Skylar, Ron and Hermione were supposed to be studying for their exams, which would finish on the day of the third task, but they were putting most of their efforts into helping Harry prepare.
"Don't worry about it," Hermione said shortly when Harry pointed this out to them and said he didn't mind practising on his own for a while, "at least we'll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class."
"Good training for when we're all Aurors," said Ron excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a wasp that had buzzed into the room and making it stop dead in midair.
The mood in the castle as they entered June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry was practising hexes at every available moment. This task however was less worrying, difficult and dangerous though it would undoubtedly be, Moody was right: Harry had managed to find his way past monstrous creatures and enchanted barriers before now, and this time he had some notice, some chance to prepare himself for what lay ahead.
Tired of walking in on Harry, Hermione, and Ron all over the school, Professor McGonagall had given them permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtimes. Harry had soon mastered the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, which would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; and the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermione's that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses; Hermione managed to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx, and Harry wobbled around the room for ten minutes afterward before she had looked up the counter-jinx.
"You're still doing really well, though," Hermione said encouragingly, looking down her list and crossing off those spells they had already learned. "Some of these are bound to come in handy."
"I think the shield charm just needs some serious mind manipulation. If you think there isn't an invisible wall then you're going to have a weak shield." Skylar muttered in thought.
"Come and look at this," said Ron, who was standing by the window. He was staring down onto the grounds. "What's Malfoy doing?"
Harry. Skylar and Hermione went to see. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it.
"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," said Harry curiously.
"He can't be," said Hermione, "I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts. Come on, Harry," she added briskly, turning away from the window and moving back into the middle of the room, "let's try that Shield Charm again."
"What's a walkie talkie?" Skylar asked, confused as she followed.
Sirius was sending daily owls now. Like Hermione, he seemed to want to concentrate on getting Harry through the last task before they concerned themselves with anything else. He reminded Harry in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry's responsibility, nor was it within his power to influence it.
If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, my
priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands
on you while you are under Dumbledore's protection, but all
the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that
maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other
matters.
June the twenty-fourth drew closer and the excitement and nerves began to build, Harry was nervous but confident and the rest of the school were about to take their exams. Skylar wondered how on earth she was supposed to do exams with everything that was going on, the tournament, You-Know-Who, Mr. Crouch, and of course her never ending task of becoming an animagus. There had been a few moments where she'd almost missed her incantation, especially with the days getting longer and she was sitting with her friends discussing everything they were slowly learning about the task, Crouch and You-Know-Who. Luckily it seemed to have become a habit and that kept her on task for it.
All the distractions had kept Ron and Hermione finding out however of her weirdness when she vanished in the times of sunrise and sunset, whether after dinner or early in the morning in the dormitory. Harry however did notice.
"You're seriously still doing it?"
"If I don't I'll have to restart." Skylar frowned.
"Would that be so bad?"
"You keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month without swallowing it." Skylar snapped. "Besides, electrical storms are more likely in Summer, if I stop now and restart I might miss it."
"What kind of animal will you even be?"
"No idea." She shrugged. "I'm more worried about the summer holidays and perhaps my family finding out. I'm not sure how they'll react."
"Really?" Harry looked like he didn't believe her.
"Well," she muttered. "I think Leon will be annoyed that I did it without him… Nick might just shrug at me. Mum might be concerned but I think Dad would laugh." she shrugged. "Or they might all be unhappy at me choosing to do so without telling the Ministry…"
"Is that that bad?"
"It's breaking the law." Skylar muttered obviously.
"Right…"
Despite everything, the exams seemed to go alright. Skylar was rather confident in most of them and even thought her theory exams were not the worst she'd done so far. She was slightly upset when they had finished and Ron looked at her like she was mad.
"Don't tell me you like them like Hermione too now!"
"No, more the fact that the next time we do exams it'll be for our O. …" she frowned, feeling nervous even though they were a whole year away. Her comment however shut up Ron and made him almost look ill for a moment.
Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated it all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it.
"What?" said Harry and Ron together, staring at her. As Skylar just had paused in surprise while grabbing a roll from the plate before her.
"Nothing," said Hermione quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but Ron grabbed it. He stared at the headline and said, "No way. Not today. That old cow."
"What?" said Harry. "Rita Skeeter again?"
"No," said Ron, and just like Hermione, he attempted to push the paper out of sight. Skylar stood up and grabbed it this time.
HARRY POTTER
"DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"
The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes
Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence
has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange
behaviour, which casts doubts upon his suitability to
compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard
Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.
Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal,
regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to
complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic
of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted
to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a
Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter
witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming
that his scar was hurting too badly to continue
studying.
It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital
for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter's
brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon
him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence
that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his
deep-seated confusion.
"He might even be pretending," said one specialist.
"This could be a plea for attention."
The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed
worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus
Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully
concealed from the wizarding public.
"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco
Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot
of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and
most people thought Potter was behind them after
they saw him lose his temper at a duelling club and
set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up,
though. But he's made friends with werewolves and
giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of
power."
Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes,
has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the
most famous Parselmouth of our times is none
other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of
the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to
remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any
wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of
investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious
of anybody who could converse with snakes,
as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of
Dark Magic, and are historically associated with
evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the
company of such vicious creatures as werewolves
and giants would appear to have a fondness for
violence."
Albus Dumbledore should surely consider
whether a boy such as this should be allowed to
compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear
that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his
desperation to win the tournament, the third task of
which takes place this evening.
"It's about me, isn't it?" said Harry.
"No," said Ron, in an entirely unconvincing tone as Skylar glanced at him from over the top of it and closed it simply, beginning to fold it up as small as she could get it to then put it in her pocket.
But before Harry could demand to see the paper, Draco Malfoy shouted across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table.
"Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling alright? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"
Malfoy was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet too. Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry's reaction.
"Let me see it," Harry said to Skylar. "Give it here."
Skylar watched him for a moment and then handed over the very folded paper. Harry opened it up and found himself staring at his own picture. He was quiet as he read through the article, his eyes scanning from side to side and the three of them waited.
"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" said Harry lightly, folding up the paper.
Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were laughing at him, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces, and waggling their tongues like snakes.
"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron said. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard —"
"The window was open," said Harry. "I opened it to breathe."
"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione said. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"
"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" said Harry. "You tell me how she did it!"
"I've been trying!" said Hermione. "But I… but…"
An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione's face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair.
"Are you all right?" said Ron, frowning at her.
"Yes," said Hermione breathlessly. She ran her fingers through her hair again, and then held her hand up to her mouth, as though speaking into something. Harry and Ron stared at each other and then at Skylar who was eyeing the girl.
"I've had an idea," Hermione said, gazing into space. "I think I know… because then no one would be able to see… even Moody… and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge… but she's not allowed… she's definitely not allowed… I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library — just to make sure!"
With that, Hermione seized her school bag and dashed out of the Great Hall. Skylar gapped after her in surprise, though her mouth was curled slightly up into a curl. The irony, where Skylar was practising to be an animagus and it might just seem that Skeeter was an illegal one all along.
"Oi!" Ron called after her. "We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey," he said, turning back to Harry, "she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class — read again?"
Exempt from the end-of-term tests as a Triwizard champion, Harry had been sitting in the back of every exam class so far, looking up fresh hexes for the third task.
"S'pose so," Harry said to Ron; but just then, Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward him.
"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said.
"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.
"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."
She moved away. Harry gaped after her.
"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" he asked Ron blankly.
"Dunno," said Ron.
"Maybe you have more family than you think." Skylar said and she had a smile on her face as she began to stand and leave. Ron said goodbye to Harry and then hurried on after her.
"Who's here for him?"
"I'll be damned if my mother isn't." Skylar said proudly.
They entered their History of Magic exam and silence dawned everywhere for it. Hermione had made it easily on time and her quill was whisking away across the page. Ron was gazing out the window a lot of the time, sometimes his tongue between his teeth and Skylar sometimes found herself mimicking that look. But then the time was up and everyone seemed to let out a sigh of relief. It was the last one, it was done for the year.
The crowd of students made their way back to the Great Hall for lunch where Skylar and Ron found Harry sitting with Dominique, Mrs. Weasley and Bill.
"Mum — Bill!" said Ron, looking stunned, as he joined the Gryffindor table. "What're you doing here?"
Skylar simply gave her mother a hug.
"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"
"Oh… okay," said Ron. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's all right," he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."
Fred, George, Nick, Leon and Ginny came to sit next to them too. It felt as though they were back at the Burrow or out in the Rosenwald's garden having lunch during the summer. Hermione joined them to lunch as well and her presence reminded Harry or her Rita Skeeter Brainwave that morning.
"Are you going to tell us — ?"
Hermione shook her head warningly and glanced at Mrs. Weasley.
"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual.
"Hello," said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.
Harry looked between them, then said, "Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Weasley. "No — of course I didn't!"
But she became considerably warmer toward Hermione after that.
"Oh, Molly." Dominique scolded with a roll of the eyes as Skylar shook her head.
It seemed Harry, Dominique, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley whiled away the afternoon with a long walk around the castle, and then returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast with everyone else. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.
There were more courses than usual, and Skylar – having already completed her incantation – helped herself to almost as many things as Ron ate. She of course tried some unusual looking ones where Ron wouldn't. Harry ate very little as his nerves began to make his stomach squirm again. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."
Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; the Weasleys, Ronsenwalds and Hermione all wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.
They waved him out.
"Oh I hope he'll be alright." Dominique frowned.
"He did really well so far, and this task isn't as scary." Skylar smiled.
"How?" Leon asked.
"Because of all the things that have happened the last three years, with the philosopher's stone and the chamber of secrets, and Sirius and Remus in the forest. It's a maze of scary monsters, just being around Hagrid makes him more prepared than usual." Skylar assured.
"You have a lot of faith." Nick raised an eyebrow.
"I have to, or perhaps I'll squirm and worry," They chuckled at her.
The crowd made their way down after the champions five minutes later to the Quidditch Pitch. It was now completely unrecognisable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a single gap and before it stood the champions with Ludo Bagman. The spectators climbed into the quidditch stands and the air was filled with excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest. After a moment they all moved to station themselves evenly around the edges of the maze.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!" Bagman's voice silenced the spectators just a little as everyone listened, his voice magically magnified for all to hear. "Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each — Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points — Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" More applause. "And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"
Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Dominique, Skylar, Ron, and Hermione applauded Fleur politely. They'd found a seat halfway up the stands. Harry seemed to have spotted them for he waved and they waved back, beaming at him.
"So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three — two — one —" He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze to large cheers and shouts of excitement. The two ran in and disappeared from sight into the maze, the darkness between the hedges and the darkness of the impending night blocking from view what exactly was happening. Not long later they heard Bagman's whistle blow again for Krum to enter the maze and then a third and final time for Fleur.
The stands were a buzz with all four champions now in the maze. Hagrid had stocked it full of creatures and so the things they came up against would not be easy, along with any enchantments and spells sitting in place to trap the unsuspecting champion who entered their midst.
"What are you thinking about?" Ron asked, his voice broke slightly as if he was worried.
"What Hagrid might have put in the maze." Skylar answered.
Ron shivered.
"Skrewts maybe? If any survived?" Skylar offered. "I don't think he'd be able to get a spider in there from the forest, and I doubt there'd be any werewolves, and they've done dragons so none of those."
"Nifflers?" Ron sounded hopeful more than serious and Skylar just chose not to respond as they watched the maze, waiting as the teachers wandered around the edges.
Every now and then a sound would echo out from the maze, a bang from a wand, a spell or enchantment would flash from a corner. It kept the stands buzzing with anticipation of who would come out the maze first and who would hold the cup.
Then, a scream sounded, one that sounded very feminine and many gasped, Beauxbatons whispering from amongst the Hogwarts and Durmstrang students. No red sparks went shooting up however at that moment and the stands fell silent both in waiting and wonder. Then;
"Fleur Delacour has been disqualified from the maze due to being unable to continue forwards." Bagman's voice sounded.
The night continued on with the rare sound happening across the maze, the occasional flash of light that could be a spell of a trap or a wand. It was suspenseful, sitting and waiting. And then another scream, this time of complete and utter pain erupted and everyone drew breath, everyone stared and stared hoping that they'd see who'd made it and why, and if the maker was alright.
And then red sparks came shooting up from a spot in the maze. Everyone gasped audibly, all wondering who it was and why.
"Victor Krum," Bagman's voice started again. "Has been disqualified from the maze."
"It's only Cedric and Harry." Hermione said as the Hogwarts students, though shocked, were ecstatic that they were definitely going to win, with the other schools out of commission.
"Isn't that odd though?" Skylar worried.
"I mean it was Hagrid who stocked the maze, Cedric and Harry are much more experienced with his monsters." Ron reminded her.
That was true.
Time continued to tick on and apart from roars from the maze, it had fallen silent. The night had grown ever dark, the stars twinkling being the only light across the blackness of the sky. Mutters and conversations were happening across the stands, the teachers continued to patrol around its edges waiting if needed.
Skylar began to bounce her leg up and down as she waited, her impatience continuing to grow more and more as the minutes passed. What was happening? It seemed like with only two contenders in the maze one would have the cup any moment now, but nothing happened, no one emerged… how would they even know if someone was holding the cup? Would there be sparks? Would the maze vanish? How did the victor then get back out of the maze with the cup? Did they send up green sparks as a sign?
She glanced at the teachers, at the judges, again and again, trying to gain a sign that they knew what was happening. Madam Maxime and Karkaroff were both with their students, fussing and agitated, their only hope for winning was if both Harry and Cedric were also disqualified, but with more points than either Krum or Fleur before the task began, it was unlikely.
Nobody looked worried, nobody seemed to think there was anything to worry about but the time made Skylar nervous, made her uncertain. She hated not being able to hear Harry, it hadn't been as bad when he'd been in the lake but for some reason now she just couldn't sit still, even when Ron told her too, even when her mother told her she was being silly, she kept fidgeting and waiting, watching, glancing at the time. How long could this continue for?
She watched the judges again and suddenly Snape had run towards Dumbledore, his face taut and his lips seeming to move very fast in his ear. The two moved away from everyone else with what looked like a sense of worry and urgency. Skylar rose slightly out of her seat as she watched them, what was wrong? And how did Snape know? He hadn't been bordering the maze as a guard for patrol?
It was a moment before Dumbledore returned to the judges, but he did not speak to them, he did not give away the graveness that had been in his face a moment ago and Skylar scanned the faces to see if any were concerned. As she did, she noticed something new, something almost more odd. Where was Karkaroff?
She voiced this and the others turned as well.
"Gone for a break?" Ron shrugged.
"Are they allowed to?" Skylar asked.
"Not doing much aren't they." he continued before turning back to Bill and continuing whatever conversation he'd been having. Everyone seemed to be like that, Leon was trying to engage both his mother and Ginny, the usual look of adoration on his face as he looked at her. Fred and George were whispering to one another, clearly more about Bagman and him owing them. Hermione was talking to Mrs. Weasley who seemed to be trying to make up for her believing Rita Skeeter by asking how the year had gone. No one seemed to have her worry or agitation. Perhaps she was just feeding off the last two tasks and the emotion she'd felt then. She seemed to be overreacting in comparison. Perhaps it was that she'd only been this far away from Harry on Summers and nighttimes and so it felt different. At least at those times she knew whether he was okay, right now he could be lying under a spider's belly for all she knew after all.
She looked back to Dumbledore, he was pacing now, still not speaking to anyone, no one seemed to notice his change in posture and possible mood. Bagman and Fudge were having a hearty old conversation together as they waited.
Skylar found herself watching Dumbledore, Snape stood by him and Dumbledore walked towards him on every second turn. Once or twice he asked Snape a question to which Snape replied just as curtly and possibly quietly, as no one bothered to give them any notice. Skylar however thought it looked tense, worrying, foreboding. But no one else noticed, no one else worried, no one else approached…
Skylar began to count how many times Dumbledore turned, fifteen, twenty times, and she didn't really notice what the rest of the stands were doing. Some people had stood to stretch their limbs, some walked across the stands to do the same. Some went from friend to friend to take the emptiness as an opportunity.
It happened as though she had blinked. She was watching Dumbledore pace and then there were two extra bodies there amongst the judges, lying on the floor with the golden sparkly cup.
Harry was lying upside down on the grass and Cedric was lying beside him. Harry was clutching both Cedric's arm and the Triwizard Cup as he lay there.
Skylar had stood up and people were cheering, but neither of the two boys moved. And then the screaming began. Whoever was closest had noticed something wasn't right and the fear rippled around the stands of the Quidditch Pitch in response.
Skylar was moving, so was Hermione, and Ron, and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Dominique.
Dumbledore got to Harry first and turned him over. Fudge was next to get to their side and suddenly words were passing from the edge of the maze and across the stands.
"He's dead!"
"He's dead!"
"Cedric Diggory! Dead!"
Harry was hauled to his feet by Dumbledore, as if he couldn't stand himself. He was a right sight, blood over a rip in the leg of his pants and blood across the crook in his arm. Was it his own? What had happened. Cedric Diggery had died? How?
Skylar was too transfixed at the scene, other teachers were closer, other adults were trying to do the same and push through, the students in the stands had moved but none seemed to know what to do. Harry was begging, lost amongst the mess.
"What's happened?"
"What's wrong with him?"
"Diggory's dead!"
Words made their way across to where Skylar stood, questions and confusion, all she wanted was to make sure Harry was okay, to give him a hug and be reassured herself. Cedric was dead, what had happened to Harry?
And then Amos Diggery was running towards the fray, fear across his face, disbelief, worry. Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically. It was noise and chaos and uncertainty and Harry was… Harry was moving, he was gone, where was Harry? He'd somehow vanished from amongst the crowd.
"Skylar, the hospital wing." Hermione had grabbed her arm and was pulling on it.
Yes, hospital wing, where else would they take him? What with how he looked and what suddenly transpired.
People were gasping, screaming, and shouting around them as they moved through the crowd and away from the chaos towards the school, trying to move and push their way forwards as much as possible. They eventually pushed through the crowd and gained some space and freedom. Dominique had vanished amongst the chaos but Mrs. Weasley and Bill were still there as Skylar began the trek, running for the school. Her brain reverted to the image of Harry appearing, lying on the ground with a corpse, and then suddenly disappearing amongst the crowd of onlookers who surrounded him. Where had he gone, why was it okay for him to vanish after such an ordeal? Did they want to get him away from the chaos and stress of questions that awaited? Harry never dealt well with traumatic things, retelling tragedies, he hated reliving them. Skylar remembered how hard it was when he was reliving the death of his parents from the dementors over and over again, it'd been hard to admit.
The hospital wing seemed forever away, Harry seemed forever away. Getting to the Entrance Hall, climbing the Marble Staircase. Going up the stairs towards the Hospital Wing, it was all time, all space, too much of it.
When they reached the hospital doors they were closed and Skylar found herself banging on them, but no one answered. Bill also knocked, slightly forcefully but with more precedence than Skylar, still there was no answer.
"Where is he?" Hermione looked as worried as Skylar felt.
Footsteps suddenly drew all of their attention and they turned to look down the hallway. A moment later Madam Pomfry appeared with someone floating along behind her. She had things in one arm and was moving with purpose. She approached them and they all stepped back before Hermione gasped and Mrs. Weasley said; "Oh dear,"
Mad-Eye Moody was the body floating behind the matron as she unlocked the Hospital Wing and moved in with the teacher. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing. The group followed the matron in quietly as she set the man on a bed. She then set the things in her arms down on his bedside table, his wooden leg and round eyeball. She began dressing him and caring for him, moving to get him a potion to tip down his throat and fix his unkempt hair.
'What happened to him?" Hermione finally whispered.
"Seems he's been imprisoned."
"Imprisoned?" Ron questioned, confused. "How, when?"
"All year." The matron said as she busied with the man.
"But he's been teaching us?" Ron continued.
"It seems one of You-Know-Who's followers has been impersonating him all year." The matron's eyes flickered to them all briefly as they gasped.
All of them stared at the Ex-Auror in shock, thinking of all the things the Mad-Eye who'd taught them all year had done, all his words, his teachings. They had all been done by an imposter.
Madam Pomfrey came over to them all as they stood in the middle of the ward. "Now, I must ask you to–"
"We need to see Harry!" Skylar cut her off, looking desperate. Her eyes scanned the Hospital Wing quickly but no other bed held an occupant.
"Harry?" she clarified.
"Harry Potter." They all said in unison.
"He left the Quidditch Field…"
"He was injured…"
"He's got to be here." Skylar added frantically.
"I believe he is with the headmaster, now if you will all–" but she was cut off again as the door to the hospital wing opened. Everyone turned to find Dumbledore standing there with Harry, Dominique and the big black dog of Sirius' Animagus form.
Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream. "Harry! Oh Harry!" She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them.
Skylar had also run at Harry and avoided both Dumbeldore and Mrs. Weasley to – after pausing before him so that she was very careful – put her arms around his neck and hug him. She was both gentle and desperate in the movement. She tightened her grip as hard as she dared knowing how he must be feeling. She felt briefly his hand on her side and she took a choked breath before releasing it as though releasing all the worry from her body. She distantly heard Dumbledore speak behind her as she did so.
"Molly," he said, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet." Skylar released Harry and ran her hand down his arm – the one without any blood on it – until she laced her fingers through his and placed her head on his shoulder in comfort.
"I got you." she whispered ever so quietly so that only he'd hear her. "You're safe."
Dumbledore was still speaking. "If he would like you all to stay with him," he looked around at Ron, Hermione, Skylar and Bill too, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."
Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"
"Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, "may I ask what — ?"
"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while," said Dumbledore simply. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry — I will wait while you get into bed."
Skylar, very reluctantly, let go of Harry's hand. He turned to look at her and she held his gaze. She bit her lip to stop herself from gasping, crying or screaming, of asking and bringing attention to the thoughts in his head. He let her see it though, let her read the things at the front of his mind until she knew all she could and why he felt so tired, and so grateful towards Dumbledore's request to Mrs. Weasley.
Skylar could not imagine it, could not even dream such terrors and horrors. She almost wished she hadn't seen his thoughts, hadn't seen Wormtail cut off his own hand, hadn't seen Lord Voldermort as the putrid child-like form, or him rising from a black cauldron, his body returned and strong, his head bald, his eyes red and his nose flat and slitted like a snake's. She didn't want to have seen Harry have to witness how many of his dearest followers there were still around and out in the world, shouldn't have seen Harry fight the most evil wizard ever known and somehow manage to survive. She couldn't imagine the heartbreak it was to have seen his parents, had them talk to him as ghosts as if they were alive only for them to sacrifice that part of themselves all over again so that he could live, couldn't imagine the heartbreak of Cedric asking to be returned as his final wish.
Her throat wobbled and her eyes stung but she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to get control of herself. If she started crying, everyone else might question it, and that Harry didn't want or need.
And as much horror as it was she'd seen from him, as much as she wished she didn't have to see it, she would bear it, because he had to. And anything she could do to help she would do. He'd shown her for that purpose.
"I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school." He left.
As Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed, he caught sight of the real Moody.
"Is he okay?" Harry asked.
"He'll be fine," said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pyjamas and pulling screens around him. He took off his robes, pulled on the pyjamas, and got into bed. Skylar moved to his side and retook his hand in both of his, tracing circles in the back of it for comfort. Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, Dominique and the black dog followed her around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione were looking at him almost cautiously, as though scared of him.
"I'm all right," he told them. "Just tired."
Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bed covers unnecessarily.
Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet.
"You'll need to drink all of this, Harry," she said. "It's a potion for dreamless sleep."
Harry took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. His eyes began to flutter almost instantly before he'd had more than one sip and before he'd even put the goblet down. Skylar reached forwards as his eyes began to go hazy and grabbed the goblet as exhaustion claimed him, settling it on his bedside table. Dominique reached over her and removed Harry's glasses, putting them beside the goblet. Skylar lay her head down on Harry's mattress beside him.
They were all silent for a moment before Mrs. Weasley turned to Mrs. Rosenwald. "Is he alright?" her voice was so quiet Skylar would have been surprised if anyone else had heard her.
Dominique took a deep breath and placed her hand on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. "He's back Molly." she confessed, getting a gasp from Mrs. Weasley. "Alright is not a term I think anyone will be for a long while now."
Silence fell again at the revelation, until noises sounded from outside of the hospital wing. They all paused and the adults turned their heads in the direction of the door. The sounds got louder and louder until they were distinguishable as voices. Not only were they voices, but their owners were shouting.
Mrs. Weasley got to her feet as Dominique looked in the direction of the door with disappointment on her face.
"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!"
"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?"
Feet were heard as well, someone running and running this way. Skylar was watching Harry and she sat up as he opened his eyes. She smiled at him and he looked back at her, she didn't expect a smile but he gave her the tiniest of ones anyway. She was amazed he could.
Harry's eyes turned for the door as he turned his attention to the same thing as the adults.
"That's Fudge's voice," Mrs. Weasley whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"
"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva —" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.
"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out —"
The hospital Wing doors burst open and Bill pulled back the screens around Harry's bed. Harry sat up and Skylar handed him his glasses as everyone else had their attention on the door.
Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.
"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.
"He's not here," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to —"
But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.
"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor 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!"
Skylar had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of colour in her cheeks, and her hands were 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!" Professor McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —"
"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than one had ever seen him, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous —"
But Professor 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 —"
Skylar shivered and momentarily closed her eyes at the image that entered her head as the words were still floating in the air, as Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened.
The Dementor had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. 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? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "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 doubtless 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 tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."
"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, and there was a slight 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…"
"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office."
Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."
Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are — er — prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"
There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge. Skylar was glaring at him as well, at allowing his fear to control his belief, his actions, at him doing anything and everything to stop from believing, seeing or understanding that such a fearsome wizard was back from the proposed dead.
"Certainly, I believe Harry," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."
Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering. "You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who… well…"
Fudge shot Harry another look, and Harry suddenly understood.
"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," he said quietly. Ron, Dominique, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped. None of them had realised that Harry was awake.
Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face. Dominique shook her head as Skylar found herself muttering "Fool." under her breath.
"And if I have?" 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," said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge, he seemed to radiate an indefinable 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.
"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before…"
"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed, but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —"
Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape's eyes flew back to Fudge.
"Malfoy was cleared!" said Fudge, visibly affronted. "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?"
"You fool!" Professor 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 destabilise everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"
Skylar was staring at the Minister in disbelief, everyone was. "You're going to doom us all." she said to him. Fudge turned to her. "And simply because of fear and popularity. Millions of people are likely going to die, and it's all going to be because of you."
Fudge looked at her with disdain then, at a fourteen year old accusing him of being a coward.
"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore repeated. "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 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 on, "is to send envoys to the giants."
"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. "What madness is this?"
"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late," said Dumbledore, "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 and retreating further from Dumbledore. "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, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, 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, still backing away. "Mad…"
And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry's bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs. Weasley was still standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising. Skylar was still holding his hand as Dominique stood before them all, and, along with Bill, Ron, and Hermione, was staring at Fudge.
"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, "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, 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," said Dumbledore, "is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."
It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, 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."
Skylar stared, as she could see it. Dark and burned into Snape's arm, the same symbol that had been in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup – a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. She was surprised, and grotesque by the mark, allowing it to be burned into one's skin, she couldn't imagine it, like many things from tonight's events.
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, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.
"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. 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 around Harry's bed.
"There is work to be done," he said. "Molly… am I right in thinking that 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. Dominique, you and Nathaniel…?"
"At your will." Dominique nodded.
"Then the same, a message must be sent to both."
"I'll go to Dad and Nathaniel," said Bill, standing up. "I'll go now."
"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Tell them what has happened. Tell them I will be in direct contact with them both shortly. They 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 from the room.
"Minerva," said Dumbledore, turning to Professor McGonagall, "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — Madame Maxime."
Professor 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," he said, "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. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."
It was like asking for a miracle. Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.
"I will settle, in the short term," said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."
Very slowly — but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill — Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.
"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Lie low at Lupins for a while; I will contact you there."
"But —" said Harry.
He wanted Sirius to stay. He did not want to have to say goodbye again so quickly.
"You'll see me very soon, Harry," said Sirius, turning to him. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah… of course I do."
Sirius grasped his hand briefly, touched Skylar on the cheek with a finger, gave Dominique a hug, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.
"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "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 swept wordlessly after Sirius.
It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again.
"I must go downstairs," he said finally. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."
Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore disappeared. Hermione, Skylar, Ron, Dominique and Mrs. Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time.
"You've got to take the rest of your potion, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabinet as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. "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 don't want that gold," said Harry in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's."
Sadness was washing over Harry and Skylar gave his hand a squeeze. He glanced at her before turning his gaze to the ceiling, blinking as he tried to keep his tears in. Everyone however knew what he was feeling, for it wasn't just sadness, it was guilt. Harry didn't believe Cedric deserved to die, but more so, he believed it should have been him, that Cedric should have been the one to come back alive, not Harry.
"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Mrs. Weasley whispered.
"I told him to take the cup with me," said Harry.
Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall upon him as Mrs. Weasley held him to her. His mother's face, his father's voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him.
There was a loud slamming noise, and Mrs. Weasley and Harry broke apart. Hermione was standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand. Skylar peered at it, it seemed like it was a jar.
Despite everything a slight smile appeared on her face at the sight.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"Your potion, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more.