⚡︎
┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 *•. ┄┄

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝

────── *•. ⚡︎ .•*──────

Her body slammed to the ground, her knees hitting the moist grass and it took everything in her not to yelp. She hastily grabbed the cloak and made sure to put it safely around herself. Looking up she found a whole stadium of people looking at her — fine, they were looking at Harry but who cared? She did notice however, Harry's green eyes narrowed at the spot her foot had been not long ago. He frowned and tried to reach out for something — the cloak, Hermione assumed — but didn't find anything as Hermione had already moved back. Harry shook his head, passing what he saw as still being high from all the pain he was in not too long ago due to the Cruciatus curse.

The whole stadium was cheering, that is until screams could be heard as they watched Harry grabbing onto Cedric's limp body and the Cup. Hermione watched as Dumbledore came rushing to them, for a moment glancing in her direction only to then seize Harry's shoulders and turn him over.

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry let go of the cup and loosen his grip on Cedric as he was snapped out of his daze. His free hand seized Dumbledore's wrist, the latter's face swimming in and out of focus.

"He's back," Hermione heard Harry whisper, "He's back. Voldemort."

"What's going on? What's happened?" Hermione watched as Fudge's face popped in, in front of Harry's as he stood a few feet away from her.

"My God — Diggory!" Fudge whispered covering his mouth with his hand, "Dumbledore — he's dead!"

"He's not! He's not dead," said Harry frantically as he shook his head, "There was another curse you just need to wake him,"

Hermione's eyes found Dumbledore's from behind the cloak and she saw as he nodded, moving his gaze to Cedric's body and rating his wand. "Rennervate!" he said and abruptly Cedric jolted into a sitting position gasping for air, looking around in utter confusion.

At the sight of the Hufflepuff being alright, Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. She swiftly stood up as the place started to get chaotic and walked through the crowd, hidden behind the cloak, making her way out of the pitch. Soon enough her feet had dragged her along to the Gryffindor Tower and after putting Harry's cloak back in his trunk she sank into a sofa in the common room.

Knees up to her chest, her arms around them, Hermione gazed at the fire numbly. She allowed her mind to stray away, revisiting the events of that night. She hadn't even noticed her eyes were pooling with tears, some of them already streaming down her face. She was numb. She knew for a fact that Cedric hadn't died and that Harry was fine to some extent but that horrid night served as a reality check for the curly-haired girl. This world. . . . wasn't a fantasy anymore. It wasn't some fantastic story she read in a book or watched in a movie. It wasn't fiction anymore, it was real. A real-world and real people in it who were in danger. A world on the brink of war.

Hermione felt as though everything she had been bottling up for the past two years had come crumbling down at her. The shock from arriving in a new universe, meeting her favorite characters, not being in the orphanage anymore, all the emotions she had been keeping for herself spilled out of her and in a moment her tears weren't the only sign of her crying. Hermione started to sob uncontrollably not being able to keep it in. She felt two arms wrap around her and she leaned into the touch allowing the person she knew to be her mother to comfort her.

Hermione cried, tears soaking her mother's clothes, but Annora Hale didn't say anything. She ran a hand through her daughter's hair trying to ease the sobs, letting her cry and let it all out. They stayed like that for a while, that is until Hermione couldn't help but let a question slip from her mouth.

The reality check she just experienced made her realize that she did care about the secrets being kept from her. 

She didn't want to be kept in the dark anymore, she had seen enough of that for one night. She wanted to know who she was and before she could stop herself she burst out the question that was stuck in her subconscious since the beginning of the year. 

"Is Sirius Black my father?" she whispered softly and felt her mother stiffen, Hermione untangled herself from her mother's arms and looked at her with pleading eyes, "Please say something. . . ." begged Hermione in a fragile voice that was the opposite from her usual confident one. "I just realized how real this is. . . . All of this. . . . Just tell me I'm real too. . . . Tell me that I belong; that I have a parent who is alive. . . . Please tell me I'm not mad and hallucinating and seeing dead people. . . . Just tell me I'm real," Hermione's voice got more and more fragile as she talked, more broken. Tears kept falling from her eyes but she made no effort to take them away.

Annora looked at her daughter's silver eyes, those familiar eyes, filled with doubt and sorrow and she nodded softly. The confirmation made Hermione let out a sob that sounded relieved and she immediately fell into her mother's embrace once more. Annora hugged her daughter tightly stroking her head. 

"You're real, baby, you are. . . ." her mother whispered, "I have stretch marks to prove it," she said trying to lighten the mood and Hermione let out choked laughter. Annora cupped her daughter's face, whipping her tears away with her thumbs, and kissed her forehead.

"You're the most real person, I know. You're so smart and beautiful and funny. I couldn't have asked for a better daughter. You deserve the world, Mia, you've been through so much already." Annora said softly, "I love you so much and I'm sure your dad loves you too."

"He knows doesn't he?" Hermione questioned peering up at her mother.

"He's not completely sure, but yes he does."

"How come—How come he didn't say anything?" Hermione asked quietly.

"He didn't want to get his hopes up, darling," The older woman answered softly while running her thumb across her daughter's cheek, "Besides who knows what goes on in Sirius Black's head?"

"Touche," Hermione laughed half-heartedly finally wiping away the last tear running down her cheek.

"Now, why don't you go to the hospital wing, Mia? I'm sure everyone is there already," suggested Annora. Hermione nodded resolutely and stood up. She brushed away any dirt that could be seen in her clothes and checked in a mirror to see if she still looked as if she had been crying. Her cheeks were slightly red and her eyes puffy but the walk to the hospital wing would surely get rid of those. When she was satisfied she took a deep breath to calm herself down and got out of the common room, heading down to the hospital wing.

When Hermione entered the hospital wing was to find Harry sleeping laying on a hospital bed, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Padfoot by his bed and a few over the real Alastor Moody and a few over his Barty Crouch Sr. unconscious on a bed and finally another of beds over was Cedric with his parents. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at that. She thought the man would've died. She thought he did die. Maybe Dumbledore had somewhat been able to save him.

As she approached the group Ron was the first to look up at her. He stood up and rushed over to Hermione bringing her into a hug. Hermione was confused at first but soon enough was hugging him back. "Where were you? Did you hear about what happened?" said Ron whispering in her ear. Hermione only nodded. She faintly smiled over his shoulder at Bill and Mrs. Weasley and pulled away from Ron moving over to the bed where Harry lay. It took everything in her to ignore the black dog whose eyes were fixed on her. She reached Harry's bed and sat down on a chair next to Ron's, she took the glasses off his face and took his hand into her own.

A couple of moments later (maybe hours, Hermione wasn't sure), after the Diggorys had left the hospital wing after a lot of persuading Madam Pomfrey, shouting was heard from the outside of the hospital wing.

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

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

Hermione watched as Harry opened his eyes so she squeezed his hand making him glance over at her momentarily. Mrs. Weasley was soon on her feet.

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

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

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out —"

Hermione stared at the door as it burst open. She felt Harry squeeze her hand and looked up seeing him in a sitting position on the bed. He gave her a fleeting smile and then they both turned to the door.

Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

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

"He's not here," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to —"

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch —"

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

Hermione had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape, in a low voice, "he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch —"

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

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

But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

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

Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened. The dementor had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead, and though he was a deranged lunatic Hermione couldn't help but feel bad for her mother's former friend.

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

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

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

"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 heavyweight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

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

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

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

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

Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are — er — prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.

"Certainly, I believe Harry," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering.

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

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

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

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never—"

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

Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape's eyes flew back to Fudge. "Malfoy was cleared!" said Fudge, visibly affronted. "A very old family — donations to excellent causes —"

"Macnair!" Harry continued.

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle —"

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

"You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Mr. Crouch going missing! Cedric Diggory showing up half dead! These were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling.

"That's cause you fucking killed the evidence, you wanker!" Hermione said loudly making everyone turn to her, "You went and fucking deleted the evidence so no one would "panic". Guess what? That won't do any good to anyone, cause whether you believe it or not Voldemort is back, and when you're stripped of your post we'll all be here to tell you we were right."

"Is that a threat?" Fudge sneered at her.

"No. It's a fact. And you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn't have done what you did with Barty Crouch Jr. The dementor's kiss is worse than death and no one except our dear enemy Voldemort."

"You're talking rubbish little girl," Fudge shouted and Hermione only glared back at him,

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore repeated trying to get the Minister's attention out of Hermione. "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 —"

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

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" said Dumbledore. "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," said Dumbledore, "or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You — you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head 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," said Dumbledore, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed a 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," whispered Fudge, still backing away. "Mad . . ."

And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry's bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs. Weasley was still standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising. Bill, Ron, and Hermione were staring at Fudge.

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

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 rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me —"

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

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

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

"There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

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

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

"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. "Five hundred Galleons. Half went to Diggory. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances . . ."

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry's bed.

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

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

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

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

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

"Leave it to me," said Bill.

He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room.

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

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

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

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

Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam Pomfrey's footsteps had died away before he spoke again. "And now," he said, "it is time for two of our numbers to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius . . . if you could resume your usual form."

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.
Mrs. Weasley screamed and leaped back from the bed.

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

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

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. "What is he doing here?"

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

Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.

"I will settle, in the short term," said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."

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

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

"But —" said Harry.

He wanted Sirius to stay. He did not want to have to say goodbye again so quickly. Hermione also wanted to talk to him but she didn't have the guts to face him just yet. 

Yes, she always knew or at least had an inkling as to who her father was—it was pretty obvious; it was as if people were throwing the facts at her face. 

But for some reason, she never truly accepted the fact that this was real. That she truly was a part of this wonderful yet slightly mad world. So she brushed the evidence off or just didn't give it any thought. It wasn't until tonight that she had her reality check and that led her to care about everything regarding her. She didn't want to be kept in the dark any longer. She wanted to know. And now that she did she was going to take some time to be able to truly face her father.

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

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah . . . of course I do."

Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, and glanced at Hermione—who looked away to the wall—, sighing he transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.

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

"I am," said Snape.

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

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

It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again. "I must go downstairs," he said finally. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."

Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore disappeared. Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time.

"You've got to take the rest of your potion, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabinet as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while . . . think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"

"I don't want that gold," said Harry in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it."

Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry.

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

Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more. Hermione sighed and put her head on Ron's shoulder.

⚡︎