It's been a rough week for me for some reason, but updating makes me feel better, so another early one for you. I'm a little too sad today to respond to reviews from last chapter, but I appreciate all of you! I'll respond when I post next chapter, I promise.

One more chapter after this.

Chapter Forty Six

Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then he raised his wand once more and ropes flew out of it, ropes that twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, binding him tightly. He turned to Professor Snape.

"Severus, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?"

Snape nodded once, but the words had caused Nessa's thoughts to come back to her, and her head shot up to look at the headmaster.

"Minerva" — Dumbledore turned to McGonagall — "please take Alastor Moody to the hospital wing on a stretcher. Then go down to the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me."

"Of course," McGonagall said. She looked slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched someone being sick, although Nessa supposed she had watched her being sick. However, when she drew her wand, and conjured a stretcher, her hand was quite steady. She was careful in levitating Moody onto the stretcher, making sure the cloak remained wrapped around him, before she left the room.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said gently.

Harry got up and swayed. The movement sent her careening to her feet, releasing Snape without even a moment's thought. She was in front of her brother a moment later. He leaned into her so heavily that she grunted under his weight, but she didn't complain. Not if her support was what he needed. He was shaking still. Dumbledore helped them into the hall.

"I want you to come up to my office first, Harry," he said quietly. Nessa's head whipped toward him in surprise. "Sirius is waiting for us there."

Harry nodded, but she didn't allow it. He was still in shock, and that was clear. She wasn't even sure that he could think for himself at the moment. He appeared to be merely going through the motions, and she didn't care what Dumbledore wanted.

"It can wait until tomorrow," she snapped at the headmaster. "He's barely able to stand. He needs to sleep."

"I understand your need to protect him, Vanessa," Dumbledore said gently. "Especially after this evening, but what we need to discuss cannot wait —"

"Why not?" she demanded. "Is Voldemort going to be any less powerful tomorrow? Look at him! He's in no position to go over what he's been through tonight right now."

Harry didn't even bother arguing to the contrary. There was a part of that that broke her completely; her brother had always been stubborn. He'd always bit off more than he could chew, but whatever had happened tonight had snuffed out his drive, his perseverance, his fire. A day she'd never have imagined would come. She hadn't thought it possible before now.

Dumbledore spoke again, but he was not angry despite the way she'd spoken to him. There was an understanding in his blue eyes that she wished he'd stop looking at her with.

"If I thought I could help him," he said gently. "By putting him into an enchanted sleep and allowing him to postpone the moment when he would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it, Vanessa. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. He has shown bravery beyond anything I could expect of him. I ask you to allow him to demonstrate his courage one more time."

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. She didn't want him to numb his pain by sleeping, but she wanted him to rest. He was exhausted and injured, and he'd been through too much to relive it all now. The pain would be present tomorrow.

But Harry squeezed her wrist to get her attention, and she turned to look at him. Eyes that were so like hers, but they were dull and empty, the numbness apparent even without needing to speak. There were shadows in those eyes that would never leave him. But his voice was steady when he spoke.

"It's okay," he said softly. She opened her mouth to argue. "It's okay. I — I can do it, but could you — could you do something for me?"

"Anything," she promised.

"They're waiting for me, aren't they?" Harry said to Dumbledore. "In the hospital wing?" Dumbledore nodded grimly. Nessa had no idea how he knew that, but she didn't ask. Harry turned back to her, his face crumpling completely for a moment. She took a shuddering breath, and raised a hand to his face to wipe away a tear. "Can you tell them what happened before I get there? I can't — I don't want to say it all again. I can't —"

"I'll take care of it," she said quietly.

There was nothing she wanted less than to explain what had happened to her friends because one look from them would send her world crumbling around her, and she knew that was the reason that Harry didn't want to tell them himself. And she would not place a single other thing on his shoulders tonight.

She hesitated still, pulling his forehead down to meet hers. She closed her eyes, trying to find the silver lining in this, but there was none. He was alive, and she would be forever grateful, but he would never be the same.

"I will protect him with my life, Vanessa," Dumbledore said, when she pulled back and released him. She believed him, but it didn't help.

She watched them walk down the corridor, her brother limping beside him and still looking incredibly hollow. She watched him for a long moment before the last spark of life she had in her, that last shred of strength she possessed, pulled her gaze back to the office door.

She stepped into the office again. Snape stood with his wand pointed at Barty Crouch, who looked to be somewhat better than when they'd left him, some of the potion beginning to wear off. He was watching Snape with hatred, probably thinking that he was a coward that had betrayed his master. Just the same as the Death Eaters he had wanted to kill at the World Cup. Snape was smirking at him, clearly attempting to enrage the man before him.

Neither one of them looked away from the other as she approached.

"What's going to happen to him?" she said coldly, her gaze locking with Crouch's when he turned to look at her. Snape's gaze remained locked on the man in front of her when he answered.

"The Dementor's Kiss, most likely," he said without an ounce of pity. "They will not send him back to Azkaban now that he has escaped. He'll have a trial first, but I see no other alternative once that is done."

Nessa waited for a wave of pity to hit her — she'd felt it the year before when they'd discussed the Kiss — but it never came. All she felt was a hatred so sharp that it felt like it was going to pierce her through the chest.

"He won't be dead," she said. Snape gave her a side glance.

"No," he said. "Is that what you would prefer?"

If she were a better person, the answer would be no. No matter what he had done, it was not her choice to decide whether a person deserved to live or die. That authority didn't lie with her — she wasn't sure that it lied with anyone.

But it wasn't how she felt. She did want him dead. In the same way, she had wanted Peter Pettigrew dead. In the same way that she wanted Voldemort dead. In the same way that she was not at all sorry about the fact that Crouch Sr. was dead; he'd deserved it. He'd been a cruel, careless man, who had set these actions in motion. He had snuck his son out of Azkaban, suspecting that he had been serving a man so evil that people were afraid to even whisper his name. He'd kept his son imprisoned and under a powerful mind control for years without a second thought. He'd saved his own skin instead of turning his son in when he'd been clear at the World Cup about where his loyalties lay.

She might have hated him the most at the moment. But he wasn't the one in front of her. And he hadn't allowed her brother to be taken to God knew where to be injured, beaten and broken, at the hands of a man who deserved more than anyone else to be dead.

"You won't do it," Crouch said, laughing maniacally. "You are too weak. You failed your brother once and you will fail him again —"

Winky shrieked when Nessa pointed her wand at the man before her and flung him into the wall behind him. If she hadn't been so busy drinking herself to death, Nessa was entirely sure that the elf could have flung her across the room in an instant; elf magic tended to work differently (and more powerfully) than wizard magic. As it was, Winky was barely able to do anything but cover her eyes in fright.

Snape, the only rational adult in the room, said nothing, his wand moving to point at the new spot on the wall that Crouch was now being held against, looking bored. Nessa was in no position to complain. Keeping her wand steady to hold him in place, she took the thumb and pointer finger of her other hand and pinched them together, muttering, "Anhelans."

She held his gaze when he started choking, his throat constricting under the spell. He clawed at his throat in a panic, and she held it for a moment, wondering if she cared at all if he died right there. She didn't think so. And perhaps that should have been more concerning than it was.

"Give me a reason," she said, her voice soft.

She didn't need one. He's given her plenty. But the anger had left her clear of mind. He'd said before that she'd lost their duel because she had let her anger cloud her judgement.

He'd been right. Because right now? Right now, she was so angry that a deadly calm had settled over her. There was no pity or panic in her mind and body as she watched the man before her gasp for breath, trying to speak through the constriction.

"Snape…here…" Crouch gasped through the spell.

Snape raised an eyebrow, looking bored.

"You attacked her," he said silkily. "I had no choice but to kill you."

There was a smug satisfaction in seeing the man's eyes bulge, but she released him when his lips turned blue, letting him crumple to the ground without a word.

She wasn't stupid — Snape would have stopped her because a trial meant that he would be able to explain to the world what had happened tonight. It would prepare the Ministry for what needed to be done next.

She knew that, and so did Snape, and though he appeared totally unbothered, she was sure he'd have stopped her from doing something stupid.

Too stupid, at least.

Without looking back at Snape, she calmly said, "When they give him the Kiss…will he suffer?"

It sounded more like they were discussing what they'd had for dinner at a local restaurant.

"No one knows the answer to that question," Snape said, looking a bit disappointed that she'd stopped. "He will exist without existing."

"Will he be able to hear?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at her.

"There will be nothing wrong with his hearing," he said, clearly trying to work out what she was thinking. "Whether he will understand is an entirely different question."

She didn't need him to understand.

She stepped forward, blocking Snape's view of Crouch momentarily. The man was still gasping for air, but he was weak from being flung around, and his head injury still made it difficult for him to move quick enough to stop her from grabbing him under the chin and forcing his face up to look at her.

He smirked at her.

"I told the Dark Lord…about you…" he gasped through his breaths. "He…is not worried about you. He…thinks you are nothing…of consequence."

If he expected the words to hurt her, they didn't. Instead, they excited her. There was nothing in the world she loved more than proving someone wrong about her.

And if he wanted to believe she was no threat to him, it would make it far easier for her to take him by surprise. An often fatal mistake, even for a man as powerful as Lord Voldemort.

She smiled at him, and he must have seen something in her face then because he tried to bat her away. She held tight, pulling him as close to her face as she could manage.

"His mistake," she breathed, her voice coming out sounding more silky and dangerous than even the Potions master behind her had ever managed. "You may have beat me once. But I assure you, it will not happen again. I will work day and night until not even Dumbledore could beat me in a duel." He opened his mouth to say something derisive, but she tightened her hold on his face until he was forced to glare at her, his lips pursed against his will in a way that might have been comical in a different situation. "And once I do, I'll find your master. And I'll kill him where he stands."

He laughed, deep in his chest.

"You will never —"

"Look in my eyes, Crouch," she said. "Tell me I won't." The man said nothing. "Your master made a big mistake this evening when he touched my brother. And unfortunately for him I hold a bitch of a grudge. I will kill him for touching Harry…if it is the very last thing I do." She smiled at him again, slowly and with as much malice as she could muster. She leaned forward until her mouth was next to his ear, and whispered, "And when I do, you'll know. They're going to give you the Kiss — maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but that's what waits for you. Not some praise from Voldemort," he hissed at her for the use of the name, but she ignored it. "And once it's done… I'll be more than happy to find you after your precious master is dead just to tell you that your life's dream, your life's ambition, was a waste. It meant nothing. And neither do you."

There were footsteps rushing down the hall, and she released the man before her with a shove, pulling herself to a stand. She turned, meeting Snape's gaze momentarily. She could see a moment of deep consideration in his gaze, as if he were unsure what to make of her, before Fudge and McGonagall were in the doorway.

"My word," Fudge said, his eyes locking on the man behind her. "That's — that's Barty Crouch."

Nessa stepped around Snape and walked toward the door without a glance back in their direction. She didn't need to hear the story again. She had no interest in it. And she certainly didn't want to be here when Fudge had questions she couldn't answer.

So, instead, she moved to the hospital wing to do what her brother had asked of her. To relive the last hour and a half for the sake of sparing him having to tell them himself. To plaster a smile onto her face and pretend to be okay until she could crumple in her bed. To push the image of Cedric's dead eyes out of her mind.

But the moment she got to the hospital wing, she paused, her hand on the door.

She could hear them in there. There was panicked whispering, questions being asked that none of them had the answers to. She knew they wanted those answers, and she knew they would learn of them eventually, but she —

God, it felt like her world had stopped spinning. It felt like she was being suffocated under a massive amount of pressure from outside of her body. It felt like she was on the very brink of losing herself to the blackness that was threatening to swallow her.

She'd always told herself that she was stronger than she looked, but she didn't feel it. She felt broken and battered. She felt like the very air had been sucked out of her lungs and she was never going to get it back. She felt like the world had warped into something ugly and indistinguishable.

The last of her strength, her anger, her resolve, had depleted the moment she'd stepped out of that classroom. She had nothing left to give.

Her friend was dead.

And the last thing she'd said to him was that she'd never love him the way he loved her. He had died knowing that in his heart.

Voldemort was back.

He had done the impossible and risen from the dead. Or had he been dead at all? She didn't know and she didn't have it in her to figure it out because his return would mean that her brother's life — his very existence — would be in danger until someone defeated him.

Her brother had watched someone die before him.

He would never come back from that. He would never unsee it. He would never have a childhood now, no matter how much she fought for it. He would never be the same.

She had failed him. She had failed him, she had failed him, she had failed him.

She'd made so many mistakes and all of them were so clear to her now, all of them drowning her. Pulling her underneath the undertow with no way up.

But she had to do this. She had to push through them because she'd promised her brother that she would do this, and what she had been through was nothing in comparison to what he had. If he was not breaking then neither would she.

So she battled past that numbness and grief and sorrow, and she pushed the door to the hospital wing open. Her friends and Harry's were all there, looking agitated and harried. Mrs. Weasley and Bill were among them. All of them were grouped around a very harassed-looking Madame Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding where she and Harry were and what had happened to her brother. All of them whipped around as she entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a muffled scream.

Even Madame Pomfrey, who asserted that she did not care about Vanessa other than her being a student, appeared to sink with relief at the sight of her.

But Tori must have seen something that the rest of them didn't because the moment Mrs. Weasley rushed forward, she shouted, "Don't touch her!"

Silence descended as Mrs. Weasley skidded to a halt barely a foot in front of her.

"Well, why not?" she demanded.

Tori didn't answer, her gaze connecting with Nessa's without a word. There was concern in her gaze, but something else, something much softer than she'd expected to be hit with so soon after coming into the room.

She knew then that she must not have covered up her emotions as much as she'd thought. She hadn't compartmentalized as well as she thought she had. She took in a shuddering breath as every eye in the room focused on her. She hated that feeling. She'd always hated feeling like she was being watched, being judged. Her social anxiety didn't allow much room for being scrutinized without her wondering what other people were thinking about her.

She knew what they were thinking about her now though.

She was crazy. And it was her fault. It was all her fault. They had to be able to see that.

Tori moved, dragging her thoughts from her spiral, and she hadn't noticed it, but Mrs. Weasley had taken several steps back, looking startled.

Nessa didn't know what for. Had she said the words out loud?

"She needs something for the shock," Tori said softly to Madame Pomfrey, padding forward quietly. Tori was not a Healer, but Nessa assumed that what was happening to her didn't exactly require medical training. Madame Pomfrey clearly didn't think so either because she went racing for the potions cabinet. "Vanessa," Tori said gently. "Where's Harry?"

Harry.

Harry was safe.

"He's with Dumbledore," she said, her voice sounding odd to her ears. "He's…"

Her first instinct had been to say that he was fine, but that didn't feel right. It felt like a lie. He wasn't fine. He would never be fine again.

Her fault, her fault, her fault.

"He's…alive."

True. Whether or not he wanted to be was something different.

There was an audible relief that passed among the group in the room. Hermione's breath of relief caught on a sob and she turned to bury her face in Ron's shoulder. Mrs. Weasley sobbed openly and Bill rubbed her back calmly, though he looked remarkably pale.

"That's good," Tori said, her tone slow and gentle, as if she were attempting to get through to a rabid animal. Or negotiating with a psychopath holding hostages. "He's alive. Harry's alive."

"Yes," Nessa said. "He wanted me to — to tell you all what happened. He doesn't want — he can't — he can't say it again."

Tori nodded, taking a few steps closer until she was directly in front of her and they were standing eye to eye.

"Okay," she said. "If you want to tell us. You don't have to —"

"I do," she said desperately. "I do because I promised him. I promised him —"

"Okay, okay," Tori said, quickly placating her. "It's just that — well, you're…hovering."

She looked down at her feet as if her head wasn't so within her control. It felt a bit like she was watching herself from outside of her body, but Tori was right. She was hovering several inches off the ground, which explained why she and Tori were standing eye to eye. Tori was tall for a girl, and they'd never once stood eye to eye.

She looked back up at Tori, feeling panicked.

"I don't — I don't know how I'm doing that," she said.

God, why? Why couldn't she be normal? Why couldn't she control her magic when she was feeling such intense emotions?

Why did she feel such intense emotions? Why couldn't she turn the damn things off?

Tori didn't look nearly as alarmed as Nessa felt.

"That's okay," she said steadily. Nessa did not agree with that. At all. But she wasn't in the place to argue. "Just tell us what happened."

Where did she even start? There was so much…so much of it was so convoluted and confusing. It didn't feel like real life. It felt like a nightmare. An out of body experience. Hell.

She started at the beginning. Barty Crouch's son was alive. She explained the how and why of it. She explained the elf and the Quidditch World Cup and Moody. She explained all of it as best she could, to the best of her recollection. She explained it all so quickly that she wasn't sure she even made any sense to them, but she had to get it out quickly before she couldn't talk anymore because that darkness was threatening her and it was impossible to know how much time she had left before she fell into it.

When she got to the end, she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream until her throat hurt because the injustice of it all was too much.

"He offered to take the Triwizard Cup to the center of the maze," she said. "He turned it into a Portkey and he made sure that Harry was the one to reach it. It took Harry to where Voldemort was waiting to perform a spell to get his body back."

Tori had gone utterly still. The room had gone impossibly silent. Madame Pomfrey had frozen at the potions cabinet, her hands shaking around the vial she had in her grasp.

It was Fred who spoke first.

"Did he?" he said, sounding like he was begging her for something. She'd never heard him talk like that before.

"Yes," she said, watching Tori's eyes close and her body shudder. "Voldemort is back."

Mrs. Weasley lost control of her legs entirely, and sank into chair nearest her. Bill and the twins gaped. Ron floundered. Hermione's hands flew to cover her mouth.

Nessa didn't have any comforting words for them. She didn't have any herself, and their fear was stifling, pushing in on her and joining her own until she felt like she might pass out from the force of it.

Tori's eyes opened and met hers again, and she breathed through her nose.

"Okay," she said, shakily. "We can — we can handle that. We'll take care of that later —"

"What about Cedric?" Ron said abruptly.

Tori whirled, swearing viciously.

"Oh Ron," Hermione said, shaking her head sadly.

Nessa didn't care. Her world was crashing again.

"He's dead," she said, sending the entire room back into horrified silence. Tori turned to face her slowly, looking impossibly shocked. She didn't understand why — they must have heard everyone shouting it. Hadn't they been in the front row of the stands? "He's dead. Cedric is dead."

She didn't know who she was trying to convince anymore, her or herself. Hermione sobbed again, covering her mouth to try and control the sound.

"He's dead —"

"We heard you, love," George said, stepping forward slowly to stand next to Tori. "We believe you."

She didn't. She didn't believe it.

She couldn't because that meant he was really gone and she hadn't told him — she hadn't warned him about anything.

But all she could see now was —

"His eyes," she said brokenly. Tori shared a glance with George, shaking her head in confusion. "His eyes. I looked at them afterward. There was nothing there." Tori squeezed her eyes shut, but a tear escaped anyway. Nessa couldn't stop herself from talking now, the panic rising in her chest. "All I can see is his eyes. They won't go away…they won't…there was nothing there…he's dead. His eyes —"

Something broke when George reached out for her to comfort her, to calm her enough to get the words to stop coming. Whatever magic she'd been using faltered, and she went hurtling to the ground on a sob. Tori and George caught her, and when the sobbing had become so hard to control that she fell to her knees, they went with her.

She sobbed so violently that it felt like it was ripping her throat apart from the inside. It was like that one touch from him had broken her, like a dam had burst inside her and the emotions were flooding her so quickly that she had barely any time to try to keep her head above water. She was gasping irregularly as the cries left her, and her hands were grabbing fistfuls of George's sweater and Tori's cloak as if she could claw her way out of her misery somehow if she could just keep them close. The air in the room was thick with sorrow and grief, and she heard crying somewhere else that had nothing to do with her.

Hermione or Mrs. Weasley or both.

Or maybe it was Tori, who was so desperately trying to control her own tears despite the sharp sound of her best friend's grief, every sob piercing the silence and sending an overwhelming pain straight to her heart like shards of jagged glass.

In the next moment, the scent of chocolate hit her and Fred was there too, sinking to his knees in the only available space he had left, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

The pressure normally helped calm her, but it didn't this time. The sobs racked her for so long that her throat ached and burned painfully. They lasted until every drop of strength in her body had been sapped out, and she went limp between the three of them.

They didn't move for a few minutes afterward as if they were afraid she might shatter again if they moved too suddenly. But when her ragged sobs remained silent, Fred and Tori pulled back. Tori wiped a hand across her face, but Nessa didn't have it within her to ask if she was okay.

The numbness had set in now and she stared unseeingly at her best friend with her head on George's chest. When he moved to pick her up, he jostled her slightly, but all she did was blink, her breaths stuttering out of her unevenly after the sobbing she'd done a moment earlier. He didn't say anything and he didn't force her to talk, but he moved to lean against the wall, settling her in his lap.

She went without protest. They were near the window now, and she could see some of the stars through the window. She wondered idly if he'd done that intentionally. She didn't ask.

Fred and Tori sat on either side of him, and the silence descended again.

Madame Pomfrey broke it.

"Here, drink this —"

She had a potion of purple liquid and a goblet in hand. Nessa recognized it immediately, and shook her head hastily, squirming against George's hold. It tightened around her.

"Don't want it," she said, her voice coming out raspy.

"Love, it's just to help you sleep —"

"No," she said, tearing up again and looking at him desperately. "I don't want it. Not yet. I need Harry."

"We can make sure he's alright, dear," Mrs. Weasley said from somewhere in front of her, her voice sounding choked. "You should sleep."

It would be the rational thing to do, but the thought of it panicked her. They'd force her to take it too if they really thought they needed to and that made her panic more.

She couldn't sleep. Not before Harry came back. She needed to see him. She needed to know that he was okay. When he went to sleep, she would sleep. Not a moment before. Not unless they knocked her out first.

She whimpered, recoiling when Madame Pomfrey held the potion out to her again.

"George," she said, her eyes watering and threatening to spill over again. "Please. I want to see Harry. Please."

He reached forward and took the potion from Pomfrey, and she was fairly certain she was going to cry again because he was going to make her do it —

He handed them to Fred, much to his mother's disapproval, but Nessa sobbed in relief.

"Okay," he said softly, kissing her on the side of her head. "You don't have to. We'll wait for Harry, love."

"George —"

"She's the one in pain, Mum," Fred said sharply. "She gets to decide when she takes the potion. Anyone who disagrees is free to take a shot at forcing her."

She didn't like fighting, and she whimpered, but George made a soothing noise in the back of his throat, tucking a hair behind her ear.

"Ignore them, sweetheart," he said quietly. "He's all talk. Mum isn't going to make you anyway."

But if she did, Nessa was quite sure Fred and Tori might start tearing the wing to pieces. They certainly looked as if they might.

She'd have found that heartwarming if she wasn't so shrouded in grief.

She looked up at George in an attempt to ignore the glare Mrs. Weasley was sharing with Fred and Tori. They were the same blue she loved, and they were as steady as they always were. There was a sadness deep within them, but he didn't waver as he looked at her. She was drowning at sea, and he was the life ring doing his best to hold her afloat.

She didn't know why, but her eyes watered again, blurring his face from view. She couldn't have said what about his expression made her say what she did next.

"He was my friend," she whispered brokenly.

God, it hurt.

She'd never had to grieve like this before. She'd been too young to understand when her parents had died, and any people that had died within the Dursley's family, she hadn't cared about enough to grieve their loss.

But she felt it now.

Why was it so heavy and suffocating?

George's hold tightened again, and he held her tightly to him.

"I know he was," he whispered against her hair. "I'm so sorry, my love."

The words made her cry again, quietly this time, and he held her through it. Tori curled herself into George's side, blocking the view of her to Ron and Hermione who were sitting behind her. Fred was silent and steady on the other side.

The crying lasted a fraction as long as the sobbing had, as if she'd cried herself out, but none of them moved. No one in the room spoke after that, the emotions in the room too heavy to breach with conversation. Other than the occasional sniffle or sigh, the room remained heavy and quiet.

After several long minutes, the doors to the hospital wing opened once again, and Harry and Dumbledore entered, followed closely by a large, disheveled black dog.

Mrs. Weasley was up in a heartbeat and rushing for Harry. Dumbledore stepped between them before she reached her destination, and Nessa heard him telling them not to question Harry for the evening, but she was distracted by Sirius prowling forward to greet them. Tori was still curled around George's side, but the dog still reared up, setting his paws directly on each of her shoulders and licked one side of her face.

Tori jerked away immediately.

"Gross," she laughed quietly, wiping at her cheeks to clear it.

Sirius moved to Nessa next. When she made no move to greet him, he whined, shoving his head underneath her limp hand. She made a low noise, turning her palm over to face him and weakly scratching his chin.

Sirius did not seem comforted by this response, and he looked at Tori, tilting his head to the side.

"She'll be okay," Tori said quietly. "Eventually."

If it helped for her to believe that then Nessa would allow it. But she was fairly certain that she'd never be okay again.

She made a move to roll away from George, but he stood, pulling her with him. She swayed for a second before she got her bearings again, and made her way over to her brother, who was being herded toward a bed by Madame Pomfrey.

He looked no better than he had when she'd last seen him. He was pale, shaking, and deathly silent. It looked like some of his wounds had healed.

"I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school."

He left.

Nessa pulled the shades around Harry's bed closed so that he could dress in pajamas, and she waited until she could hear him climbing into bed before she pulled them back. Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, Hermione, and the dog settled themselves in the chairs around his bed. Nessa stood next to him, brushing his hair back from his eyes, waiting for Madame Pomfrey to return with the Dreamless Sleep potion she'd tried to give to her only several minutes before.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Who?" she said softly. He nodded toward where Moody was resting, his magical eye and wooden leg on the table beside his bed. "He'll be fine."

Harry nodded to himself before he looked back at her.

"You've been crying," he said.

It wasn't a question. She was sure her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were flushed. Or maybe he could hear the way her breath still caught on every inhale. Or the raspiness of her voice.

It didn't matter because she shook her head anyway.

"Don't worry about me —"

"He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry."

She blinked at him.

"What?"

"Cedric," Harry said, causing her whole heart to stop. It was so quiet in the room that everyone could hear him talking and she could feel their eyes on her. Tori stepped forward like she might interrupt him before he could shatter her again, but Harry kept talking. "I saw him again before — while I was leaving. He said to tell you he was sorry for upsetting you earlier and that he was glad to have had you as a friend."

It was like a stab to the chest, and she wanted to crumple again, but Madame Pomfrey had bustled over, sparing her from having to respond. She was grateful for that because her throat burned again and she couldn't stand another moment of crying.

"You'll need to drink all of this, Harry," Pomfrey said. "It's a potion for dreamless sleep."

He looked toward his sister for confirmation, and she nodded, smiling gently. Or hoping she did.

"Drink," she said. "It'll help."

He took a few mouthfuls and she could tell the moment it hit him. His eyes grew heavy, and his body sank into the bed beneath him. He didn't fight it, and before he'd even finished the goblet, he'd drifted off to sleep. Mrs. Weasley shot forward to grab the goblet before it could spill over the sheets, and Nessa watched her tuck her brother into the bed.

He looked peaceful, and it eased her breathing some. She knew he wouldn't be when he woke, but he was safe for now. Reaching forward, she removed his glasses and folded them, setting them gently on the bedside table before leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

She had never loved someone as much as she loved him. She couldn't fathom what he'd been through.

"I'll look after him, dear," Mrs. Weasley said kindly, but her voice was firm. "Go on. Get some sleep."

She didn't have it in her to argue. She merely gave her brother one last parting glance before she dragged herself over to the bed that Fred, George, and Tori had gathered around.

Tori handed her pajamas of her own, and she dressed behind a screen and slid into bed just as her brother had. The moment she was lying down and the screen had been pulled back, Fred was before her with a potion and a goblet.

She eyed it hesitantly, but he didn't waver this time.

"Drink it," he said firmly. "That was the deal, munchkin."

She took it with trembling hands and drank half the glass at once. The effect was immediate. She felt herself become drowsy, and everything around her became hazy. She could feel herself sinking deeply into the warmth of the feather mattress. Unlike her brother, she did fight it.

"George," she whispered desperately.

She couldn't have explained it, why she needed him. The potion would take care of the sleeping for her, but she wanted him there anyway. Everything in her relaxed the moment he appeared before her, nudging her backward and then letting her curl herself around him.

She saw Mrs. Weasley stand with a scowl, looking as if she were going to protest, but Bill forced her back down into her seat with a hard look.

"Leave it, Mum," he said firmly.

It was the last thing she heard before she let the potion drag her into blessed darkness.

Nessa woke feeling as though she'd barely gotten any sleep at all. It was still dark in the hospital wing, only dimly lit by a few lanterns, and she was so very sleepy. So very warm, the smell of gunpowder and cinnamon enveloping her senses, George's body heat being transferred to her and making her want to sink back into his chest and fall back asleep.

Then she heard whispering around her.

"They'll wake them if they don't shut up!"

"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?"

Her body felt heavy, but she forced her eyes open, looking around her blearily. George was still lying next to her, her head having moved to lay on his chest, but he was tense beneath her, his ear tilted toward the door, clearly trying to listen to whatever was happening outside of it. He was scowling at something over her head. She shifted, and he swore under his breath, sounding remarkably irritated.

He'd been scowling at Fred, who's expression looked remarkably similar, his head turned sideways to hear what was happening behind him. His eyes flashed when he noticed the noise had woken her, looking like he might burn down the whole castle just to make it up to her.

Tori stood angrily.

"They already woke one of them," she whispered angrily. "If the castle isn't under attack, I'll kill them —"

Mrs. Weasley and Bill frowned in her direction from their spot next to Harry's bed. She was fairly certain they'd been the ones whispering. Ron was eyeing the door anxiously and Hermione had frozen near the window.

Nessa made a soft noise, trying to will her body to move. George shushed her gently, running a hand over her hair.

"What's happening?" Nessa said groggily.

No one answered.

Mrs. Weasley was on her feet in the next moment.

"That's Fudge's voice," she whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

She could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital wing. It would always astound her how quickly her adrenaline kicked in, and her exhaustion faded. She shot up and grabbed her wand from the bedside table, preparing for something horrific. George glared at the doorway as if it were to blame for her being awake.

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva —" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled McGonagall.

She watched the hospital door burst open. Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGongall and Snape were at his heels. Snape looked murderous, despite his silence.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth angrily, but Nessa was the one who spoke.

"Clearly, he isn't here," she said angrily. Heads shot in her direction. "And if you wake up my brother after the night he's had, he'll find you bound and gagged to one of these beds."

She couldn't be entirely sure, but she thought she heard Snape snort. When she looked at him, however, his face had not changed. Fudge, however, gaped at her., straightening indignantly.

"Are you threatening the Minister of Magic?" he said sharply.

"Do I need to?" she volleyed, raising an eyebrow.

But the door opened before he could reply, and Dumbledore came sweeping into the room, Remus Lupin on his heels. His eyes met hers for only a moment before she'd flung herself at him with a muffled sob.

"Are you alright?" he demanded at once. "Harry?"

She was at a loss for words at the moment, but she nodded against his shoulder and he relaxed a little. Dumbledore, however, appeared quite angry.

"What has happened?" he said sharply, looking between his staff and Fudge. "Why are you disturbing these people? Severus — I am surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch —"

Snape opened his mouth calmly, eyes sparkling, but it was McGonagall who answered. Nessa had never seen her lose control like this before.

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"

There were angry blotches of color on her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

"When we told Mr. Fudge we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape in a low voice. "He seemed to think his personal safety was in question. He left and summoned a dementor to accompany him back to the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch —"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" Professor McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —"

"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Nessa had ever seen him. "As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous —"

But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

"The moment that — that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and — and —"

Nessa felt a chill in her stomach as Professor McGonagall struggled to find the words to describe what had happened. She didn't need to finish the sentence because they all knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal Kiss. And, while she could care less about Barty Crouch — and she'd made that very clear earlier — he had been the only person in the world able to provide the Ministry with testimony to Voldemort's plans and what Harry had been through.

Why would he have done that? What would it mean for Harry if he could not testify to the reasons for the events of tonight? Would they think him responsible for Cedric's death? Would they believe him when he told them what he had seen tonight?

Winky could testify to how Crouch had been kept and smuggled out, but she was merely an elf and they were already treated as less than by the general population. No one would listen to her if she told them what she had overheard in the classroom, and hearsay was not as strong as a hard confession.

Which they now could not get.

"Why would you do that?" Nessa whispered at the Minister brokenly. The words had been soft, but everyone had heard them. Tori flinched at the pain in her voice.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths! You want the man who attempted to kill your brother loose upon the world, do you, Miss Potter?"

She released Remus and made to step forward, but Remus grabbed her arm.

"Of course I don't!" she shouted. "I'd have killed him myself if I thought that would make a difference! Did you even question him before you sucked out his soul or was that not important to you?"

"It is not the business of a child to tell me how to do my job!" Fudge returned angrily. "He was a danger to society and he will not be missed!"

Remus covered her mouth with his hand before she could even fathom the sheer stupidity of the man in front of her. Dumbledore took over for her.

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

So he had known all of it. Why in the hell would he have performed the Kiss then? Did the people he had murdered not deserve a trial? A voice? Did the people of the Wizarding World not deserve to know the danger that was being posed to them outside these walls, at this very moment?

God, if she'd thought the Minister wouldn't give him a trial as Snape had told her, she'd have just killed him herself.

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Nessa didn't blame him. It was how her entire body felt. How her mind felt. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

"You-Know-Who…returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…"

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," said Dumbledore, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

Nessa didn't know what she expected from Fudge, but it wasn't a smile. Maybe he'd gone and lost it?

"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge with a slight smile. "You — you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who — back? Come now, come now…certainly Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders — but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…"

She didn't really have an argument for that. He was a lunatic, there was no doubt about that. There was no other reason a person could be so okay with doing what he had without something being a little loose. At least, she had no idea how a sane, rational individual would do something like that and justify it to themselves, be able to live with it. Even she, her propensity for violence and anger issues included, had recognized when to stop when she had been upstairs with Crouch earlier.

To kill his own father without a thought, to so willingly follow in the footsteps of a man he hardly knew, to obey that man without question, even going so far as to call him master? To think that he deserved praise for his actions?

He had been a lunatic. He'd been ill. There was no other explanation for it. And, really, who could blame him?

Well, she could, but she didn't imagine anyone who had been ignored and neglected by their father, and then imprisoned in their own mind for well over a decade would be sane. He was still not her concern, and she still did not care whether he'd gotten the Kiss at all after what he'd done to Harry, but she agreed that he was a lunatic.

His father had been as well. So was Voldemort.

But she had no reason to doubt her brother, and Crouch's story had made sense. And Cedric had been murdered somehow. Whether Crouch was a lunatic or not was not up for debate.

"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step into my office."

Dumbledore glanced around at Harry, and Nessa noticed that he was awake, sitting up with his glasses on. She growled under her breath, shoving Remus off of her and pushing her way past Fudge.

"I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight," said Dumbledore.

"Seconded," Nessa snarled. "He should be sleeping. He would be if you three hadn't come in here screaming at each other."

None of them had the presence of mind to look ashamed about that, although McGonagall did harumph as if she had no argument for that assessment. Nessa put a hand on Harry's shoulder and tried to push him back but he resisted. A moment later, she knew why.

"You are — er — prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

Nessa whirled to glare at him. Sirius, who had curled at Harry's feet at the end of his bed, growled into the silence. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge. Nessa put her hand on his head.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" she demanded. "My brother is not a liar."

"Certainly, I believe Harry," Dumbledore concurred, his eyes blazing. She hoped he flung Fudge across the room the way that he had Crouch. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense."

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. He glanced at Harry before answering.

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer…and a boy who…well…"

He shot Harry another look, and Sirius looked like he might lunge at the Minister. Tori lunged forward to hold him by the neck, murmuring something in his ear that Nessa wasn't entirely sure he was hearing, but Harry seemed to figure out what Fudge's problem really was.

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," Harry said quietly.

Her heart shattered in her chest. His voice…it was hopeless and firm. Like he'd simply accepted what was being said and done about him and he had no means of fighting it.

She'd kill the damned reporter too. At this point, she had a hit list as long as her last Potions essay.

Fudge reddened slightly at the words, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

"And if I have?" he said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have discovered that you have been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh —?"

Nessa bristled.

"That is not the Ministry's concern!" she said sharply. "There is no law that he must disclose that information to you or anyone else, and it has nothing to do with who he is."

"I imagine you speak to them too then —"

"You'd be stupid then because I don't," she snapped. Fred and George grinned at each other from behind the Minister when his face reddened again. "And I'd like to remind you that my brother has saved this school twice in the last three years. You had Dumbledore removed from the school two years ago and left a child to sort out the problems for you. I didn't hear you complaining about him then."

Dumbledore's beard twitched, but he covered it before Fudge turned to face him.

"And he's been having funny turns all over the place?"

Nessa growled with Sirius this time. If he ignored her one more time, she was going to throw something at him.

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, taking a step toward Fudge. Once again, he seemed to radiate with an undefinable sense of power that he had when he'd Stunned Crouch. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before…"

"Fifteen years ago, you hadn't heard of a person surviving the Killing Curse either," Nessa snapped. "As sorry as you must be to hear this, it would appear you aren't omniscient."

Fudge glanced at her.

"You give her far too much leeway, Dumbledore," he said sharply. "If there is anyone here with a violent nature, it is her —"

"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but both Nessa and Mrs. Weasley forced him back. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —"

Snape made a sudden movement, but when Nessa looked up at him, his eyes flew back to Fudge.

"Malfoy was cleared!" said Fudge, affronted. "A very old family — donations to excellent causes —"

"If I donate to excellent causes, does that mean you'll listen?" Tori sneered. "I wasn't aware the Ministry could be bought."

Nessa loved her. She'd have told her so if she wasn't trying so hard to keep Harry in his bed.

"Macnair!" Harry continued before Fudge could retort.

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

Yeah, slaughtering animals so he clearly was getting his share of the macabre and twisted while he was there.

"Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle —"

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting taller and you're still swallowing them — the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"You're prejudiced and ignorant because of it!" Nessa said at the same time that McGonagall cried, "You fool! Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, meeting her anger with his own, his face purpling. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

Nessa wanted to throttle him.

He was scared. A coward.

He was comfortable in his organized, wealthy bubble and he had no intention of seeing the truth. It would require a level of bravery that she wasn't sure he possessed and Nessa was not sure that they had the time to convince him.

"For God's sake, this is your job!" she said hotly. "This is what you signed up for when you ran for election! You couldn't expect every day to be easy! You had to know that you'd be faced with tough decisions —!"

"That's hardly the point," Fudge spluttered.

"It's exactly the point!" she said angrily. "You're doing this for you, not the people that you're sworn to protect! That stability you've been building for the last thirteen years? It was built on the backs of people who died to give it to you! You disgrace them — you disgrace Cedric by standing here and refusing to see what's right in front of you!"

There was a heavy silence as Fudge gaped at her, and Dumbledore took his opportunity to try and get through to him once more.

"Voldemort has returned," he repeated. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors —"

Nessa looked at him curiously. She trusted him more than Fudge, but she had no idea what the dementors had to do with anything.

Fudge appeared to find this suggestion more frightening than curious.

"Preposterous!" shouted Fudge, suddenly finding his words again. "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" said Dumbledore. Nessa blanched. "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

God, she was going to be sick.

The dementors had supported Voldemort before? She hadn't known that. If he had their support again then…well, there was nothing to stop his oldest supporters — his craziest supporters, likely — from joining him again. Those that had been too proud of their actions to pretend to be Imperiused…what would they do to someone like Harry? What wouldn't they do for a man who wanted him dead?

Fudge did not appear as alarmed as he should given the stakes. Instead he was opening and closing his mouth as though there were not enough words to express his outrage.

"The second step you must take — and at once," said Dumbledore. "Is send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" shrieked Fudge, finding his tongue again. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship now before it is too late," said Dumbledore. "Or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You — you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head at Dumbledore and retreating further away from him. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants — people hate them, Dumbledore — end of my career —"

"You are blinded," said Dumbledore, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more. "By the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last member of a pure-blood family as old as any — and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now — take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act — and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane," Fudge whispered, still backing away. "Mad…"

And then there was silence. Madame Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry's bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs. Weasley and Nessa were still standing over Harry, each with a hand on his shoulder, even though he was no longer struggling to get up. Everyone else was staring at Fudge.

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. "We have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit."

Nessa had never respected Dumbledore more in any moment as she did right then. Not having the Minister's support was not a good thing, but it would not stop Dumbledore from doing what he could, no matter who stood in his way.

And he didn't even have to be horribly intimidating to get that point across. His voice contained no hint of a threat at all. It simply was the way of things. It was his truth.

Despite this, Fudge bristled as if Dumbledore were advancing on him with a wand.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a threatening finger. He was much shorter than Dumbledore — and not nearly as powerful — so it looked mostly comical. "I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me —"

"The only one against whom I intend to work," said Dumbledore. "Is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of plea in his voice, "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be…"

Nessa might have felt bad for him if he wasn't willfully ignoring the people's safety for the sake of denial and ignorance.

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. Nessa gasped before she could stop it.

There, on his forearm, was a pale tattoo of the Dark Mark outlined in solid black.

Jesus, he — he'd really been a Death Eater…

"There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side."

A brand, Nessa thought in horror. He'd branded them. And it was not lost on her that he'd not branded himself as well — he needed to use the mark of another Death Eater to summon them; not a mark of his own.

Disgusting as it was, it explained why Snape had been rubbing at his arm so incessantly.

"This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word that Snape had said. He stared, apparently appalled by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.

"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and setting it on Harry's bedside table. "There would normally be a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…"

"We don't want that," Nessa said, looking at the bag as if it was Voldemort himself.

It felt like they were giving her brother blood money, and though none of it was hers, she didn't want a single piece of gold in that bag touching any of the money they already had in their vault. It would taint it somehow — she didn't know how, but it would.

Harry didn't appear to disagree, but Fudge ignored her completely. He crammed his bowler hat on his head and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group gathered around the wing.

"There is work to be done," said Dumbledore. "Molly…am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," said Mrs. Weasley. Her lips were white but her expression was resolute. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper Wizarding pride."

There was nothing to be said about how disgusting that was.

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," Dumbledore said. "All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well-placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," said Bill, standing immediately. "I'll go now."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry —"

"Leave it to me," Bill said.

He clapped Harry on the shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, and ruffled Nessa's hair again. She gripped his forearm when he moved to pass her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

For helping, for believing Harry, for not looking at either of them as if they were insane. Maybe all of it, she didn't know. Bill squeezed her shoulder before he swept from the room.

"Minerva," Dumbledore continued. "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — Madame Maxime."

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

"Poppy," said Dumbledore. "Would you be so kind as to go to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in significant distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very — very well," said Madame Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.

Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madame Pomfrey's footsteps had died away before he continued.

"And now," he said. "It is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius…if you could resume your usual form."

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore. Tori hesitated, her arms still wrapped around the dog's neck, but after a shared look with Nessa, she released him. In an instant, the dog turned into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

"Sirius Black!" she shrieked, pointing at him.

"Mum, shut up!" yelled Ron. "It's okay!"

There was a heavy silence after that Tori broke.

"Forgive Molly," she said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "She's always been a bit dramatic."

Fred snorted, but he was the only one to react to the words. Snape and Sirius were staring at each other with mingled fury and hatred.

"Him!" Snape snarled. "What is he doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between them. "As are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

Nessa has never heard a request so ridiculous. The two of them were looking at each other as though they'd like to feed each other through a wood chipper. Tori seemed to agree because she muttered, "Fat chance," at Fred, who looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep from laughing.

"I will settle, in the short term," said Dumbledore, a bite of impatience in his voice. "For a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth stand united, there is no hope for any of us."

Very slowly — but still glaring at each other as though they wished each other nothing but ill — Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, while not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, Remus — I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Arabella Fig, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Sirius, lie low at Lupin's for awhile; I will contact you there."

"But —" Harry said, clearly wanting Sirius to stay.

"Now wait a minute," Tori said, sounding slightly panicked.

"You'll see me very soon, both of you," Sirius said to them. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry, still sounding disappointed. "Yeah…of course I do."

Tori scowled.

"What if one of them reports you?" she said. "Fudge would love to arrest you again and —"

"I will be there," Remus promised quietly. "It will ease them."

Tori looked like she might argue, but Sirius stepped forward, cupping the sides of her face with his hands and smiling at her sadly. Mrs. Weasley tensed, but said nothing. Surprisingly, Tori did not move away.

"I will take precautions," he said quietly. "But sometimes we must all take risks."

Tori was still scowling, but she nodded once. Nessa allowed Remus to pull her into a hug.

"It feels like you just got here," she grumbled quietly. He chuckled.

"Indeed," he said, pulling back. "But I will see you again." He pulled back and gave her a hard look. "And I know what you're thinking — you cannot join the resistance yet —"

"Like hell," she said angrily.

Remus sighed.

"There will be time for vengeance, Vanessa," he said quietly. "But that day is not today. When you are of age, I will not stop you —"

"That's in October —" she argued, not understanding what difference a few months would make in the grander scheme of things, and ignoring that that sounded exactly like what the twins had said when they'd tried to enter the tournament.

"You are well placed to protect Harry doing exactly what you do now," Remus said firmly, clearly not willing to waver on this. "And there is no one else in this room more equipped to protect him than you, even Dumbledore." She sincerely doubted that because Dumbledore had proven to be quite scary in the last several hours. "When you're of age, we can discuss this again."

She wanted to throttle him too, but she didn't have the time. They were running short on time as it was, and that was clear by Dumbledore's impatience.

"Fine," she bit out. "I'll see you in October then."

The corner of his lips twitched.

"I've no doubt about that," he said, sounding amused.

"Until we meet again, Victoria," Sirius said to his daughter before he squeezed Harry's hand, and turned back into a dog, walking out of the room with Remus.

"Severus," said Dumbledore. "You know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…if you are prepared…"

"I am," said Snape.

He looked paler than usual, and his cold black eyes glittered strangely.

Nessa looked between the two of them anxiously. What the hell was he talking about?

"Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius and Remus.

It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again.

"I must go downstairs," he said finally. "I must speak with the Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."

Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore disappeared. Nessa ignored that everyone was looking at him, and reached for his potion and goblet. Her hand knocked the bag of gold next to it, and she winced, rubbing at her hand as if it had infected her somehow.

"You have a sleep," Mrs. Weasley said, smoothing the covers around him unnecessarily. "Try and think of something else for a while…think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"

"I don't want that gold," said Harry in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's."

His name sent a stab of pain through her chest, and she nearly dropped the goblet she was still holding out to him. He looked like he was going to cry now, and she couldn't tell if she preferred that over the emotionless shock or not, but she set the goblet down on the nightstand again, and wrapped him in a hug.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught of pain.

"I told him to take the Cup with me," Harry said into her shoulder. "We got there at the same time. He told me to take it. I insisted we do it together."

God, her heart ached. Was it possible to die of heartbreak?

"You couldn't have known," she said, her voice trembling. "You did a kind and honorable thing. This is not your fault."

She didn't have the opportunity to find out if her brother believed her because in that moment, there was a loud slamming noise. They broke apart. Hermione was standing near the window, holding something tight in her hands.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Your potion, Harry," reminded Mrs. Weasley, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

Nessa handed it to him and he drank it in one gulp. He was asleep the very next moment. She blinked, trying to find it within herself to move, to not wonder what would have happened if she simply hadn't gotten up today. If she'd looked for some outcome to her brother's name coming out of the goblet that didn't include death or a loss of magic.

If she'd told Cedric her suspicions about Voldemort, would he have been more prepared to fight back? If she'd told Dumbledore that she'd been having dreams about being attacked by Moody, would she have stopped the entire thing from happening at all? If she'd managed to beat Crouch in that duel, could she have stopped it?

She jumped when George touched her on the arm and pulled her back toward the bed she'd been occupying. He handed her the rest of her potion and she drank it without a word, praying that it would erase the entire day away as it dragged her into darkness.

Up there among characters I hate most from this series…Cornelius Fudge. A big bitch if there ever was one. But I'll reserve that being said in the story in favor of Umbridge, who is by far and absolutely my LEAST favorite character. Voldemort is horrible, but UMBRIDGE is the villain. Change my mind.

I'll see you in a few days for the last chapter of Perfect Storm and the first of the next story, which I am already five chapters into! Am I insane? Probably, yes. See you soon!