The Order of the Black Cat

by xWolfx93

During his first year at Hogwarts, Harry befriends Daphne Greengrass and encounters Jingles, a magical cat. Their revelations help Harry see the world isn't just black and white and give him what he always wanted: a family. Together, they form a secret society to better the wizarding world. The OC will be a brotherly figure to Harry. No SI. This is a longfic.

39. The Dark Lord's return

Chapter 39 – The Dark Lord's return

The Room of Requirement, with its ever-changing appearance, had today taken on the comfortable guise of a cosy lounge. Plush sofas and armchairs were arranged in a casual circle, the walls lined with bookshelves that seemed to stretch endlessly. The remnants of the wild party in the Gryffindor Common Room were now just a memory, replaced by the tranquil ambiance of their current refuge.

The group, still buzzing from the night's excitement, had gathered, each sharing fragments of their experiences. The air was alive with laughter and the faint scent of butterbeer.

Tracey, with her usual vibrant energy, was the first to steer the conversation towards the night's escapades. She turned to Neville, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Neville, you vanished so early last night! Don't tell me you chickened out of the fun?" she playfully accused, her voice laced with good-natured ribbing.

Neville, slightly taken aback, nervously adjusted himself on the sofa. "No, not exactly," he stammered, his cheeks tinting a soft pink. "I, um, lost track of everyone and ended up talking with Justin, Ernie, Susan, and Hannah from Hufflepuff. And I...uh, I danced with Hannah. A few times, actually. It was... surprisingly nice," he admitted, a shy smile creeping onto his face.

Tracey's eyes sparkled with delight. "Danced with Hannah, did you?" she teased, leaning forward with an exaggerated wink. "That sounds more than just 'nice', Neville!"

Neville's blush deepened, and he ducked his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite his embarrassment.

Not missing a beat, Tracey then swivelled her attention to Hermione. "And you, Hermione! You disappeared early too! Then you dashed onto the stage, looking all dishevelled and flustered, trying to stop Rigel and Daphne from making fools of themselves. Come on, spill the beans – what juicy details are you hiding?"

Hermione, caught off-guard, fumbled with the book in her lap. "There are no juicy details, Tracey," she said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone. Her cheeks bore a faint blush, betraying her otherwise composed demeanour.

But the group wasn't convinced. They had all seen Hermione's dishevelled appearance at the party, and the air was thick with curiosity.

Tracey, persistent as ever, pressed on. "Oh, come on, Hermione! We all saw you. Out with it!"

Finally, Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Alright," she conceded. "I may have had a bit too much to drink, and... and I ended up in a bit of a snogging session with Terry Boot," she admitted, her voice dropping to a near whisper, laced with regret.

Tracey's eyebrows shot up. "And why exactly do you regret that?" she asked, her tone teasing but gentle.

Hermione fiddled with the edge of her book. "It's... it's because of Viktor," she murmured. "We had a nice date at the Yule Ball, and a few nice chats afterward. But after what happened with Terry..."

"Did you and Viktor ever make it official? Like, boyfriend and girlfriend?" Tracey inquired, her tone curious yet respectful.

Hermione shook her head. "No, we didn't. Viktor is leaving the country after the tournament, so we didn't take things any further."

Tracey nodded thoughtfully. "Then you shouldn't feel guilty about having a bit of fun, Hermione. And who knows, maybe Terry could turn out to be boyfriend material?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, a playful smirk playing on her lips.

Hermione's face turned a deep shade of red, her eyes widening at the suggestion. She opened her mouth to respond, but words seemed to escape her, leaving her in a flustered, blushing silence.

Rigel, with a mischievous glint in his eye, smoothly turned the tables on Tracey. "And what about your evening, Tracey? How did that go?"

Tracey's face lit up with a radiant smile. "Oh, Harry and I had a fantastic time! We danced until our feet ached, and Harry was such a gentleman, always making sure my wine glass was never empty. And we snogged – a lot. It was truly unforgettable," she recounted, her eyes sparkling with the fond memory.

Rigel leaned forward, his eyebrows raised playfully. "Is that all you did?" he teased.

Tracey shook her head, her grin widening. "Nope!" she exclaimed joyfully. "We went to bed together in Harry's dorm room. I found it so fascinating that he shared it with the other boys in his year. And, well, we had sex. A lot of people ended up watching us, which kind of added to the thrill, I think. Or maybe it was the alcohol. I'm not quite sure." She turned to Harry, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Maybe we should try it again sober and see if it's just as thrilling."

Harry's face flushed a deep shade of crimson. The realisation that he had no memory of what happened after they danced, let alone that they had sex in front of others, left him mortified.

Seeing his discomfort, Tracey moved closer, wrapping an arm around him in a comforting hug. "You've got nothing to be shy about, Harry," she soothed.

But Harry shook his head, his expression troubled. "I just... I hate that I don't remember any of it," he confessed.

Rigel chimed in, "Looks like you just had a bit too much to drink, mate. You'll figure out your limits in time."

Tracey, sensing that Harry wasn't going to be easily cheered up, quickly shifted the topic. "So, how did the rest of your evening go, Daphne, Rigel? After that almost-show on stage?"

Rigel chuckled, a hint of sheepishness in his smile. "Well, after Hermione forced us into our Animagus forms and locked us in her dorm room, we... um, had sex. As cats. It was bizarre, but definitely memorable."

Daphne, sitting beside Rigel, simply smiled and leaned in to give him a quick, affectionate kiss.

Tracey laughed, a light, melodious sound. "I can only imagine," she said, shaking her head in amusement. She then brightened, her expression turning excited. "Speaking of Animagus forms, I think I'm getting pretty close to discovering mine!"

Daphne's eyes lit up in response. "That's wonderful, Tracey! I can't wait to see what form you'll take." Her voice was warm, encouraging, a stark contrast to her usual public aloofness. The close-knit group shared a moment of camaraderie, their bond evident in their shared laughter and smiles.

Rigel's expression turned more serious, capturing the group's attention. "When we went to McGonagall's office for our detention talk, she let slip something... disturbing," he began, his tone laced with a hint of unease. "Dumbledore knows I was Jingles."

The group collectively gasped, the revelation sending a ripple of shock through the room.

Rigel's jaw tightened, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. "And I don't think it's a recent discovery. I believe Dumbledore always knew about my true identity and chose to do nothing. To leave me as a cat." The anger in his voice was palpable, his fists clenching momentarily.

Daphne, sensing his turmoil, gently placed her hand on his arm, her touch calming. "We've always known we couldn't trust Dumbledore. This just adds to the list," she said firmly, her blue eyes meeting his with unwavering support. "But we need to look towards the future, focus on our plans."

Rigel's demeanour softened at her words, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're right, as always," he acknowledged, sharing a warm, appreciative smile with Daphne. "We need to keep an eye on the other students. If we see any interhouse relationships, be it friendships or romantic, we should encourage them. And if anyone's against it, we try to at least make them neutral about the idea."

The group nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of fostering unity among the houses.

Hermione, ever the voice of reason, chimed in. "While we have a lot to discuss, we can't neglect our training."

With that, the group shifted their focus back to their studies and training. Books were opened, wands were drawn, and the room once again filled with the sounds of learning and practising. Each member of the group was committed, not just to their individual growth, but to the collective strength and unity of their circle. The air was charged with determination and the unspoken promise of standing together, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

The weeks flew by in a whirlwind of Quidditch fervour. The atmosphere at Hogwarts was charged with excitement as the tournament brought new levels of competition and camaraderie.

Gryffindor's victory over Beauxbatons was a cause for celebration, as was Slytherin's triumph over Hufflepuff. The group revelled in their respective house victories.

Harry, observing the school's dynamics, noticed the changes Rigel had predicted. A new third-year study group, inclusive of all houses and featuring Astoria, Ginny, and Luna, had formed. He even spotted Gryffindor-Slytherin couples among the older students. The rumour about the Weasley twins and the Carrow twins was intriguing, though Harry had yet to see any concrete evidence.

However, the mood shifted as news of Barty Crouch's death reached them. The Daily Prophet, usually a source of gossip and speculation, delivered the grim news with uncharacteristic sobriety.

The article outlined the mysterious circumstances surrounding Crouch's demise. He was found dead in his own home, having not responded for several weeks. When Aurors finally went to check on him, they discovered his lifeless body. Curiously, there were no signs of a break-in, and the cause of death was not immediately apparent.

The lack of leads on the murderer only deepened the mystery. The article speculated on various possibilities but offered no concrete answers. The Aurors' investigation was ongoing, but for now, it seemed that Crouch's death would remain an enigma.

Harry, reading over the article, felt a knot form in his stomach. Crouch's absence during the second task had been explained away as illness, but now, in light of his death, that explanation seemed inadequate, even suspicious. Harry couldn't help but feel there was a connection to the tournament, a sinister undercurrent that ran deeper than anyone realised.

The Quidditch season had to be wrapped up earlier than usual to accommodate the third task of the tournament. Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Durmstrang were the top contenders for the cup. While Gryffindor vs. Slytherin was always a heated debate, there was a surprising unity in the belief that Durmstrang must not win the cup.

On the day of the Slytherin vs Durmstrang match, an unusual sense of solidarity filled the Hogwarts crowd, with students from all houses rooting for Slytherin. Some were driven by house pride, others by a newfound sense of unity following the party.

The Slytherin team faced off against the formidable Durmstrang team. Harry watched intently, knowing the critical roles Daphne and Rigel would play against Durmstrang's chasers. Ginny's challenge was stark - scoring against Viktor Krum seemed an almost insurmountable task.

The tension in the air was palpable. A victory for Durmstrang today would almost certainly hand them the Quidditch cup. The stakes were high, and the excitement among the spectators was at a fever pitch. Everyone was aware that the outcome of this match could very well decide the fate of the cup. Harry, along with the rest of the Hogwarts students, held his breath as the teams took their positions, ready for what promised to be an unforgettable match.

Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air, signalling the start of an intense and eagerly anticipated Quidditch match. The players kicked off the ground, soaring into the sky amidst the roar of the crowd.

The Slytherin Chasers, having honed a new tactic, immediately took control of the game. Montague aggressively pursued the Quaffle, quickly passing it to either Daphne or Rigel once in possession. Their bond, allowing for instant, silent communication, proved invaluable as they outmanoeuvred the Durmstrang chasers with a fluidity that left the crowd in awe.

Their strategy was effective. Slytherin quickly established a significant lead, their dominance evident in the growing frustration of Layla and the other Durmstrang Chasers, who struggled to maintain any substantial control of the Quaffle.

The scoreboard reflected Slytherin's escalating advantage, inching ever closer to the 160-point lead necessary to secure a win. However, the Durmstrang Seeker, Viktor Krum, was not to be underestimated. Ginny, despite her valiant efforts, found herself outclassed by the world-renowned seeker, who had now spotted the Snitch.

In a heart-stopping moment, just as Krum was about to catch the Snitch, Daphne scored a final goal for Slytherin. The match ended in a rare tie, 170 to 170.

Confusion rippled through the stands, quickly turning to jubilation among the Hogwarts students as they realised that this tie meant the winner of the upcoming Gryffindor vs Slytherin match would determine the Quidditch cup. Cheers and chants erupted, echoing across the Quidditch pitch.

As the teams made their way off the field, the Slytherin and Durmstrang players exchanged hearty handshakes and congratulations. The intensity of the match had fostered a mutual respect among the competitors.

Rigel, with a broad smile, approached Layla. "Great game, Layla. You really had us on our toes out there," he said, his tone genuine and warm.

Layla, her hair tousled from the game, grinned back. "Thanks, Rigel. You and Daphne make quite the team. It's almost unfair how well you two work together," she teased, her eyes twinkling with good humour.

Daphne joined them, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "Well, we do have a bit of an advantage," she admitted playfully. "But you were incredible out there. It's a shame we won't see more of Durmstrang's talent after the tournament."

Layla's expression softened with a touch of nostalgia. "I'll miss this," she confessed. "But I'll be sure to write. Maybe we can arrange some friendly matches in the future?"

"That sounds like a brilliant idea," Rigel replied enthusiastically. "We'll look forward to your letters, and who knows, maybe we'll take you up on that challenge."

The trio shared a moment of camaraderie, their laughter echoing as they continued their banter. The match had not only been a display of skill and competition but had also served as a bridge, bringing together students from different schools in a spirit of friendship and mutual respect.

As the teams headed to their changing rooms, Daphne noticed Ginny's disheartened demeanour. Quickly, she approached her, offering words of encouragement. "You just played against the world's best Seeker, Ginny. You should be proud of how long you stayed on his tail."

Ginny's spirits visibly lifted at Daphne's words, her face brightening with a renewed sense of pride and accomplishment. The day's events had forged new friendships and rivalries, setting the stage for an even more thrilling conclusion to the Quidditch season.

~~~o~~~

A few days following the intense Slytherin vs Durmstrang match, another letter from Walburga Black arrived, its contents eagerly anticipated by the group. They gathered together, a sense of urgency in the air as Rigel carefully opened the envelope.

The letter revealed vital information about the upcoming third task. It included a rough sketch of the maze, showing the four entrances and the approximate location of the Triwizard Cup. Intriguingly, the cup was revealed to be a portkey, designed to transport the winner back to the maze's entrance.

Most startling was the list of creatures that had been confirmed for the maze. The mention of a Sphinx caused a stir among them. "We'll need to research Sphinx riddles," Hermione noted, her mind already racing with possibilities. The other creatures, including Acromantulas, were formidable, but the group felt confident in Harry and Rigel's ability to handle them. They unanimously agreed to brush up on their knowledge of each creature and practise the necessary counter-spells.

The letter concluded with the announcement that the families of the champions would be invited to watch the final task. This meant that Sirius and Walburga would be present to support both Harry and Rigel. The event, like the previous tasks, would be broadcasted through MystiLenses and displayed on MystiFrames, adding a layer of spectacle to the already daunting challenge.

Amidst their preparations for the third task, the final Quidditch match of the season was also drawing near – Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. It was the first time the brothers, Harry and Rigel, would face each other on the Quidditch field. Despite the inherent rivalry, they maintained a healthy sportsmanship, each quietly rooting for the other's success. The excitement for this match was not contained within the teams alone; it had permeated the entire school, creating an electric atmosphere of anticipation.

~~~o~~~

As the final Quidditch match of the season approached, Rigel handed over his and Harry's tournament outfits to Kreacher. "We need these enchanted to be resistant against physical blows," he instructed. "It'll help us in the maze against most creatures."

Kreacher, his eyes bright with purpose, nodded. "It will take a few days, Master Rigel," he said, his voice a raspy whisper.

Rigel wasn't surprised. "Take the time you need and get the best enchantments possible. We still have some time before the task. I want it done right."

With another nod, Kreacher disappeared, leaving the group to focus on the upcoming Quidditch match.

A week later, at the tail-end of May, the much-anticipated final match between Gryffindor and Slytherin arrived. The two teams, brimming with anticipation and competitive spirit, entered the Quidditch pitch.

Before the match commenced, the players exchanged friendly handshakes, with Harry and Rigel sharing a particularly meaningful one, acknowledging their brotherly bond despite their competitive roles.

Madam Hooch's whistle signalled the start of the game, and the players kicked off into the air.

The match was intense from the outset. Slytherin's Chasers – Graham Montague, Daphne, and Rigel – demonstrated remarkable coordination and skill, quickly racking up points against Gryffindor. Their passes were swift and precise, often leaving Gryffindor's Keeper, Cormac McLaggen, scrambling to defend the hoops.

Gryffindor's Chasers – Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet – responded with vigour, their own formations and strategies showcasing their experience and talent. They managed to slip past Slytherin's defence several times, scoring crucial goals to keep the match tight.

The Beaters on both sides, Slytherin's Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole, and Gryffindor's Fred and George Weasley, were relentless. They skilfully sent Bludgers flying across the field, disrupting the opposing team's flow and protecting their own players.

High above, the Seekers – Ginny for Slytherin and Harry for Gryffindor – engaged in a high-stakes dance, weaving and diving around each other, eyes peeled for the glint of gold that was the Snitch.

As the match progressed, Slytherin maintained a steady lead, thanks to the exceptional performance of their Chasers. The scoreboard reflected their dominance, yet the outcome was still uncertain.

In a surprising turn, Ginny suddenly surged forward with an unexpected burst of speed. Her eyes were fixed on a glinting object darting through the air – the Snitch. Harry, realizing too late what she had seen, kicked his broom into high gear and darted after her.

Despite his superior broom and flying skills, the delay in spotting the Snitch put him at a disadvantage. Ginny, driven by determination and a keen eye, was already closing in on the elusive prize.

Harry pushed his broom to its limits, closing the gap between them, but Ginny was undeterred. With a final, agile manoeuvre, she outpaced Harry and reached out her hand. In a moment that seemed to hang in time, she successfully grasped the Snitch, securing it firmly in her grip.

The Slytherin stands erupted in cheers as the Slytherin team celebrated their well-earned victory. The final score – Slytherin in the lead due to their Chasers' efforts, now sealed with the capture of the Snitch – was a testament to the team's hard work and synergy.

Despite the intense rivalry, the players landed on the field, embodying respect and sportsmanship, acknowledging each other's strengths and the exhilarating game they had just played. However, the atmosphere shifted slightly as Cormac McLaggen, caught in a bit of an ego trip, began to loudly blame his teammates for their loss. "If everyone had played as well as I did, we wouldn't have lost!" he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

Angelina Johnson, ever the team leader and keen to maintain good sportsmanship, quickly intervened. "That's enough, Cormac," she said sharply, cutting through his complaints. "We win as a team, and we lose as a team. No single player is responsible. Remember, it's about how we play the game, not just whether we win or lose."

Her words effectively silenced Cormac, reminding everyone of the importance of teamwork and fair play. The Gryffindor team collectively nodded in agreement, their faces reflecting a mix of disappointment and respect for their opponents. The final Quidditch match of the season, despite its outcome, had indeed lived up to its expectations, setting a high standard for future matches in the coming years.

~~~o~~~

As the weeks leading up to the third task dwindled, the group dedicated themselves to meticulous preparation. They studied the maze's layout, carefully analysing the provided sketch and memorising the locations of the four entrances and the rough position of the cup.

They poured over books and notes, refreshing their knowledge on the creatures they would face. The Sphinx, with its penchant for riddles, required particular attention. They practised and refined the necessary counter-spells, ensuring they were prepared for encounters with Acromantulas and other fierce creatures.

Their outfits, now returned from Kreacher, were imbued with the most resilient enchantments available, providing them with a much-needed edge against physical threats.

As the day of the task approached, Harry and Rigel felt a mix of anticipation and readiness. The final preparations were in place, and they were as ready as they would ever be for the challenges that lay within the maze.

In the Room of Requirement, the ambiance was one of focused tranquillity. Plush sofas and armchairs formed a cosy circle near a crackling fireplace, its warm glow bathing the room in a comforting light. A pot of fresh tea sat on a low table, steam curling lazily into the air.

The group had gathered for their final meeting before the third task. With just one day left, their preparations were nearly complete. They had meticulously studied the route, prepared counters for all the known creatures in the maze, and their outfits had been enchanted with the most resilient spells available. Harry and Rigel were ready.

As the evening of June 23rd settled in, Harry, full of determination, broke the contemplative silence. "I'll try to find the cup in the maze, but I won't be the one to take it. I don't want to win; I want Rigel to win. That's been our plan," he declared. "If I find it first, I'll guard it against Fleur and Viktor until Rigel gets there."

Neville, Hermione, Tracey, and Daphne couldn't help but smile at Harry's open display of brotherly love. Rigel, however, chuckled. "If you do that, Harry, it'll get us both disqualified," he pointed out, his tone light but serious. "Remember, the entire event will be broadcasted. If the whole country sees you collaborating with me, the judges might have a few things to say about it."

Harry's expression turned sheepish. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "Well, then I'll just make it less obvious! I'm not touching that cup, no way. Eternal glory is for Rigel, not for me."

Their laughter filled the room, a moment of levity amidst the tension of the upcoming challenge. Despite Harry's antics, everyone understood the depth of his actions – they were born from a deep-seated love for his brother.

Surrounded by the comfort of the Room of Requirement, with the fire crackling softly and the scent of tea in the air, the group shared a sense of camaraderie and support. They were more than just competitors in a tournament; they were a family, united by bonds stronger than any challenge that lay ahead.

As curfew drew near, and the others were leaving, Tracey's voice quivered with a mix of determination and concern. "Harry, stay here for a moment," she implored.

Her eyes, usually so full of life and laughter, were clouded with worry. "I don't want us to be apart tonight. Whoever put your name in the Goblet... they might have planned something. And the thought of losing you..." Her voice trailed off, her resolve wavering as she fought to hold back tears.

Moved by her vulnerability, Harry quickly closed the distance between them, wrapping her in a reassuring embrace. "I hate seeing you this upset, Tracey," he whispered gently. "I'm as prepared as I can be. And don't forget, Rigel will be in there too. While he's focused on winning, I know he'll have my back, no matter what."

Tracey, finding a modicum of comfort in his words, insisted, "Still, I want us to spend tonight here." At her wish, the Room of Requirement transformed, conjuring a king-sized bed.

Harry, his heart warmed by her concern, smiled softly. "I wouldn't pass up a night with you for anything." They climbed into bed, the warmth and comfort of each other's presence swiftly lulling them into a peaceful sleep, their arms wrapped tightly around one another.

Meanwhile, in their suite, Daphne and Rigel were winding down with their evening routine. As they brushed their teeth side by side, Daphne broke the silence, her voice tinged with unease. "I'm worried about tomorrow. Something feels... off."

Rigel, rinsing his mouth, nodded in agreement. "I feel it too. Like something's going to happen."

Daphne turned to him, her expression serious. "You need to come back safely. You and Harry. We can achieve our goals through other means, if necessary."

Rigel smiled reassuringly, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "Don't worry. I'll always come back to you. And there's no way I'd leave Harry in danger."

Once they finished their nightly routine, Daphne leaned in for a tender kiss. "You'd better do well tomorrow," she whispered, her lips brushing against his.

"I promise," Rigel replied, his voice soft but firm.

They climbed into bed, settling into their familiar, comforting position. Daphne, the little spoon, nestled back against Rigel's chest, his arm draped protectively over her waist. Rigel, the big spoon, adjusted slightly, ensuring Daphne was comfortable. Their bodies fit together perfectly, the gentle rhythm of their breathing syncing as they drifted into sleep. Daphne's hair tickled Rigel's nose, and he inhaled her familiar scent, a comforting presence that eased the tension of the upcoming challenge. In that moment, the world outside their embrace faded away, leaving only the warmth and security they found in each other.

The next morning, the tranquillity of Daphne and Rigel's bedroom was gently disturbed by a series of knocks. Through the door, Sirius' voice playfully called out, "Time to get up for the lovebirds!"

Daphne and Rigel stirred from their sleep, their peaceful night giving way to the excitement of the day. Rigel, his voice still thick with sleep, called back playfully, "We can sleep in today, no classes!"

Sirius' laughter was audible through the door. "Can't sleep in when I come to visit!" he shouted back, his tone brimming with mirth.

Quickly dressing in basic clothes, Daphne and Rigel stepped out into their sitting room. They were greeted by the sight of Sirius, Walburga, and Remus, comfortably seated and enjoying tea, no doubt courtesy of Kreacher.

Sirius, upon seeing them, remarked, "You two have a really nice suite here." He then moved forward to envelop Rigel in a big, warm hug. "You're going to do great today," he said with a fatherly pride.

Rigel returned the hug, thanking him. The moment, however, was short-lived as Walburga interjected, her tone serious. "I would like to discuss the party," she said, cutting straight to the point.

Rigel sighed, a hint of resignation in his voice. "I had hoped McGonagall hadn't actually written you a letter since you never replied," he admitted.

Sirius burst out laughing. "You're getting into just as much mischief as Moony and I did in our school years!" he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Walburga, however, was not amused. "Don't encourage him, Sirius," she admonished before turning her gaze back to Rigel. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Rigel's response was deliberately vague. "I have bigger plans that I'm not ready to share just yet. But for these plans, I need to break down the barriers between the houses. To unite Hogwarts."

Sirius and Remus both let out impressed whistles at this revelation, while Walburga still looked somewhat unconvinced.

Rigel, looking at the time, then addressed the room. "It's nice that you're here, but Daphne and I need some privacy to finish our morning routine and get ready for the day."

Sirius chuckled, standing up. "We'll wait for you in the Great Hall then. Time to go get Harry now," he said, his mood light and jovial.

With that, the three adults left the suite, granting Daphne and Rigel the privacy they needed. The couple then continued their morning routine, preparing themselves for the day ahead – a day that promised to be filled with challenges and excitement.

~~~o~~~

Harry, having just woken up from a memorable night with Tracey, quietly slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake her. He was an early riser and needed to freshen up and change clothes. With a gentle kiss on Tracey's forehead, he whispered that he would see her later in the Great Hall for breakfast. He then made his way back to his dorm room.

Stepping into the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry was taken aback to find Sirius and Remus there, sitting comfortably by the fire. His hair was tousled, and his clothes slightly rumpled – clear signs of how he had spent the night.

"Sirius! Remus!" Harry greeted, a hint of surprise in his voice, as he descended the stairs. His smile was bright, but there was a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Had a good night, Harry?" he asked, his voice teasing. "You look like you've been through quite the... adventure."

Remus, leaning back with a knowing smile, added, "Certainly looks like more than just a simple night's sleep. Anything you want to share with your old godfather and his friend?"

Harry, caught off guard and slightly embarrassed, ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. "I, uh, I was just about to get changed and cleaned up," he said, trying to deflect their attention.

The two men chuckled at Harry's obvious discomfort. "No need to be shy, Harry. We were young once too, you know," Sirius said, winking at him.

Harry gave them a sheepish grin and quickly excused himself to his dormitory for a much-needed change and a bit of tidying up.

Left in the common room, Sirius and Remus shared a look of amusement before turning their attention back to the fire, reminiscing about their own school days and the mischief they had gotten into. The warmth of the fire and the fond memories made for a comforting start to the day.

After having changed and cleaned up, Harry returned to the Common Room and immediately hugged Sirius, "I've missed you so much. Have you been watching through a MystiFrame?"

"Of course," Sirius replied, chuckling. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. I've been cheering for you and Rigel all along. I'd like to think I played some part in both of you being tied for first."

Harry's chuckle mirrored Sirius's as he broke the hug.

Remus, always the voice of reason, suggested, "We should head to breakfast. Walburga is not someone to be kept waiting."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Walburga's here too?"

Sirius sighed, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Yes, she's here, mainly for Rigel though. She didn't want to come and get you, Harry."

Remus added, "She said she doesn't want to climb all these stairs."

Just as they were about to leave, Hermione and Neville joined them, their faces lighting up as they greeted Sirius and Remus. The group of five then made their way to the Great Hall.

Upon arrival, they spotted Rigel, Daphne, and Walburga sitting at the Slytherin table. Walburga, spotting them, waved them over. Harry, though it was his first time sitting at the Slytherin table, tried to appear as relaxed as possible.

Walburga greeted him with a nod, "Congratulations on being tied for first place, despite your age," she said, her tone carrying a hint of respect.

"Thank you," Harry replied politely, as they all began to eat breakfast.

Tracey then arrived, looking like she just woke up. She took a seat beside Harry, who kept it free for her.

During the meal, Walburga commented on the quality of the food. "Shouldn't I employ Kreacher to prepare food for you daily? This is hardly good enough."

Rigel, ever diplomatic, reassured her, "While it lacks the quality of home, it's good enough, Grandmother." He smiled, easing the tension with his usual charm.

The group continued their breakfast, the conversation flowing around them, each member brimming with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation for the day ahead.

After finishing breakfast, Walburga stood up with a purposeful air. "I have some matters to attend to before the task begins," she announced, before gracefully making her way to the teachers' table. There, she engaged both Dumbledore and Bagman in what appeared to be an earnest conversation, her presence commanding attention.

Sirius, seizing the opportunity to lighten the mood, suggested, "How about we take a tour around the castle? Moony and I can share some stories about the mischief we got up to as kids. Maybe in return, you can share some of your own adventures."

The group readily agreed, and together they embarked on a journey through the castle. Sirius and Remus regaled them with tales of their school days – stories filled with pranks, laughter, and the unbreakable bond of the Marauders. They explored many corners of the castle, each location sparking a new story or a fond memory.

However, time seemed to fly, and before they knew it, the hour of the third task was upon them. Harry and Rigel quickly changed into their enchanted competitor outfits and made their way to the Quidditch pitch, now transformed into a colossal hedge maze.

In the stands, Sirius, Remus, and their closest friends formed a supportive group, their banners for Harry and Rigel waving in the breeze. Other students, too, held banners, showing their support for either Harry or Rigel.

Harry felt a surge of anxiety. Despite his thorough preparation, the uncertainty of the task ahead unnerved him. Glancing at Rigel, he was struck by his brother's calm demeanour. Rigel appeared unflustered, ready to face the challenge ahead with confidence.

Bagman then guided Harry and Rigel to their respective entrances. The rough layout of the maze they had studied indicated that these were the fastest routes to the cup. They positioned themselves, their eyes fixed on the maze ahead.

A heavy silence settled over the pitch as everyone waited for the signal. The air was thick with anticipation. The canon, poised and ready, would soon fire, marking the start of the third and final task. The moment was imminent, and with it, the culmination of all their efforts and preparations.

~~~o~~~

Barty Crouch Jr. PoV

The day had finally arrived – the day Barty Crouch Jr. had meticulously orchestrated from behind the guise of Alastor Moody. It was his last act in this charade, the day his master would return. Positioned on the outskirts of the maze, his official duty was to watch for red sparks from any champion in distress. But his true focus lay elsewhere.

Hidden from view, Barty watched intently through his own MystiFrame, a surprisingly versatile device capable of even producing small screens. His attention was laser-focused on Rigel Black, the last obstacle in Harry Potter's path to the Triwizard Cup, and unwittingly, to Voldemort's resurrection.

He had already tilted the playing field in Potter's favour, relocating dangerous creatures and traps to Black's path. Yet, Barty knew that wouldn't be enough to stop someone as powerful and skilled as Rigel Black. Therefore, he had placed Viktor Krum under the Imperius Curse, intending to use the Durmstrang champion to delay Black as much as possible. He was under no illusion that even with his control, Krum stood little chance against Black's prowess.

The sound of the cannon firing snapped Barty back to the present. The task had begun. He immediately set to work, manipulating Krum's movements, steering him towards Black in an attempt to thwart his progress.

Through the MystiFrame, Barty observed with a sinister fascination as Black skillfully navigated the challenges of the maze. He watched, a cold smile playing on his lips, as Black encountered the Sphinx. The creature posed a riddle, a mere formality for someone of Black's intellect. With ease and confidence, Black answered correctly and proceeded.

Next came a swarm of Acromantulas, their legs clicking menacingly as they surrounded Black. But they too were no match for him. Black dispatched them with a combination of spells, his movements fluid and precise, a dance of deadly efficiency.

Meanwhile, Krum, under Barty's control, moved ever closer to Black. Barty's fingers twitched with anticipation as he guided Krum, the puppet, through the maze. He relished the thought of Black's surprise when he encountered Krum, hoping it would be enough to delay him, to give Potter the edge he needed.

But Barty was under no delusion. He knew the risks. Black was not to be underestimated, and even with Krum at his command, the outcome was uncertain. The tension in the air was palpable, even through the screen of the MystiFrame. Barty leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with malice, his breath shallow with excitement.

With meticulous precision, he manoeuvred Krum into position. The trap ahead of Black was set – a deadly combination of Devil's Snare and a lurking Troll, ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

He commanded Krum to engage Black in a duel, his intent clear – to drive him into the trap. As the duel commenced, Barty watched, his eyes unblinking, as Krum and Black exchanged spells.

Black, ever the skilled duellist, countered each of Krum's attacks with a calm and methodical approach. His wand movements were precise, his spells carefully chosen for defence and evasion. It was a dance of magic and wits, Black gracefully sidestepping Krum's aggressive onslaught.

As Black stepped back, the trap was triggered. The Devil's Snare erupted from the ground, its tendrils snaking swiftly around him. Simultaneously, the Troll, drawn by the commotion, lumbered towards the scene, its massive club raised.

Black's reaction was immediate, yet there was no trace of panic in his demeanour. With a swift flick of his wand, he sent a jet of fire towards the Devil's Snare, burning away the tendrils that sought to bind him. His movements were fluid, a testament to his mastery of spellwork.

The Troll, now within striking distance, swung its club towards Black. Displaying remarkable agility, he dodged the blow, casting a series of stunning spells at the creature. The spells seemed to only momentarily disorient the Troll, its thick skin proving to be a formidable defence.

Meanwhile, Krum, still under Barty's control, seized the opportunity to attack. He sent a barrage of curses towards Black, who, now facing threats from two fronts, had to divide his focus. Black deflected Krum's curses while continuing his assault on the Troll. A well-aimed Reductor Curse struck the Troll's leg, causing it to stagger and momentarily lose its balance.

Taking advantage of this opening, Black conjured a series of ropes, binding the Troll's legs and causing it to topple with a thunderous crash. With the Troll temporarily incapacitated, Black turned his full attention to Krum.

The duel with Krum intensified, spells clashing mid-air with bursts of light and energy. Rigel, recognising the subtle signs of Imperius Curse in Krum's movements, aimed to incapacitate rather than seriously harm him. A carefully placed cutting curse grazed Krum's arm, causing him to falter. Seizing the moment, Rigel cast a powerful Stupefy, knocking Krum unconscious.

With Krum incapacitated, Rigel turned his attention to the Devil's Snare. He unleashed a burst of flames, incinerating the plant and clearing the path ahead. As he stepped away, he felt a tremor of unease ripple through him. The encounter had been more intense than he had anticipated.

Rigel's breathing was slightly uneven, a testament to the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He took a moment to steady himself, trying to regain his usual composure. Although he had managed to emerge with only a few minor cuts and bruises, the ordeal had slightly shaken him.

He paused to assess his injuries, brushing off the debris and dirt. The physical wounds were superficial, but the experience had left a subtle mark on his usually unflappable demeanour.

Barty, watching through the MystiFrame, felt a surge of frustration. Rigel Black had once again proven to be a formidable opponent, thwarting his carefully laid plans with an almost unsettling calmness and efficiency.

With the realisation that his direct intervention had reached its limit, Barty Crouch Jr. felt a tinge of resignation. His plan to hinder Rigel Black had been thwarted by the young wizard's remarkable skill and composure. Now, all that was left was to trust in Harry Potter's ability to emerge victorious.

Methodically, Barty disassembled the MystiFrame, its crystals shrinking into a compact size with a series of deft movements. He slipped the device into his pocket, its purpose served for the moment.

Turning away from the scene of the maze, Barty's mind was a whirl of thoughts and calculations. His role as Moody had been played to near perfection, but now the final act of this grand scheme was out of his hands. The future of his master's return hinged on the outcome of the task unfolding within the maze.

With a last glance towards the towering hedge walls, Barty strode away, blending into the crowd of onlookers and officials. His expression was carefully neutral, betraying none of the tumultuous thoughts racing through his mind. The endgame was near, and all he could do now was wait and watch as the events he had set in motion reached their climax.

~~~o~~~

Harry moved through the maze with a surprising level of ease, his wand at the ready. The few blast-ended skrewts he encountered were no match for his quick reflexes and spells. He dispatched them efficiently, feeling confident in his progress.

Suddenly, the sight of red sparks shooting into the sky caught his attention. Someone had surrendered. A fleeting concern for Rigel crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Rigel was too skilled, too determined to be the one to send up those sparks.

Continuing his journey, Harry soon faced a lone Acromantula. Without hesitation, he cast "Arania Exumai," sending the giant spider reeling back, defeated.

The maze, however, had other challenges in store. Without warning, the hedges began to shift and collapse behind him, the pathways closing and vines reaching out as if to ensnare him. Harry's heart raced; he needed to move quickly.

He ran, relying on his memory of the maze's layout, dodging the encroaching walls of foliage. His breaths were quick and sharp, his focus solely on finding a path through the ever-changing labyrinth.

Then, rounding a corner at breakneck speed, Harry collided with another figure, sending both tumbling to the ground. It was Rigel. They both quickly scrambled to their feet, Rigel extending a hand to help Harry up. "This way!" Rigel shouted, and they dashed off together.

As they rounded another bend, the Triwizard Cup came into view, gleaming under the maze's dim light. They hurried towards it, the sound of the maze collapsing echoing ominously behind them.

In a desperate bid to keep their path clear, Harry conjured a wall of fire, holding back the encroaching vines and keeping the way to the cup open. "Grab the cup!" he urged Rigel, his voice tense with urgency.

But Rigel, his expression both exasperated and affectionate, retorted, "You're an idiot, Harry. We're taking it together. How else are you going to get out of here?"

Harry, his resolve unwavering, insisted, "We worked so hard for this. It has to pay off. Take the damn cup."

Rigel shook his head, a mix of frustration and admiration in his eyes. "Your stubbornness will be the end of you one day," he said, even as he reached out and grabbed Harry's arm, breaking his concentration and causing the wall of fire to dissipate. With his other hand, he firmly grasped the cup, just as the maze threatened to engulf them.

In that moment, as they both felt the familiar tug of the portkey, it was clear – Harry's actions were driven by a profound sense of loyalty and love for his brother, a bond that transcended the competition and the dangers they faced. Together, they were whisked away by the portkey, their fates intertwined as they braced themselves for the end of this crazy tournament.

~~~o~~~

The atmosphere in the stands was electric as Daphne, Tracey, and the others watched through the MystiFrame. Every spell cast, every obstacle overcome by Harry and Rigel was followed with bated breath. When the brothers finally reached the cup, Daphne and Tracey leapt to their feet, hugging each other tightly, their cheers mingling with those of the crowd.

Excitement surged through the stands as they saw Rigel grab Harry and then the cup. Anticipation hung in the air; any second now, they would reappear at the entrance of the maze. The band struck up a victory tune, and the judges rose, preparing to congratulate Rigel as the champion.

Sirius and Remus cheered raucously, their voices carrying over the crowd. Even Walburga, who had been opposed to the boys participating in the tournament, looked satisfied, a rare smile gracing her lips.

But then, seconds ticked by, stretching out like an eternity. A portkey journey that short should have been instantaneous – so why hadn't they reappeared?

The cheers began to falter, joy turning to confusion, then to concern. Whispers rippled through the crowd, growing louder and more frantic. Where were the champions?

Panic set in quickly, spreading like wildfire through the stands. People began to shout questions and theories, the excitement turning to fear. Were Harry and Rigel hurt? Worse, were they dead?

Sirius was on his feet in an instant, his face etched with worry as he demanded answers from the judges. Walburga's expression turned from satisfaction to fury, her eyes darting around, seeking explanations.

Amidst the growing chaos, Aurors moved in, attempting to control the situation. Tonks, her expression grave, tried to calm the terrified spectators.

Tracey, overcome with dread, was the first to break down. Tears streamed down her face as she imagined the worst. Hermione wrapped an arm around her, trying to offer comfort, but her own eyes were filled with worry.

The scene was one of utter chaos. The stands, which moments ago had been filled with jubilation, were now a tumult of fear and confusion. What should have been a moment of triumph had spiralled into a nightmare. The joyous crescendo of the Triwizard Tournament had turned into a symphony of dread, leaving everyone questioning, wondering, fearing for the fate of Harry and Rigel.

Daphne's expression suddenly shifted from fear to a focused intensity. She could feel Rigel, a faint but unmistakable connection through their soulmate bond. He was alive, but distant, very distant. She turned to her friends, urgency clear in her voice. "They're alive," she said quickly. "But something's wrong. We need to act now."

Without hesitation, she headed towards Sirius, who was deep in conversation with Tonks. Tracey, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Astoria, and Luna followed close behind, concern etched on their faces.

Daphne interrupted Sirius and Tonks, her voice firm. "I know where they are," she announced.

Both Sirius and Tonks turned to her, their expressions a mix of surprise and urgency. "Where?" they demanded simultaneously.

Daphne shook her head slightly, "I can't pinpoint the exact location. I can only feel the direction. But they're very, very far away."

At that moment, Walburga, accompanied by Amelia Bones, joined the group. Daphne repeated her explanation. Quickly, a plan was formulated. A squad of Aurors, including Tonks, would accompany Daphne, using side-along Apparition guided by her connection to Rigel to find the missing champions.

Walburga, her face taut with concern, demanded, "How did they end up somewhere else? This was supposed to be a portkey back to the maze's entrance!"

Tonks speculated, "It's likely someone tampered with the portkey, redirecting it somewhere else entirely."

Amelia Bones, her face stern, turned to Dumbledore. "Who was responsible for the placement of the portkey within the maze?" she asked, her tone demanding an answer.

Dumbledore's response was grave, his voice heavy with a sense of foreboding. "Alastor Moody."

A ripple of shock passed through the group. The implications were clear and deeply troubling. The safety of the tournament, the well-being of the champions, had been compromised under the watch of someone they had all trusted.

Amelia Bones' expression hardened as she processed Dumbledore's answer. The gravity of the situation was not lost on her; the revelation about Alastor Moody was both shocking and deeply concerning. Without wasting a moment, she turned to a group of Aurors standing nearby.

"I want Moody's office searched thoroughly," she commanded, her voice authoritative and unwavering. "Check every nook and cranny. I also want a sweep of the school grounds. If there's anything out of the ordinary, I want to know about it immediately."

The Aurors nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation. They quickly dispersed, moving with purpose and efficiency.

Amelia then focused her attention back on Dumbledore and the group. "If you find Moody, apprehend him at once," she continued, her tone brooking no argument. "Use extreme caution; he is not to be underestimated."

The group of Aurors immediately dispersed in their search for Moody.

As the rest of the Aurors, including Sirius and Tonks, prepared to depart with Daphne, the atmosphere was charged with a new sense of urgency and determination. They needed to find Harry and Rigel, and they needed to do it fast. The events of the day had taken a dark and unexpected turn, and now it was a race against time to ensure the safety of the missing champions.

~~~o~~~

Harry and Rigel landed in a sprawling graveyard, its tombstones jutting out like crooked teeth under the moonlight. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, and a chilling mist clung to the ground, obscuring their view of the graves. The eerie silence was punctuated only by the rustling of dead leaves, adding to the unsettling atmosphere.

Recognition flickered in Harry's eyes as he surveyed the area. "I've been here," he murmured, a sense of unease washing over him. "In a dream, before we found the locket in Black Castle."

Rigel, his voice laced with concern, quickly said, "We need to leave, now." He grasped Harry's arm and reached for the cup, hoping to use it as a portkey back. But to his dismay, nothing happened. "It's one-way," he realised aloud, a frown creasing his brow. Then Harry felt a strange pull, followed by a frustrated sigh from Rigel. "It appears there is an anti-apparition ward in place as well. This can't be good," Rigel said, his face etched with worry.

Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through Harry's scar, so intense it nearly brought him to his knees. Through gritted teeth, he tried to stay upright.

Then, a figure emerged from the shadows, cradling something small and grotesque. Rigel instinctively raised his wand, his protective instincts kicking in. "Stay with me, Harry," he urged, trying to help his brother fight through the pain.

Recognition dawned as they identified the figure as Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew. Then, a sinister voice cut through the mist. "Wormtail, bring them to me," commanded Voldemort, his voice as cold as the grave itself.

Wormtail, obeying his master's command, carefully placed Voldemort down on a chair that had been prepared in advance. The Dark Lord's presence seemed to intensify the oppressive atmosphere of the graveyard.

Harry and Rigel, standing side by side, faced Wormtail, their wands drawn. Rigel, taking the initiative, sent a severing charm towards Wormtail, but it was quickly deflected by Wormtail's shield charm.

Wormtail retaliated with a series of curses, shouting "Crucio!" and aiming it at Rigel. Rigel, reacting quickly, rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the curse.

Harry, attempting to seize the moment, cast "Expulso!" towards Wormtail. The spell exploded near Wormtail, causing him to leap away, narrowly escaping the blast.

However, Harry's focus was hampered by the intense pain in his scar, causing his spells to lack their usual precision and force. Wormtail, seizing the opportunity, began to unleash curses with increasing desperation, shouting "Confringo!" and sending a fireball towards Harry.

Instead of dodging, Harry used his affinity for fire to absorb the flames, but the effort left him strained. He tried to counter with a series of severing charms, "Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo!" Yet, each spell was less forceful than he intended, his concentration faltering under the relentless throbbing in his forehead.

Wormtail managed to cast "Protego" to block Harry's weakened attacks and quickly followed up with a piercing curse aimed at Rigel.

Rigel, anticipating the move, shouted, "Protego Maxima!" creating a powerful shield that absorbed the dark curse.

The duel raged on, spells flying back and forth, the graveyard echoing with the sounds of their battle. Rigel and Harry, working in perfect harmony, were a whirlwind of magical prowess.

Then, in a moment of sheer desperation, Wormtail gathered all his remaining strength. "Avada Kedavra!" he screamed, the killing curse shooting from his wand with a sickly green light.

Both brothers reacted instantly. Harry dived to the left while Rigel rolled to the right, the curse passing harmlessly between them, striking a tombstone and leaving a scorch mark.

Wormtail, now drained of most of his magical energy, was vulnerable. Rigel, with a swift motion, cast, "Expelliarmus!" disarming Wormtail with such force that his wand flew out of reach.

The duel had reached its climax, with Wormtail now defenceless before them. The traitor's breaths were ragged, his eyes darting around in panic, realising that his fate was now in the hands of the two brothers he had sought to betray.

Once disarmed, Harry's anger boiled over. "You... you betrayed my parents," he seethed, his wand pointed at Wormtail. "I should just end you right here!"

Rigel, ever the voice of reason, intervened. "Harry, think about it. He's more afraid of the Dementors than us. Let them have him. It's the justice he deserves."

Harry, his anger simmering under Rigel's calming influence, slowly lowered his wand, the rage in his eyes giving way to a cold resolve. "Fine," he said, his voice laced with contempt. "Let the Dementors have their feast."

As Rigel and Harry stood over the defeated Wormtail, a cold, disdainful voice echoed through the graveyard. "You fool, Wormtail!" Voldemort sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. "Using the Killing Curse and depleting your magic, despite my orders to capture them. And then to be bested by two mere students. You are weak."

Rigel and Harry, with their wands still drawn, moved in to capture Wormtail. However, before they could act, a stunning spell whizzed through the air, striking Rigel squarely in the back. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Harry spun around, wand at the ready, only to be instantly disarmed. His eyes widened in shock as he faced their new attacker. It was Alastor Moody, his magical eye spinning wildly.

Moody's voice was laced with mockery. "You should have paid more attention, Potter. 'Constant Vigilance!' as I always say. It would have saved you here."

Harry, his confusion turning to anger, demanded, "Why, Moody? Why are you on Voldemort's side?"

Before he could get an answer, Wormtail, seizing the moment of distraction, scrambled to retrieve his wand. With a swift motion, he summoned ropes that bound Harry tightly, rendering him immobile.

Harry struggled against his bonds, his mind racing. The man he had trusted, the man who had taught him so much about duelling, was now standing before him as an enemy. The betrayal stung bitterly, adding to the chaos and uncertainty of the situation.

The air in the graveyard grew heavier as Voldemort commended the man Harry had known as Moody. "Well done, Crouch," he said, his voice laced with sinister satisfaction.

Harry's confusion deepened. Crouch? That was the name of the judge who had died under mysterious circumstances. His mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle.

Crouch, now standing taller, more confidently, thanked Voldemort. "I can't wait much longer, Master. In a few minutes, the Polyjuice Potion will wear off, and I'll be free of this Moody disguise."

Voldemort then turned to Wormtail. "Prepare the ritual," he ordered coldly.

As Wormtail busied himself with a large cauldron and a mysterious solution, the man Harry thought was Moody began to twitch and contort. Before Harry's eyes, his form changed. The magical eye and prosthetic leg were discarded as he transformed into the man Harry had seen in his dream. It was Crouch, disguised as Moody all along. Had it been for the entire year?

Noticing Harry's bewildered look, Crouch approached him. "It was all me," he confessed with a cruel smile. "I put your name in the Goblet. I was prepared to help you win, but thanks to Black," – he gave a disdainful kick to the unconscious Rigel – "I hardly had to intervene. The plan was always for you to touch the Triwizard Cup."

Anger surged through Harry. "Don't you dare touch my brother!" he spat, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at him. Hermione had been right; it was a trap, but far more intricate and sinister than he had ever imagined.

Voldemort turned his attention to Rigel. "Crouch, keep him stunned and tie him up. Lucius may want a word with the Black heir. Perhaps we'll keep him as a puppet under the Imperius Curse. We'll decide later."

"As you wish, Master," Crouch replied obediently, securing Rigel with ropes.

Wormtail, his voice quivering with a mix of fear and anticipation, turned to Voldemort. "Master, the ritual is ready," he announced, his eyes fixed on the cauldron that bubbled ominously before them.

Voldemort nodded, his gaze cold and expectant. "Begin," he commanded.

Wormtail, with a mixture of reverence and fear, moved to obey his master's command. Approaching the chair where Voldemort had been seated, he carefully lifted the frail form of the Dark Lord. Voldemort's body, still weak and dependent on his servant, was a stark contrast to the power he emanated.

With deliberate movements, Wormtail carried Voldemort to the cauldron, which bubbled ominously with its dark, magical concoction. He then carefully dropped Voldemort into the liquid. The surface of the potion rippled and churned as Wormtail completed his task, setting the stage for the ritual that was about to begin.

Wormtail, with a grotesque sense of purpose, reached for his wand, his hands shaking as he retrieved the first ingredient. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" he intoned, his voice rising in a chant. The bones of Voldemort's father tumbled into the cauldron, causing the liquid to hiss and steam.

Then, with a manic fervour, Wormtail drew his wand across his own flesh. "Flesh – of the servant – willingly sacrificed – you will revive your master." He severed his hand, grimacing in agony as it fell into the cauldron, the potion bubbling violently in response.

Finally, Crouch grabbed Harry, pulling his arm free from the ropes. Harry struggled, but Crouch's grip was unyielding. Wormtail approached, his eyes gleaming with a sick sense of duty. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." The sharp edge of the knife made contact with Harry's skin, and his blood began to drip into the cauldron.

The pain was excruciating, both from his wrist and his scar, which seemed to burn with an intensity Harry had never felt before. He watched in horror as the cauldron began to seethe and bubble, and from its depths, Voldemort emerged, reborn in the flesh.

Harry was paralyzed with terror, utterly powerless as he witnessed the Dark Lord's return. The nightmare he had hoped would never come to pass was unfolding before his eyes, and he was helpless to stop it. The graveyard, already a place of death and despair, had become the stage for one of the darkest moments in wizarding history.

As Voldemort stood reborn in the graveyard, he extended a commanding hand towards Wormtail. "My wand," he demanded, his voice carrying an air of imperious authority.

Wormtail, trembling, handed over the wand with a mixture of reverence and fear. Voldemort took it, examining it briefly before conjuring a set of dark, flowing robes around himself, a stark contrast against the pale, moonlit night.

With a swift, purposeful movement, Voldemort pressed his wand against Wormtail's arm, right where the Dark Mark was branded. The mark burned a vivid red, causing Wormtail to scream.

One by one, the Death Eaters arrived, materialising as smoke, descending to the ground. Their robes and masks were identical to those Harry had seen at the Quidditch World Cup, the night he had first been forced to take a life.

Voldemort greeted his followers, his tone initially almost cheerful. But quickly, his voice turned harsh and accusatory. "You have all been failures, cowards," he hissed. "I could have returned much sooner if only you had been more loyal, more determined."

His gaze then fell on Lucius Malfoy, his eyes narrowing. "Lucius, you particularly have disappointed me. The diary I entrusted to you - lost, wasted."

Lucius appeared visibly shaken, clearly not expecting Voldemort to be aware of his shortcomings. He stammered, scrambling for an excuse. "My Lord, I... I assure you, it won't happen again."

Voldemort's response to Lucius was cold and final, his voice echoing with a chilling finality. "I know it won't. Because if you fail me again, Lucius, I will end your life."

To emphasise his point and ensure Lucius fully understood the gravity of his warning, Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at Lucius. With a flick of his wrist, he uttered, "Crucio!"

Lucius was instantly engulfed in unbearable pain, his body contorting as he fell to his knees. His screams filled the air, serving as a stark reminder to all present of the consequences of failing Voldemort.

The curse was brief but effective. As Voldemort lifted the spell, Lucius remained on the ground, gasping for breath, his face etched with pain and fear. Voldemort's words, coupled with the demonstration of his willingness to inflict pain on his own followers, hung heavily in the air, a clear and terrifying threat that left no room for further failure or excuses.

The Death Eaters, now assembled, stood in a semi-circle around Voldemort, their postures a mix of fear and reverence. The graveyard, once silent and desolate, was now the stage for a gathering of the most dangerous witches and wizards of their time. And Harry, bound and injured, witnessed it all, his heart sinking with the realisation of the grave danger that now faced the wizarding world.

Voldemort, with a malevolent glint in his eye, turned his attention to the unconscious Rigel. With a wave of his wand, he revived him, and Rigel stirred, waking to the nightmarish scene.

Voldemort addressed Lucius Malfoy, his voice dripping with dark expectation. "Lucius, it's time for you to prove your worth. You've had your quarrels with the Black heir, so seize this opportunity. Show me you still possess the ruthlessness required, while eliminating one of my most irksome adversaries."

Harry and Rigel locked eyes across the circle of Death Eaters. Rigel's face was calm, but Harry knew his brother well enough to recognise the effort it took to mask his true feelings. In a situation like this, even Rigel must have felt fear.

Voldemort released Rigel from his binds and prompted him to pick up his wand. Rigel complied, and he and Lucius assumed duelling stances amid the ominous circle of Death Eaters. Lucius's anxiety was palpable – a loss here was not an option for him.

"This will be a proper duel," Voldemort declared. "Bow to each other." They did so, and Voldemort began the countdown for their duel.

As the duel commenced, Rigel unleashed his full arsenal. He conjured two illusions of himself, hoping to disorient Lucius. To Harry, and likely to everyone watching, it was impossible to discern the real Rigel.

Rigel immediately launched into an offensive, but Lucius was a seasoned duelist. Despite facing unfamiliar magic, he remained composed, parrying each attack with skill and precision.

The duel became an intense back-and-forth, Lucius eventually managing to dispel both illusions. His face betrayed a flicker of triumph.

Then, in a burst of power, Lucius shattered Rigel's shield charm, causing Rigel to stumble. Seizing the moment, Lucius cast "Crucio."

Rigel was struck by the curse and fell to the ground, his body contorting in agony as he screamed in pain. Harry had never heard his brother scream like that. Not during their intense duels, not even when he had accidentally burned Rigel with his fire magic. The sight of Rigel in such torment shattered Harry's perception of his brother's invincibility. Despair gripped him, the situation feeling utterly hopeless.

Lucius Malfoy loomed over the prone form of Rigel, his wand raised for what Harry realised was going to be the final blow. But before Lucius could cast his spell, Voldemort intervened with a sudden "Crucio," causing Lucius to stagger backward in agony.

Voldemort's voice was cold and filled with disdain. "I wanted a proper duel, Lucius. To use an Unforgivable Curse to defeat a mere child is beyond disappointing."

Lucius, writhing in pain, tried to stammer out excuses, but Voldemort cut him off. "We will continue this discussion later. Now, you may finish the boy."

As Lucius repositioned himself, wand raised again, Harry felt something within him snap. A surge of protective fury for his family, especially his brother, overwhelmed him.

In a burst of anger, Harry found himself suddenly free from his bonds, the ropes scorched away. An explosive wave of flames erupted from him, washing over the circle of Death Eaters. Miraculously, the fire did not touch Rigel.

Harry, though surprised by this newfound power, wasted no time. He quickly grabbed his wand and positioned himself defensively in front of Rigel.

The Death Eaters, some nursing burns, looked on in shock. Voldemort, however, began to laugh. "Very well, Potter. Join the fight. Lucius should be more than capable of handling two children."

Rigel, rising to his feet, exchanged a look of determination with Harry. Without a word, they launched into their duel against Lucius.

As Rigel and Harry faced off against Lucius, the air crackled with magic. Rigel was the first to act, his wand movements quick and fluid. With a flick and a twist, he conjured several illusions of himself, each a perfect replica, darting around Lucius in a disorienting dance.

Lucius, though taken aback, quickly regained his composure. He spun around, his wand emitting bursts of spell light, trying to target the real Rigel among the duplicates. His curses, however, only found the illusions, which dissipated upon impact, only to be immediately replaced by more.

Harry, not missing a beat, added to the onslaught. Flames erupted from his wand, weaving between the illusions, creating a deadly ballet of fire and deception. Lucius dodged and deflected, his own spells slicing through the air in an attempt to fend off the relentless attack.

The duel escalated, with both sides pushing their magical prowess to the limit. Lucius, with a growl of frustration, managed to dispel a couple of Rigel's illusions with a well-placed "Bombarda Maxima." The explosion sent a shockwave through the battleground, momentarily clearing the field of duplicates.

Rigel, seizing the momentary distraction, aimed a piercing curse at Lucius. But Lucius, ever the skilled duellist, deflected it at the last second, the spell grazing his arm and leaving a gash.

Harry, fuelled by a mix of fear and determination, intensified his fire attacks. "Incendio!" he shouted, sending a jet of flame towards Lucius, who narrowly avoided it, the heat singeing the edge of his cloak.

Lucius, realising the direness of his situation, began to fight more aggressively. He sent a flurry of curses towards Rigel, forcing him on the defensive. Rigel's illusions, though still present, were becoming less effective as Lucius adapted to the tactic.

In a sudden move, Lucius managed to land a solid hit on one of Rigel's illusions, causing it to vanish in a puff of smoke. Seeing his opportunity, he quickly followed up with a series of rapid spells aimed at the real Rigel.

Rigel, however, was not easily bested. He dodged and weaved, his counter-spells clashing with Lucius's in mid-air, creating a dazzling display of magical fireworks. Harry, seizing the opportunity, sent another wave of fire towards Lucius.

The duel reached a crescendo, with spells flying in every direction, the air thick with the smell of singed fabric and burnt grass. Lucius, now fighting on two fronts, was visibly tiring, his movements becoming less precise.

Finally, in a coordinated move, Rigel sent a stunning spell at Lucius while Harry conjured a ring of fire around him, trapping the Death Eater. Lucius, realising he was cornered, raised his wand for a final spell, but it was too late. Rigel's spell hit him squarely, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, Harry and Rigel stood victorious, their wands still raised, ready for any further threats. They had overcome Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort's most formidable followers, through their combined strength and unwavering resolve.

Voldemort clapped mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bravo, children. But don't celebrate yet. Your next opponent is me. I'll show my followers how to deal with unruly children."

Harry and Rigel took defensive stances, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. They had faced Voldemort before, but always through another's body, never like this, never with him at full power. And this time, they were truly alone, facing the most feared Dark Lord of the century. The gravity of the situation was not lost on them – this was a fight like no other they had ever faced.

~~~o~~~

The journey was gruelling, a relentless series of apparitions that tested the limits of everyone involved. Daphne, despite having only side-along apparated once before, clung to her determination. Each twist and turn of apparition left her feeling more nauseous, but the thought of losing Rigel and Harry – her family – propelled her forward.

Sirius, Tonks, and the group of Aurors accompanying them looked equally drained. Apparating multiple times in quick succession was a physically demanding task, and the strain was evident on their faces.

Daphne, sensing the fatigue setting in among the group, offered words of encouragement. "We're close now," she reassured them, her voice steady despite her own weariness. "It's not much further."

In her mind, she reached out through the bond she shared with Rigel, sending a silent message. "I'm coming, Rigel, wait for me." She wasn't sure if he could receive her thoughts over such a distance, but she had to try.

Sirius, understanding the urgency of the situation, offered his arm to her. "Let's go," he said, his voice a mixture of resolve and concern.

With a nod, Daphne grasped Sirius's arm, bracing herself for another jump. The Aurors, rallying their remaining strength, followed suit. With a collective determination, they disapparated, vanishing into thin air, each focused on the mission at hand – to find and rescue Harry and Rigel.

~~~o~~~

Exhausted from their duel with Lucius, Harry and Rigel braced themselves for the true battle that was about to begin. Voldemort, with a chilling grace, moved into the circle and bowed to them. The brothers returned the gesture, knowing full well that provoking him would be unwise.

Just then, Rigel felt a faint whisper through their soulmate bond. Daphne. Her message, though barely audible, filled him with a surge of hope. She was coming.

Rigel exchanged a glance with Harry, who looked even more drained than he felt. Rigel knew he had to protect Harry at all costs. With Daphne on her way, their goal was to hold out against Voldemort, not necessarily to defeat him. Steeling himself, Rigel lunged forward, engaging Voldemort in a fierce one-on-one duel.

Voldemort, however, easily parried Rigel's attacks. "Now, I will finally destroy you," he hissed with malice. "A mere cat, constantly defying me. I will show you the true meaning of power."

Voldemort's counteroffensive was relentless. Rigel's shields shattered under the force of the Dark Lord's curses. His agility, which had served him well in past encounters, was not enough to evade Voldemort's precise and powerful spells. A cutting curse sliced across Rigel's arm, leaving a deep gash. Another spell struck his leg, causing him to stumble and fall to one knee.

Rigel grimaced in pain, but his resolve did not waver. He knew he just needed to endure a little longer.

Seeing his brother in peril, Harry gathered his strength and joined the fray. He unleashed a torrent of flames at Voldemort, who responded by conjuring a blast of icy wind, snuffing out the fire in mid-air. Turning his attention to Harry, Voldemort sneered, "You too will fall tonight."

Voldemort's assault on Harry was brutal. A series of curses struck Harry, each leaving its mark. One spell grazed his shoulder, another struck his side, causing sharp pain and drawing blood. Harry tried to dodge and counter, but Voldemort's experience and power were overwhelming.

The brothers fought side by side, enduring the onslaught. Rigel, despite his injuries, continued to cast spells, while Harry, grimacing with every move, summoned the last of his strength to keep fighting. But as each second passed, their hope of holding out until help arrived grew dimmer, the weight of Voldemort's power pressing down on them relentlessly.

Despite their dire situation, Harry and Rigel refused to surrender. Their bodies were battered and exhausted, each movement a testament to their sheer willpower. Voldemort, observing their weakened state, revelled in their plight.

"So, do you have any last words, boys?" Voldemort taunted them, his voice cold and mocking. His eyes glinted with dark amusement as he watched them struggle for breath.

Harry and Rigel, their chests heaving, were too spent to reply. They exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them – they would face their fate with dignity.

Voldemort's sneer widened into a malicious grin. "No witty retorts? No defiant last stand? How disappointing," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. He raised his wand, the tip glowing with ominous power, ready to cast the final, fatal curse.

But at that critical moment, a barrage of spells flew in from the distance, catching the Death Eaters off guard. Suddenly, a group of Aurors led by Sirius burst onto the scene.

Voldemort, momentarily taken aback, quickly regained his composure. "Fools!" he spat, as he deflected an incoming curse. "You dare interrupt me?" A fierce battle erupted between the Death Eaters and the Aurors.

With the Aurors' now having the precise location of the graveyard, more and more of them began to apparate in. The tide was turning.

Realising the situation was no longer in his favour, Voldemort ordered a retreat. "Disapparate!" he commanded. The Death Eaters quickly vanished, one by one. The last glimpse Harry had of Voldemort was a look of pure fury – he was clearly infuriated at being forced to let Harry and Rigel live.

Sirius, Tonks, and the other Aurors rushed to the brothers' side. When Daphne appeared, her expression was one of horror as she saw the state of Harry and Rigel – their bodies broken, barely clinging to life.

Tonks quickly produced a cloth, emblazoned with the Caduceus symbol - a staff entwined with two serpents, a universal symbol of healing. "This is an emergency portkey to St. Mungo's," she explained urgently.

Without wasting a moment, Sirius, Daphne, and Tonks formed a tight circle around Harry and Rigel, each holding onto them and the portkey.

As the world around Harry began to spin, the sensation of the portkey pulling him away from the grim graveyard, he felt his consciousness waning. The bright lights of St. Mungo's Hospital started to come into view, a blurry haze against the backdrop of his fading vision.

Sirius's voice was the first to break through the disorienting whirl of the portkey. "Harry, Rigel, stay with us!" he urged, his tone laced with worry and determination. "You're going to be alright; just hold on."

Daphne's voice followed, filled with a mix of fear and hope. "Rigel, Harry, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "You can't leave us now. We're almost there; just a little longer."

Their words, filled with concern and love, were like anchors trying to hold Harry in the realm of consciousness. But the toll of the battle, the loss of blood, was too much. The voices of Sirius and Daphne began to fade, becoming distant echoes in the swirling darkness that enveloped him.

The last sensation he registered was the comforting warmth of their hands holding his, a lifeline in the growing expanse of darkness. Then, with the final flickers of light dimming in his vision, Harry succumbed to unconsciousness, the world around him falling away into a peaceful oblivion.