Fleur and Cedric went over their strategy in hushed tones. There wasn't any prohibition against the competitors working together, so they planned to watch each other's backs and take the cup together. Viktor kept to himself, but he went through simulations in his head and occasionally mimed fighting something only he could see. Sometimes it was a wand movement, sometimes he wrestled the air.
Harry cleared his throat to get their attention, and they all stopped what they were doing to look at him in surprise. It cut him that he'd done such a good job of dropping out of life that they were all shocked he could make noise.
"This isn't a game anymore." He said quietly, "It isn't even a dangerous Tournament. It's a trap meant for me. Whatever you do, don't touch the Triwizard cup, it's been made into a Portkey that will take you to Voldemort."
"What?!" Cedric demanded, half angry and half unbelieving. Fleur simply frowned as she looked between the two of them.
"I'm going to go directly to the center of the maze and end this farce in about two minutes. I just wanted you to know so you're not upset later." Harry explained.
"Trollshit!" Viktor exploded. He stalked toward Harry and poked his finger into Harry's chest. "You say these because you loose!"
"Viktor." Harry said calmly as he looked into his eyes, "You know I don't give a damn about the tournament. I never did. I didn't choose to turn this event into something else, Voldemort did. I'm not going to go get the cup in order to win, I'm going to get the cup so that you can get on with your life. I'm going to go kill Voldemort. Again."
Viktor sneered at him. "Khow you are kill Voldemort?! You are student! You are just boy!"
Harry held up his left hand and willed his House Ring visible. "I am Lord Harry James Potter."
Viktor's face fell, and his eyes flicked to the ring that Harry held up for them all to see, Potter crest plainly visible. He took in the crest, Harry's green eyes, his unrulable length of black hair, and seemed to see him for the first time. He reached up and brushed Harry's hair back from his forehead to reveal his scar. His eyes widened and he took a step backward and made a small bow in front of him.
"Excuse. I not know." He said quietly.
"What?!" Cedric echoed himself.
"You... are 'Arry Potteur..." Fleur's eyes locked onto him and she started breathing heavily.
"Sorry I had to keep it from you." Harry apologized. "Once Voldemort is dead I'll tell everyone. Until then I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."
Viktor looked from Fleur to Harry. "Is no joke. Is really Dark Lord to khill you."
Harry nodded. "No joke. I Legillimensed several Death Eaters in order to find out. I know it's a trap and I'm off to spring it."
Viktor took a deep breath and blew it out his nose, and his face said he'd come to terms with the Tournament ending stupidly. "Khow you get szru maze fast? You vant khelp?"
"I appreciate that, Viktor. I really do, but it's not necessary. The maze is unfair for the same reason me playing quidditch would be unfair. I'm just going to fly to the center. I don't need a broom."
"You fly vit no brum." He narrowed his eyes at Harry.
Harry Resonated and rose off the floor.
Viktor scowled and ground his teeth. "I khate you."
"I can teach you how if you want." Harry resumed standing on the ground.
Viktor's eyebrows jumped. "You vud do these?"
Harry nodded. "Sure. It'll take a long time to learn though. I'll have to come visit you fairly regularly."
Viktor broke into a joyous grin. "Kha!" He grabbed Harry in a bear hug and bounced him around the tent.
"A simple. Yes. Would. Suffice." Harry said when he wasn't being compressed.
Viktor dropped Harry and clapped him on the back with a huge grin.
A second later, Bagman entered the tent, preceded by his tight-shirted paunch.
"Champions!!" He opened his arms expansively. "Feeling good, I hope!"
"I honestly have no idea." Cedric said. He looked at Harry, then at Bagman, then at Viktor, then at Fleur.
Fleur smiled at him and kissed him, and he seemed to snap out of his daze.
"Well if that doesn't make you feel good, then you need to check your pulse, young man!" Bagman laughed.
Cedric shot an indecipherable look at Harry, but Harry had already resumed his grieving face and mouthed "Later" at him.
"Everyone's feeling warmed up and ready to go, I hope? You two obviously are! Hah!" Bagman waved a hand at Cedric and Fleur.
Viktor looked Bagman in the eyes and said in french "You are a stupid, fat, lazy, gambling grease pig. You are a disgrace to that uniform." Then he turned on his heel and left the tent.
Cedric stood and pulled Fleur with him by the hand. He paused in front of Bagman, and Cedric glared at Bagman as well. "What he said." Then they left the tent too. Harry had to use Occlumency exercises to keep from laughing.
"Why doesn't anyone remember I don't speak french?" Bagman asked quietly. He took one look at Harry's black stormcloud face and just left the tent after Cedric and Fleur.
The stands and central stage were lit by floating lumos spheres, and Harry internally shook his head. Now the Ministry would have people sit and watch a patch of darkness on the quidditch pitch instead of a patch of dark water. Why were there even stands at all?
Dumbledore smiled and raised his hand to the crowd, then paused to drink in their cheers like an alcoholic at a distillery. After a long moment he raised his other hand as well, and the shouts died down.
"Welcome to the Third Task, the culmination of the Triwizard Tournament!" He bellowed in his magically-loud voice. "Your Champions, these four brave souls, go now into the most deviously crafted maze to ever exist! Therein to battle for their very lives with their wits and their magic, and even their very bodies..." He went on to describe how arduous and terrifying everything would be in the maze, but Harry had already tuned it out. It was obvious his entire speech was intended to make everyone in the stands glad they weren't in the maze - to distract them from the fact that they would be staring at the opening between two fifteen-foot tall bushes for an hour in the dark.
It would really only be a minute or two, but they didn't know that. Ludo took over the shouting after Dumbledore had worked the crowd into a quivering lather. He explained that Viktor would enter the maze first, that was his reward for being in first place, and that Fleur and Cedric, tied for second, would enter after him based on their scores. Harry would enter the maze twelve minutes after Viktor, as he was dead last by a very large margin.
"Viktor, GO!" Bagman shouted, as he clicked a stopwatch in his hand. Viktor pulled out his wand and cast a glance backward at Harry before he jogged purposefully into the maze.
After a minute and twenty seconds, Ludo shouted "Fleur and Cedric, GO!" They held hands and just walked through the opening.
Harry sat back on his chair and crossed one ankle over his opposite knee and stayed that way, looking at the floor of the stage until Bagman whispered to him ten minutes later.
"You're up in one minute, kid."
Harry looked up at him. "Out of curiosity, did you bet on me to bring back the cup?"
Ludo blinked, then laughed at him. "That's an idiot's bet, kid. No chance."
Harry smiled back at him. "You may want to leave now, ahead of your debtors. You're about to have a very unhappy evening."
Ludo laughed even harder. "I like you kid. I'd say I hope you don't die in there, but that's what I bet on, so I kinda hope you do. No offense."
"Time me." Harry said. "I'll be back here with the cup in under two minutes."
"Alright, you're on. I'll time you just for the sheer balls you've got. Get ready." He put his wand to his throat again and yelled to the crowd "Duncan, GO!"
Harry ran from the stage into the maze, then cast the three nondetections and took to the air. As he flew toward the center of the quidditch pitch, he noticed that the center of the maze was slightly farther away than actual center, but it was brightly lit. As he descended toward it, he saw an Erumpent and a giant scorpion just waiting patiently for anyone to enter their space.
He dropped down behind them to the shimmering Triwizard cup and quietly flew away with it back toward the entrance to the maze. He paused overtop of Viktor, then Fleur and Cedric to tell them he had the cup and they could go back to the entrance. He set down not far from the opening everyone in the stands watched breathlessly, cancelled the nondetections, and sauntered nonchalantly back into the light.
Bagman's jaw dropped open, and Harry saw him reflexively click his stopwatch as he walked out of the entrance to the maze holding the cup.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, glared openly at him, then descended on him as he walked up onto the stage.
"What have you done?!" Dumbledore whispered furiously, "How dare you make this a mockery?!" Part of Harry's mind noticed that Dumbledore had a wild glint in his eye, like he had to struggle to control himself. His breath smelled... medicinal.
Harry bit back the furious retort that boiled up his throat. How dare he? How dare he? His fingers tingled and clenched with the need to grab the old man and tear his head from his shoulders. He just stared death into Dumbledore's eyes while he wrestled his own urges back under control. When he had a grip on himself, he turned to Madame Maxime and Karkaroff and responded to Dumbledore loudly. "As though this entire tournament wasn't a mockery to begin with! I'm sure Madame Maxime agrees! Have you read her article in La Parisien Magique?" Harry leaned to the side of Dumbledore and looked to Madame Maxime. "I thought it was brilliant, by the way."
Madame Maxime smiled and inclined her head toward him gracefully.
"And anyway, I read the rules. There are no restrictions against flying." Harry turned his attention back to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore tried to Legillimens him again, and Harry had to stop himself from his knee-jerk defensive reaction. It wouldn't do to have Dumbledore unconscious just then. Instead, he let the Headmaster flounder and flop against his closed mind like a fish made of gelatin. "Have you found Voldemort yet?" He whispered angrily at the old man.
That sent a shock through Dumbledore, and he seemed to remember his true purpose.
"Ah. Yes, quite right, no rules against flying. Well done then." Dumbledore plastered a smile onto his face and went to confer with Madame Maxime and Karkaroff, as Bagman seemed to be suddenly missing.
Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor emerged from the maze then and joined Harry on the stage while they waited for the judges to finish their deliberations. It was plain even from where they stood that Dumbledore argued with Maxime and Karkaroff. He needed Harry to 'win' the Third Task in order to send him to slaughter, despite the fact that Maxime and Karkaroff probably both thought Dumbledore had hidden the cup somewhere close by and told Harry where. He wondered what they'd say if they knew Dumbledore was actually conspiring to kill him rather than exalt him.
Viktor leaned over to whisper to Harry with a manic glint in his eye. "Khow fast you go vhen fly?"
Harry stopped the smile that threatened his facade before he whispered back. "Faster than any broom will ever go. Like spellfire."
Viktor's face split in a beatific grin. "Vhen ve start train?"
Harry tightened his lips for a second before he answered. "Even if I don't die tonight, I might not be here tomorrow. Find Neville, he can get you started. If I do die tonight, then I'm sorry for getting your hopes up."
Viktor put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I khappy I not you. To face Dark Lord to fight for life... You are bravest man I ever meet. I am glad you khave khonour."
Viktor's eyes were clear and humble as Harry looked into them, and could see Viktor did not think himself up to the challenge Harry faced. He nodded to the other man.
"I've done my best to prepare. I'm glad I got to know you a little Viktor, even if we did butt heads some." He held out a hand.
Viktor clasped forearms with him. "Da. Do not die."
"Your attention please!" Dumbledore's voice rang out through the night, magically enhanced to reach the farthest stand. "After deliberating with my fellow judges, we have come to the conclusion that Mister MacFusty broke no rules in retrieving the Triwizard cup, and his victory in the Third Task will stand!"
Dumbledore reached out and took the second handle of the cup to raise it in the air. Harry knew he couldn't let go, so he pretended to be happy at the outcome and waved to Neville and Daphne and Luna in the stands. He wasn't sure if it was them who started it, but cheering rang out over the stage.
Dumbledore waved Cedric, Fleur, and Victor over to them as the cheering surged, then waved his hand to the crowd for the cheering to die down.
"The winner of the Triwizard Tournament will be announced tomorrow at dinner during closing ceremonies! A round of applause for your Triwizard Champions -"
Harry felt the now-familiar yank of portkey travel as he and Dumbledore suddenly spun away from the Tournament and the crowd. Dumbledore's expression held no surprise. His eyes focused on Harry, and he set his jaw and glowered. Then Dumbledore's mouth opened to say something, but he didn't finish the first syllable, as that's when their ride ended.
The instant he felt ground beneath his feet, Harry dove and rolled away as spellfire blasted toward them from every side. The ground he evacuated sizzled with spells. He felt a couple of them slide off his skin as he gained his feet and bolted, flat out in a zig-zag toward the tombstones that would provide cover. He dove again and rolled behind the first tombstone he could reach, just as a corner of the stone fragmented from spellfire. With his back to the smooth stone, he took a moment to breathe.
"Incarcerate." He said with a grin, then cast the nondetections on himself.
The grass to his left rustled, and he could see it being pressed flat in two places a foot apart. He was tempted to throw a stunner at whoever it was just for the anonymous thrill of it, but he quashed the urge. Under other circumstances, maybe. Tonight was serious business.
"Identify yourself." He whispered instead.
"Morrigan's tits!" was the reply. Clearly whoever it was carried some tension. He had to stifle a chuckle at having startled whoever it was. The voice sounded older, gravelly. Someone who enjoyed firewhiskey and perhaps a cigar or pipe.
"This creeping around is trollshit!" The voice complained, "Which one are you?"
"I asked you first." Yaxley reminded it. Definitely older and used to getting its way.
"Parkinson." The voice spat.
"Evening, Lord Parkinson. Not fond of invisibly creeping through twilit cemeteries then?"
"No I'm bloody not. I have intellect and resources. I don't need to do this shit. Which one are you?" Parkinson hissed.
"Yaxley." Corban replied.
"Oh." Parkinson's tone softened, "So you are used to this shit work."
Arrogant wanker. Born with a silver spoon up your arse, so naturally you get to look down on everyone who can actually get things done. Soon as the Dark Lord rose... Corban looked forward to teaching rich useless twats like him that it was capability, not money that made one worthwhile. Yaxley was Sacred twenty-eight himself, he'd just inherited next to nothing from his less than frugal ancestors.
"It was part of my job, certainly." He replied in a civil tone. The Dark Lord hadn't risen yet, Britain was not under control yet, and Parkinson still held a higher position than he did.
"Well, the Dark Lord needs people everywhere." Parkinson said in an amicable tone. "We all serve in our way."
At least he wasn't being treasonous as well as twattish.
"The Dark Lord tasked you with gathering everyone here tonight, didn't he?" Parkinson asked.
The rumor mill must be working at capacity, Corban thought. You could take the Slytherin out of Hogwarts... "He did." He replied.
"How many of us are here tonight then?" Parkinson asked. There was a... restraint to his voice, as though he held something back.
"All." Corban said.
Parkinson harrumphed. "All but the ones in maximum security, you mean."
"The Dark Lord said he wanted them all, so no, I mean all." He asserted.
Parkinson made strangled noises. "You mean Lestrange is here? Now?"
"Very likely next to the Dark Lord. You know how she is."
"Shit... shit. As long he's got her on a short leash..." Parkinson sighed.
"That sounds less than enthusiastic." Yaxley noted.
Parkinson harrumphed again. "I'm smart, Yaxley. You can walk around with a rabid dog, but you don't take your eyes off it."
"It helps if you bring it treats." Corban smiled.
"Hah! Is that how you managed then? What did you give her? Not a good bedding, I'll wager."
Corban grimaced at the images that conjured in his mind. "No. Freedom, her wand, a broom, and a squib."
"Hm. Yes, that would about do it. I assume the squib was sacrificial?"
"Let's just say I never want to hear her giggle again." Corban shivered with the memory.
"Merlin's..." Parkinson's voice faded, as though there were just nothing adequate to say about the horror of such a thing.
Corban shook the memory of it off after a moment of silence, and he recalled something he'd seen before his position at the Ministry had been compromised.
"I saw your Disownment order while I was at the Ministry. Did that go through?" He asked.
Parkinson grunted. "Worthless. You raise them and train them for fifteen years for a single task, and they go and ruin all your plans instead. She only had one bloody job. Worthless."
The venomous tone Parkinson used made Corban wonder if the man hadn't just disposed of the girl. "I'll take that as a yes." He said dryly.
Parkinson harrumphed again. "Doesn't matter. I learned my lesson. It's harsh having to start over, but I did things correctly this time."
"What do you -" Corban started to question what Parkinson meant, but the alarm sounded to warn them of an incoming portkey and everything else was suddenly irrelevant. Corban adjusted his grip on his wand and turned from Parkinson toward the large, winged reaper monument where Dumbledore and the passenger would arrive.
Dumbledore... Finally.
Corban had to suppress his joy at finally getting to put that sanctimonious, unassailable arsehole in his place. The Dark Lord had made it clear that no-one could kill Dumbledore, that he was to be incapacitated, but that didn't necessarily mean only stunned or bound. Potter, on the other hand, was stun only.
"Come on, come on..." He whispered excitedly.
A swirl of colour flashed into existence and resolved into Dumbledore and the boy in a blink. Corban immediately flashed two Artus Extorqueo at Dumbledore. He could see dozens of stunners and bodybinds fly toward the old man the instant his second spell left his wand, but his spell hit the old man first. Dumbledore howled with pain as his left knee was wrenched inside its socket, and he dropped like a sack of twigs in a bad dress. Corban's second spell hit the old man while he was down, and wrenched his right wrist over ninety degrees. The old man's cries of pain were music to his ears.
Corban slashed his wand at the boy - who wisely dove away from the bearded twat - but missed. How could a body that size move that fast? He slashed again and again as the boy darted left and right, fast and slow toward the field of tombstones that would provide cover.
He swore that two of his stunners actually hit the boy and somehow slid off, but that was ridiculous. It had to be a trick of the strobing light as spells hurtled toward the kid from everywhere.
Then the kid was gone, hidden among the tombstones.
Tense moments went by.
"Well? Where is the boy?!" Their master wheezed angrily.
"He's gone, my lord. Vanished." A voice called back. It was a youthful voice... Malfoy. He'd heard that voice at Malfoy manor. Must be Lucius' boy.
"Yeah, gone. Musta kilt 'um tot'ly gone." That was Crabbe's boy. No mistaking Crabbe's speech patterns.
"He's Disillusioned." The Dark Lord sighed. "No matter, we don't have time to look for him - the ritual requires action. I shall use Dumbledore's blood instead. Bring him. Bella, punish those idiot children."
Ghastly bolts of orange light followed the Dark Lord's words immediately. Screams of nerve-rending pain immediately followed the bolts. The Dark Lord let it continue for a few minutes as McNair maneuvered Dumbledore's unconscious - and now twisted - form into place for the ritual. When Dumbledore hung from the winged reaper monument and McNair bowed to the Dark Lord, Voldemort commanded silence. Bella dropped the Cruciatus curses from the indiscreet teens at once. She then had to cast silence over them to stop their blubbering.
"Glad to see I'm not the only one embarrassed by progeny." Parkinson whispered from his left. "Care to wager there's more where that came from when those boys get home?"
"I hope that's rhetorical and you don't take me for that kind of sucker." Corban whispered back.
A soft chuckle was his only answer.
Of course it had been both rhetorical and a test of his faculties. That was how arseholes like Parkinson worked. If you weren't savvy enough to realize they were insulting you, then you deserved it. Wanker.
McNair chanted something as he threw things into a huge cauldron - probably size twelve or larger - but Corban couldn't quite hear what he was saying. At least the wanker kept his voice down and didn't call the Dark Lord's attention on them.
"You have any children yet, Yaxley?" Parkinson whispered.
"Trianda's seven." He whispered back. With any luck in a few short weeks his little girl would be a noble and Corban would visit Parkinson's grave - and piss on it. "What was it you were saying before about doing it right this time?"
Parkinson chuckled softly again. "I chose a lady of impeccable breeding this time. Practically a dark princess herself. I fed her a fertility potion and had quite the afternoon. The poor thing was so starved she eagerly did things you couldn't pay a whore to do."
Corban tacked on one more reason to put Lord Classy in the ground.
"She enjoyed it, too. Really a bloody waste of breeding, if you ask me. I'm thinking I might have to make her a regular thing, if I can secure the right resources."
"Careful Parkinson, you sound like you're in love." He whispered back derisively.
Parkinson treated him to a dismissive snort. "A fool turns away opportunity when it knocks. The best part of the whole thing is I won't have to lift a finger or shuffle a knut. She thinks it was her husband!"
He fed a fertility potion to and bedded another man's wife?! He boasted about the filthy things he'd made her do and that she'd enjoyed it?! Corban took it back. He was going to kill Parkinson here and now.
"I don't suppose you'll give me a hint who this delightful morsel is?" He whispered.
Parkinson said nothing.
"No? Nothing at all?"
Only silence answered him. Out at the ritual place, Dumbledore whimpered in pain as McNair cut him.
"Parkinson?"
Nothing.
An explosion of steam and thunder came from the ritual then, and drew his attention.
A naked, sexless, noseless body stood out of the cauldron and spread its arms. The ghost of satisfaction kissed its lips, and it's whispered command was sibilant and uncannily loud.
"Robe me."
The Dark Lord was reborn.
It caused Corban feelings of anticipation, but also of anxiety. He knew the Dark Lord's return was vital to his own plans for his future and for the good of Britain as a whole, but he couldn't help feeling that he had gone from herding kneazles to herding dragons.
He took a deep breath and let it out. It didn't matter, really. The thing was done. The Dark Lord was restored. What would happen was what would happen.
He turned his attention back to Parkinson, who had been uncharacteristically quiet.
"Parkinson!"
Corban reached down to where Parkinson's feet made impressions in the grass and waved his hand around, but encountered only air.
He felt the spell wash over him as he stood again. It hit him square in the back.
His last conscious thought was "That figures."
Harry watched Tom get reborn from his perch on top of the reaper next to Dumbledore. The old man had already been through the wringer, he hadn't expected that. Apparently Dumbledore had earned some grudges from the Death Eaters. His right wrist was twisted at a bad angle and very definitely broken. It had started to swell as he had no choice but to let it hang down in front of him, and his fingertips began to turn purple. The old man's left knee had the same treatment and looked like a basketball hidden under his robe.
It was cruelty for its own sake to treat the old man like that, and Harry found it disgusting. Dumbledore had earned his death by perverting the natural process and imprisoning Fawkes, but that would be quick and clean the way it should be. Unfortunately there wasn't anything Harry could do about the cruelty Dumbledore suffered for the moment, but as he thought about it, he realized he probably wouldn't even if he could. He made Sirius suffer for twelve years out of sheer neglect, same as Hermione's parents had done to her. No, Dumbledore had earned this too, and more besides.
He turned his attention back to Riddle. With his eyes changed, he saw that the number of Disillusioned Death Eaters had dwindled considerably, but there was still a large group of them. With Riddle reborn and growing accustomed to his new form, it was time for Harry to play his part.
Riddle stood next to the empty, steaming cauldron he'd been reborn from and chatted quietly to Bellatrix Lestrange and Walden McNair as they discussed what to do with Dumbledore, but he was not theirs to claim.
"Is that Bellatrix Lestrange? Wow, you look worse than I'd heard. I know some people who want very much to kill you."
The instant he started talking, Voldemort motioned Lestrange and McNair to silence while he looked around for Harry.
"Please my Lord?" Bellatrix asked in a plaintive voice.
Tom assumed his mantle of false generosity and gave her the mockery he called a smile. "Very well. Hunt him and bring him to me, Bella."
Bella's smile, on the other hand, was genuine and hungry. She flashed her teeth at him and tore away into the tombstones to look for him. Harry watched her disillusion herself and pick her way quickly around the larger monuments.
Spellfire hit Bella in the side of her head and she flipped sideways through the air to fall face-first onto a wedgestone. Harry winced at that. Her body floated silently away toward the rear of the shack that Tom and Walden still stood in front of.
"You know she won't be able to find me." Harry said. "You know it's to be you and I."
McNair, strung out with the tension of caring for Tom and losing his hand to the ritual - probably coupled with blood loss - lost his head and forgot his place.
"Show yourself!" He shouted. "Come out where I can cut you to pieces!" Walden tried to heft his axe, but it was a two-handed weapon and he was a one-handed man. He did his best though, and carried it threateningly as he dashed around behind the Reaper monument where he obviously thought Harry was hiding. As soon as he was out of Tom's sight, Harry hopped down and stunned him from behind.
Tom was not at all surprised when Harry walked out from behind the statue.
"Ah, Mister Potter. At last. I have so looked forward to meeting you again." Voldemort sneered in a genteel fashion. He clearly meant it to be a malevolent mockery of warm and welcoming, but Harry had memories of little Mister Riddle practicing that very thing on the other students at Hogwarts.
Harry bowed slightly. "As I have looked forward to meeting you again, Mister Riddle."
The noseless snakeface darkened, and Harry would have called it a scowl on any other face, but on Tom there was no actual movement, his eyes simply burned with a brighter hatred.
"I see the old fool has told you all about me."
"In a manner of speaking." Harry replied, "It wasn't willingly."
Tom stood more upright, and Harry took that as a shocked expression. "I find that both amusing and impressive, Mister Potter. Are you sure you wouldn't rather join me than fight me?"
"That's not something I'd considered, honestly. What would I get for it?" Harry lowered his wand.
A tiny smile spread itself across Tom's thin lips. "How does Duke of Scotland sound?"
Harry lowered his face and looked at the ground while he shook his head, then looked back to Tom. "No, sorry." Harry waved a hand at the bound and unconscious Dumbledore. "I assume you already know that this sack of shit murdered my wife, so you should know she's the only thing I really want. If you can't bring her back, then I'd be just as far along to kill both of you before you get in my way."
Tom shrugged. It was no loss. "I was lying anyway. Avada Kedavra!" Tom sent the hate-filled spell almost as an afterthought.
Harry watched it come and calmly took a step to the side. He swivelled his body like a swinging cafe door opening, and Tom's spell sailed past Harry to explode one of the tombstones of Tom's ancestors.
"That's disappointing, if I'm honest. Dumbledore thinks very highly of you - Tenacious, cunning, creative... That was boring and predictable." Harry shook his head sadly. "I don't see this fight going your way now, I'm sorry."
Tom flicked his wand at Harry, and another Killing curse sped toward him, faster this time. Harry sidestepped in the other direction.
Harry sighed. "Would you care to try a third? Maybe you'll get lucky?"
Tom's eyes burned brighter again. No-one had ever taunted him before. He dropped all pretense of civility and he cast three in rapid succession - one at Harry, one to his left, and one to his right.
Harry dropped to his knees and bent backward to watch the three deadly green bolts soar above him unimpeded. He flexed his thighs and resumed a standing position.
"Better. At least you're methodical and capable of learning. My turn now." He cast Expelliarmus to either side of Tom, while he reached out wandlessly and turned the earth beneath Tom liquid.
Tom watched Harry's wand carefully, and didn't bother to dodge either of his spells, as he could see neither would hit him. He prepared to dodge the third that never came, which is exactly what Harry wanted. The ground liquefied beneath Tom all at once, and he sank into it up to his neck before it solidified again. Harry darted forward to crouch directly in front of him, with his wand pointed into Tom's left eye.
"I did just want you dead. Now you're going to suffer for years." Tom hissed at him.
"Doubt it." Harry replied, and drove a spike of his Will through Tom's mental defenses. Just like Dumbledore, Harry pierced Tom's mind with ease. Despite having excellent defenses, both men had been dominant for so long that their wills had ceased to gain strength. When nobody dared challenge you for decades, what reason was there to train? Their arrogance was their downfall.
A flood of putrid fear washed through Harry as Tom's inner self was opened. That fear gave birth to the hatred that consumed Tom. It drove everything he did, from making his horcruxes to his need - and plan - to destroy every single pureblood family. Dumbledore thought Tom was their champion, that Tom's own pureblood mania drove his actions, but he couldn't be more wrong. Tom had learned to hate the purebloods during his time at Hogwarts. Their arrogance, their wealth, their untouchability. He used their beliefs against them, and death was the only thing that waited for them under his rule. It was his revenge for the slights of their parents and grandparents.
Harry staggered backward under the onslaught of Tom's memories, but managed to stuff them all in the mental box he had prepared for them.
Tom screamed in rage and Harry bounded away again. Harry ran to the far side of the cemetery and hid behind a tombstone while he sifted through Tom's memories for the information he needed.
Tom clearly struggled with being trapped in the dirt, Harry could distantly hear him spitting curses as he used magic to vanish the dirt around him. Then Tom's low, hate-filled whisper reverberated around the graveyard.
"FIND POTTER." He commanded. "BRING HIM TO ME."
Harry smiled to himself and continued to sift through Tom's life. That order wouldn't help Tom at all.
It took two and a half minutes for Tom to get impatient enough to look for Harry himself, and that was ample time for Harry to find what he needed. He relayed the information he'd sought, and stood up from his hiding place with a smile.
Tom sent a barrage of spells toward him, and forced him to dodge and jump and hide behind tombstones.
"Why prolong the inevitable, Potter? Your wife is dead, why fight? I'll do you a favor and send you to join her."
"Is that why you're so afraid of death, Tom?" Harry shot back, "You're just really afraid to have to talk to your grandfather again? Not that I blame you, of course. He was a real piece of shit."
Four spells immediately fired at him - one directly at him, one to either side, and one toward his knees. After his taunting, Tom had learned. Harry was forced to dive and roll away, though a cutting curse nicked him as he regained his feet.
Harry cried out in pain and held his right shoulder with his left hand. He barely managed to get a shield up in time to deflect the next cutting curse that slashed toward him, and the next, but Harry was hammered and off-balance as he struggled to defend himself.
Tom fired multiple cutting curses at once, and Harry knew he couldn't defend against them all. He managed to dodge or block all but one, but that one was the difference. He felt the spell sizzle across the meat of his thigh, and he cried out in pain again.
"A valiant effort boy, but you are decades too early to stand against me." Tom hissed with sadistic, arrogant glee. He fired several bonebreaker curses at Harry, and Harry knew those would be too much for a simple shield spell. He dropped the pretense and dove for cover behind a tombstone, which exploded as soon as he did. The force of it threw him forward into another tombstone, and Harry managed to levitate that one between himself and Tom, just in time for that one to explode too.
Harry cried out again and panted with effort. He still crawled away from Tom as Tom stalked toward him. Harry crawled toward another tombstone, but it was too far away. He'd never make it.
Tom blew that one up anyway. He exploded all the tombstones around Harry so that there was no cover to get to. He was exposed, open, and on his arse while he tried to defend himself. Harry knew the fight was already over.
Tom smiled then, as though Victory had just kissed his brow.
"A futile effort, Potter." Tom stood over him, just out of reach. "Your arrogance, your acrobatics, they are all for naught. Admit it, boy. You are outclassed. You are beaten."
Harry's terrified expression dropped away, and he began to laugh.
Tom's victorious smile fell from his lips and he cocked his head to the side as though curious. "It matters not." He whispered, as though he'd waged some internal debate and that was the answer. He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Now you will understand the depths of my displeasure." Tom's voice was thick with anticipation.
Harry gave a nod toward Tom. Tom's wand flew from his fingers into the darkened twilight, and exploded into a thousand tiny shards.
Tom's face twisted and his eyes fairly glowed with rage.
Harry stood and brushed himself off with a small smile. "Oh Tom. Do you listen to yourself?" He shook his head sadly. "You really need to get out more."
Harry put his own wand away. "I thought Slytherins were practiced in the art of deception, but you don't seem to be able to recognize it. This whole thing has been a performance, Tom. A show for your benefit." Harry walked up to Tom and lifted him from the ground by his throat.
Tom's red eyes went wide and he struggled. He kicked and punched Harry for all he was worth, but with so little exercise and physical competence, he had no hope of actually hurting Harry, let alone getting free from him. Once Tom had realized the pointlessness of his struggle, he calmed and held onto Harry's arm so that he could breathe.
Harry carried Tom to the small shack and opened the door. The entire floor was piled with black robes and white or silver masks, still worn by his followers. Every single one of them lay there, stiff and unmoving. Even Nagini was draped over the back of a chair as blood trickled from her fangless mouth, and the snake's head had been twisted a hundred eighty degrees.
"You see, I was just the distraction Tom. My job was to keep all the attention on me so you wouldn't notice all your people being quietly removed."
Tom used all his strength to take a deep breath as he thrust his hand out, and Malfoy's cane flew into it. He drew a hidden wand from the top of it, and Disapparated - or tried to.
A huge, deep gong sounded throughout the entirety of Little Hangleton. Tom crashed down through the roof at almost the same instant and landed on the pile of his followers. The roof left scrapes all over the back and sides of his head that began to ooze blood, and his eyes looked around but Harry could tell there was no sense in them. He knew that feeling from having his bell rung by Hermione during their boxing training. The memory put a smile on his face.
He missed her terribly.
Harry took the opportunity to retrieve Malfoy's hidden cane wand and snap it before Tom woke fully.
Tom groaned when he came around, and looked up at Harry.
"Honestly, Tom. It's like you think you're so smart that nobody else can be smart as well. As though we couldn't predict you'd run as soon as you saw you were at a disadvantage. A classically Slytherin trait." Harry shook his head. "I borrowed a page from your own book, and made sure no-one could escape."
Harry leaned over the stiff forms of Crabbe and Goyle as they lay beside their fathers, and looked Tom in his eyes.
"You think you've won." Tom sneered unsteadily.
"Oh I have, Tom. I have. Before we finish up though, I have two things for you - a parting gift and a parting word. The gift is first." Harry breathed blazing white and azure flame at three of the four walls of the shack.
Tom stared at him dumbfounded, his air of menacing control evaporated utterly.
"There. I've done most of your work for you, that's your gift."
Tom narrowed his eyes at Harry. "What's the word then? I'll be sure to use it to torment you as I take everything precious to you when I return." Tom spat on Harry's Tournament robes.
Harry just shook his head. "You're still underestimating me. Very disappointing. Your word, Tom, is Convolnero."
Harry's piercing charm struck Tom in the center of his forehead and Tom's eyes crossed as the contents of his skull slowly dribbled onto McNair's Death Eater outfit.
"Diffindo." Harry cut Riddle's head off cleanly. It was distasteful, but he was fairly certain he'd need it as evidence. The Ministry was particular about that sort of thing.
Harry stepped off the pile of soon-to-be Ex-Death Eaters, and closed and sealed the shack door behind him.
"I hope we got who they all were under their masks?" He asked out loud.
A long-suffering sigh was his answer.
"Yes, okay. Of course I don't think you'd neglect that little detail, but you'd ask if you were in my position, just to be sure."
Hermione materialized in front of him and draped her arms around his neck.
"Yes, but I'm sure you'd take the opportunity to tease me then as well." She smiled, and kissed him soundly.
"Mmm." Harry moaned into her lips. He pulled her into him by her hips, and her arms tightened around his neck while they snogged.
After a long moment they broke the kiss, well aware they were in front of a burning shack and not even alone.
"That's better." He rested his forehead against hers. "I missed you so much. Being without you sucks." He pouted.
She smiled back at him. "Never again. It's cottage in the forest time now. We're going to go find Father and take him back to Mother, and spend the rest of the summer hunting and snogging and cuddling. Well, after we clean up."
Harry sighed. "Alright, let's get the cleaning done. The sooner we can leave, the better. Thank you for all your hard work, Hermione. I promise I'll do my best to make it up to you."
She squeezed his hand. "It was what needed to be done. We did it together."
"We both know you did the lion's share." Harry insisted.
"The hardest part of the whole thing was watching him cast killing curses at you and not destroying him instantly. That kind of thing is never happening again, I'll tell you that much. My heart is still hammering."
"Sorry. Won't happen again if I can help it." Harry wrapped his arms around her gently and they squeezed each other for a brief moment before they separated.
"Dumbledore first, then I'm stealing you for as long as I can before you have to go back." She said.
"Tomorrow I'll bring Luna and Nev and Daphne to the house and we can do the hard part. Once that's over we can go. I can't wait." He grinned at her. She grinned back, and they held hands as they crossed the distance to the winged reaper monument that Dumbledore dangled from. Harry gestured, and the bindings that held Dubledore in place cut clean through, and Dumbledore floated gently down to lay supine on the ground near the cauldron.
Hermione cast her nondetections again and vanished from sight. Harry flicked his wand at the old man, and Dumbledore's eyes fluttered open. He drew a breath and moaned in pain.
"Don't try to move, you were pretty badly cursed." Harry told him.
"What is... where?" Dumbledore tried to look around.
"You're in little Hangleton. Tom's family's ancestral cemetery. The altered Tri-Wizard cup brought us here." Harry explained.
"Tom... you know his name?" Dumbledore looked confused.
"Of course, professor. However, none of that is important to you anymore." Harry said with a calm certainty.
"Yes it is important!" Dumbledore asserted. "How did you learn his name?"
Harry didn't answer, he merely waited for Dumbledore to realize he was in no position to dictate anything.
A minute ticked by in silence, and Harry realized he would be waiting a very long time. "Alright," Harry sighed, "I guess we'll just move along then. Fawkes!"
"Fawkes?" Dumbledore frowned in confusion.
The white phoenix flamed into existence in a burst of bright white flame. He clutched a large bowl in his talons. Harry reached out and took the bowl from him, then he perched on Harry's shoulder.
"A friend of mine found him in the trash after you tried to kill him. Hermione and I saved him, though we were not expecting him to change colour."
"A white phoenix..." Dumbledore's tone oozed reverence and no small amount of covetousness.
Fawkes warbled a song that told of decades of imprisonment and pain.
"As you can see, he's had some unflattering things to say about you. I don't suppose you'd care to explain why you forcibly subjugated and bound him after he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you?" Harry's anger made itself known in his voice and the pressure of his presence.
Dumbledore groaned in pain as he shifted and tried to rest more comfortably on his back. "I'll be happy to tell you the story once we're back at the castle. My injuries need tending."
"That's alright, professor." Harry said, "I'm fine without your lies."
Harry stroked Fawkes's head and waved his hand at Dumbledore. "He's all yours, mate."
Fawkes left Harry's shoulder and landed on Dumbledore's chest.
"Happy Burning Day, Fawkes." Harry said as he retreated a dozen paces.
Fawkes spread his wings and sang one single ragged note of pure triumph as his chest began to incandesce. Dumbledore's beard caught fire and burned back toward his chin just from the heat the bird radiated. Dumbledore's eyes grew large and angry, and he tried to twist away from the bird, tried to bat Fawkes off him with his unbroken arm, but Fawkes had latched on to the old wizard's ribs with his talons and would not be moved. Dumbledore grew frantic and began to screech in pain and terror, then all at once Fawkes glowed like a miniature star, and was gone.
Harry returned, and gently floated the pile of ashes out of the blackened, smoking hole that had been Dumbledore's chest cavity. Once the ashes were safely deposited into the bowl, Harry reached out and closed the old man's eyes as a final gesture.
"Just the hard part to go then." Hermione said from beside him. "Let's go home."
"How about you, Fawkes, you ready to go home?" He asked.
A tiny, high-pitched trill sang of wrongs redressed.
Kneescythe had opened the door to his office and set one foot into the hallway when pandemonium broke through the halls. Other office doors slammed open and other accounts managers stormed through the halls carrying weapons of all makes. Throatwire, the Crabbe accounts manager, spotted him about to leave and screamed a battle cry at him.
Apparently business for the day had not yet concluded.
He dropped his briefcase and pulled his axe from its sheath. Kneescythe met his charge with disdain and did not return his battlecry - he wasn't worth it. That's why he'd been saddled with the Crabbes. If he'd actually applied himself under Master Bloodfountain's tutelage he might have been handed a decent family to work for, but he was a slacker and it showed in his weaponwork as well as his accounting.
Throatwire tried to hack him in half vertically, but it was a clumsy, fully-committed swing. Kneescythe almost danced around him as the overhand swing missed and a loud CLANG told him Throatwire's sword had embedded itself into the granite floor. Kneescythe spun and sheared through both his kneejoints from behind as he struggled to free his sword from the stone. Throatwire screamed in pain and bled out onto the polished granite.
Another battle cry from behind him saw him step away from the growing pool of blood Throatwire supplied, and he met Eyeslice's cry with his own battlecry.
Eyeslice was no Throatwire.
He managed the Lestrange accounts and was one of the Top Five. Both of Kneescythe's cheeks, his left ear, and his right thigh bore long, shallow cuts that bled when he hacked Eyeslice's left leg off at the knee. Eyeslice didn't even grunt, he went down and attempted to stab his blade through Kneescythe's foot, but Kneescythe saw it coming in Eyesclice's posture and danced away. Once his blade was embedded in the stone, Eyeslice looked up at him and exposed his neck. Kneescythe took his head and kept it. He would return it to his widow so his family would know he was among the Honoured.
There were three more challenges after Eyeslice, but none that lasted more than a few seconds. Goretusk declined to challenge, and Kneescythe snorted at him in disgust. A generation ago, he would have quailed at the sight of the Malfoy accounts manager with a weapon in his hand, but Goretusk was not his father. Kneescythe grinned savagely at Goretusk as he walked past.
"Enjoy your time in the mines." He growled at the coward.
Challenges completed, he returned his axe to its sheath and returned his briefcase to his desk. No sooner had he done so than Spinegrip appeared in the doorway.
"Sir, you really need to see this." He said. He was part baffled, part excited, and part terrified. Kneescythe followed him to the edge of the vault shaft, and right away he spotted three vaults whose family crests had been altered. In each case another family crest had appeared in the Dominant position, signalling that the vault's owner had been bested by that of the Dominant crest. In each case he could see, the Dominant crest was Potter.
"How many?" Kneescythe asked, both giddy and grim with the amount of work he looked at.
"Twenty-four, sir. Not including Riddle."
"When did this happen?"
"Most of them appeared at the same time, ten minutes ago. Dumbledore changed just a minute ago."
"We'd better get started." Kneescythe paused to put a hand on Spinegrip's shoulder. "It's been a pleasure to have you as my apprentice. Keep working the way you have been. Mind your footwork. Mind your elbows. Practice daily. With twenty-four vacancies, I imagine there will be a call for advancement."
Spinegrip grinned with ears nearly vertical. He knew Kneescythe was saying he would put his name forward as ready to manage. "Thank you, sir. I will. Lots to be done before that." He fell into step behind Kneescythe as they headed back to the office.
It would be an all-nighter at the very least.
Spinegrip called for a healer first, and removed the blood from his teacher's clothing.
Amelia dropped into her favourite chair by the fireplace and ran her fingers across her brow. Another sleepless night, courtesy of Albus Dumbledore. She supposed it wasn't technically Dumbledore's fault, as she doubted he expected to be whisked away by surprise portkey, but the entire tournament as a whole - her last three sleepless nights - was definitely his fault.
In the end she'd had to return to the Ministry and file paperwork for missing persons. Even the Unspeakables hadn't been able to track where the portkey had taken Dumbledore and the MacFusty lad.
"I swear to Merlin, if MacFusty ends up dead too I'm pulling Susan out of there." She muttered.
"Auntie?" Susan's voice came from the hallway.
"Yes, in here." She replied. It was still early in the morning, but Susan had a crush on the boy who had disappeared. She probably hadn't been asleep. Amelia wasn't so old that she had forgotten what it was like to have a crush.
"Are you alright?" Susan asked. "Can I get you some tea?"
"Just tired, Susie. That would be lovely, thank you dear." Susan flashed a smile at her and retreated toward the kitchen. She returned with two cups of tea a few minutes later and handed her one.
"Thank you." Three... two... one...
"Any news on Duncan?" Susan asked as she sipped her tea.
Amelia hid a smile behind her teacup. "Sorry, Sue. The portkey was untrackable. Nobody knows where they went. I've had to file missing persons reports for both of them."
Susan's hands tightened around her cup. "I hope he's alright."
"So do I. Depending on what has happened and why, I might pull you out of that school and send you to Beauxbatons. I don't like the level of danger that's happening there. Death Eaters and children dying and you're too close to that."
"I wouldn't mind that, honestly." Susan replied happily. "I've made friends with a lot of the girls from Beauxbatons this year."
"Really? Well at least something good has come of it. I'm -"
A house elf appeared in front of Amelia with a CRACK.
"Mistress, a visitor." He said with large eyes and a slight tremble to his voice.
Amelia frowned. "Who is it?"
The house elf blinked and stammered. "Uh. I... should ask." He popped away again.
"Is something wrong with Grimr?" Susan asked. "I've never seen him-"
Grimr reappeared. "Visitor says her name is Lammy Potter, Mistress. She has gifts for you from Harry Potter."
Susan frowned. "But Harry Potter is dead, everyone knows Harry Potter died..."
Amelia frowned as well, and took her wand out. "Show her in, Grimr." Anyone who claimed to be acting on behalf of a well-known dead child was either stupid or dangerous. The protections within the manor made it the best place to encounter either.
"Yes, Mistress." Grimr popped away again, and reappeared with... someone else. She was dressed in a fine white blouse and pleated navy skirt, and that was the extent of what Amelia recognized. She stood half again as tall as Grimr, and her hands, feet, and facial features were more proportional. Long, semi-pointed ears lay flat against the sides of her head. She carried a black leather case at her side.
"Good morning, Madam Bones." Lammy said with a small bow. "Thank you for agreeing to see me. My name is Lammy, I have been asked by my Head of house Lord Potter to deliver this evidence to you."
"There is no Lord Potter, the Potter line ended. You can imagine I'm somewhat skeptical regarding your statement."
Lammy smiled. "That is what Lord Potter said you would say. You are welcome to accompany me back to Potter Glen to ascertain the veracity of my claim yourself. For now, I have been asked to give you the evidence of last night's events."
Amelia sat forward in her chair. "Last night's events?"
"Yes, madam. The physical evidence I have to show you will help to explain, but I am hesitant to show it to the young lady due to its nature."
"I'm not that young." Susan stuck her chin out.
"What is the evidence? In general terms?" Amelia hid the internal smile at Susan's stubborn insistence.
"It is a severed head, madam."
"Susan, leave and close the door please." Amelia said immediately.
"Yeah, okay. I don't want to see that." Susan left the room and closed the door behind her.
"Why would Harry Potter send me a severed head - assuming what you say is true?" Amelia asked angrily.
"It belonged to Voldemort, madam." Lammy said as she opened her case.
Amelia stood. "You have Voldemort's head in that case, is that what you're -" She stopped talking as Lammy pulled a glass jar with a severed head in it from the case. The snake-featured noseless face from her nightmares stared back at her with hateful red eyes.
"The head has been placed under a stasis charm to prevent it decaying or leaking, madam."
Amelia sat down again all at once as her legs refused to keep her upright.
"The video will explain everything, madam. Would you like it set up in here?" Lammy placed the glass jar with the head in it on the side table.
"Video?" Amelia frowned.
"A muggle invention, madam. It records light, so you can be sure that what has been recorded did actually happen. It is also unfalsifiable."
"Voldemort's death was recorded?" She felt her eyebrows rise.
"Yes, madam. Lord Potter knew you would want to see everything for yourself, and video is more reliable than a memory." She pulled a large box out of her case - larger than should have fit in the case - and conjured a small table to set it on. She pulled another contraption from the case and attached it to the box by a cable. The front of the second thing looked a little bit like a camera. Lammy pointed it at Amelia, and she saw her own face appear on the first box.
"As you can see madam, it only records what can be seen. It is a camera that shows things as they happen."
"Yes, I can see that." Ameila looked on with interest.
"This is what was recorded last night." Lammy said, and the picture on the large box changed.
"That's Malfoy! He's in Death Eater garb!" She growled. "Snape, Nott, Parkinson, and Yaxley." She ground her teeth at seeing one of her senior Aurors exposed as an inner circle Death Eater. "What is happening?"
"It will all be explained as you watch, madam. The sound was recorded as well."
Amelia watched McNair care for a disgusting homonculus for a few minutes, until Dumbldore and MacFusty appeared in the cemetery. MacFusty dove away and ran while Dumbledore took a barrage of spellfire, from at least a dozen different wands, and went down almost immediately.
She watched the ritual that gave Voldemort a new body, watched MacFusty taunt and then fight Voldemort. She felt her heart pound when Voldemort advanced on a seemingly beaten MacFusty, and felt relief flood her when Voldemort's wand was taken from him. She frowned when MacFusty picked Voldemort up in one hand, and she twisted her hands together when the screen showed her all the Dark Marks and the faces they belonged to.
When the video ended with Voldemort's death, she relaxed into her chair as her mind whirled with the implications.
MacFusty was Potter.
He'd killed Voldemort and most if not all of the Death Eaters. Even better, they were caught with their Dark Marks out, in the presence of a resurrected Voldemort. That made them all traitors in the eyes of the law. Amelia found herself caught between mistrust and giddy giggles as she processed what had happened.
Then her mind spat out an unresolved question.
"What happened to Dumbledore?" She asked. "Is he alright?"
Lammy shook her head. "No, madam. Wizard Dumbledore was killed."
"That wasn't recorded. How did he die?" She frowned.
"Fawkes killed him, madam. I myself retrieved Fawkes's frozen corpse from the Hogwarts trash. Lord and Lady Potter saved his life. Fawkes had been bound against his will by Dumbledore for decades before Dumbledore attempted to murder him."
"You're joking. Dumbledore? Murder?"
"It's true, madam. Dumbledore was not the wizard everyone thought he was. It was he who engineered the deaths of the previous Lord and Lady Potter. It was he who gave the current Lord Potter to the muggle who nearly killed him."
"Those are serious claims against the most unassailable wizard in history. I hope you have proof." Amelia frowned at the... elf?
"That depends on whether you'd accept the word of a phoenix as proof, madam. You can talk to Fawkes yourself if you choose to accompany me to Potter Glen."
"I would have to consult with a phoenix expert before that. I don't know enough about them. I will definitely accompany you to Potter Glen, however." Amelia put her wand away and stood again. "Regardless what happens after now, I thank you for your information... er..."
"Lammy, madam Bones. You are most welcome." Lammy snapped her fingers and the video equipment flew into the case again. She picked up the case and looked to Amelia. "It would be more polite to travel from your Apparation point, and would spare your wards."
Amelia nodded, and frowned slightly with the unspoken alternative. Could the elf really punch through her wards? She would have to look into strengthening them. There were too many unknowns going on at once and it made her twitchy.
She walked out to the courtyard with Lammy in tow, and once they reached the Apparation point, Lammy held out her hand.
"I will have to take us, madam, you would not be able to reach Potter Glen otherwise."
Amelia just stuck her hand out as she braced herself for the horrible, nauseating squelch of side-along Apparation.
It never came.
There had been an almost pleasant pressure on every inch of her, and then they appeared an instant later in a beautiful, well-maintained garden.
"This way, madam. Lord Potter is expecting you."
Lammy led her into the manorhouse and into a small lounge attached to a study.
MacFusty sat there calmly next to the same girl she'd seen when they arrested the Crouches.
Amelia made an effort to distance the anger she still felt at seeing Yaxley among the Death Eaters, along with Lestrange, Crouch Junior, and Pettigrew, all of whom she knew to be in Azkaban. "Lord Potter I presume?" She asked.
Harry smiled and rose to shake her hand. "And Lady Potter. Please, call me Harry, madam Bones. Thank you for coming. Can I offer you tea? Breakfast?"
Amelia shook her head. "Thank you, but I'll settle for answers."
Harry nodded. "I have nothing to hide."
"Would you be willing to answer under Veritaserum?" She reached into her robe and took out her vial.
A look passed between the two teens.
"Certainly." Harry sat forward on the sofa.
Amelia dripped three drops of the potion into his mouth, and he smiled at her for a second until it took effect and his face went slack. Amelia retrieved her scroll and quill from their pocket in her robes, and set the dictaquill against the parchment.
"Test test test." She said, then made sure the quill was working. "Alright, Lord Potter -"
"Not so fast, Director." Hermione interrupted. "I'll need your oath that neither your knowledge of what you're about to learn nor the transcript of it is seen or known by anyone but you. We can discuss using pieces of it as evidence later, but I don't want my husband's private life known."
Amelia cast a glance at her. She was clearly more savvy than she let on. "Very well." Amelia took out her wand.
"Your word is enough, Director. A magical oath is not necessary, especially considering we may allow some of it out later."
Amelia looked at her again, re-calculating, then she nodded and put her wand away. "I swear that I will not share my knowledge of what I am about to learn with anyone, nor will anyone but me ever see the transcript of this interview." She raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who nodded in return.
"Thank you, Director Bones." She said, and relaxed beside Harry.
Amelia took a deep breath and tried to organize her thoughts. "I suppose it would be best to start at the beginning. What happened to you in Nineteen-eighty-one? Why was your death reported at all?"
Harry began to answer the question, but Hermione stopped him.
"You'll need to start before that to get the full story, Director. Ask him how Voldemort found his parents in the first place." She suggested.
Amelia asked the amended question, and over the course of the next three hours learned the depths of magical Britain's error in trusting Albus Dumbledore. She learned that Dumbledore had known all along that Harry wasn't dead. She learned how he had been raised by a dragon, and then by the MacFusty family. She learned how Dumbledore had deliberately fed his identity to Voldemort's followers. She learned Voldemort's real name and history, and that Dumbledore had known the entire time. She learned how Dumbledore had conspired to kill Hermione just to make Harry angry and point him at Voldemort in order to get him killed.
At the end of the three hours, Amelia felt dirty. She needed a shower both physically and mentally, to try and wash away the disgust. She felt sick at the things the two teens had been forced to deal with. She fed Harry the antidote to Veritaserum, and made sure her scroll was safely in its pocket in her robes. If even half that had happened to Susan - She stopped at that thought. It had happened to Susan. Edgar had been part of Dumbledore's little brigade. She had to breathe deeply to prevent her gorge rising.
"Are you alright, Director?" Harry asked. She could see genuine concern in his eyes.
"Yes, I'm alright, thank you. Just realizing the full impact of Dumbledore's influence."
"We understand." Harry said with a rueful grin. "We also understand if you need to bring charges against us for killing however many people we killed last night. If I have to go to prison for it, that's a price I'm willing to accept."
Amelia turned to look at the boy. There weren't many grown adults who would say the same, and she didn't know any of them personally.
"We'll see. There's a lot to process legally. Don't leave the country, I'll likely want to talk to you again."
"We are leaving the country, actually. We're heading to the dragon preserve in Romania. If you just call for Lammy she can get us any message you want. We'll come to you straight away if that's what you need. Lammy?"
Lammy appeared beside Amelia. "Yes Mister Harry?"
"If Amelia calls for you, would you be willing to give us her message?"
Lamy smiled and bowed. "Of course, Mister Harry."
"Thank you, Lammy." Harry and Hermione said in unison. "We appreciate it." Hermione smiled at the elf before Lammy disappeared again.
"Is that satisfactory?" Harry asked Amelia.
"Best I can hope for, I suppose. Nobody else would come if I called. I imagine there are a fair number of widows at Gringott's right now withdrawing everything they can. I expect I won't be able to reach them for questioning."
"We have nothing to hide, Director." Hermione said. "I have a... mistrust.. of authority, but we believe in honesty. Also, you'll need this." Hermione handed her a fully filled-out form sixty-one J stroke two-four, notification of wrongful proclamation of death.
Amelia couldn't hide her smile at that. "Thank you both. I guess I will talk to you later, one way or another."
Lammy showed her to the Apparation point, and as they walked through the garden, she heard the most beautiful birdsong she ever had. It was pure joy, freedom, and righteous justice.
Neville stared at the words in the text, but he didn't see them. Instead, over and over he saw Harry's face the instant before he and Dumbledore disappeared. His mouth had smiled, his hand had waved, but his eyes had flashed sorrow the instant before they left, as if he had known what would happen and was saying goodbye.
The more he saw the image in his mind, the more he worried. The more he worried, the more he replayed the image.
The cold leaden feeling was tied to the thought that swirled around and flitted from place to place in his head, but that he denied access to. Neville refused to allow the thought that Harry had been taken to Voldemort to enter his mind. To host that thought was to lose all hope, and he refused. On the heels of that thought was the realization that Harry might have wanted that, just to see Hermione again.
It was because of his absorption in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps as they approached him.
Neville was startled out of his reverie by a hand that clapped down on his shoulder. His head whipped up, and his eyes fell on the face he most wanted to see. He jerked up from his seat to his feet, uncaring that his chair scraped on the floor and then tipped over with a loud bang. He crushed Harry in a bear hug that lifted him off his feet.
"Good to see you too, big brother." Harry said with a smile when Neville let him down.
"You son of a witch." Neville whispered harshly. He wiped his eyes with the back of a finger because Harry's face had turned blurry. "What happened?! Where did you go?!"
"That's what I want to talk to you about. I want to explain everything, to let you and Luna and Daphne in on what's been happening and why I've had to be how I've been. Can you get Daphne and meet me by the front gates? I'll go get Luna."
Neville nodded and started to pack away his study materials. His heart hammered and his chest squeezed and he wanted to cry and scream with joy at the same time.
Daphne was in the Great Hall for an early breakfast when he found her. He ignored Davis's warning glare as he walked right up to Daphne and whispered in her ear. "Duncan wants to explain everything that's been going on. You were invited. I'm leaving, will you come with me?"
Daphne's response was to put her knife and fork down and stand up. She took his hand and they walked from the Great Hall to the front gates. Harry and Luna waited for them just outside the Wards. Luna looked both happy and impatient.
As soon as he and Daphne were outside the Wards as well, Harry held his hand out. "Grab on, we'll go to the Glen for a bit so I can explain in comfort. I'm really sorry to have worried any of you."
"You'd better be. Hurry up with the explaining so I can decide whether to throttle you or hug you." Luna glower-pouted. "Or hug you then throttle you." She added with a grin.
Harry smiled at that as they finished joining hands, and they appeared in the garden an instant later.
A white bird that fairly glowed in the morning sun circled around the gardens overhead, and sang a song that put joy in their hearts. It told them they were more than welcome, they were missed. It was happy to see them again.
Harry looked up at the bird with a smile. "He's a happy boy, what can I say? I'm happy to see you all again too."
He led them inside to the great room where snacks and refreshments had been laid out. Harry waved his arm at the sofas and chairs. "Get comfortable please, this is going to be a long story."
Neville sat on the sofa, and Daphne sat next to him but snuggled into his side. Luna sat in a chair at the end of the sofa. Harry waited until they were settled.
He took a deep breath and let it out as he looked at each of them. "The first thing I have to say is that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've been lying to you all for months - not in anything I've said, but with my actions. I'll explain why it was necessary, but it really hurt to do and I know it hurt you as well, and for that I'm truly sorry."
Luna cocked her head at him, clearly deep in thought.
Harry held out his hand to his side, and Hermione materialized out of thin air to hold his hand. "I'm sorry." She said in a small voice, her shoulders raised defensively.
A Luna missile slammed into Hermione. "Please tell me it's really you!" She sobbed as she clung to Hermione. "Tell me this isn't a dream!"
"It's me." Hermione smiled while tears rolled down her cheeks. "It's me. I'm so sorry."
Months. Months Harry must have known she wasn't dead. They probably planned her death before it even happened. Four entire months while he and Daphne and Luna stewed in their grief. Harry was right, he'd lied to them. They had picked him up bodily to take him to Hermione's funeral while he acted like a zombie.
Daphne stood and crossed the space toward Hermione hesitantly, and he stood after her. Hermione opened her arms to hug Daphne.
Neville stood and punched Harry in the mouth.
"Four months!" He shouted. "Four months we've been hollowed out inside, and you fucking knew!"
Harry put his hand to his cheek, and his shoulders slumped while he nodded. "I did. I deserved that, I'm sorry Nev. We had to deceive you in order to deceive Dumbledore and by extension Voldemort."
"Dumbledore is in contact with Voldemort?" Neville realized his fists were both clenched, and consciously relaxed them. "Is that what you're saying?" He had visions of the things he'd feared when Harry was taken from the stage.
"Was, yes. We killed Voldemort last night." Hermione said quietly. Neville noticed that she was tensed as though to attack him, and Luna was braced against her to hold her back.
"You did what?" Daphne asked softly. "Tell me I just heard that correctly."
"That's the why of it." Harry said. ""I tried to give you some kind of comfort when I talked to you at the lake, but it's just like I explained then, if we told you Hermione wasn't dead, you would have acted differently. Dumbledore would have noticed. He watched all of you. I know you've been fantastic with my other secret, both of you, but this wasn't a matter of trust. We trust both of you, and you've proven it's not misplaced. If you'd known, it would have shown. Nobody can play a part all the time."
Harry's eyes flicked to Daphne then, so he turned his head to look at her too. It was obvious the words "What other secret?" were on the tip of her tongue, but she kept her mouth closed. It would have been rude to ask, no matter how much she wanted to know. Neville's heart smiled a little when he realized.
Harry must have realized it too, because he put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Relax, Hermione. Neville has every right to be angry, and I did deserve to get punched. It's okay."
Hermione snorted through her nose and frowned her disapproval as she muttered "Boys."
Harry turned to Daphne. "The other secret they know is the name I was born with - Harry Potter. Welcome to Potter Glen." He smiled at Daphne.
"Harry Potter..." She repeated in a whisper. She looked around the great room, and sighed. "I should have known. The heraldry is different from the last time I was here. The Potter crest is right there. You don't have to worry, I won't tell anyone." She said.
Hermione wrapped Daphne in a hug. "It's okay, Daphne. Nobody is hunting us anymore. It will come out soon, but even if it wasn't okay you've proven yourself a friend."
"You really killed Vold -" The word caught in her throat and she didn't finish it, but the question hung in her eyes just the same.
Hermione nodded. "We really did. We gave his head to Amelia Bones this morning."
As the anger drained out of him and he realized the full scope of what Harry and Hermione had been up against, Neville felt himself grow warm in his face. He turned to Harry.
"Sorry, Harry." He said sheepishly. "I just... I was only looking at what we went through, but it must have been worse for you. Sorry."
Harry smiled and wrapped him in a quick hug. "You had every right, like I said."
Neville felt better to know that things were still good between them, and resumed his seat on the sofa. "I should have used my brain first anyway, sorry. Can we still get the explanation? I'm dying to know how all this happened, now that I know what it was about." He said after he was seated.
Luna refused to let go of Hermione, so they sat on the second sofa while Harry took Luna's place in the chair.
Harry launched into the tale first. He started with how Dumbledore had his parents murdered because of a prophecy and stuck him with his aunt and uncle. He went over his life with the black dragons, and Daphne asked all the same questions he and Luna had when Harry had told them the first time, and Hermione even let Daphne put her head on Harry's chest to hear his two heartbeats. Harry claimed they both belonged to Hermione, after all. Smooth bastard.
Hermione took over then and explained that Harry had gone to the MacFusty farm at Mother's urging and had been raised by them to live in human society, though his behaviour was also based in outdated social etiquette books from the MacMillan library. She clearly didn't mind.
Harry took over again and detailed their meeting with Sirius and the Weasleys, and how that had been the point when he'd learned of the whispers about Voldemort's immortality. He handed the explanation back to Hermione when he got to their meeting with Dumbledore, and she told them how they'd learned everything that Dumbledore had done to Harry and Sirius and Harry's parents, and about the true nature of Voldemort and the things he had done to defy death. That had also been where they had discovered what had happened to Harry as a baby.
Harry described his visceral need to kill Dumbledore for his plan to murder Hermione, and how they had come to the conclusion that the best course of action for them would be to let him kill her. To let him think his plan was working, but execute their own plan in the background. To that end, Harry had Legilimensed Snape for a list of Death Eaters he knew, and after her 'death' Hermione had retired to the Glen to seek them out and read their minds for knowledge of what Voldemort - Riddle - was up to.
"Wait, wait." Neville stopped him. "That's great and all, but none of that explains why you aren't dead." He looked to Hermione.
"Harry and I prepared a transfigured tree trunk." Hermione explained, "Took us almost two weeks, but you saw it. It looked and felt real. Creeped both of us out, too. When Dumbledore hit me from behind with a stunner in the hallway, I played along until he put me in a bed in the hospital wing. I in turn hit him with a stasis charm, then replaced myself with the fake me, made myself invisible and he never knew any different. "
"You just shrugged off a stunner from Dumbledore?" Daphne's eyebrows rose.
"I'm part dragon, Daphne. You could hit me with stunners all day and it would just get annoying." Hermione smiled.
"Oh." She smiled back, but her lips were pressed a little too firmly together.
Hermione described then how she'd used the information that Wolly and Krolly had brought her to find and collect Riddle's horcruxes.
"How did you get in there?" Neville asked. "Malfoy Manor has Wards almost as strong as Longbottom Hall."
Hermione looked vaguely queasy. "We learned thanks to Wolly that Parkinson had plans to… breed… Lady Malfoy. I followed him and slipped in through the Wards at the same time he breached them. After that, it was just a conversation with Polly's new friend Dobby."
"Gross." Luna scrunched up her nose. "Genius, but… blech."
Hermione nodded and squeezed Luna again as she and Harry went on to describe the events of the previous evening after Harry had attained the Tri-Wizard cup. They had known of Voldemort's ambush, and told how Harry had avoided it but left Dumbledore to take the brunt. Hermione described how satisfying it was to take down the Death Eaters single-handedly and film who they were under the masks, though it had stopped being satisfying when Harry had stepped in and started keeping Riddle's attention. She'd had to deliberately not look at Riddle firing killing curses at Harry and just trust Harry while she finished her part of the job. She did take particular joy in describing the face Riddle made when she took his wand away from him and blasted it to matchsticks.
Harry ended the tale with Tom's death and Dumbledore's reward for imprisoning Fawkes. Daphne and Luna looked both flushed and amazed at what they'd been told, but Neville was struck by Voldemort's end.
"I love the irony." He said. Daphne looked at him quizzically.
"Of?" Hermione prompted.
"Voldemort's end." Neville explained, "He ended up exactly where he would have been if he hadn't done any of the shit he did, only probably a hundred years sooner, instead of later. By fleeing from death, he ran directly into it and nothing changed but the date. Ironic."
Harry laughed. "I hadn't thought of that! You're right except for one thing - He didn't own Little Hangleton anymore - we do. It ceded to me when I killed him the first time as a baby. It turns out Wages of..." He stopped and went white as a sheet. "Oh no." He looked at Hermione with wide eyes.
Hermione caught what he was saying and she too went white. "We need to talk to Kneescythe." She said in a worried whisper.
"Can we come?" Daphne and Luna asked in unison.