Time passed quickly. Draco and his friends were busy helping Harry and Viktor prepare for the third task. When their friends from abroad were not with them, they spent their time honing their dueling skills. Unlike everyone else around them, they ranked studying for their exams, which would be held on the day of the third task, rather low on their list of priorities.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said shortly when Harry pointed this out to them.

"This is studying, kind of. At this rate, I could probably take my Defense OWLS, maybe even NEWTS, next year," Astoria joked, and that was that.

Draco worried little about the exams. Having already completed schooling helped him less than he had first assumed. As he barely ever had to turn a bird into a cup or a porcupine into a pincushion once he had left Hogwarts, his memory of those spells had proven elusive. However, due to his intensive studying with Neville, he was sure that most subjects would be a piece of cake for both of them. And he did not particularly worry about his other friends either. They were smart, they would be fine.

Between their extensive training and the detention they had to serve for their midnight stroll in the forest, there was little time for anything else.

Everyone's nerves mounted as June the twenty-fourth, the day of the third task, drew closer.

Draco hoped that things would mostly happen the way they had originally. But a lot had changed and he could not reliably predict what would happen anymore. Cedric would not be in the maze. Would Cassius end up going with Harry instead? Or would Harry be on his own? How would that influence the encounter? Then there was Harry himself. He now knew that something would happen instead of blindly stumbling into the attack. A better prepared Harry should mean a better outcome, but Draco worried, nonetheless. Harry had survived his school days through what appeared to Draco as sheer dumb luck. He had not survived because he was a better wizard than the Dark Lord, but because of what seemed to Draco like coincidence alone. And the attack in the forest had once again shown him that history could not be taken for granted. And that meant that the outcome of the war was also not as certain as Draco had always thought it was.

It also meant that Draco would have to be at his best. If there was any time at all between detention and practicing with his friends, he spent it either in the library, his nose deep in a book or another, or practicing more advanced spells with Neville.

Breakfast was a very noisy affair on the morning of the third task. For all the change he had caused, it felt like an enormous déjà vu to Draco, especially when an owl dropped the Daily Prophet in front of him.

HARRY POTTER

"DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"

The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.

Draco only skimmed the rest of the article. He had not given that Skeeter woman an interview this time, but the only thing that had changed was that Crabbe and Goyle told her the exact same thing he had once told her. That Potter was a Parseltongue. That he had attacked a student in the short-lived Dueling Club. That he was friends with all sorts of dubious creatures. A glance at the Gryffindor table told him that Harry was taking it in good humour. Draco assumed he was rather used to it by now and it really was not the worst that woman had written about him throughout the year.

The exams went reasonably well, Draco thought. History of Magic would probably be the only one in which he would not outperform his younger self. And as furiously as he had seen his friends' hands flit across their parchments, he knew their future at this school was not in any way threatened.

What little time he had between his final exam and dinner Draco spent in the library. Whatever was going to happen, it was certainly not going to happen before dinner, so he would not miss anything by avoiding the hustle and bustle for a while longer. There were too many people around the castle, family members of the champions even inside the castle. And Draco needed some peace and quiet after the stressful weeks leading up to this day. Or rather, the stressful two years.

The calm before the storm, he thought, sitting down in his favorite spot. He got out some of the books about curses he had borrowed from Severus during Easter. He had not forgotten why he had traveled into the past. As disastrous as the Easter holidays had been for him personally, they had filled him with new hope and vigor. It was possible to change the past and he was able to heal those who were deemed incurable.

But as much hope as he had for Astoria, being able to change things worried him regarding the war. If time was such a fickle thing, then so was the outcome of this war. He hoped, each and every day, that he had not made things worse. In moments were his thoughts turned rather dark, thinking of all the good change he had already caused calmed him. Sirius was free, enjoying his life rather than spending it in hiding until the end. Neville, Theo, Daphne, Astoria, Viktor, Serge, Johanna, Hermione, Harry, and yes, even Ron, they had all become one huge group of friends. Neville – everything about Neville had changed. His whole personality had, if not changed, then at least been allowed to reign free. He was not the shy boy he used to be. And his parents…

Draco was so lost in thought that he did not notice someone sneaking up on him until soft hands were suddenly covering his eyes.

"Hi," he whispered, leaning back, closer to the person behind him.

"Hi," replied Astoria. "Thought I'd find you here. Dinner is about to start." Her hands wandered from his face downward to his chest, pulling him into a hug.

"All the more reason to enjoy the couple of peaceful minutes we have left. Are you nervous?"

"Not really," she mumbled into his hair. Draco closed his eyes. "It feels so unreal, you know? Everything is so normal. Breakfast with my friends, then the exams... I can't believe our whole world might be turned upside down in only a couple of hours."

"I'll protect you," Draco said.

"I know y-" Astoria cut off abruptly. Her whole posture changed, growing rigid.

"Tory?" Draco carefully asked, opening his eyes. His eyes landed on his copy of Blood Curses, lying openly on the table. The chapter title "Hereditary Blood Curses" jumping off the page.

Astoria drew her hands back. Draco jumped out of his seat and turned around to face her. Her complexion had turned rather pale.

"W-why are you reading this?" Astoria asked quietly.

Draco could only gape as his thoughts somersaulted wildly in his mind.

"You... know?" she finally asked, dread evident in her voice.

Draco gulped. Keeping the truth from her had been one thing, but actively lying to her was something he could not bring himself to do. "Yes."

Astoria gasped, before she turned away from him, looking at a particularly boring set of books, gathering her thoughts. "How? Why? Since when?"

Draco looked around the library. On a day like this, hardly anyone was in the library. But still, hardly anyone did not mean no one. He grabbed his books. "Let's discuss this outside."

Astoria let out a shuddering breath, before she walked towards the exit.

Draco followed suit, leaving the library behind.

They didn't get very far before Astoria stopped abruptly in the middle of an empty hallway. "Since when?" she asked, not turning around to face him. The only thing he could see was that she kept clenching and unclenching her trembling fists.

"Ehm- February," Draco said, and it was not even a lie. She had told her in February, just a few years in the future. But that truth was off limits. Any Legilimens could stumble upon such a secret, making her a source of information the Dark Lord would torture and kill for. "You were sick so often..."

"And you know what it means?" she asked, turning around to look at him.

"Astoria-"

"You know that it means I'll get this sick all the time? Not just during winter, but all through the year? That it will get worse every time? That it will happen more and more often?" Her voice broke and she had to catch her breath. "That… that I'll die early? I might not even reach 30! That… that if I decide to have children… it will weaken me so that I'll probably die?"

Draco gulped, by now tears were running down Astoria's cheeks and she was trying to blink them away. He reached for her shoulder, but she took a step back. He dropped his hand. "Y-yes, I do."

Astoria looked away again. "All this time I've been debating with myself when to tell you, how to tell you - and you already knew?"

Draco took a deep breath. He did not know what words would be able to soothe her pain. He did not even know if such words existed at all.

"I spent all this time, worrying how you would react. If you would leave me right away-"

"I'd never," Draco did not hesitate. "Astoria, I love you."

Astoria did not say anything for a while. She stared out of a window, observing the last preparations around the maze down on the grounds. The silence grew and with it the panic inside of Draco. Finally, she turned around to face him again. "I know that you do, Draco. But do you not care at all? That our days are inevitably numbered? Can you honestly tell me that you're okay with never having any children at all?"

"I- Astoria-" He took a deep breath and let his hand glide through his hair. "I love you and that's all that matters right now. We are both young - children won't even be an issue for the next 6 or 7 years."

"So you want children? Isn't it better then to break up now when it is still easy than in 6 years when it will hurt even more?"

"Breaking up? What are you talking about? And breaking up with you won't ever be easy. Not now, not ever!"

"Draco!"

"A lot can happen in 6 or 7 years. They could find a cure-"

Astoria's eyes suddenly turned very cold. "So that's what you were doing with that book? Seeing if there is a way to fix me?"

Draco gulped. "I just want to help you."

"No one can help me. My parents have dragged me to every capable healer inside and outside of the UK - there is nothing to be done. This is who I am. But you seem to be in love with the idea of someone who I'll never be.

"Astoria-"

"Don't. Please. I need time to think."

And with that she walked away.

Draco took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and keep the panic from taking over. He knew full well that he had messed up. Astoria would one day decide that having children was worth the risk, but she had not made this decision yet. It had been Draco who had tried in vain to convince her that they could be happy without children. They had been happy without children. But Astoria had known her time was limited and had wanted something of her to keep on living. Something to give Draco a reason to keep on living.

As desperately as he wanted to go after her, he knew it would be better to give her some time to calm down. Collect her thoughts. He could and probably should do the same, making sure he would find the right words to explain himself. But for now, there was nothing more he could do.

Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch Sr and Cornelius Fudge were sitting at the staff table in the Great Hall when Draco arrived there. Bagman looked quite cheerful, Barty rather stiff, and Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her. But Draco barely noticed any of that. All he noticed was that Astoria was not there.

"Where are the girls?" whispered Theo during the feast, which had more courses than usual, but Draco barely ate anything. Only then did Draco notice that Daphne was not at the feast either. After further observation, neither were Luna or Hermione. At least Astoria was not alone, he thought.

"I messed up," Draco replied, giving up on the thought of food and pushing his plate away from him. "I messed up badly."

If Theo wanted to ask more, he did not get around to it, because Dumbledore used that moment to start his speech. "Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

Draco could see Harry get up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him. The same happened at his table with Cassius.

As the champions and their families, or in Potter's case, the Weasleys and Sirius, left the building, followed by hoards of students, Neville appeared next to Theo and Draco. "Guys, I- is something wrong?" Neville started, but changed the course of his sentence after one look at Draco.

Theo shrugged his shoulders.

"I had an argument with Tory… what did you want to say?"

"Oh-" Neville said sympathetically, before he remembered why he had come over, "uhm – it's Crouch!"

At first, Draco did not react, because of course it was Crouch. They had known that from the beginning. But a second later, it clicked. "Barty Crouch Senior?"

"That's the one! I saw him drink from a flask. Saw that the first time I saw him, but I just thought he was an alcoholic or something."

"He's not an alcoholic," Draco said flatly. If Barty had been, Draco would have heard rumors. His parents knew everything about the people working at the ministry and were not shy about voicing their opinions behind closed doors.

"I don't think he is," Neville agreed.

"So," Theo asked, "you think it's him? The guy who entered Potter's name and everything?"

Draco's mind tried to analyze the situation, but there was just no time. "We have to tell Dumbledore. Or Snape."

The boys turned towards the masses of people. Finding either of them would be nigh impossible.

"Let's split up," Draco finally said. "We'll find them faster this way. Don't go near Crouch. If he is with Dumbledore or Snape, wait until he leaves before you approach."

The two boys nodded their heads, before they disappeared in different directions.

Draco raced towards the Quidditch field. Dumbledore was probably right in the middle of everything, but perhaps he could find Snape. He did not remember if Snape had been one of the teachers to patrol the outside of the maze, but chances were that with a champion from his own house he would. He ran around the maze, past Hagrid, who he barely even looked at. He rounded another corner and ran straight into someone.

"Crouch," he gasped, jumping up from the ground and inconspicuously searching for his wand in his pockets.

"May I help you, boy?" the man asked, just as Draco managed to put his fingers around his wand.

Draco desperately tried to come up with an excuse for why he was running around the maze, any excuse, but his mind was blank, and the next second, Barty had cast "Expelliarmus," and was leading Draco towards the Forbidden Forest.

"It was you!" Draco hissed, while stumbling through the dark forest, keenly aware of the wand pointed at his back.

"Ah, you are quite clever, boy," the man behind him said flatly.

"You are Barty Crouch Junior!"

The man laughed like a maniac. "Yes, indeed."

Draco shook his head. "How?"

And at that, Barty began to ramble. About life in Azkaban. About his mother. About her love that saved him. About blind Dementors and the number of souls in Azkaban. Staged deaths. All the while sounding like a complete madman to Draco's ears. "Father staged my mother's death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. Mostly the Imperius Curse. I was under my father's control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behavior. But all the while, I thought only of finding my master... of returning to his service."

Draco felt sick, a sensation that felt heavy in his stomach and made his skin crawl. Barty's devotion and obsession were way beyond unhealthy.

"Of course sooner or later someone was bound to find out about me. It was a witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house with papers for my father's signature. He was not at home. Winky, the house elf, showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently." He laughed cruelly. "That's how my master found me. He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant — perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.

"It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years. And I was allowed to serve my master again."

Draco gulped. He wondered whether Barty had always been this crazy or if Azkaban had left him like that.

"He wanted me to get in contact with the others. They were angry. Black's trial had made them angry, so it was easy to get them reactivated. I confunded Amycus Carrow - such a dimwitted man - to get into contact with them. He let them know that the Dark Lord was about to rise again and that everyone helping in his return would be rewarded. This way, no one knows about me or the whereabouts of my Lord. The Dark Lord told me he needed me to turn the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey and to ensure that Harry Potter reached the Triwizard Cup."

Draco stopped mid-step, but Barty pushed him further along. "H-How did the others help with that?" Draco asked, fearing the answer would somehow involve his father.

"There were rumors that Alastor Moody would be Dumbledore's next choice for DADA teacher. I wanted to impersonate him, but somehow Dumbledore seemed to know, clever old bastard. There were guards, which Wormtail and I barely just escaped from. So we changed our plan. I started to impersonate my father, which would ensure I was there for all important events and could enter Potter's name. But that wasn't enough to ensure he would win. I could not take care of everything. The old coot has his spies everywhere. To not draw to much suspicion, Pyrites was ordered to talk that oaf Hagrid into telling Potter about the first task."

Draco inhaled sharply. He knew that no Death Eater ever knew all the others, but he would have never suspected Pyrites, a ministry official, of being a Death Eater. No wonder Hagrid had trusted him.

"Crabbe and Goyle kept in touch with their sons, finding out what you and your friends were up to. Warrington told his son to be a good sportsman and to return the favor when Potter had helped him. Turning the cup into a Portkey was trickier than we first anticipated, as Dumbledore chose to keep it at the ministry and have that idiot giant bring it to the school and into the maze. So we had your dear father do it right at the ministry. Good thing he is such a great pal of the minister, don't you think?"

Draco groaned. No wonder neither him nor Dumbledore had figured out who had been doing everything Moody had done originally. It had not been just one person. It had been several.

Before Draco could think about it further, they had left the anti-apparation wards behind. The last thing he heard was "Stupefy," then everything turned black.