And this is the last chapter of Goblet Of Fire.

Hopefully you liked it. I felt like it took forever, and it brought up old feelings of my deep rooted hatred for Rita Skeeter. The way she wrote about teenagers was appalling.

I'm hoping that you're liking the story so far. Fifth year is going to be crazy.

Anyways, back to the fic.

Chapter 113: A New Beginning

The next few days seemed to be a blur.

Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower the following evening. Hermione and I told him how Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry alone, that nobody ask him questions or badger him to tell the story of what had happened in the maze.

Most people seemed to be avoiding Harry. Some whispered behind their hands as he passed. Rita Skeeter's article had damaged his reputation to the idiots that believed her bile. Some were formulating their own theories about how Cedric had died.

Hermione and I spent time keeping his mind occupied, discussing everything else, but what had happened. The only time I touched upon the subject was when I told Harry about a meeting Mum had had with Dumbledore before going home.

"She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer," I said. "But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first."

"Why?" said Harry.

"She said Dumbledore's got his reasons," I said, shaking my head darkly. "I suppose we've got to trust him, haven't we?"

When Mum had told me this herself, I had protested. It didn't seem fair at all that he had to go back to that dreary place. To leave all the chaos he had endured only to go back to that hellhole? It simply wasn't fair.

The only person apart from Hermione and I that Harry seemed comfortable to talk to was Hagrid. As there was no longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, we had those lessons free. We used the one on Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid in his cabin. It was a bright and sunny day; Fang bounded out of the open door as we approached, barking and wagging his tail madly.

"Who's that?" called Hagrid, coming to the door. "Harry!"

He strode out to meet us, pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffled his hair, and said, "Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh."

Two bucket-size cups and saucers sat on the wooden table in front of the fireplace.

"Bin havin' a cuppa with Olympe," Hagrid said. "She's jus' left."

"Who?" I asked curiously.

"Madame Maxime, o' course!" said Hagrid.

"You two made up, have you?" I smirked.

"Dunno what yeh're talkin' about," said Hagrid airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes.

"You all righ'?" he said gruffly

"Yeah," said Harry.

"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. "Course yeh're not. But yeh will be."

Harry said nothing.

"Knew he was goin' ter come back," said Hagrid, and the three of us looked up at him, shocked. "Known it fer years. Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledores plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried."

Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows at the disbelieving expressions on our faces.

"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," he said. "What's comin' will come, an we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did. Harry."

Hagrid's chest swelled as he looked at Harry.

"Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that."

Harry smiled back at him. It was the first time he had given a genuine smile in days.

"What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?" he asked. "He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him - that night."

"Got a little job fer me over the summer," said Hagrid. "Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou' it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe - Madame Maxime ter you - might be comin' with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded."

"Is it to do with Voldemort?"

Hagrid flinched at the sound of the name.

"Migh' be," he said evasively. "Now...who'd like ter come an' visit the las' skrewt with me? I was jokin' - jokin'!" he added hastily, seeing the looks on our faces.

Harry and I packed quietly on the night before we had to leave. As much as I loved the food, I was actually not looking forward to the Leaving Feast, and neither was Harry, who had been avoiding eating in the Great Hall when the whole school was in there.

When the three of us entered the Hall, we saw at once that the usual decorations were missing. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House's colors for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers' table. In respect of Cedric.

After we ate, Dumbledore went up to the podium to speak. The room went deathly quiet.

"The end," said Dumbledore, looking around at us all, "of another year."

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

All of us, including the Slytherins did as we were told. The benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised our goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Cedric Diggory."

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

Harry, Hermione, and I raised our heads and stared at Dumbledore.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so - either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now...or almost every face. Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry's direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured his name, as they had murmured Cedric's, and drank to him. But through a gap in the standing figures. Harry saw that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and many of the other Slytherins had remained defiantly in their seats, their goblets untouched.

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened - of Lord Voldemort's return - such ties are more important than ever before."

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief- and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

Harry, Hermione, and I were waiting in the crowded entrance hall with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take us back to Hogsmeade station. It was another beautiful summer's day. Though I was happy to be going back home, I felt horrible that Harry too, had to go to that place he unfortunately called home.

"'Arry!" Fleur Delacour called, hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

"We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," said Fleur as she reached him, holding out her hand. "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."

"It's very good already," I said in a strangled sort of voice, suddenly feeling lighter than air by her presence. Fleur smiled at me. Hermione scowled.

"Good-bye, 'Arry," said Fleur, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"

Harry must have gotten hit by her veela powers too, because he looked a little more pleasant.

Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," I pondered out loud. "Do you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"

"Karkaroff did not steer," said a gruff voice. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork."

Krum had brought his annoying and hideous face over to say goodbye to Hermione. "Could I have a vord?" he asked her.

"Oh...yes...all right," said Hermione, looking slightly flustered, and following Krum through the crowd and out of sight.

"You'd better hurry up!" I called loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!"

I had Harry keep a watch for the carriages, however, and spent the next few minutes craning my neck over the crowd to try and see what Krum was up to with Hermione.

'He better keep his crusty ass lips to himself.' I thought as I watched them talk. They returned quite soon, and I stared at Hermione, who would not meet my eyes for shit.

"I liked Diggory," I heard Krum say to Harry. "He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang - with Karkaroff," he added, scowling.

"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" said Harry

Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, and then, surprisingly, mine. I felt like I was suffering from painful internal struggle as I shook it. Krum had already started walking away when my dumbass burst out, "Can I have your autograph?"

Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless carriages that were now trundling toward us up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for me.

I felt ashamed of myself. I thought of burning it, but seeing as he was a famous Quidditch player, it could be worth a lot of money someday. So I decided to keep it.

He could still kiss my ass.

The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King's Cross than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. We managed to get a compartment to themselves. Pig was once again hidden under my hideous dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. Harry talked more fully and freely than he had all week as the train sped us southward. We broke off our conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the lunch trolley arrived.

When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in there. Harry looked at it, unsure whether he really wanted to know what it might say, but Hermione, seeing him looking at it, said calmly, "There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me. Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."

"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this."

"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task. As a matter of fact," she added, her voice now trembling slightly, "Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."

"What are you talking about?" I said, intrigued.

"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," said Hermione in a rush.

"How was she doing it?" said Harry at once.

"How did you find out?" I said, staring at her.

"Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea. Harry," she said.

"Did I?" said Harry, perplexed. "How?"

"Bugging," said Hermione happily.

"But you said they didn't work -"

"Oh not electronic bugs," said Hermione. "No, you see...Rita Skeeter" - Hermione's voice trembled with quiet triumph - "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn -"

Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out other bag.

"- into a beetle."

I felt dumbstruck. "You're kidding!You haven't...she's not..."

"Oh yes she is," said Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at them.

Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle.

"That's never - you're kidding -" I whispered, lifting the jar to my eyes, tempted to shake the jar to give her a rattle.

"No, I'm not," said Hermione, beaming. "I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."

Harry and I looked and saw that she was quite right.

"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" remembered Harry.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."

"When we saw Malfoy under that tree..." I said slowly, piecing it together.

"He was talking to her, in his hand," said Hermione. "He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid."

Hermione took the glass jar back from me and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass.

"I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," said Hermione. "I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."

"You're brilliant, you are." I said to Hermione, thoroughly impressed

Smiling pridefully, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag.

The door of the compartment slid open.

"Very clever. Granger," said Draco Malfoy.

Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. All three of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing, than I had ever seen them.

"So," said Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at us, a smirk quivering on his lips. "You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal."

His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered.

"Trying not to think about it, are we?" said Malfoy softly, looking around at all three of them. "Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out," said Harry, his hand gripped his wand under his robes.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!" He jerked his head at Hermione and I. "Too late now. Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well - second - Diggory was the f-"

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, I blinked and looked down at the floor.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. The three of us were on our feet, having used a different hex. Nor were we the only ones to have done so.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside.

"Interesting effect," said George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Odd," said George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Harry, George, and I kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious ferret and whales, each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit, out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

We were halfway through our fifth game when Harry decided to ask them. "You going to tell us, then? Who you were blackmailing?"

"Oh," said George darkly. "That."

"It doesn't matter," said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," said George, shrugging.

We nagged them over and over with questions. Finally, Fred said, "All right, all right, if you really want to know...it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman?" said Harry sharply. "Are you saying he was involved in -"

"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?"

Fred hesitated, then said, "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah," said Harry and I slowly.

"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

"So?"

"So," said Fred impatiently, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"But - it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione.

George laughed very bitterly.

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back," said George glowering.

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!" I said, angrily.

"Tell me about it," said George. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" said Harry.

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win!" said Harry. "Well - I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope," said George, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again.

The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough, and all too soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Hermione and I struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying our trunks. Harry, however, stayed put.

"See you in a bit." he told us.

We stepped off the train and went through the barrier, where Mum was waiting, along with Hermione's parents. And so was Harry's pumpkin of an uncle. Mum hugged both Harry and Hermione tightly.

A shot while later, Harry returned. He grimaced at his uncle, then turned to us.

"See you. Harry," I said, clapping him on the back.

"'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

Part of me wanted to hex him. The other part of me told me to chuck it up to Hermione being sweet and let it go.

Harry walked off with his uncle and left the building.

Hermione turned to me and started putting her hair behind her ear, another nervous reaction of hers.

"I guess call me when you can." she said. "Whenever you want to go to the cinema."

"Then I'll call you tomorrow." I said, sounding like a git.

Hermione laughed. "We probably can't go tomorrow. Mum and Dad would want to take me to visit family or something. But...you could still call...just to talk."

"Sure. And talk to your folks about coming. You can come as soon as you want. Mum won't mind."

"I will." she said. And then, she reached out and hugged me. Not in a way that she had ever done before, but on her tiptoes with her arms around my neck, her head against my shoulder, and her chest against my chest.

Since the task, Hermione hadn't been this close to me. And this wasn't a hug for comfort for her sorrow. This felt different. And at first, I felt as if I didn't know what to do, but I quickly just let my body take over and hugged her with my arms around her back, bringing her closer into me. I could smell the familiar scent of her hair, which always smelled good, sometimes of cinnamon, this time of vanilla.

And we stood like that for maybe a few seconds too long, because my eyes had opened up to Mum grinning in my face. I hadn't even realized that I had closed my eyes.

We let go of each other, giving an awkward chuckle.

"See you soon, Ron." said Hermione as she lifted Crookshanks carrier, and walked off with her parents.

"Bye." I said, as I ignored the snickering of my brothers and sister from behind me.

I could tell that his was going to be a long and barmy ride home.