Cedric's POV

I felt myself slam into the ground; my face was pressed into the grass; the smell of it filled my nostrils. The sound of up tempo marching music and crowds cheering filled my ears. I sat up, using my arms to support myself, and looked around. We were back on the Quidditch Pitch, right in front of the entrance to the maze.

I saw Harry to my right, kneeling on the grass. He was holding Cassia so that her head was in his lap. I ran over to check on her. She didn't look good; her arm was still bleeding profusely and her eyelids fluttered uncontrollably as she tried and failed to keep awake.

The sight proved to be quite a shock to Fleur, because I heard her scream from where she stood with her Beauxbatons schoolmates.

Cassia had hit that gravestone hard. She could have a concussion, or lose her memory...or worse, the impact might've broken her skull. I knew a head injury like that could be deadly if left untreated. Just knowing that fact made me start to panic. Cassia is literally the reason I'm still alive, and if I were to lose her now, I'd never forgive myself. She was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout, my Head of House, came over and tried to pry me from Cassia's body. Neither one of them succeeded, even in trying to loosen my grip.

"Harry! Cedric!" Dumbledore exclaimed as he, too, rushed over and tried to pull us off Cassia.

"No!" Harry yelled, fighting back. "NO!"

Sprout and Dumbledore attempted to pull me off my girlfriend together, but again, failed.

The Minister for Magic ran over. "For God's sake, Dumbledore, what happened?" he asked, before his eyes fell on Cassia. "My God -- Cassia!" he exclaimed. "Is she alright?"

The band had stopped playing by now. No one had bothered to notice. I don't think they even cared about the music at this point--I know Harry and I didn't.

"No," I answered, fighting back tears. "She's hurt, badly."

Harry, on the other hand, was bawling. "He's back! He's back! Voldemort's back! Cedric...he tried to kill him!" he sobbed. "And Cassia...she's hurt! She took two Cruciatus Curses for me!"

Dumbledore placed both his hands on Harry's shoulders, trying to console him. "It's alright, Harry. It's alright. She's home. You all are."

"Let me through! Let me through!" I heard my father demand as he pushed his way through the crowd. When he got to us, he dropped to his knees, pulling me into a tight hug. I could feel a tear drop onto my shirt. "Thank goodness you're safe..."

Mum came over and hugged me next, giving me a peck on the forehead. "Are you alright, Cedric?" she asked, looking me over for any serious injuries.

I nodded, sniffling. "Yes. I'm fine." I glanced down at Cassia, who could barely keep her eyes open. "But Cassia isn't...she needs medical attention."

"What happened?" she asked, glancing down at Cassia.

I trembled all over as I remembered what had happened after we had touched the Triwizard Cup. "The Cup was a Portkey...it took us to a graveyard. Someone -- his name was Wormtail -- he cast a Killing Curse at me. Cassia pushed me out of the way and told me to get back to the cup. I refused, and then Wormtail...took blood from her and Harry. He made some kind of potion with it, and...and..."

"And what?" Dad encouraged me to continue.

"H-He Who Must Not Be Named...we saw him come back. The potion Wormtail made had restored his body," I confessed.

Madam Pomfrey came over with a magically-levitated stretcher. She lowered it to the ground, and -- with my mother's help -- gently lifted Cassia onto it. When Madam Pomfrey raised her wand, the stretcher was lifted. She began to walk away from the Quidditch pitch, heading for the hospital wing. My parents followed, but I lingered for a moment, waving a hand at Harry to come with us.

Right when Harry had taken a step forward, Professor Moody had taken ahold of him and half-carried, half-walked him away.

"Come on, son," Dad coaxed, gently taking my arm and leading me with him. "She'll be alright. She's a fighter."

I knew that part about her being a fighter was true, but I still couldn't help but worry. Not just for her, but for Harry as well. I said a silent prayer for them both as I followed my parents and Madam Pomfrey to the hospital wing.

Harry's POV

My heart sunk to my stomach as I watched Cassia being lifted onto a stretcher and taken to the hospital wing. I made a move to follow them, but someone started pulling me away from the Quidditch pitch.

"It's alright, son. I've got you," the voice of Professor Moody gruffed.

I tried to fight his grip, but I had no luck in getting away. "No...my sister...I have to go with her. I have to see if she's okay..."

"Don't worry about her," Moody said as he supported me the whole way back up to the castle. He took me up to his office. It looked no different from the first time I had been brought there, except last time, Cassia was with me. I heard the door shut behind us, and a click signified that it was now locked.

Moody pulled a stool over by the fireplace and guided me to sit down. "Are you alright, Potter?" he asked me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I could only nod in reply.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, glancing at my right arm. "That?"

"Not so much now," I told him.

"Perhaps I better take a look at it," Moody suggested. He lifted my torn sleeve, exposing the deep cut on my forearm.

"The cup was a Portkey," I said as he examined the cut. "Someone had bewitched it."

Professor Moody looked back up at me in surprise. "What was it like? What was he like?"

I was confused. "Who?"

"The Dark Lord," he clarified, letting go of my cut. "What was it like to stand in his presence?" He rose to his feet, not taking his eyes off me.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "It was like I'd fallen into one of my dreams. Into one of my nightmares."

Moody tried to take a swig from his hip flask, but, finding that it was empty, crossed over into another part of his office, vanishing from my sight. I heard glass vials clinking as he rumaged through them. "Were there others? In the graveyard, where there others?" he questioned.

How did he know about that? "I don't think I said anything about a graveyard, Professor..." I said.

Moody reappeared, all of a sudden, his magical eye fixed upon me. "Marvelous creatures, dragons, aren't they, dragons?" he said, mocking Hagrid, as he poured through a cabinet. "Do you think that miserable oaf would've sent you into the woods if I hadn't suggested it?" He looked back at me, before turning his attention to the cabinet. Finding nothing, he went over to a glass case. "Do you think Cedric Diggory-" he took a glass bottle off the top, only to find it was empty, and threw it into the case, "-would've told you to open the egg underwater if I hadn't told him first myself?" He advanced on me again, the glass case forgotten. "Do you think Neville Longbottom, the witless wonder, could've provided you with Gillyweed if I hadn't given him the book that led him straight to it? Huh?!" I saw him point to his temple.

The pieces all tied together in my head. "It was you from the beginning! You put my name in the Goblet of Fire! You bewitched Krum!"

Moody mocked my accusing tone, turning away from yet another storage chest he had looked through. "You won because I made it so, Potter." He came closer to me as he spoke. "You and Diggory ended up in that graveyard tonight because it was meant to be so! You had an easier time than you should have in that maze tonight, of course. I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. Your pathetic sister, strong as she was, was no match for me. I dumped her into the graveyard."

"Don't you dare insult my sister like that!" I shouted, offended by Moody's remark against Cassia.

He ignored me and continued, "I put the Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear."

I stared at Moody. I just didn't see how this could be...Dumbledore's friend, the famous Auror...the one who had caught so many Death Eaters...It made no sense...no sense at all...

The foggy shapes in the Foe-Glass were sharpening, had become more distinct. I could see the outlines of three people over Moody's shoulder, moving closer and closer. But Moody wasn't watching them. His magical eye was upon me.

"And now the deed is done! The blood-" he grabbed my arm painfully, making me bite my lip to hold back a yell "-that runs in yours and your sister's veins runs within the Dark Lord!"

I jumped to my feet, running behind the wooden chest I had seen before, the one Moody had told me I would not believe what was in there if he had told me. But I was cornered like a mouse.

"Imagine how he will reward me when he learns that I have, once and for all, silenced the great Harry and Cassia Potter! I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter...closer than a son..."

Before he could make a move to kill me, however, there was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Moody's office was blasted apart. Moody was thrown backwards, into a chair on wheels. Standing in the doorway were Snape, Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore was in front, his wand raised.

At that moment, I fully understood for the first time why people said Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared. The look upon Dumbledore's face as he stared at Mad-Eye Moody was more terrible than I could have ever imagined. There was no benign smile upon Dumbledore's face, no twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles. There was cold fury in every line of the ancient face; a sense of power radiated from Dumbledore as though he were giving off burning heat.

Dumbledore stepped into the office, advancing towards Moody, and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, keeping his wand pointed. "Severus!" he ordered.

Snape came forward and pulled out a bottle of Veritaserum, forcing every last drop down Moody's throat.

"Do you know who I am?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Albus Dumbledore," Moody answered.

"Are you Alastor Moody? Are you?!" Dumbledore inquired.

"No," the man sitting in the chair admitted.

"Is he in this room?" Dumbledore pressed. "Is he in this room?!" He looked at the giant chest in the center of the office, and then glanced at me. "Harry, get away from there!"

Professor McGonagall pulled me back as Snape cast an unlocking spell on the chest. It opened, revealing another chest, and another, and another, and another, until the final one was opened.

We gathered around the chest, leaving the fake Moody in his chair.

I was looking down into a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, thin and starved in appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Dumbledore called down.

"I'm sorry, Albus," the real Moody apologized.

"If that's Moody, then who's...?" I glanced back at the fake Moody, confused.

Snape picked up Moody's hip flask, opened it and sniffed the contents. "Polyjuice Potion."

"Now we know who's been stealing it from your store, Severus," Dumbledore remarked. He looked down at the real Moody and said, "We'll get you up in a minute."

Before my very eyes, the face of the man in the chair began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning a dark brown. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

I saw a man sitting in front of me, pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair. I knew who he was. Cassia and I had seen him in Dumbledore's Pensieve, watched him being dragged away from court by Ministry guards...but he was lined around the eyes now and looked much older.

Dumbledore recognized the man as well. "Barty Crouch Junior."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Barty Crouch Jr. hissed, gazing at me.

Dumbledore nudged me. "Your arm, Harry."

I lifted the torn sleeve of my shirt, revealing the deep cut on my arm.

Crouch Jr. rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark on the inside of his forearm. "You know what this means, don't you?" he told us. "The Dark Lord has returned. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

"Send a message to Azkaban," Dumbledore said, looking back at Snape, "I think they'll find they're missing a prisoner."

Snape left the office.

"I'll be welcomed back like a hero!" Crouch Jr. gloated.

"Perhaps. Personally, I've never had much time for heroes," Dumbledore said to him.

<><><><><>

After hearing Crouch Jr.'s confession of how he escaped incarceration, Dumbledore brought me up to his office. Sirius had just arrived, and was waiting for us.

A kind of numbness and a sense of complete unreality were upon me, but I didn't care; I was even glad of it. I didn't want to have to think about anything that had happened since I had first touched the Triwizard Cup. I didn't want to have to examine the memories, fresh and sharp as photographs, which kept flashing across my mind. Mad-Eye Moody, inside the trunk. Wormtail, cradling his stump of an arm. Voldemort, rising from the steaming cauldron. Cassia, hitting her head on that gravestone...taking two Cruciatus Curses, that were meant for me...I could still hear her screaming in agony.

We had now reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore gave the password, it started to rotate, and he and I went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open. Sirius was standing there. His face was white and gaunt as it had been when he had escaped Azkaban. In one swift moment, he had crossed the room and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Harry, are you alright? Is Cassia alright? I knew it -- I knew something like this -- what happened?" His hands shook as he helped me into a chair in front of the desk. "What happened?" he asked more urgently.

Dumbledore began to tell Sirius everything Barry Crouch Jr. had said. I was only half listening. So tired every bone in my body was aching, I wanted nothing more than to sit here, undisturbed, for hours and hours, until I fell asleep and didn't have to think or feel anymore.

There was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix had left his perch, flown across the office, and landed on my knee.

"'Lo, Fawkes," I said quietly. I stroked the Phoenix's beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. Fawkes blinked peacefully up at me. There was something comforting about his warm weight.

Dumbledore stopped talking. He sat down opposite me, behind his desk. He looked at me, but I avoided his eyes, knowing he was going to question me--he was going to make me relive everything.

"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry," he said.

"We can leave that until morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" Sirius said harshly. He had put a hand on my shoulder. I felt a rush of gratitude toward my godfather, but Dumbledore took no notice of his words. He leaned forward, toward me.

Very unwillingly, I raised my head and looked into those blue eyes.

"If I thought I could help you," Dumbledore said gently, "by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You and Cassia have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time, not just for you, but for Cassia. I ask you to tell us what happened."

I didn't want to--I wanted to go down to the hospital wing and see Cassia, to hold her hand and stay with her even if Madam Pomfrey told me I couldn't.

The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and I felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down my throat into my stomach, warming me, and strengthening me.

I took a deep breath and began to tell them. As I spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night seemed to rise before my eyes; I saw the sparkling surface of the potion that had revived Voldemort; I saw the Death Eaters Apparating to the graveyard; I saw my sister roll in front of me as Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse my way; I heard her scream at the top of her lungs, and I could feel the excruciating pain she had endured.

Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on my shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and I was glad of this, because it was easier to keep going now I had started. It was even a relief; I felt almost as though something poisonous was being extracted from me. It was costing me every bit of determination I had to keep talking, yet I sensed that once I had finished, I would feel better.

I went on; I explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them what I could remember of Voldemort's speech to the Death Eaters. Then I told how Voldemort had prepared to duel.

But when I reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected mine and Cassia's wands with Voldemort's wand, I found my throat obstructed. I tried to keep talking, but the memories of what had come out of Voldemort's wand were flooding into my mind. I could see the old man emerging...my parents...

I was glad when Sirius broke the silence.

"The wands connected?" he said, looking from me to Dumbledore. "Why?"

I looked up at Dumbledore again, on whose face there was an arrested look. "Priori Incantatem," he muttered. His eyes gazed into mine and it was almost as though an invisible beam of understanding shot between them.

"The Reverse Spell effect?" Sirius said sharply.

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "Harry's wand, Cassia's wand, and Voldemort's wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact." He pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on my knee.

"The feathers from mine and my sister's wands came from Fawkes?" I echoed, amazed.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you both had bought the second and third wands, the moment you left his shop four years ago."

"So what happens when a wand meets its brother?" Sirius asked, "Or, in Cassia's case, sister?"

"They will not work properly against each other," Dumbledore said. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle...a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed -- in reverse. The most recent first...and then those which preceded it..."

He looked interrogatively at me, and I nodded.

"Which means," Dumbledore said slowly, his eyes upon my face, "that some form of Harry and Cassia's parents must have reappeared."

I nodded again.

"James and Lily came back to life?" Sirius said sharply.

"No spell can reawaken the dead," Dumbledore said heavily. "All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Lily and James Potter would have emerged from the wand. Am I correct, Harry?"

"They spoke to us," I said. I was suddenly shaking again. "The...the ghosts, or whatever they were, spoke."

"An echo," Dumbledore said, "which retained the appearance and character of your mother and father. I am guessing other such forms appeared...less recent victims of Voldemort's wand..."

"An old man," I said, my throat still constricted. I wasn't able to say much more at this point.

"I will say it again," Dumbledore said as Fawkes rose into the air and resettled himself upon the perch beside the headmaster's desk. "You and Cassia have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of either of you tonight. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it -- and you have now given us all we have a right to expect."

I nodded in thanks.

"I understand that you are concerned for your sister's well-being, which is why I am arranging for you to stay in the hospital wing tonight. I do not want you returning to your dormitory," Dumbledore informed me. "Sirius, would you like to stay with them?"

Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed into the great black dog that was his Animagus form, and walked with Dumbledore and I out of the office, accompanying us down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing.

It took us about five minutes for us to get to the hospital wing, but to me, it felt like a lifetime. Dumbledore pushed open the double doors, and led us inside.

My eyes landed on a bed just off to the left, at the farthest corner of the wing. Cassia was sitting up on the bed, with Cedric and Mr. Diggory standing on either side of her to support her, as Madam Pomfrey checked her out.

"Sis!" I exclaimed as I ran -- no, sprinted -- over to Cassia, throwing my arms around her. "You're okay..." I felt myself start to cry again, but these were happy tears.

"Mr. Potter, please be gentle with her! She has received a concussion!" Madam Pomfrey scolded me.

Cassia waved her off. "It's okay, Madam Pomfrey, Harry didn't hurt me." I felt her return the hug, one of her hands rubbing my back to comfort me.

"I thought I was gonna lose you," I whispered.

She hugged me tighter. "I'm not going anywhere."

Cedric wordlessly embraced both of us, so we were now in a big group hug.

Madam Pomfrey came back a couple of minutes later. "Alright, get off her before you suffocate her. You all need rest." She clapped her hands, and we all pulled out of the hug quickly.

Cedric was, unfortunately, kicked out of the hospital wing. I felt bad for him--I knew he wanted to stay with us. But it was Madam Pomfrey's orders for him to return to his dormitory. He was allowed to visit us tomorrow morning.

With some difficulty due to my injuries in the maze, I clambered onto a bed to the right. My sister lay on her back, and reached out one of her hands. I reached one of mine out in return, lacing our fingers together. It was a good thing Cassia had been cleared to sleep, because that was how we slept that night, holding hands.

Cassia's POV

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" someone yelled, waking me up and making my head pound. I opened my eyes and saw McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the Minister of Magic were in the hospital wing, not too far from me. Harry's hand was no longer holding mine. He was now sitting up in his bed. I glanced to my left and saw Cedric right beside me--I guessed he'd come in not too long ago. I felt him silently press a kiss to my head as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but-" McGonagall tried to tell Dumbledore.

"My dear woman!" Fudge roared, "As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous-"

But McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's. "The moment that -- that thing entered the room", she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and -- and-"

I didn't need her to finish her sentence. I knew what had happened; the dementor had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch Jr. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead. All thoughts of my aching head were forgotten.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" Fudge blustered. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths."

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

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

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

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore, "You-Know-Who...returned? Prepostorous! Come now, Dumbledore-"

"It's the truth!" Cedric insisted, causing all the attention to be on us now. "The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey. When Harry and I touched it, we were transported to some sort of graveyard, and we saw one of Voldemort's followers restore his body!"

"They witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth," Dumbledore said to Fudge. "I will explain it all to you if you will step into my office, but I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Cassia or Harry tonight."

Fudge had a curious smile on his face. He glanced at me, then at Harry and Cedric, and finally looked back at Dumbledore. "You are -- er -- prepared to take their word on this, Dumbledore?"

"Certainly, I believe Harry and Cassia," Dumbledore said.

"And her significant other?" Fudge asked, glancing at Cedric.

"Cedric is as truthful as they are," Dumbledore replied.

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at us before answering, "You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the words of a lunatic murderer and three teenagers?"

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

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face. "And if I have?" he said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about these children very quiet? The boy's a Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place?"

"I assume you are referring to the pains Harry and Cassia have been experiencing in the scars on their heads?" Dumbledore said coolly.

"You admit that they've been having these pains, then?" Fudge said quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly -- hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, taking a step toward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate that undefinable sense of power that Harry told me he had felt after Dumbledore had confronted young Crouch. "Both Cassia and Harry are as sane as you or I. The scars upon their foreheads have not addled their brains. I believe it hurts them when Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous. Cassia's hurts, additionally, when her brother is in pain or an enemy is present."

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn. "You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before..."

"What part of 'we saw Voldemort come back' do you not understand?!" I snapped, my hands clenching into fists. "Death Eaters were there! Lucius Malfoy, he's still working for Voldemort! He never came back to the light!"

"You are merely repeating the name of one who was acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" Fudge said angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials!"

"I'm telling you, they're still Death Eaters!" I all but shouted.

Fudge was fed up with this. "Their tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them -- the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and the girl thinks she's an elemental -- and you still think they're trustworthy?" Whoa, whoa, whoa! Is he calling us crazy?!

"You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Mr. Crouch's death! Sabotaging the Triwizard Tournament! These things were not the random work of a lunatic!"

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

I exchanged looks with Harry. Both of us were thinking the exact same thing--we couldn't believe what we were hearing. Fudge seemed like a kindly figure, a little blustering, a little pompous, but essentially good-natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before us, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of distribution in his comfortable and ordered world -- to believe that Voldemort could have risen.

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

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

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

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.

"The second step you must take -- and at once," Dumbledore pressed on, "is to send envoys to the giants."

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

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

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

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

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

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I -- I shall act as I see fit." Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a threatening finger. "I've given you free reign, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not agreed with some of your decision, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me-"

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

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

"I didn't want to believe it either, Minister," I whispered just loud enough so that he heard me. "But it happened. He has returned."

Fudge struggled to come up with a comeback but he could only splutter. "Y...You..." He shook his head, appalled. "Good day!" With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the hospital wing.

<><><><><>

Harry and I were released from the hospital wing the next day, which was our second to last day of fourth year. Beauxbatons students walked back to their flying carriage, and the Durmstrang boys were all starting to head back to their boat. But before they did, Viktor -- of course -- kissed Hermione's hand, just like he had done at the Yule Ball.

"Do you think we'll ever just have a quiet year at Hogwarts?" Ron asked once Hermione had rejoined us as we walked across the bridge.

"No," the four of us said at the same time. Yep, Ceddy was walking with us again.

Ron gave a slight nod in agreement. "Yeah, didn't think so. Hey, what's life without a few dragons?"

"Everything's going to change now, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes," Cedric replied. "But it won't be all bad."

I nodded, but then looked up at him with a perplexed expression. "Wait, what do you mean?" Does he know something that I don't?

Cedric chuckled. "Well, you'll just have to wait and see, love."

"Promise me you'll write this summer," Hermione requested, looking at Ron, Harry, and myself. "All of you."

"Oh, I won't. You know I won't," Ron sarcastically commented.

"Harry and Cassia will," Hermione replied, glancing at us. "Won't you?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Every week."

"Absolutely," I confirmed his words.

We stopped about halfway across and stared out at the horizon, watching as the carriage from Beauxbatons flew away, and the Durmstrang's ship submerged underwater until only the crow's nest was visible, before it began the journey back to Bulgaria. This past year was really hard, but with Voldemort on the rise again, I know fifth year is going to be much, much worse.

End of Year 4