Raylynx's POV
"No." The whisper fell from my lips before I could stop myself.
Besides me, Snape, too, was in utter disbelief, but in his case, it was quickly followed by anger.
Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet. She had quickly strode over to Dumbledore and was now whispering to him. I could see her lips moving: "…discuss in private…"
But my eyes moved away from McGonagall and Dumbledore to Harry himself. He was still sitting at the Gryffindor table between Ron and Hermione. One look at his face told me everything I needed to know: He hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire.
But then, I wondered with a shiver, who had?
With a chilling feeling in my stomach, I started to gaze around the room to take in everyone's faces. Is there anyone who looks pleased, under their false surprise?
But before I could examine very many faces, Dumbledore finally nodded at McGonagall. Stepping away from her slightly, he turned back to the students and called out, "Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please!"
Hermione gave Harry a little push. He jolted, and then he uncertainly started to walk up towards Dumbledore.
A steady, angry swarm of voices grew in opposition.
"He's not even seventeen!" someone shouted.
"Yeah!" another student yelled. "He's not of age!"
"What a cheat!"
"He can't be in the Tournament!"
"This is wrong!"
Harry reached Dumbledore. Dumbledore silently handed Harry the piece of parchment with his name. Harry glanced down at it and then looked back up at Dumbledore, stunned.
Dumbledore said quietly, "Well… through the door, Harry."
Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall. I immediately made to follow him. My sudden movement abruptly broke the heavy silence that had swallowed up the Great Hall. All at once, everyone was yelling, gesturing, and getting up from their seats.
Behind me, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff were furiously demanding an explanation from Barty, Bagman, and Dumbledore. McGonagall was trying to calm them down. Meanwhile, Moody was right on my heels, following me to the chamber where the Champions were.
"Did you do this? Wanted to give the Potter boy another shot at glory, eh?" Moody grunted behind me.
"Are you insane?" I hissed back. My heart was thundering a hundred miles an hour. "This is a complete nightmare!"
"Coming through! Coming through!" Ludo Bagman's annoyingly bright voice interrupted Moody and me as Bagman barreled through between us. He was the only person who seemed pleased at this uproar.
Behind Bagman, Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Barty, McGonagall, and Snape appeared. When Karkaroff saw me, a pained, toothy smile appeared on his face. "Was it you?" he demanded of me. "In your attempt to embarrass me, did you see fit to enter a second Hogwarts Champion?"
"Still an idiot, I see," I said flatly.
McGonagall opened her mouth to admonish me, but I'd already turned and walked away. I needed to see Harry.
The room housed a grand fireplace, and indeed, a fire was currently going. In front of the flickering flames, the four champions and Bagman stood.
Fleur was shaking her head. She was saying, "Evidently, there has been a mistake. He cannot compete. He is too young."
"Well, it is amazing," Bagman said. He smiled at Harry. "But, really, the age restriction was only imposed as an extra safety measure-"
"Harry!" I strode up to him and clasped his shoulder.
"I didn't do it, Professor!" Harry told me quickly, looking up at me with a slightly panicked, if not dumbfounded impression.
"I know," I told him. "I know you didn't."
At my reassurance, Harry suddenly looked so relieved that at least one person believed him.
The rest of the party appeared just then, and Fleur exclaimed at once, "Madame Maxime! They are saying that this little boy is to compete also!"
I felt Harry stiffen slightly under my hand. I whispered to him, "Keep your calm, Harry."
Madame Maxime turned to Dumbledore. She said imperiously, "What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?"
"Yes, I'd rather like to know that myself," Karkaroff said, gazing around at everyone with icy eyes, challenging all of us. "Two Hogwarts Champions? I don't remember anyone telling me that the host school is allowed two champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
"This is impossible," Madame Maxime pronounced, waving her hand. "This is most unjust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff stated accusingly, glaring at Dumbledore now.
At this, Snape stepped up. "This is no one's fault but Potter's," he said sharply. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break the rules. Potter has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here - "
My hand suddenly clenched on Harry's shoulder as I bristled visibly.
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly, noticing the look on my face.
Then, Dumbledore's eyes slipped down to the boy in front of me – Harry. Dumbledore approached Harry. Noticing my hand on his shoulder, Dumbledore said, both to reassure me and to convince me to let go of Harry, "He's all right, Professor Kingsley."
But I didn't let Harry go. "They are not the only ones you owe an explanation too," I muttered bitterly to Dumbledore. My eyes met his, and mine flashed in bright, hard anger. "I told you. I warned you," I murmured softly, but furiously.
I saw Harry glance up at me in puzzlement.
"I would like to speak with Harry," Dumbledore said steadfastly. "Please give me a moment with him."
"I'm all right, Professor," Harry murmured to me, though he hardly seemed to know what he was saying himself.
But I finally stepped away, letting Dumbledore come forth and examine Harry.
Dumbledore looked down at Harry now, who stared right back up at him. Both of them were trying to read one another. Of course, Dumbledore had major advantages – Legilimency, and also, experience.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"No," Harry replied.
Snape let out a scoff.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"
"No, Professor."
"But of course he is lying!" Madame Maxime's voice broke out.
"He's not lying," I protested furiously.
Madame Maxime glared at me angrily. "If I remember correctly, you are the one who personally gave me assurances that everything would go smoothly - "
"I gave you assurances that your students would be safe! And they are!" I shot back at her.
Madame Maxime snorted loudly at my statement. "Safe? Safe from winning, perhaps! Safe from a fair competition!"
Karkaroff nodded vehemently at her words. Then, he turned to Crouch and Bagman and asked them, "Surely you agree that this is most irregular?"
Bagman simply looked over at Crouch. Crouch was standing a little way away from the rest of us, though I wasn't sure why. Not only was he technically the man formally in charge of the Tournament, but Crouch was usually up front in the action. It seemed most unlike him to just be standing around, listening to all of us argue with each other. And yet, that was exactly what he was doing.
However, at Karkaroff's words, Crouch spoke up, sounding like his usual, curt self. "We must follow the rules," he said simply, as though the matter was cut and dry. "The rules state clearly that once a person's name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, that person is bound to compete in the Tournament."
"No. There must be another way," I insisted, nearly cutting off Crouch while he was speaking. Harry is only in his fourth year, for Merlin's sake! And what's more, every Tournament Task is an opportunity for whoever's behind this to get to Harry, to kill him… If Harry goes out there as a Champion, neither Dumbledore nor I could protect him all the time. The nature of the Tournament tasks is that you are on your own. That's the whole point – to test the grit and merit of a stand-alone individual.
"The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract," Crouch replied to me brusquely. "Potter has no choice. He must compete."
I started to retort, but Karkaroff's and Madame Maxime's outbursts drowned out my voice.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students!" Karkaroff shouted furiously.
"Each school must have two Champions! It is the only fair method," Madame Maxime demanded from besides him.
"We can't do that," Bagman told him. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out. It won't reignite until the start of the next Tournament -"
" – in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff exploded. "After all of our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff." Moody finally spoke up. He'd been standing near the door this entire time, leaning on his staff and watching this debacle unfold. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Crouch said. Convenient, eh?"
"Convenient?" Karkaroff said wryly. "What do you mean by that?" Karkaroff tried to appear disdainful towards Moody, but the aggravation in his demeanor was all too clear.
Karkaroff's never going to live down the fact that Moody's the one who caught him and threw him into Azkaban, I thought. Serves Karkaroff right.
Moody clumped forward a few steps and looked right into Karkaroff's eyes, Karkaroff puffed out his chest, but his eyes faltered, and after a moment, he looked away from Moody.
"It's very simple, Karkaroff," Moody said to him, almost tauntingly. "Someone put Potter's name in the Goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
"Obviously. Your point?" Karkaroff asked.
"My point," Moody growled, "is that if anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter."
"Why should he complain?" Viktor asked gruffly. "Every student wants to be chosen, don't they?"
Besides him, Fleur nodded. "Yes! We have all been hoping to be chosen for weeks! The honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money – this is a chance many would die for!"
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," Moody said simply, as though he was announcing tomorrow's weather.
Fleur's mouth dropped open. Besides her, Cedric looked more confused than ever.
Bagman looked nervously around the room, saying anxiously, "Moody, old man, what a thing to say!"
But Karkaroff merely scowled. "We all know Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime. Apparently, he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."
"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, am I?" Moody barked out a harsh laugh.
"No," I said slowly. "Moody's right. It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet."
"And where is the evidence of that?" Madame Maxime snapped, throwing up her hands.
"Because," I replied, "that person hoodwinked a very powerful magical object. The Goblet of Fire has the power to bind witches and wizards. It is not easily fooled."
"Exactly," Moody said. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that Goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the Tournament."
"Forgetting?" McGonagall picked up quickly.
Moody nodded. "I'm guessing that they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure that he was the only one in his category."
Only Dumbledore seemed unaffected by Moody's quick deductive reasoning. Of course, I thought, Dumbledore would have thought of all of this already.
Karkaroff, however, was determined to make a fool out of Moody. "You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody. And a very ingenious theory it is - though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"
At this, Moody's magical eye finally swerved from studying Harry onto Karkaroff. "There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody said, with a certain rumble in his voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff – as you ought to remember -"
"Alastor." Dumbledore interrupted the two of them with a quiet warning. Karkaroff's face had turned crimson. Moody was wearing a grim, but satisfied smirk.
Finally, Dumbledore addressed the entire room. "How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Mr. Diggory and Mr. Potter have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do."
"Ah, but Dumbledore," Madame Maxime began.
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
A long, tense silence followed.
Finally, Bagman broke the silence. His bright, happy voice was completely out-of-place as he chirped, "Well, shall we crack on, then? Got to give our champions the instructions. Barty?"
Crouch blinked, almost as though he had forgotten where he was for a moment. But again, at Ludo's prompting, he said, "Yes. Instructions. Yes. The First Task."
Dumbledore frowned slightly at Crouch, but as I was lost in a well of anxiety, I missed it.
"The first task…" Crouch said again. He shook his head a little and then his voice gained its usual momentum as he continued speaking, "The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth. The task is designed to test your daring. As such, we are not going to tell you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important indeed."
Crouch went on to list the rules of the tournament, such as not accepting any help from professors and being exempted from the end-of-year exams. After giving his explanation, Crouch immediately fell silent again.
Dumbledore cast his gaze over Crouch with more concern now. "Yes, thank you, Barty," he said. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," Crouch replied. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment…" With that, he gave a short nod to the rest of us and then took his leave.
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" Dumbledore offered.
But Madame Maxime and Fleur were already halfway out of the room, and Karkaroff and Krum were not far behind.
Dumbledore gave a soft, weary smile as he turned around to face Cedric and Harry. "Harry, Cedric," he said gently, "I suggest you both go up to your dormitories. I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Professor McGonagall made a small noise of discomfort at this.
Harry glanced over at me. I nodded. Yes, it's best for Harry to be with other students for now. It'll keep him safe…
Harry and Cedric both left the room together.
Now, only Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, Snape, and I remained.
"This can't go on, Albus," McGonagall said, as soon as Harry and Cedric had left. "First the Dark Mark. Now this?"
"What do you suggest, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
"Put an end to it! Don't let Potter compete," McGonagall said. Her eyes flickered over to me, and I nodded vehemently in support of her proposition.
But Dumbledore said, "You heard Barty. The rules are clear."
"Oh, the devil with Barty and his rules!" McGonagall said, letting some of her frustration show. "And since when do you accommodate the Ministry, Albus?"
Dumbledore was silent.
Snape took the opportunity to offer his two cents as well. "I must say, Headmaster, that I, too, find it difficult to believe this mere coincidence."
I saw Moody furrow his brow at Snape.
Snape continued, "However, if we are to truly discover the meaning of these events, we may have to simply… for the time being… let them unfold."
McGonagall started at Snape's comment. "What? Do nothing? Offer him as bait?"
Her voice meshed with mine as I snapped loudly, "For Merlin's sake, Snape! Potter is a boy, not a piece of meat!"
Predictably, Dumbledore replied, "I agree… with Severus."
I threw up my hands in frustration.
"However," Dumbledore turned to Moody and said, "I would like to ask you for yet another favor, Alastor. Keep an eye on Harry, won't you?"
Moody's eyes rested on Dumbledore for a moment. Then, he said gruffly, "I can do that."
"But he mustn't know," Dumbledore said. "I expect he's feeling anxious enough as it is…"
"Well," McGonagall sighed, finally relenting, "I suppose we all are, at that."
McGonagall looked over at me, trying to give me a comforting nod, but I remained steadfast in my frustration.
"Indeed." Dumbledore looked at each of us. "Well, that is all we can do for now. We must wait until the culprit has revealed more of him or herself…"
McGonagall nodded, and she led the way out. Moody and Snape followed her.
Dumbledore turned to face me. "Professor Kingsley? After you."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I cannot control everything, Raylynx," Dumbledore replied. "I am trying to do my best with the circumstances that have unexpectedly arisen."
"Unexpectedly?" My voice rose an octave. "You knew. I told you that something would happen if we allowed the TriWizard Tournament to take place again."
"Then you are wiser than me," Dumbledore said simply. "What would you have me do?"
"What Professor McGonagall said. Pull him out of the Tournament," I said. "It's the only way to protect Harry."
"No, it is not," Dumbledore replied. He suddenly seemed very, very tired. "First of all, I cannot overturn the magic of the Goblet of Fire nor the authority of the Ministry of Magic by myself. Second, letting the boy compete in the Tournament gives us time to think. In giving the culprit the chance to enact their plan through the Tournament, it forces them to wait until the Tournament tasks arise, thus giving us time to prepare our defense. We can prepare Harry for the Tournament. We cannot shield Harry from threats that we know nothing about…"
But I rejected this. "It doesn't make sense to distinguish between threats we know and don't know about. In the end, they all merge as one. After all, did you know about the threat during the last tournament? Were you aware that the Death Eaters were going to kidnap Lily Evans and Julian Sorentis and lure me to the Shrieking Shack?" I kept my voice steady as I continued, "Dumbledore, I'm not ungrateful. I know that you were the one who called together the Order to come and save me and the others. But, you were very nearly too late. And now you subject Harry, my godson, to the same vulnerability. How many times must we put ourselves out there to suffer before we learn to protect ourselves?" I demanded.
"Unfortunately, every time," Dumbledore replied gently. "We cannot be everywhere all the time, Professor Kingsley. We must choose our line of defense to match the line of attack. Allowing Harry to compete in the tournament narrows that line of attack. You must see this."
"The line of attack doesn't matter," I argued back. "The moment of attack does."
"Yes, but one leads to the other," Dumbledore said. Then, he sighed, and before I could respond, he told me, "Raylynx, we must accept and respond to reality, not accept only that which we want to see."
A quiet, but terrific bout of fury was building up inside me. I spat out, "Your reality is that this is a war. And in that reality, you seek to train Harry."
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment. Then, he confessed, "Yes, I do seek to train him. He must grow, Raylynx. Again, this is beyond our hands. Fate has placed this challenge before Harry, and only he can respond appropriately. Our duty is to give him the might with which to respond to fate."
"No," I fought back. "That's your reality, Dumbledore, and your duty. Yours. My reality is that within that war, there is a boy who deserves to be protected, regardless of what else he is – Chosen One or not."
"No, Raylynx, that's not all you perceive," Dumbledore countered quietly. "I see it in your eyes. Every time you lay eyes on the boy, you cannot help but remember that he is a Horcrux. Elsewise, you would not be so protective of him. You feel guilty whenever you see your godson because, despite your insistence that you view him only as a child, in truth, you cannot help but remember what he is… Some part of you wishes that you had never found out."
"That's not true," I protested through gritted teeth.
"Is that so? Then, tell me, why didn't you tell Sirius that Harry is a Horcrux?"
"That – That's private," I blurted out. "Besides, no matter what I think, I choose to see Harry only as my godson. For me, there is no end goal apart from him. He is the thing I seek to protect, not some – not some abstract goal."
"I tried to protect you," Dumbledore told me softly. "I tried to keep you from this terrible knowledge. I knew you would suffer once you found out."
"I'm not suffering," I murmured, trying hard to deny his words.
"Fear, too, is a type of suffering. And you're afraid," Dumbledore said, shrewdly examining my expression. "You're afraid that you'll make the same mistake as last time. You regret leaving the Order when you did. You were in pursuit of what you believed was a higher justice and yet, all that happened when you left is that you lost your friends and failed them. You are determined not to let that happen again, and you've aligned yourself with the people around you – Remus, Sirius, and Harry. Isn't that so?"
"But you must see, Raylynx," Dumbledore said softly. "Now that you know the truth, now that you know what Harry is, you must accept that the world is much larger than the sufferings and sacrifices of only three people…"
"No, Dumbledore," I shot back. "That's where you're wrong. Because you see - the world is exactly that small." Then, I turned on my heel and left abruptly, leaving Dumbledore deep in thought. As he watched me leave, a pang of pain rang out in his heart as he was reminded of his past. Grindelwald's words surfaced in his memory – those ever-haunting words that Dumbledore had almost been led astray by: "For the greater good."
I exited the room and went back out into the Great Hall. The Great Hall was obviously deserted now, as it was late in the night. The candles burned quite low, giving the still-floating Halloween pumpkins an eerie quality to them.
The Goblet of Fire was still at the staff table, sitting before the Headmaster's chair. I walked up to it. The flames had gone out – as Barty had said, it would not re-ignite until the next Tournament. I stared at this roughly hewn wooden Cup. Moody had said that the Goblet of Fire had to have been Confunded. Then, that suggested some level of sentience. Of course, that the Goblet had some type of thought mechanism was obvious. After all, it picked the worthiest students from each school. But the question was: How sentient is it? For example, is it sentient enough to store memories?
Out of sheer curiosity and instinct, I reached my hand out and touched the goblet. Despite the lack of flames, the cup was still warm against my hand. How does one perform Legilimency on a Cup? I tilted my head a little, pondering the question. But then, I reminded myself: I've performed Legilimency on the Sorting Hat before, right? It's not about whether or not the object resembles a human or not. Human sentience is only one, narrow form of sentience. There are other types of being and minds and souls in this world.
I closed my eyes. This could work. I just need to be focused.
I pressed my hand purposefully against the goblet. Show me what's in your mind. I need to see your memories.
I thought I heard a deep growl inside my head, grumbling, tread carefully...
But I had already made up my mind. I took a deep breath. Legilimens!
I fell into a world of grey wind and milky-white, opaque clouds. I wasn't sure if it was because of the Goblet's level of sentience or my own inability at Legilimency, but my vision was so cloudy – almost like I had to see through a barely transparent sheet of rock.
Go back, a warning voice sounded on in my head. You are not supposed to be here.
I shook my head, trying to empty myself of doubt. Focus, I told myself sternly. Find the names. That will lead you to who put in the names.
The grey wind seemed to soften slightly as I slowly managed to narrow down my direction. Then, the grey still and blurred into a landscape of only cloud. Everything was soft, opaque, almost milky white. But through the mist, I could see the name dripping in raven-black ink: Fleur Delacour. Then, a small windstorm rose before me, and the cloud particles directly in front of me solidified into swan feathers. As the windstorm grew in strength, a flurry of white feathers obscured my vision. I stepped forward, placing myself right into the middle of the storm. I looked up to see another name forming through the mist: Viktor Krum. Then, a flash of lightning - Cedric Diggory. And finally - Harry Potter.
There! I reached out and seized at the ghostly black ink before my eyes. A rush of wind gathered, and a white veil draped over my face, covering my eyes and stunting my breath. I fought it valiantly in my mind. Legilimens! I repeated, focusing all of my mental energy on breaking through.
Snap! The deep sound of ancient wood breaking sounded out in my mind and then – I saw a hand reaching towards me – a dark, brutal tornado of gusting winds overtook my mind, throwing all of my mental stability sky-high into some incorporeal universe. I gasped and staggered back. For a moment, I realized what I had seen – the Goblet of Fire getting Confounded.
But before I could pull myself out of the Goblet's sentience entirely, I found my own buried memories struggling to respond – the Goblet was also pulling something out of me. A thick, oil-like blackness ran over the rivulets of my mind. It was an overwhelmingly nauseating feeling. Mentally, I was choking. My physical body responded. I forgot how to breathe. I tripped backwards and fell onto the floor.
A high, cruel laugh sounded out… Shall we see if your mind is any less worthless?
My mind was being torn apart into so many conflicting pieces that to preserve itself, it blacked out. I fell unconscious.
Bartemius Crouch Junior's POV
When Raylynx Kingsley didn't immediately come out of the room with McGonagall, Snape, and myself, I pretended to leave and head towards my office, but I quickly doubled back and hid in the Great Hall.
I didn't dare go too close to the room where Dumbledore and Raylynx were still speaking, in case Dumbledore picked up on my presence, but my (well, Moody's) magical eye could see through the wall anyways.
Raylynx looked rather upset, and she threw some harsh words at Dumbledore before she turned on her heel and marched out. I kept myself hidden, wanting to wait until Dumbledore came out and passed me by before I made my way back to my quarters. But, my magical eye revealed to me that Dumbledore was deep in thought back in the other room. Meanwhile, Raylynx had slowly approached the Goblet of Fire. She stared at it for a long while, and then she reached out and touched it. I saw her close her eyes and take a deep breath. Then, she became totally still.
What is she doing? I wondered.
Suddenly, a blast of white smoke erupted from the Goblet. Raylynx gasped and fell back, stumbling. She grasped at her head as though to keep her mind together before she collapsed onto the floor, completely unmoving.
I suddenly realized what she had attempted to do – perform Legilimency on the Goblet. I was shocked. I hadn't even thought of that possibility. Had she seen…?
I hurriedly ran over to her. I saw Dumbledore start in the other room and begin to stride out.
I knew I had only seconds to make my decision. Would you like to become like my father – put under an Imperius Curse? No, but with Dumbledore so close by, that could be akin to blowing my cover. Perhaps I should perform a simple Memory Charm. But that's letting you off too easy, isn't it, you nosy little thing?
I stared down at the Kingsley girl. You've always been annoying. Such a piece of work for a Mudblood. Why do you struggle so? Why do you fight when you know your Mudblood powers will never stand up against the Dark Lord's invincibility? It would be a mercy to incapacitate you. How should I ease your pain, you pathetic girl? Obliviate or Imperio? The question sounded out in my head a few times before I quickly snatched up my wand from inside my cloak. I pressed it harshly against her temple and murmured, "Obliviate. Mentia Obscurus." I took away her memories of the past few minutes, of her examination of the Goblet, whatever that had produced.
Just then, Dumbledore appeared.
"Ennervate," I said loudly, pointing my wand at Raylynx's chest.
She blinked, coming to.
"Professor Moody? Professor Kingsley?" Dumbledore said, hastening over to us. He had a deep frown on his face. "What happened?"
"I came back to speak with you, Dumbledore. As I did, I saw Kingsley here lying on the floor, knocked out," I explained quickly. I tried to act as Moody would, saying demandingly to Raylynx, "What the hell were you up to, girl?"
Raylynx sat up, slowly getting her breath back. She raised her hand and pressed it against her head. "I must have fallen…" she said quietly.
I snorted. "Well, that's a bit obvious, isn't it? The question – What were you doing before that?"
I pointed up at the Goblet. "Were you trying to examine the Goblet?"
But I knew that I couldn't allow her to actually think about what had just happened. If she tried to trace her memory now, right after I'd placed a Memory Charm on her, she'd feel that jolt of pain as her mind tried to break through my Memory Charm. And Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, would know in an instant and suspect me.
So, without pausing, I continued speaking. I said quickly, "Up on your feet, girl. Let's take you to the Hospital Wing."
Before Raylynx could think or protest, I reached out and yanked her onto her feet. She stumbled slightly, but got back her bearings nonetheless.
"I'll come speak to you later," I grunted at Dumbledore and with that, I pulled Kingsley away.
I felt Dumbledore's eyes watching us as we left, but when we exited the Great Hall, his attention fell onto the Goblet of Fire. I let out a silent sigh of relief as I took Kingsley out of the Great Hall.
Just as I predicted, the foolhardy girl "didn't want to go to the hospital wing." That suited me just fine. Madam Pomfrey, too, was a dangerous person to me, since she could discover the root of her patients' ailments, and my plan depended essentially on Raylynx remaining ignorant of her own ailment – that is, severe memory loss. My master had taught me how to turn the Memory Charm into its most potent form – so that the spell not only produced memory loss, but stitched up the ragged edges of the disjuncture that it left behind so that, given but a little time, the person would entirely forget that they had forgotten something at all.
"Get to bed, then," I said to Kingsley.
She dumbly nodded her head.
I barely held back a snort. Gryffindors are always so predictable, always so careful of their own pride and independence. Well, so be it. It makes my job so much easier.
Nightie night, Mudblood.
I turned my back on her and headed up to my quarters, where I'd throw a few biscuits down to real Moody and take some more of his hair to make more Polyjuice Potion. I had a disguise to keep up, and I planned to play my part to perfection.
Father, you always appreciated thoroughness. You'd be so proud of me now – if only you weren't under my Master's Imperius Curse, I thought savagely, as I thumped my way up the stairs back to my chambers.
