Hermione ran with Malfoy out into the Entrance Hall, trying to decide where to go first. She was saved from making a decision when Ron appeared, sprinting towards them with the Marauder's Map blessedly clutched in his hands. Ron stopped in front of her, ignoring Malfoy.
"Something's wrong. I can't find Harry anywhere on the map. And it says Moody's still in his office, but I looked around and didn't find him anywhere either. Bloody gave me a scare, that did. Crouch is out by the forest, with Dumbledore, Nott, and Krum. What should we do?"
Hermione processed this information as quickly as she could given the circumstances. Nothing made sense. How could Harry have left? Where was Moody hiding?
"Hermione, what do we do?" Ron asked again frantically.
"Give her a second, Weasley," Malfoy snarled. "She's just come out from the Imperius Curse."
"She— what?!" Ron yelped, dropping the map and turning to Hermione. He grabbed her by the upper arms to peer closely into her eyes. Malfoy took a half step forward before restraining himself.
"I'll explain later," she said, gently prying Ron's fingers from her arms. Out of the corner of her eye, it seemed that the ghost of a phoenix flew by. Was that something to do with Dumbledore?
Bending to pick up the Map, Hermione examined it thoroughly. Moody was still shown in his office, but she believed Ron when he said he hadn't been able to find him. Something strange was going on there. A few students ambled around distant corridors, but most were already in their common rooms for the night. Crouch was crossing the grounds quickly, halfway between the Quidditch pitch and the castle.
Wait, hadn't Ron said… yes, Crouch was still down on the edge of the forest by the Durmstrang ship. Her eyes flew between both inky names, her mind scrambling to keep up. There were two Barty Crouches?
"Look. Look here." Hermione motioned Ron and Malfoy closer. They moved to stand on either side of her, each looking down over a shoulder. She pointed to the first dot labelled Barty Crouch, the one next to Dumbledore, Theo, and Viktor. Then she moved her finger over to the second dot, which was moments away from ascending the stone steps to the front doors.
Hermione looked up, easing her wand out of her robe pocket.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.
Ron's head swivelled back and forth between the two dots. "What the bloody…" he began, trailing off when the front doors swung open.
Moody stumped inside, wearing a long, hooded cloak despite the warmth outdoors. He took one look at Hermione and the Map in her hand and drew his wand. Ron and Malfoy moved to draw their own wands, starting forward as they went, but Moody was faster.
A jet of purple light burst from the tip of his wand. Without thinking, Hermione reacted.
"Protego!"
A great force propelled itself out of her wand and the purple light rebounded, making contact with a nearby suit of armour. The resulting clang was loud enough that Hermione wanted to cover her ears, but she barely had the chance to cast another Shield Charm as a bolt of red light came her way.
Ron and Malfoy had their wands out now, also casting Shield Charms as quickly as they could. There was no opportunity for offence; not only was Moody proficient with nonverbal spellcasting, but he was faster than Hermione ever could have imagined. The shields they conjured all but dissipated as soon as one of Moody's spells came in contact. She suspected that the only reason Moody wasn't outright trying to kill one of them was that the time required to verbally perform the killing curse might well cost him the duel. The Unforgivables must be exceedingly difficult to perform nonverbally.
Suddenly, two jets of red light soared over her head from behind. They took Moody squarely in the chest and he dropped bonelessly to the ground, stunned and unconscious.
"What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall shrieked, rushing over to stop in front of Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy, her eyes popping and nostrils flared. She raked her gaze swiftly over each of them, no doubt scanning for injuries.
Professor Snape wasn't far behind. He swept past them wordlessly, casting Incarcerous to bind the unconscious professor tightly before plucking the wand out of Moody's hand. His face was a grim mask of disbelief.
"Professor," Hermione breathed, gasping and clutching a hand to her side. Malfoy was squatting on his heels, trying to catch his breath.
Ron spoke first, pointing a shaking finger towards Moody's unconscious form. "That's not… that's not Moody."
"What do you mean it isn't Alastor Moody?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.
"He's right, Minerva."
Dumbledore strode through the front doors, followed closely by Theo. Dumbledore had his wand out, cold fury etched into his features, radiating such intense power that the air around them crackled with it.
Dumbledore immediately looked to Hermione and Ron. "Where is Harry?"
Hermione shared a quick glance with Ron.
"We don't know," she finally whispered. Her voice quivered with barely repressed fear. Or perhaps anger. "He went somewhere with Moody or… him." She looked pointedly towards the stunned man.
Dumbledore nodded once and strode quickly over to Moody, putting a foot beneath him to shove him roughly to his back.
"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess," Dumbledore said briskly. "We have no time to waste."
Snape nodded curtly and swept off at a rapid pace towards the dungeons.
"Mister Nott, please join your peers," Dumbledore said next, gesturing towards Hermione, Malfoy, and Ron. "And all of you, stand against the wall there. I will not take chances with your safety."
Obediently, Hermione backed away to stand by the entrance to the Great Hall between Ron and Malfoy. Theo joined them, worry written on his face.
"Stand by, Minerva. I fear we may need to act quickly once I discover the truth." Dumbledore pointed his wand at Moody's chest. "Rennervate."
Moody began to stir feebly, groaning as his head rolled on the floor. Dumbledore kept his wand trained on Moody's chest. As soon as Moody's eyes opened, they filled with contempt for the man standing over him.
"Where is Harry Potter?" Dumbledore demanded in an iron tone.
Moody barked a weak laugh. "You're too late, old man. He's gone."
McGonagall gasped. A chill shot through Hermione, freezing her to the core.
"And where has he gone?" Dumbledore asked coldly, burning the man with his eyes.
Moody tried to laugh again, but all that came out was a gurgling sound. Suddenly, Moody's entire body was bubbling while he spasmed on the floor. His hair began receding into his skull, and his nose became whole. Moody's magical eyeball popped out of his socket, whizzing sickeningly as it spun across the floor. His wooden leg fell away with a clatter, and a normal leg grew in its place.
Soon enough, he wasn't Moody at all, but a pale-skinned, fair-haired, and gaunt-looking man. A man that most certainly did not resemble the Barty Crouch she knew.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, did not look surprised in the least about his new appearance.
"Barty Crouch!" Snape said, stopping dead in the archway at the top of the stairs.
"Severus, the potion, if you please," Dumbledore said urgently.
Snape gathered himself, gliding quickly over to Dumbledore to hand him a small vial of clear liquid. Dumbledore hauled Crouch upright against the wall by the front of his robes, then pried his mouth open and poured three drops of potion inside. The man's eyes glazed, becoming unfocused, and his head lolled to one side.
"Where is Harry Potter?" Dumbledore repeated.
"I've told you," Crouch said in a flat, expressionless voice. "He's not here. I sent him to the Dark Lord."
Malfoy and Ron stiffened beside her. Hermione let out an involuntary whimper and pressed her lips together to stifle it.
"Headmaster," Snape interrupted. "My Mark. It's burning."
Snape hastily undid his cuff and bunched his left sleeve up to his elbow for Dumbledore to examine. On his forearm was a tattoo of sorts, a skull and a snake that resembled the symbol she had seen in the sky at the World Cup. It was pitch black.
"I'm being summoned," Snape finished grimly.
Hermione watched Malfoy and Theo trade suddenly fearful looks. Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched as if she were about to cry.
Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, examining the mark itself, then studied Snape's eyes. "You know what I must ask you to do, Severus," he said quietly.
"I do," Snape replied, looking deathly pale now. As Snape and Dumbledore stared at each other, Hermione watched as all traces of apprehension drained from Snape's black eyes, replaced by cold emptiness.
Dumbledore finally blinked. "Good luck. The fate of our world may rest on your actions tonight."
Snape gave a curt nod, then swept briskly out through the front doors of the castle.
"Now," Dumbledore began, returning his attention to Crouch. "I will ask again. Exactly where did you send Harry Potter tonight, and why."
"I don't know exactly. I keyed the Portkey with the coordinates Wormtail provided me and disposed of them so that none without the Mark could follow. The Dark Lord wanted Potter for his rebirth, then planned to finish him for good."
At that, Dumbledore looked intently towards the front doors, as if he wanted to follow after Snape. He shook his head angrily and turned back to Crouch.
"And why did you return, after sending Harry away?"
"My next order was to kill you," Crouch said flatly.
Dumbledore's expression didn't change as he pressed on.
"The Triwizard Cup," Dumbledore said. "The Portkey I authorised just this morning to be used to transfer the champion out of the maze after the third task. Is that the Portkey you tampered with?"
"Yes. I took Potter down to the Quidditch pitch on the pretence of my father having important information for the champions. Potter believed that my father was leading an investigation about a Death Eater that entered his name into the tournament, among other things. I didn't know the boundaries of the Portkey or whether it would work anywhere else, and I wanted to be sure. Potter took the cup at my request and was transported instantly."
"Then there's a chance…" Dumbledore breathed. "Minerva, stand guard a moment."
McGonagall moved forward with her wand arm fixed steadily between Crouch's eyes. Dumbledore turned to the side and conjured a Patronus. Hermione watched as the bright phoenix shape that had appeared from Dumbledore's wand split itself into two, then held still as he whispered instructions in a low voice. As Dumbledore turned back to McGonagall, one shape whooshed past them and up the Grand Staircase, and the other flew swiftly out across the front lawn.
"Minerva, I must ask another favour," Dumbledore said. "Kindly go down to the Quidditch pitch, where you will be joined shortly by a large black dog. I am also sending Madam Pomfrey to join you. If all goes as well as possible, Harry will be returning there. Once he does, escort everyone straight up to my office. If Harry must arrive by other means, I will send a message to you as soon as I receive word that he is in a secure location."
Professor McGonagall turned at once and left through the front doors.
Hermione felt so tense that she thought she might shatter. She spoke before she could stop herself.
"Sir… Professor Dumbledore… is Harry—" she forced out, choking at the end. Whatever she had been about to ask, she couldn't finish. Someone gave a reassuring squeeze to her hand.
"Harry is in very grave danger," Dumbledore said solemnly. "I have mobilised every resource that I can to see that he returns to us safely. Without being able to go to him directly, I fear that it is the best I can do. The Dark Mark, you see, is brilliant and terrible in its design. Only those with the Mark can use it as a guide for apparition, and the magical properties instilled prevent side-along apparition while that guide is in effect. The results for one who tried would be most unpleasant."
Hermione swallowed heavily as Dumbledore continued.
"But have courage. There is hope. Harry, while young, is already an accomplished wizard, even more so for the practice he had with you and Mister Weasley over the course of this year." Hermione gave a small start at realising Dumbledore knew about that. "He is also watched over in places he would least suspect. And should those things fail, even then there is hope. Voldemort is a formidable opponent, but he has great weaknesses. It would be wise for all to remember that, and have courage in the face of the unknown."
Hermione nodded slowly, wondering if the last part had been meant for more than her. Malfoy's face was a hard mask, and Theo looked slightly nauseous. Ron's eyebrows were still drawn together in worry.
Dumbledore turned back to Crouch, who had begun to look mildly more alert as they talked. "Where is Alastor Moody?"
"In his office," Crouch spat. "Locked in his own trunk."
"Is he in immediate danger?"
"No. He's under the Imperius. Needed him alive for the potion."
"And is anyone else currently subject to a curse by your hand?" Dumbledore asked severely.
"No. I cursed the Granger girl with an Imperius nigh on two weeks ago, but she broke free just before I returned tonight," Crouch said impassively.
Dumbledore looked around then, peering intently at her over his half-moon spectacles. Satisfied with his brief examination, he continued questioning Crouch.
Hermione was slowly able to piece together the story. The man was Barty Crouch Jr., son of the Barty Crouch she knew, and the very same boy that Harry watched sent to Azkaban in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He somehow quietly escaped from Azkaban — Dumbledore already seemed to know about that part — and was kept confined by his father, assisted by Winky. He began to fight the Imperius Curse and conjured the Dark Mark into the sky at the Quidditch World Cup to scare the other Death Eaters.
Malfoy hissed softly at that. She glanced at him questioningly, but he kept his eyes forward, affecting not to notice her gaze.
Voldemort discovered young Crouch's existence from a captured Ministry official, one that Hermione heard discussed before; Bertha Jorkins had been missing since before the Quidditch Cup. When Voldemort, aided by Wormtail, came to collect the younger man, Crouch Sr. was placed under the curse instead, and Crouch Jr. was free to subdue and impersonate Moody. Crouch Jr. was supposed to guide Harry through the tournament, ensuring that he reached the Triwizard Cup at the end of the third task. There was no other way to get Harry out of Hogwarts alone and undetected. Only the Headmaster could create or authorise the creation of a Portkey through the school's wards.
"And why did you request the authorisation two weeks early instead of waiting until the third task?" Dumbledore asked, eyes blazing with cold fury again.
"Potter and his friends found me one night as I was patrolling the corridors. They had been watching their Map, and assumed that my father and Moody had a plan to uncover illicit activity at Hogwarts, including whoever put Potter's name in the Goblet."
"What Map is this?" Dumbledore asked quickly.
Hermione answered. "This one, Sir. I have it here." She held it out for Dumbledore to see. He walked over and took it, giving it a cursory glance, then returned it to her without further comment.
"Go on," he instructed Crouch, standing in front of him once more.
"I convinced them that I was my father under Polyjuice Potion. Well, I convinced Potter and the Weasley boy. I didn't believe I had the Granger girl convinced, so I put her under my Imperius. I already had the Map in my possession from Potter… told him I needed it for my investigation. The girl's suspicions were partly responsible for my early actions. The other was that Wormtail lapsed in his duties, allowing my father to escape. Without knowing where he was, I couldn't take the chance that he would show up here and ruin everything. It had to be done the soonest that I could convince you to allow the Portkey's creation." Crouch's voice was beginning to go raspy by the time he finished regaling his story.
Dumbledore looked up towards the sky, then began pacing as he thought. He sent off one more Patronus towards the Charms corridor and paused once to remove a keyring from Crouch's belt.
Hermione shifted against the wall, exhaustion beginning to settle in. The others didn't look much better. Malfoy was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and his head bent. Ron fidgeted endlessly, taking a deep breath as if he were about to speak, then shaking his head and releasing it again. Theo squatted on the floor, arms on his knees and hands clasped as if in prayer.
She errantly wondered where Crouch Sr. was right now, but couldn't bring herself to voice the question. Harry was the important thing. Harry was out there somewhere with Voldemort after him. Harry was beyond the help of even Dumbledore, the most capable wizard she knew.
The Veritaserum must have been close to wearing off of Crouch, as an insane smile suddenly lit his features.
"My Mark is burning, old man," Crouch whispered. "The plan worked and the Dark Lord is returned to power. I will be honoured beyond all wizards. Oh, the Dark Lord will want to hear what I have to say, too. Snape doing your bidding. Karkaroff likely on the run. The Malfoy boy consorting with a Mudblood, and one of Potter's close friends no less…"
Next to her, Malfoy went rigid.
Dumbledore calmly walked over to Crouch and put him in some kind of enchanted sleep with a wave of his wand. Crouch fell over and knocked his head on the flagstone floor, but Dumbledore seemed unconcerned.
Not a minute later, Professor Flitwick bustled in, seeming moderately surprised to find Hermione and the other students standing nearby. Dumbledore gave instructions for Flitwick to take Crouch to the Charm's office and hold him there under guard. Once Professor Flitwick levitated Crouch away and up the stairs, Dumbledore turned to Hermione and the others.
"It would be best to send you all to bed—" Ron opened his mouth to protest and Dumbledore held up a hand "—but I understand that would be impossible given your concern for Harry at this time. Any who wish to stay may wait in my office, where I will join you shortly. The password is Cockroach Cluster."
Dumbledore immediately started for the corridor she knew would lead him to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, presumably to rescue the real Moody out of his own trunk. The four of them were alone in the Entrance Hall now.
"C'mon, Hermione," Ron said. "Let's get up to Dumbledore's office. We can watch the Map for Harry to get back."
Ron pointedly did not look at anyone else but her.
"Ron, can I have a moment to speak with Theo and Malfoy?" she asked.
"Hermione, I don't think—"
"Please," she interrupted. "It will only take a moment. I promise I'll explain everything to you and Harry later."
Ron grimaced but didn't say anything more, moving away to wait on the far end of the Hall. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, throwing the occasional scowl in their direction.
Hermione faced Malfoy and Theo, taking a deep breath. "I can't thank the both of you enough. For everything."
She met Malfoy's eyes and felt her cheeks grow warm again. He coloured faintly, too, then broke eye contact to study the floor.
"Come back with us to Dumbledore's office," she urged. "Ron will come around once he hears the full story. I know you must be worried about your fathers."
Malfoy and Theo traded dark looks. She had pieced together all of their significant glances whenever Death Eaters were mentioned, and Malfoy's fear both tonight when Snape had been summoned and at the World Cup when the Dark Mark was cast into the sky.
Malfoy was watching her warily now, probably wondering if she was going to say anything else about it. When she didn't, he opened his mouth.
"Granger… I don't think that's a good idea. If Potter makes it back—" Malfoy stopped, watching her face. "When Potter makes it back, the last thing he'll want to see is me in there. Or Theo. Especially if our fathers…" he trailed off, mouth tightening and eyes flashing defiantly, as if daring her to comment.
She nodded, biting her lip hard, attempting to control her features. Worry and fear for Harry was beginning to drown out everything else, but she could break down later. Malfoy had a point. There was no telling what state Harry might be in when he returned. When.
"Good night, Granger," Theo said quietly, before he and Malfoy started towards the stair for the dungeons. Malfoy paused to glance back at her, then gave one final sneer in Ron's direction before disappearing into the passage. After a few more moments staring blankly after them, Hermione made her way to Ron.
"What was that all about?" he said tightly as they climbed a flight of stairs, heading towards Dumbledore's office.
"Malfoy…" she began, not knowing exactly what to tell him, "Malfoy helped me, Ron. He and Theo. They realised that there was something wrong, and figured out I was under the Imperius Curse. Malfoy helped me break it." Merlin, would she ever be able to think about that without blushing? Ron scoffed in disbelief. "I know it's hard to imagine, but we're kind of… well, we're sort of civil to each other now. Out of necessity. And Malfoy did help us fight Crouch tonight."
Ron scoffed again. "He was just saving his own neck, Hermione. If there'd been a chance to get away, he'd have scarpered."
"I don't know, Ron… Can we talk about this later? I can't think of anything else but Harry right now."
"Yeah, of course," Ron answered, the scowl immediately dropping from his face.
They exchanged worried looks and Ron reached out to squeeze her hand once.
"He'll be okay, Hermione. Harry knows what he's about. He's outdone that maniac three times already, and he'll do it again."
Hermione couldn't prevent a few tears escaping down her cheeks, but she attempted to give Ron a watery smile anyway. They stopped in front of the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.
"Cockroach Cluster," Ron said, his voice breaking on the last word. The gargoyle came to life and sprang out of their path, and they ascended the moving spiral staircase and pushed open the old oak door.
When they entered, the lamps were still lit and a muted buzz of chatter filled the room. As the portraits lining the walls spotted Ron and Hermione, their conversation stopped abruptly. Hermione sat heavily on the chair that she had occupied last time she visited the Headmaster's office, Ron taking the one next to it.
Hermione wasn't sure how long she and Ron sat there with the Map open on her lap, watching for any sign of Harry's reappearance. Dumbledore had said that if all went well, Harry would show up near the Quidditch pitch. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were down there, joined by Sirius, who was most certainly still in his Animagus form. She and Ron also watched as Dumbledore's dot moved with Alastor Moody's to the hospital wing, then started back for his office. Only one dot labelled Barty Crouch still showed, and it hadn't moved from Professor Flitwick's office.
When Dumbledore came in, he didn't seem surprised to see that Hermione and Ron were the only ones present, merely nodding in their direction. Hermione jumped when one of the portraits behind her spoke.
"Dumbledore, the man you spoke about earlier has arrived at St. Mungo's. He looks bad. They aren't certain he'll make it through the night."
"Thank you, Dilys," Dumbledore said gravely, inclining his head towards the portrait of a dark-haired witch in green robes.
Dumbledore conjured a platter of hot tea and finger sandwiches before sitting behind his desk, offering for them to help themselves to anything they would like. Despite her stomach grumbling from missing all of her meals today, Hermione felt too nauseous to eat. Ron hesitantly took a sandwich, but only nibbled at the edges.
Dumbledore took out a quill and began writing swiftly across two separate pieces of parchment. Fawkes was nowhere to be seen, his perch standing empty.
Suddenly, Hermione let out a gasp. Harry's name had just shown up at the entrance to the Quidditch stands. Ron looked hurriedly over her shoulder and Dumbledore stood up.
"Harry?" Dumbledore asked quickly. Hermione nodded mutely, focus still fixed on the map, unable to trust that what she was seeing was real and not just what she wanted to be real.
"It's him! He's made it!" Ron yelled, jumping out of his chair and pointing at the Map.
Hermione let out a choked sob before she could stop herself. It was real. Harry was alive.
After a quick affirmation that he would be back, Dumbledore swept out of his office once more. The portraits, who had been pretending to be asleep before, took up chattering again, speculating amongst themselves. Hermione couldn't move her eyes from the Map. She watched as Harry was intercepted by Sirius, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey. Dumbledore, who had only left his office moments ago, was already joining them.
Hot tears leaked freely down her cheeks now. Ron retrieved a tissue for her to dab at her face.
Only once Hermione heard faint voices in the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office was she able to tear her eyes away from the Map. She hastily wiped it clear and pocketed it. Going to stand near Ron, who had finally stopped pacing, she kept her eyes trained on the door, chewing her bottom lip.
"—should really be going to hospital, Albus—"
"—I quite agree, Poppy—"
"—needs rest—"
"Soon. Unfortunately, this cannot wait." Dumbledore's voice. The others fell quiet, and the door swung open.
Then Harry was there. He stumbled in right after Dumbledore, covered in blood, but alive. Fawkes swayed on Harry's shoulder, taking off to alight on his perch as soon as Harry cleared the doorway.
Hermione ran to throw her arms around Harry's neck, careless of the blood and dirt staining his shirt. Harry didn't react at first, but soon hesitantly moved his arms up to hug her back. He was shaking. Realising he must be exhausted, Hermione reluctantly let go so that they could move to the chairs situated in front of the mahogany desk. Dumbledore had already conjured several more armchairs, but still one fewer than the number of individuals now present in the room.
Madam Pomfrey didn't intend to stay, announcing that she needed to go back to the hospital wing and check in on the real Moody. She reminded Dumbledore in tones bordering on disapproval that she would be ready for Harry straightaway, then left back down the moving staircase.
Hermione and Ron sat to one side of Harry, with Sirius and McGonagall on the other. Sirius was still disguised as a large, shaggy black dog. Professor McGonagall watched him curiously as he jumped into his chair and put a paw on Harry's knee.
"Sirius," Dumbledore began. "I think it is time to show yourself."
Sirius immediately transformed back into a man, no less shaggy, apprehension thick on his features as he looked Harry over.
"Good heavens," McGonagall wheezed, clutching her chest. When she had regained her composure, she raised her thin brows at Dumbledore.
"All will be explained in time, Minerva. Just know that Sirius has our full confidence."
However strange McGonagall found this, she simply inclined her head at Dumbledore, content to trust and wait. Harry sat stiffly with his eyes forward, glazed as if his thoughts were far away.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Harry has been through a great ordeal tonight, and he deserves first to understand why."
Harry looked up to meet Dumbledore's eyes, then, and Dumbledore concisely recounted the story of how Barty Crouch Jr. came to disguise himself as Alastor Moody and sent Harry away via Portkey. He also spoke briefly on Crouch Sr. turning up on the grounds earlier in the evening to offer a somewhat scattered confession, and Ron's and Hermione's efforts at fighting off Crouch Jr. once they had discovered Harry missing. Dumbledore didn't mention Theo's or Malfoy's involvement.
"Now, Harry, I must ask too much of you," Dumbledore said, his usually-piercing gaze softened with pity. "I need to know what happened after you took the Portkey."
Harry was avoiding Dumbledore's eyes now.
"Can't this wait?" Sirius asked harshly. "He needs to sleep. He's been through enough."
Harry threw a grateful look to Sirius, but Dumbledore solemnly shook his head, still addressing Harry.
"You have shown courage beyond anything we could have expected of you tonight, and I ask you to summon it once more. We need to know what happened to you."
Fawkes swooped down off of his perch to sit on Harry's shoulder again. Harry seemed to draw strength from the bird's presence, as he finally met Dumbledore's gaze, nodded, and took a deep, ragged breath.
With a gravelly voice, Harry recounted in painstaking detail everything that had transpired since he was transported to a graveyard where Voldemort's father was buried.
Near as soon as Harry had arrived, disoriented and confused, a blinding pain in his scar rendered him helpless as Wormtail appeared, disarming him and binding him to a gravestone. He talked about Voldemort's subhuman resemblance to a child-like figure before the ritual, then about the potion that would later revive him.
Hermione blanched at the part about Wormtail cutting off his own hand for that horrendous concoction. For the last ingredient, Wormtail had taken blood from Harry, as Voldemort believed Harry's blood would make him stronger, giving him the same protection Harry had. At that, Dumbledore stood to examine the place that Harry indicated on his arm, and sat back down seeming curiously satisfied.
Harry pushed on, detailing how Voldemort summoned his Death Eaters to him, wanting to prove he had returned and make a spectacle of finishing Harry for good. Each Death Eater arrived hooded and masked, then cautiously approached Voldemort to grovel at his feet. Voldemort expressed dismay that so few had returned to him, ranting about the significance of the evening and the place where they gathered. He also expressed hostility with those who had been able to return so quickly, claiming that his most loyal followers were either dead or imprisoned.
Hermione felt a lead weight drop into her stomach when Harry named Malfoy's father as one of the Death Eaters present. She wasn't nearly as surprised to hear about Crabbe's and Goyle's fathers after that, but her stomach gave another small lurch when Nott Sr. was named.
Voldemort then recounted the story of his whereabouts and means for survival for the past fourteen years, from what had happened on the night that his curse backfired against Harry to the present. Bertha Jorkins, the Ministry witch who had been missing for almost a year, was dead, killed after telling Voldemort about the Triwizard Tournament and the location of Barty Crouch Jr.
Hermione had listened to the entire story so far with her nails digging furrows into her palms, trying to let Harry finish without interruption. She couldn't prevent a small gasp, though, upon hearing that after Voldemort finished speaking, he turned his wand on Harry and began to torture him for sport with the Cruciatus. Sirius gripped his chair so hard that he snapped a piece of wood off the arm.
Eventually, Voldemort instructed Wormtail to untie Harry and return his wand, desiring to show his followers that he was superior to Harry by way of a duel. Harry had to think quickly then. He knew he couldn't overpower Voldemort, let alone Voldemort surrounded by his Death Eaters. He immediately threw up Shield Charms against Voldemort's curses, trying to buy himself time to think. The curses he couldn't block, he dodged by diving behind tombstones. Several of the cuts and scrapes he now bore were caused by bits of exploding rock blasted out from behind him.
Harry cleared his throat. "The way I was able to dodge his curses, though… It seemed like… It seemed like something almost more than luck," Harry said, his voice starting to go hoarse.
Professor McGonagall, dabbing tears from the corners of her eyes with a tartan handkerchief, conjured Harry a goblet of water. He drank deeply before he continued.
"Almost like the spells weren't working properly. They seemed to sort of… fizzle, as they got closer to me. What happened, do you think?" he asked, looking to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore was silent for a moment as he considered, peering at Harry over steepled fingers. Finally he spoke, glancing at Fawkes still perched on Harry's shoulder.
"I believe, Harry, that this may have been a product of your wand's similarities with Voldemort's. Am I correct that Mr. Ollivander told you that the phoenix who supplied the core for your wand gave another feather? One that resides in Voldemort's wand?" Harry nodded. "This phoenix, as it so happens." Dumbledore gestured to the red and gold bird.
Hermione sat up straighter. She hadn't known about Harry's wand having a shared core.
"Fawkes gave the feathers for mine and Voldemort's wands?" Harry said quietly, a hint of his usual curiosity showing.
"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed, nodding gravely. "And when a wand with a shared core meets its brother, they will not work properly against each other. Harry, did you fire any offensive spells directly at Voldemort?"
Harry shook his head in negation.
"I suspect if you had tried, you would have found your wand unable to perform to its usual standard as well. In fact, if your wands are forced to do combat in the future, it is quite possible that a very rare effect will take place."
Dumbledore briefly explained the concept of the Reverse Spell effect, Priori Incantatem, and how one of the wands might force the other to regurgitate the spells it has performed in reverse. Harry began to get a glazed look about him again, seemingly unable to focus on Dumbledore's vague description. At any other time, Hermione would have found the explanation fascinating, but she sympathised with Harry's current disinterest.
"And how did you manage to get back to us tonight?" Dumbledore asked gently.
Harry took a deep breath and resumed his story.
Desperately searching for a way to escape, Harry started firing offensive spells into the ranks of Voldemort's followers, trying to cut a path through them to get away. Voldemort began screaming for the Death Eaters to fall back, that Harry was his to destroy, but out of nowhere a loud, high-pitched shrieking noise started up and a dense fog rolled in.
Pandemonium ensued. Spells flew back and forth carelessly as the Death Eaters scattered in the dark, trying to find and hold Harry for Voldemort. Harry had taken down three Death Eaters on his own, sending Stunning and Disarming spells as fast as he could, when he was hit with a full Body-Bind Curse.
Hermione couldn't stop herself from grabbing Harry's hand, then, and holding it tightly. He squeezed her fingers, as if he was the one reassuring her.
Harry, who had been holding his wand when he was immobilised, began wildly attempting to use nonverbal magic to release himself. It hadn't worked.
As the Death Eaters closed in on his location, Harry made a desperate final attempt to free himself. He let his fear and anger overcome him, attempting to let the magic thrumming through his veins build until it exploded in an outburst of wandless magic. Miraculously, it worked.
"I knew Voldemort was close," Harry said, squeezing Hermione's fingers again. "Just as I was getting up to turn and face him, I saw the Triwizard Cup flying towards me. I don't know if I Summoned it or what, but as soon as I caught it, it transported me back to the Quidditch pitch."
The last thing Harry had seen was Voldemort's enraged face, screaming wordlessly as Harry was sucked out of the graveyard.
"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, folding his hands on the desk. Fawkes fluttered back to his perch, letting out a single soft, pure note of song. Warmth spread throughout Hermione with the sound, washing away some of the exhaustion.
Dumbledore reached to lightly stroke the phoenix's feathers once before he continued.
"You have shown tremendous bravery tonight, and strength beyond anything that could be expected of you. I think, now, it is time for rest and sleep. Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"
Sirius nodded, gripping Harry's shoulder with a hand.
"You as well, Mister Weasley? Miss Granger?"
Hermione and Ron quickly nodded their assent, too.
"Very well. Minerva, before I escort Harry, Sirius, Miss Granger, and Mister Weasley to the hospital wing, I must ask you for another favour this evening. I would like to question Crouch once more under Veritaserum to ensure we haven't missed anything before I contact the Minister. He will undoubtedly want to question the man tomorrow as well. I will meet you in Filius's office."
McGonagall inclined her head at Dumbledore.
Hermione let go of Harry's hand as they stood, allowing Sirius to draw him near and put an arm around his shoulders. Now that he was finished telling his story, Harry had resumed the glazed, unfocused look from before.
It was nearing midnight as they left Dumbledore's office — Sirius once again a large, black dog — and traversed the corridors to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey immediately bustled Harry over to a bed, drawing the curtain and instructing him to change into fresh pyjamas while she prepared a goblet of sleeping potion. At the far end of the infirmary, the curtains were already drawn around a bed that Hermione inferred to hold the real Moody. Only after Harry was asleep did Dumbledore leave, giving assurances that he would return in the morning.
Sirius settled himself at the foot of Harry's bed on a cushion Madam Pomfrey had produced, and Ron folded himself into a chair by Harry's head. Hermione curled on top of the sheets on the next bed over from Harry, slowly unknotting muscles she hadn't realised were taut with tension.
She still couldn't believe that she had been unknowingly under the Imperius Curse, and that she, Ron, and Malfoy had actually confronted a Death Eater. It was nothing compared to Harry's ordeal, but it only added to the strain of the entire evening.
Hermione wondered what Malfoy and Theo were feeling, if they were even still awake. She owed them a debt for discovering that she was under the Imperius — Malfoy especially. Her mind stuttered a little over remembering exactly how he had finally brought her out. Even as she cringed inwardly at her response to him, a subtle warmth rose inside her at the memory.
Hermione brought her fingers to her lips, remembering the pressure of Malfoy's mouth on her own, and the way their lips had moved in tandem. Most of the memories since she was first placed under the curse were foggy and scattered, but this one felt seared into her brain. Logically, it could be explained by the simple fact that it was the first clear memory she'd had in the last two weeks, but Hermione knew something more than logic was at work.
She recalled the pleasure she'd felt at kissing Viktor. Sweet, comfortable, uncomplicated. It was a candle next to the inferno of emotions she'd experienced kissing Malfoy. The unfamiliar heat that had coursed through her, the loss of all rational thought, the desire to respond to him, to take more… Was that what it was supposed to feel like? Had he felt the same?
He had responded enthusiastically at first, but perhaps he had only been caught by surprise. He'd seemed distant afterwards. Regretful, even.
His intention had been helping her to break free of the curse. It would be dangerous to assume he felt anything more than obligation to help a friend. And they were friends now, she supposed. At least, she hoped Malfoy saw it that way. He must be a little uneasy about the whole evening, especially knowing that he had been fighting a Death Eater, given his connections to them. Even if he hadn't realised it until after the fact.
For whatever reason, knowing with certainty that Malfoy's and Theo's fathers were in Voldemort's ranks hardly gave her pause. It didn't really change anything about them. The only problem was, everything would change now that Voldemort had returned.
Suddenly, the full weight of tonight's events settled in. Voldemort had returned. And Hermione had known he would, known with near-complete surety, and she had done nothing. Had she thought there would be more time? That it would happen far away and irrelevant to their own isolated sanctuary at Hogwarts?
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes again. She had been foolish not to tell Harry and Ron everything from the beginning. Or to go straight to Dumbledore with it. Although… Dumbledore already seemed to realise Voldemort had been steadily gaining strength. And if the vision were true, he would also know if and when Malfoy was set the task to kill him. Harry, though, had deserved to know more than rumours and gut-feelings. If he'd been aware, maybe Crouch wouldn't have so easily duped him this evening… like he'd duped Hermione all year.
And now that Hermione had gotten to know Malfoy better over the past year, she was positive that he could change from the contemptuous, quarrelsome bully he'd acted for the first three years of their schooling. He'd already proven that he could put aside his hatred, jealousy, and pettiness when it was called for. She had almost a year's worth of increasingly amiable interactions as evidence, and the events of this evening outshone them all. It would take time for him to completely overcome the prejudices and attitudes ingrained in his upbringing, and didn't he deserve that chance?
It was a tangle as fine as any she'd ever made with her knitting needles.
Hermione rolled to her back, exhaustion steadily winning out. Tomorrow, she could decide what to do. What was done was done. Crouch was in custody, and most importantly, Harry was alive. And Dumbledore would know what to do next to ensure he remained that way. Comforted by that thought, Hermione closed her eyes and let exhaustion pull her under.