Triwizard Disaster
The wind was knocked from his chest as the scent of decay, dirt, and new growth filled his nostrils. One hand was clutched around the crystal handle of the Triwizard Cup while the other was still gripping the rapidly cooling body of the Hufflepuff that had been unfortunate enough to be called the spare. The ghost’s last words echoed through his mind, ‘Harry, take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents…’. Cedric had not deserved to die. Harry had been too slow, too weak, too unprepared to stop Wormtail from firing a killing curse at the older boy. Blackness started to gather at the edges of his vision but did not overtake him as his mind started to process the torrent of sound that surrounded him.
Oh, right. The maze. The whole school is watching. His mind helpfully supplied.
The ground thundered as hundreds of feet started to move towards him. Then someone was there. They ripped him away from his sanctuary on the ground, but he did not release his hold on Cedric’s body. He did not know if they were truly safe yet. His back pressed into the ground he had just been breathing in and his eyes shot open at the sound of his name. There, above him, was Albus Dumbledore framed by the twinkle of the night sky. His blue eyes were full of concern, but also calculating.
That’s odd, since when have I been able to decipher the emotions in his eyes?
That thought was not important though. No, what was important was the scene he had just witnessed and taken part in.
“He’s back.” His voice trembled with the remains of the Crutiatus curse. His legs and arms twitched, the muscles still spasming from being hit with the torture curse twice. “Voldemort’s back.”
“No…” Cornelius Fudge’s voice whispered as he heard the trembling words coming from the boy-who-lived’s mouth. “Dumbledore, Diggory… He’s dead.”
Those words echoed through the crowd as people tried to get closer to the scene and fingers were suddenly trying to pry Cedric’s wrist from his tight grip. “He wanted me to bring him back to his parents. I couldn’t leave him there after Pettigrew killed him.”
Voices washed over him and he was distantly aware that a conversation was happening above him, but he could not make out their words. He seemed to have even lost track of who was talking when he was pulled to his feet and away from Cedric’s body. “I have to get him to his parents…” He protested weakly, but it did nothing to stop the person from pulling him away from the scene and back up to the castle. It was not until they were inside the castle that he could hear the steady clunk, clunk, clunk of a wooden foot.
Moody.
The professor was asking him questions, the boy realized. Questions that he had not heard or understood, but he knew what the former Auror would want. So he started to tell him what had happened. Before he knew it, they were at the man’s office and he was being pushed down into a chair. A cup of peppery liquid was tipped down his throat and he sputtered from the taste. Pepper up potion.
Suddenly he remembered. “Professor, he said there was a Death Eater here. They are the ones who put my name in the Goblet of Fire. They made sure that I made it through to the end, made sure that I won…” His eyes sharpened as he looked at the professor.
“Yes, I’ve figured that out. I know who it is.” His voice took on a gleeful tone.
“Karkaroff? Snape?” He was starting to put things into place and dearly hoped he was wrong.
“No, Karkaroff fled as soon as he felt the mark burn and Snape,” the man sneered, “he is too much in Dumbledore’s pocket to be loyal to the Dark Lord anymore.”
His world came crashing down then. He knew who the Death Eater was, but how could Mad-Eye Moody be a Death Eater? Then he remembered what took place before the term had started. “Who are you?” His hand found his wand but he had one pointed at his heart before he could lift it.
“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for, boy.” Harry shuddered at the word. Boy. His memories threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought them back. He could not be reminded about the Dursleys right now. He could not be distracted by them.
“Who. Are. You?” His voice had gone cold now, but he could not do anything. Moody would curse him before he had a chance to aim his wand.
“Barty Crouch Junior.” He said with a smirk on his face. “And I shall be rewarded above all others for delivering you to my Master.” He summoned another potion vial and shoved it at the boy. “Drink this.”
“Bloody hell no! I’m not drinking anything you give me.” His eyes glowed the same color as the curse that took the life from Cedric Diggory.
The man who still looked like Alastor Moody tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed in manic glee. “Crucio.” Despite the curse being barely a whisper, the teenager's pain was not diminished by its volume. Harry's wand escaped from his fingers when he fell out of the chair. He could only feel pain. Twisting agony that made it feel like his body was trying to tear itself apart. His teeth were clenched in an attempt not to yell in pain, but after being under the curse for a few moments, his scream ripped from his throat. Time had no meaning, there was only pain and the vague wish for death.
Finally, the pain ended as the torture curse cut off. Harry pushed himself off the floor enough to cough harshly. Blood flowed out of his mouth and onto the floor. He had yelled so much that his vocal cords were bleeding.
“Now, Potter,” the Death Eater said as he knelt in front of the boy and lifted his head by the hair. Those green eyes were still willful and defiant. “How about you drink this potion and I won’t use that curse on you again?”
Harry spat blood across Moody’s face. “Piss off!” His voice was barely a whisper, but his fingers found his wand and he aimed it at the Death Eater just as another Cruciatus hit him.
The yells that ripped from his throat this time were mostly soundless. Barty dropped his head and watched dispassionately as the teenager’s face bounced off the wooden floor. He wiped the blood off of his face as the polyjuice potion reached the end of its one-hour cycle. He had forgotten to take another dose in the exhilaration of torturing someone. The pain from the polyjuice wearing off threatened to overwhelm his senses. It would have crippled him except for the exhilaration of dark magic that flooded his senses. It twisted through his magic, pulsing dark pleasure across his very skin.
A few seconds later, his attention was abruptly shifted to the door to the office as it was blasted inwards. Then he flew back from Harry and landed against the far wall.
Harry’s arm was trembling as he was struggling to keep a hold of his wand. He had used Barty’s brief distraction to fire a knockback jinx, knowing that this could be the only chance he would have to escape. He started to struggle to his feet when gentle arms wrapped around him. “Mr. Potter, Harry.” It was the sound of McGonagall’s voice near his ear as she finished helping the teenager to stand. The other three professors, Dumbledore, Snape, and Flitwick, had gathered around the imposter and were in the process of binding him.
Harry smiled painfully at the transfiguration professor and leaned back against the wall. “Thanks, professor.” His voice was even worse now. It was only the sound of air passing over his vocal cords that was able to be heard. Blood flowed from his nose, now broken, and came up from his throat when he coughed violently again. His wand was held loosely in his off-hand and he looked barely conscious.
No one noticed the distinct chill in the air that accompanied only one creature that had ever been known to roam the earth.
Several things happened almost concurrently. Minerva McGonagall stepped towards Dumbledore to see what was happening while Cornelius Fudge entered the room and ignored Harry for the crowd on the other side of the office.
The Dementors floated in after the Minister and over to the one they had always been most attracted to. The teenager who had experienced so many horrors in his short life with so few spurts of happiness. They had always desired to take the tortured souls right out of his body and would not hesitate to act upon the chance. It happened before he could do much other than consider attempting a Patronus Charm. Even if he had the available time, he probably would not have been able to find a sufficient memory to summon his guardian. So when the tattered black cloak lowered its face towards the teenager, he closed his eyes in acceptance. I’m sorry Sirius. Was his last thought before he felt the Dementor’s lips on his mouth. With a huge inhale, his soul left his body and all he could feel, once again, was pain. The darkness that had been hovering around the edges of his vision finally claimed him as his body fell to the ground.
Then he breathed in.
He heard surprised voices surrounding him and someone yelled for the nurse to be summoned.
He breathed out.
He recognized the voice that had started to order someone named Merryweather around.
He breathed in and opened his eyes.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Hatred filled him and his voice hissed out, “Riddle.” Before his wand shot up and a powerful wave of magic shot out from it and him. It knocked the other teenager back away from Harry, but also had the unfortunate side effect of weakening him to the point that the darkness claimed him again.