourselves equal to it — and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. Harry, you will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace . . . Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"
Sirius nodded and stood up; he made his way over to me and wrapped his arms around me before transforming into the great black dog.
"Demetria, if you wouldn't mind waiting for my return...?" Dumbledore said. "There is another matter I wish to discuss with you."
I nodded.
Sirius, Harry, and Dumbledore left the office and I dropped myself into the chair Harry had been sitting in, Remus at my side. We didn't speak, and on the one hand, I appreciated it, because I truly did not wish to speak, nor did my strained throat particularly want me to; but I also wished we could speak of something, anything, other than what happened . . . I couldn't seem to distract myself . . .
When Dumbledore returned, he returned to his desk and sat down in front of me.
"I will keep this brief, Demetria," he said. "I am sure you would like to rest as well."
Honestly, I didn't. I knew it would be impossible to fall asleep.
"Barty Crouch mentioned you used a flash of light to break down the classroom door," he began. "I took a stroll past it — the door was blown completely off its hinges. I am assuming it was locked magically?"
"The Unlocking Charm didn't work," I said, voice distant again. "but yeah, maybe locked with a password or something..."
"Dark magic, no doubt," Dumbledore said. "but your light was able to break through it."
I straightened up.
"Capital L?" I asked, astonished.
Dumbledore nodded. I thought, then, that Remus would be out of the loop, but then I remembered Rita Skeeter's lovely article about my being a Lumen.
"So this . . . flash of light that I can do . . . that's my power?"
"One of them, yes," said Dumbledore. "Tell me, are you able to control this power?"
"Not really," I admitted. "It only happens when I'm really angry."
"As I suspected . . . When first introduced to Lumens, their powers are based solely on strong hormonal reactions. As the powers start to progress, however, they will become rather temperamental and difficult to control unless properly trained."
"Can she learn on her own?" Remus inquired. "I'm sure there's been research on this sort of thing, some books —
"I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore. "Lumens are a rather private people. They share their knowledge only with their own kind. Demetria, we will need to find someone who is able to train you."
"We?" I parroted. "You're going to help?"
Dumbledore gave a small smile, the twinkling returning to his eyes behind the half-moon spectacles as he said, "Of course."
"Well can't we just find whoever taught my mum?" I asked hopefully.
"That certainly would be convenient . . . if we were able to do so," said Dumbledore. "You see, when I first suspected your abilities, I tried to send a number of owls to your mother's teacher, and I'm afraid each owl returned to me with the very same letters I'd sent. This leads me to believe that Lucy's teacher has either passed on or does not wish to be found, at least not yet."
"Not yet?" I parroted.
"Do you remember what I told you about receiving the locket?" he asked.
"Timing," I said, understanding.
Dumbledore nodded.
"The most we can do at this point in time is wait and see," he said, "but in the mean time, I will do my best to see if I can find someone else. Now, one final thing before you get some well-deserved rest for the night . . . You are planning to return to Durmstrang, correct?"
"Correct..."
"Should that remain to be the case, I will owl you with any and all details that arise, as well as negotiate a time and place for frequent meetings with whomever I am able to find, who I believe will be most beneficial for you. Or, if you wish, I need not be involved at all..."
"I'd like your help," I said genuinely.
"Very well," he said, nodding in appreciation, "then I must ask you to entertain the thought of transferring here — to Hogwarts."
I'd heard it from nearly everyone else, and now it was coming from the headmaster.
"It would certainly simplify things," he reasoned, "and it would require no effort. I would handle all of the necessary paperwork — just a request of transferring records, really — and all I would ask you do is arrive the night before the rest of the school for some brief testing, in order to determine which classes you should be taking."
To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure what was keeping me at Durmstrang . . . maybe I just wanted to keep a connection with Grandad in any possible way I could now . . . But it would make things easier to transfer, and Viktor and Grigor were graduating, so they wouldn't be at Durmstrang next year . . . although Finn still would be . . .
"I don't think we're going to reach a decision tonight," Remus said for me when my silence dragged on.
"I'd like to think about it, if that's all right?" I spoke up.
"Of course," said Dumbledore. "You may have the remainder of the summer to ponder it, if you wish. I do, however, ask that I receive word of your decision before the final week of August."
I nodded and got up to leave, but Dumbledore stopped me.
"You may wish to sleep in the hospital wing tonight, as well."
"I'm not ill or injured, sir," I said.
"True, but it may be a more peaceful resting place than the ship, don't you think?"
I gave another nod, and Dumbledore began walking with Remus and I out of his office, down the spiral staircase. I hadn't realized how tired I was until that moment; my eyelids kept threatening to close. My eyes, probably red and puffy from the crying, were sort of throbbing in their sockets. Remus noticed and slung an arm around my shoulders. I was very thankful that he was there, very grateful that Dumbledore had invited him.
Suddenly, after descending a staircase to the fourth floor, a commotion could be detected. Two people were arguing, and when I caught sight of them, they were rushing toward the hospital wing.
"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva —" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.
"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out —"
But that was it, because they'd burst through the hospital wing doors. I watched Snape march in after them. Dumbledore quickened his pace beside Remus and I, who followed him in as well.
"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to McGonagall. "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!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"
I didn't know this woman very well, nor did I know her for that long of a time, but I never would've imagined she could lose control like this. She'd always kept herself together every time I'd seen her, no matter what the situation. But now, she looked absolutely furious; angry blotches of color in her cheeks, hands balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.
"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape in a low voice, "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 fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —"
"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, also appearing rather angry, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous —"
But McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.
"The moment that — that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and — and —"
But she didn't need to finish that sentence. I was fairly certain everyone knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal Kiss to Barty Crouch Jr. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead.
"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"
"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."
"Why he killed them?" blustered 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," Dumbledore said. "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 as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.
"You-Know-Who . . . returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore..."
"As Minerva and Severus have doubtlessly told you," said Dumbledore. "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I can tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."
"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, a bloody smile dawning on his face. "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..."
"Why, you —"
Remus tightened his grip on my shoulders and held me back; no one seemed to notice. I wanted nothing more than to punch that miserable git square in the face.
"When Harry and Demetria touched the Triwizard Cup tonight," said Dumbledore over what I'd just furiously whispered. "they were transported straight to Voldemort. They witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office. I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry or Demetria tonight."
Fudge's curious smile lingered, and it only fueled my desire to hex him. He glanced at Harry, then me, and then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are — er — prepared to take their word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"
There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling.
"Certainly, I believe Harry and Demetria," said Dumbledore, eyes blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard both Demetria and Harry's account of what happened after they touched the Triwizard Cup; the stories all make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."
Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry and I before answering.
"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and two children who . . . well . . ."
It clicked for me then, and I couldn't help but exhale a small chuckle.
"Fancy yourself a Rita Skeeter fan, Mr. Fudge?"
Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.
"Let's say I have been reading her articles," he said, looking at Dumbledore. "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 —"
"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.
"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations?"
"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore took a step toward Fudge, almost seeming to radiate a sense of power. "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."
Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.
"And what about Demetria?" he challenged.
"Severus has informed me that Voldemort was using Legilimency in order to penetrate Demetria's mind and fill her head with terrible visions in an effort to receive her allegiance," said Dumbledore steadily. "That incident only occured once and has not at all damaged her mind."
Fudge appeared as though he was all out of moves, and yet he continued to speak, though he went back to Harry.
"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before . . ."
"Look, we saw Lord Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped, seeming to have not known that Harry was awake. "We saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —"
Snape made a sudden movement, but his eyes flew back to Fudge just as quickly.
"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge dismissed. "A very old family — donations to excellent causes —"
"Macnair!" Harry continued.
"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"
"Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle —"
"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "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?"
The more this ignorant man spoke, the more I felt white-hot Light surging through my body. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to hold it in.
"You fool!" McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"
"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. "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!"
Dumbledore, who had been checking up on me every time Fudge spoke, realized I was right on the edge of losing it. He quickly made his way over to me and held both of my hands in his, whispering something — probably a spell — which actually worked to calm me down.
"And what about this girl?" I heard Fudge say, but I wasn't looking at him; I kept my eyes shut, trying to focus on the words Dumbledore was repeating. "This is your other reliable source of information? There is clearly something wrong with —"
"Carlisle Harris," I said, surprisingly calm, eyes still closed. "Recognize that name, Mr. Fudge?"
"Yes, Harris is another one who was clea —" When I opened my eyes, I saw that he'd pieced it together. "Harris..."
"You don't think I'd know a thing or two about whether or not Voldemort had truly returned?" I challenged, voice even.
"That depends, Miss Harris," Fudge's smile was back. "Are you confessing that your grandfather has returned to his old Death Eater ways?"
A dead end. I couldn't very well turn in Grandad...
"Are you choosing to deny the truth, then?" I seethed.
But Fudge didn't answer me, and I knew what his answer was.
Dumbledore released my hands and said to Fudge, "Voldemort has returned. 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!" shouted Fudge again. "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 the creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" said Dumbledore. "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 opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.
"The second step you must take — and at once," Dumbledore pressed, "is to send envoys to the giants."
"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge shrieked, unfortunately finding his tongue again. "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 will give them their rights and their freedom!"
"You — you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants — people hate them, Dumbledore — end of my career —"
"You are blinded," said Dumbledore, voice rising and eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but 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 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," whispered Fudge, backing away. "Mad..."
And then there was silence until Dumbledore spoke again.
"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius, we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit."
Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.
"Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a threatening finger. "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 —" He glared at Remus before turning back to Dumbledore. "— 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. "If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."
It seemed Fudge could think of no answer for this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. At last, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be . . ."
Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.
"There," said Snape harshly. "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. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. 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."
That was when I realized I hadn't seen Karkaroff at the graveyard . . . He fled? He'd just left his students? I couldn't say I was completely surprised...
Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."
He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, walked up to me, took a rather large bag of gold out of his pocket and tossed it to me. Then he strode back down the dormitory, stopped at Harry's bed, and dropped another bag onto Harry's bedside table.
"Your winnings," he said shortly. "It was decided to split the prize money between the two of you. Five hundred Galleons each. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances . . ."
He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group surrounding Harry's bed.
"There is work to be done," he said. "Molly . . . am I right in thinking I can count on you and Arthur?"
"Of course you can," said Mrs. Weasley. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. "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," said Dumbledore. "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," said Bill, standing up. "I'll go now."
"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "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," said Bill.
He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly out of the room.
"Minerva," said Dumbledore. "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — Madame Maxime."
McGonagall nodded and left without a word.
"Poppy," Dumbledore said 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."
"Very — very well," said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.
Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam Pomfrey's footsteps had died away, before he spoke again.
"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 great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.
Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.
"Sirius Black!" she shrieked, pointing at him.
"Mum, shut up!" Ron yelled. "It's okay!"
Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.
"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. "What is he doing here?"
"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between them, "as are you, Severus. As is, Remus. I trust you. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."
But judging by the way Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing, it seemed the real problem was between them, Snape and Remus never even making eye contact.
"I will settle," began Dumbledore with a bite of impatience in his voice, "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 stand united, there is no hope for any of us."
Very slowly — but still glaring at each other — Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.
"I trust you two are on respectable terms, then?" Dumbledore asked, looking between Snape and Remus.
"I'd say so," said Remus; Snape nodded rather politely.
"Then that will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between Snape and Sirius once more. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Remus, Sirius — I need you both to set off at once. You are to alert Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Then, Sirius, lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."
"But —" said Harry.
"You'll see me very soon, Harry," Sirius assured him. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah...of course I do."
Sirius transformed back into the black dog and walked over to Remus.
"I suppose this means goodbye for us as well," Remus said to me. "But not for long."
I nodded. "Right," was all I could think to say; I was still not feeling my best.
"After all, I heard you'll be needing a place to stay over the summer," he said brightly.
I looked up at him. "Really?" I asked, taken aback, but smiling ever-so-slightly.
Remus kissed the top of my head in reply, and said, "See you at home" before turning to leave, Sirius trotting alongside him. And then they were gone.
"Severus," said Dumbledore. "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . ."
"I am," said Snape.
He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.
"Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched with a trace of apprehension on his face as Snape went wordlessly after Remus and Sirius.
"I must go downstairs," Dumbledore finally spoke after several minutes of silence. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. Demetria, help yourself as well — it produces a dreamless sleep. I will see all of you later."
As Dumbledore disappeared, I moved to where he'd pointed to retrieve the potion. It was a small bottle with purple liquid, and I poured as much as I could into a nearby goblet.
"You've got to take the rest of your potion, Harry," came Mrs. Weasley. I moved to occupy a bed near Harry's. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while . . . think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"
I was just about to drink from my goblet when I'd heard Mrs. Weasley say that... I'd nearly forgotten about the sack of gold I'd shoved into my pocket. I placed the goblet on the bedside cabinet and retrieved the bag, and Harry read my mind.
"I don't want that gold," he said in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have even won half of it. It should've all been Cedric's."
I was still staring at my own bag, though I felt everyone look over at me.
"He's right," I said quietly. "I shouldn't've gotten this even if Cedric were still..." I didn't want to finish that sentence, nor did I have to.
I dropped the bag onto the cabinet.
"If I'd just been quicker..."
"It wasn't your fault," Harry told me. "I'm the one who told him to take the cup with me."
My eyes were focused on the goblet, which I held in my hands once again, but I could see Mrs. Weasley out of the corner of my eye, hugging Harry. I couldn't help but think of Grandad...
There came a loud slamming noise. Hermione was standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand.
"Sorry," she whispered, before turning to me and winking; she'd caught Rita Skeeter in her Animagus form, and it actually made me smile the tiniest bit . . . but just for a second . . .
It was hard to believe it was still the same night . . . Although visions from the graveyard still flashed vividly in my mind, it felt as though it should've been a new day by now. I supposed I would have to get used to the feeling of days dragging on . . .
"Your potion, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley. "You too, Demetria."
"Wait," I got up and moved to Harry before he could take the last gulp of his potion. "What did he want you to tell me?"
Harry glanced around his bed, Mrs. Weasley and Ron stepping away, before whispering the message to me.
"He said, 'Tell Demetria . . . to remember to live . . . and not to let her life stop for me . . . Tell her I love her . . . and I know she loves me . . . but I want her to love again . . ."
After a moment, I quickly thanked Harry and hurried back to my own bed. I climbed in and immediately began drinking the potion. I didn't want to dwell on the words, didn't want to think of Cedric, and I certainly didn't want to cry again. The effect, thankfully, was instantaneous. At once, I found myself deep in dreamless sleep.
Three new chapters in one day?! This one's for Laurafxox, this story's biggest fan, and a huge motivator for me. Hope you enjoyed, Laura! Only one chapter left!