The aftermath of the talk with Dumbledore had been a crucible, forging an unlikely family from the fiery depths of shared disillusionment. The sheen of respect Harry had once held for the Headmaster had tarnished, replaced by a cold, hard distrust that seeped into his very bones. He wasn't alone. Hermione, Fleur, Cedric, and Viktor, each in their own way, had witnessed cracks in Dumbledore's facade – manipulations, omissions, a chilling willingness to sacrifice pawns for the greater good. They had huddled in the Room of Requirement that night, the air thick with unspoken fears and the nascent bonds of loyalty.
"Okay," Cedric had said, his voice grounded and pragmatic, "What are we going to do?"
Harry had been silent, lost in thought, the weight of the prophecy and the looming threat of Voldemort pressing down on him. He'd seen things in the graveyard, felt the Dark Lord's power firsthand.
"Tom's without his men and still in his baby form," Harry finally said, his voice low and gravelly, "but he's got something up his sleeve. I wouldn't be surprised if he went to Al."
The silence that followed was deafening. Fleur was the first to break it. "What?" she asked, her beautiful face etched with disbelief.
Harry pushed on, driven by a need to explain the growing unease in his gut. "Voldemort's afraid of Dumbledore, but not for the reason you think."
"What do you mean, Harry?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed in concentration. She always needed to understand, to dissect and analyze.
Harry pulled a worn, leather-bound book from a hidden pocket he'd created in his robes. The book, titled 'Notorious Wizards and Dark Lords,' was one he'd discovered in the Forbidden Section of the library, an area he'd been granted access to as a Triwizard champion, a privilege he now viewed with suspicion. "It's not because he's more powerful than Tommy. It's because," he flipped to a dog-eared page, "he is a hack."
"Huh?" Cedric mumbled, Viktor's expression was equally puzzled.
Harry pointed to a passage describing Albus Dumbledore's rise to power. Stories of his legendary duels were intertwined with accounts of ruthless ambition, strategic betrayals, and a willingness to exploit weaknesses, even those of his allies.
"He would find ways to destroy his enemies?" Hermione asked, her voice barely a whisper. She was pale, the implications of what she was reading sinking in.
"Even go as far as destroying zeir souls?" Fleur added, her accent thickening with emotion. Harry nodded grimly. The book hinted at a darkness within Dumbledore, a relentless pursuit of victory that overshadowed any moral considerations.
The revelation hung heavy in the air, solidifying their shared unease. The wizard they had trusted implicitly was not the benevolent grandfather figure he seemed to be. He was a player in a game far more complex and dangerous than they had ever imagined, and they were merely pawns.
"What's the plan?" Cedric asked, his voice calm and resolute. The fear was still there, but beneath it lay a steely determination.
Harry looked at each of them, his new family, the people he now trusted more than anyone. He finally felt the rage rise. "I'm done playing games," said Harry. "He wants control? Let's show him what that costs." He raised his fist in the middle of their circle. One by one, they nodded, their faces grim, and placed their fists against his. "The fall is coming."
The next morning, the atmosphere at Hogwarts was palpably different. The usual end-of-term buzz was muted, replaced by a sense of anticipation, a feeling that something significant was about to unfold. Students were packing their trunks, exchanging farewells, and basking in the last rays of sunshine before the journey home.
Then the doors to the Great Hall slammed open.
The noise silenced the room. All eyes turned to the entrance.
Harry, flanked by Hermione, Fleur, Cedric, and Viktor, stood framed in the doorway. The usual Gryffindor bravado was replaced by a quiet, contained power.
Since everyone was going home, they were dressed out of the school uniforms and dressed in tie-less suits (Harry, Cedric and Viktor) or dress suits (Hermione and Fleur). They looked… different. Older, more mature, their faces set with a purpose that belied their age. They walked into the Great Hall to stunned silence.
Harry, the boy who had always shied away from the spotlight, walked with a newfound confidence, his shoulders squared, his gaze unwavering. He held himself like a general surveying his troops before battle. Hermione, usually buried in books, stood tall, her intelligence radiating from her like a tangible force. Fleur, no longer merely a beautiful face, exuded an aura of regal authority. Cedric, the epitome of fairness and sportsmanship, radiated an aura of quiet strength. And Viktor, the internationally renowned Quidditch star, stood as a silent, imposing guardian.
They moved as a unit, a force to be reckoned with, and the silence in the Great Hall only deepened, amplifying the unsettling atmosphere they brought with them. Everyone knew, in that moment, that something had irrevocably changed. The game had begun, and they were no longer playing by Dumbledore's rules.
The clatter of silverware against plates ceased entirely. Every eye in the Great Hall, from the giggling first years to the wizened professors, was fixed on Harry and his companions. The usual morning chatter had evaporated, replaced by a palpable anticipation. Harry, flanked by Cedric and Victor, strode forward with a confidence that belied his age. Hermione and Fleur, radiating elegance and determination, walked slightly behind, their presence a silent promise of unwavering support.
Harry stopped at the head table, directly in front of Dumbledore. The headmaster's twinkling eyes held a flicker of surprise, quickly masked by his usual benevolent expression.
"Harry," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying through the silent hall. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Harry's eyes, usually bright with mischief, were now cold and hard. "You've helped enough, Headmaster." He didn't raise his voice, but his words were laced with steel. "We're here to make an announcement."
He turned to face the assembled students and staff. Cedric stepped forward slightly, his hand resting lightly on Harry's shoulder. "We've come to a realization," Cedric stated, his voice clear and strong. "The game we've all been playing, the one with hidden agendas and manipulated pawns, is over."
Hermione stepped beside him, her intelligence shining in her gaze. "We've uncovered truths that cannot be ignored. Truths about the past, the present, and the future that is being forced upon us." She paused, her eyes sweeping the room. "We've discovered that those we trusted most have been less than honest with us."
A murmur rippled through the hall. McGonagall, her face creased with concern, opened her mouth to speak, but Fleur cut in, her voice carrying an unmistakable edge. "We refuse to be puppets any longer. We will not stand by while our lives, our futures, are decided for us by others."
Victor, his usually stoic features etched with resolve, added, "We are taking control of our own destinies. We are no longer playing by Albus Dumbledore's rules."
Harry stepped forward again, his gaze meeting Dumbledore's directly. "We know what you've done, Headmaster. We know the choices you've made and the reasons behind them. And we are no longer willing to be a part of your game." He deliberately dropped the "Headmaster". A gasp went through the crowd. Accusations of treason seemed about to explode. Some in the crowd were looking to Dumbledore for a response, for him to say it wasn't true. For his kind smile to return and quell the crowd. But it never came.
"You speak of control, Harry," Dumbledore finally said, his voice calm but tinged with weariness. "But control for what purpose? Surely, you understand the dangers that lie ahead."
Harry laughed, a short, mirthless sound. "Dangers? You mean the ones you've been orchestrating? The ones you've been using to manipulate events for your own ends? We know about your plans, Headmaster. And we know that they come at a steep price – a price we are not willing to pay."
He raised his hand, signaling to his friends. "We are leaving Hogwarts," he announced, his voice resonating with finality. "We are taking our futures into our own hands. And we will fight for the world we want to live in – a world free from manipulation, secrets, and lies."
With that, Harry turned and, followed closely by Cedric, Hermione, Fleur, and Victor, walked out of the Great Hall. The silence that followed was deafening. The stunned silence was broken by the sound of chairs scraping on the ground as handfuls of students started to collect their things and follow. An unknown future.