Heather felt herself slam into the grassy ground, the wind knocked out of her as she tried to breath. She then realized tears were streaming down her face….she was crying, she was panting as she heard people around her. She could feel the smooth cold handle of the Triwizard Cup in her hand, she was gripping in convulsively afraid if she let go she would be where she thought she was.
Shock and exhaustion kept Heather lying on the ground, her arm throbbed and her head ached. Flashes of her father and Mr. Wong made her jump and start, the memories already haunting her. There were voices and everyone, footsteps, screams…she gasped when she felt two hands turn her on her back. She let her hand fall away from the handle and saw above her Professor McGonagall.
“Heather!” it was Isaac, she then heard another call of her name and knew it was Kira and tired to sit up.
Heather shook her head, “Kira…our father, he’s back!”
McGonagall gave her a confused look then she heard Harry, “He’s back,”…he was whispering it. “He’s back. Voldemort’s back.”
Soon she heard the shocked voices of realization that Cedric was dead, they echoed throughout the crowd. Screams erupted throughout the stands and she heard her friends calling her again.
“Heather!” it was Kira, which made her cry more, as two hands helped her up.
“Heather!” it was Isaac, she could smell his cologne on his as he hugged her gently, but eh was pulled away by Hagrid.
Heather hated how her vision was uncommonly clear, the adrenaline still keeping her awake. She saw the blood on Isaac robes as he was pulled back and looked down to her right arm; it was split open and bleeding. It was then Heather felt a hand on her shoulder, she jumped violently only to be pushed foreword.
“Hospital wing, you both need to lie down…”
Heather watched as they stumbled through the crowd, girls screaming and sobbing in hysteria many students looking onward in shock. Heather wanted to tell Kira, she had to tell Kira what she had just seen, Isaac too. But the hand didn’t let her, it steered her sternly by the shoulder and up the castle; it was then her vision began to blur. She could hear Harry, explaining to the person what had happened, what they had seen. Heather soon found herself sitting in Moody’s office, once again oddly clear as though she could see every detail; a cup was pushed into her hands.
“Drink it…you’ll feel better...come on, now, Harry, I need to know exactly what happened…”
Heather drank the cup and choked at the peppery taste, it made her eyes water and her head hurt as everything turned a brilliant white and faded again. Heather listened as Harry explained the story, it was then they came to Karkaroff…he had run away.
“Karkaroff’s gone? He ran away? But then-he didn’t put my name in the goblet?”
“No,” said Moody slowly. “No, he didn’t. It was I who did that.”
Heather stared at him in shock as Harry didn’t believe it, she watched as Moody pulled out his wand and watched the door wit his other eye.
“I assure you I did.” he said, “He forgave them, then? The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?”
“What?” Heather asked
He asked again if the death eaters were forgiving, then said what he hated more than a death eater was a free one. Heather was putting bits and pieces together but it seemed unbelievable of what he was saying. He told them it wasn’t easy, guiding Harry throughout the tasks and keeping Heather out of his business.
“Precocious imp,” he said with a nod to Heather, his smile scared her, it was insane…like her fathers.
He told continued on to say how he tipped off Cedric about putting the egg underwater and keeping Heather once again out of the way. How he tipped off the house elf, Dobby, about the Gillyweed; just like Isaac had guessed. As he talked Heather stared blankly at the foe-glasses out his room, foggy shapes came in and out of them. He told him, wand still over Harry’s heart, how he patrolled the maze and stunned Fleur and put the Imperius Curse on Krum. This didn’t make sense to Heather; just a year ago Moody had been an old Auror in retirement blasting trash bins.
“The Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill you, Potter, and he so wanted to,” whispered Moody, “Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. You, Smith, will be coming back with me, to your father. With that curiosity of yours you will raise greatly too, just like me. I will be honored beyond all other Death eaters. I will be his dearest, his closet supporter…closer than a son…”
“You’re mad,” snapped Harry.
Heather nodded and tried to stand. “You’re mad!”
But she felt to her knees, clutching her broken arm, the room spinning dangerously around her.
“Mad, am I?” Moody’s voice rose uncontrollably. “We’ll see! We’ll see who’s mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him-and now-I conquer you!”
Heather reached for her wand just as Harry did but her sight was blinding by a flash of red light. The door splintered and torn open as it was blasted apart, Heather ducked as Moody fell over her onto the office floor. Heather looked up; she was once again at the feet of Dumbledore, his face contorted into rage and anger. His wand was pointed at her, her heart leap for a moment but she scrambled away from Moody, seeing his target was not hers.
“Come along, Potter, Smith,” whispered McGonagall, she felt a hand on her arm pulling her upward, she still staring at Moody unconscious on the floor. “Come along…hospital wing…”
“No,” Dumbledore said sharply.
“Dumbledore, they ought to-look at them-they’ve been through enough tonight-”
“They will both stay, Minerva, because they need to understand,” said Dumbledore curtly, “Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. They need to know who has put them through the ordeal they have suffered tonight and why.”
“W-what about K-Kira?” Heather asked, her voice shaking slightly.
“What about her, dear?” she heard McGonagall ask.
“Our…our father…he’s a death eater…he-he was there, I saw him…” Heather said
“Moody,” said Harry breathlessly, “How can it have been Moody?”
“Apparently there is more to the story.” said Dumbledore, looking to Heather. “”let’s start with this one in front of us first. This is not Alastor Moody; you have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you two from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew-and I followed.”
Dumbledore reached down and took Moody’s hip flask and a set of keys on a ring, and then he turned to Professors McGonagall and Snape.
“Severus, please fetch met eh strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrids house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, then notify Remus Lupin to come to my office and tell them both I will be him them shortly; then come back here.”
If either of the Professors found these requests odd they didn’t express it, but merely walked from the room. Dumbledore walked over to a trunk that had seven locks and began to unlock them. One chest had something more valuable than the next, Heather wondered how it was possible, seven trunks…in one. He lifted the last trunk open and peered inside; Heather looked over Harry’s shoulder and gasped as he cried out in amazement. There lay at the bottom of the trunk, which looked a good few feet down was…Alastor Moody.
This was something Heather could wrap her mind around, she could have sworn just moments ago Moody was confessing all and now he lay at the bottom of a trunk. The question was who was real and the answer was easy, the one unconscious at the bottom of the trunk, with parts of his hair missing.
“Polyjucie Potion,” Heather rasped, realizing why his hair was torn out and how they were the same person.
Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowered himself, and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He bent over him.
“Stunned-controlled by the Imperius Curse-very weak,” he said. “Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry thrown down the imposter’s clock-he’s freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger.”
Harry did as he was told: Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip flask that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor.
“Exactly, Heather.” he said to her. “You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he’s well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair…” Dumbledore looked down on the Moody in the trunk. “The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he shout have done…on the hour…every hour…We shall see.”
Dumbledore put up a chair and sat down upon it, his yes fixed upon the uncurious Moody on the floor. It was in those minutes of silence she felt water trickling down her arm, and then realized the drops from her fingers was blood. She lifted it with her other hand and held into her body to keep it as strait as she could. She then looked back to Moody on the floor…his face was changing right before her eyes. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to drink. The long made of grizzled gray hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw. 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 mans face as real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.
Heather recognized the man that lay before her, pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair. He was the man screaming at Mr. Crouch that he was his son, that he had nothing to do with torturing the Longbottoms. There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had returned with Winky at his heels. Professor McGonagall was right behind them.
“Crouch!” Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. “Barty Crouch!”
“Good heavens,” she heard Professor McGonagall gasped.
Then came the voice of the house elf, Winky. “Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?” she gasped flinging herself down onto the young mans chest. “You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master’s son!”
Dumbledore gently shooed away the house elf and took the truth potion from Snape and poured a few drops down his throat before reviving him. Dumbledore questioned Crouch about how he escaped from Azkaban, his mother had saved him. This threw Heather for a loop, his mother and himself drank polyjucie potion, she was the one dead in the grave that Sirius saw them dig. His mother died shortly after he was smuggled out, careful to drink the potion all the way till the end.
He told Dumbledore that his father staged his mother’s death, a quiet private funeral and that the grave was empty. He told him that Winky nursed him back to health, and that his father used a number of spells to subdue him. He told him after he recovered his strength he only thought of finding Voldmeort and returning to his service. Under his fathers Imperius Curse he was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. He was always with Winky; the elf he said was his keeper and caretaker. Winky pitied him, preshrinking his father to give him occasional treats. Rewards for good behavior.”
It was Bertha who discovered he was still alive; she had come to his house for his father’s signature on some papers. He wasn’t at home so Wink showed her inside only to have Bertha overhear her talking to him. She heard enough to guess he was under an invisibility cloak, his father arrived home and she confronted him and he put a powerful memory spell on her to make her forget what she had seen. Of course, the charm was too powerful and damaged her memory permanently. It was Winky who had gotten Barty to the World Cup, she persuaded his father to let him go, because he had loved Quidditch. In the end he agreed and it was carefully planned, Winky was to say she was saving a seat for his father while he sat there invisible.
Btu what the house elf didn’t know is that he was growing stronger, slowly fighting away his fathers curse; almost feeling like himself again. It was he who had taken Harry’s wand, like snapping from a dream he took it, unable to have a wand since Azkaban; Winky didn’t see because of her fear of heights. After that they went back to the tent, and then heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. Winky tried to control him, using her own magic to drag him into the woods. But he held her back and cast the Dark Mark with the wand he had stolen. Then the Ministry arrived, shooting-as Heather remembered- stunning spells everywhere; breaking the bond between the man and elf.
His father-who had gone to investigate-found them there both stunned and blamed it on Winky. That’s why he dismissed Winky she had failed him, she had let him acquire a wand and almost let him escape. It was then Crouch’s eyes rolled into his head and he grinned insanely.
“My master came for me. He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I had escape from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant-perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived plan, based upon the information of Berth had given him.” Crouch smiled insanely again.
He said it was very quick; his father was placed under the Imperius curse by Voldmeort. He was forced to go about his business as usual, like nothing was wrong at all. He was realized, he was himself again, alive as he hadn’t been in years. Voldmeort asked him whether he was ready to risk everything for him. He was ready. It was his dream, his greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove himself to him. That is why he needed Moody, to get close to Harry and the tournament, to get him through all the tasks, but not so easily so that it looked like he was cheating.
Wormtail had returned to care for Voldemort, it was then his father escaped from the curse put upon him. Voldmeort forced him to send letters to the Ministry saying he was ill, but Wormtail hadn’t watched enough and he escaped. Voldmeort guessed he was headed for Hogwarts, to tell Dumbledore everything. He was going to confess all that he had done.
It was then it made sense to Heather, he used the map he had taken from Harry that night to find him. It was really a Crouch in Snape’s office that night, on the inside at least it was. Harry had mistake Barty Crouch Jr. for Barty Crouch Sen. He had gone out that night Harry and Krum found Crouch and killed his father, transfigured him and buried him as a bone in Hagrid patch of earth.
“All the while Smith kept her out of the way; both of us knew if she was let to run free she would discover me. She nearly did too, looking up in potion book after potion book for what I was drinking.” he said, “That’s how I was able to slip away from her suspicions as she focused on her Occlumency power. I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner, turned it into a Portkey. My master’s plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards.”
Crouch’s insane smiled lit his features once more, and his head drooped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side. Heather sighed, remembering the smell of the polyjucie potion, knowing it smelled like no gin she had ever heard of.
“Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry and Heather upstairs?”
“Of course,” said Professor McGonagall, looking slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched someone being sick.
“Severus”-Dumbledore turned to Snape-“please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here: we need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly wand to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half and hours time if he needs me.”
“Harry, Heather?” Dumbledore said gently.
Heather was still staring at Barty Crouch, in disbelief but was pulled from her thoughts when he spoke. “I want you both to come up to my office first,” he said quietly, steering them both into the empty corridor. “Sirius and Remus should be waiting for us there.”
Heather couldn’t rid her father from her mind, the man she lived with since she was five years old. She kept getting flashing of him in the death eater mask and his face being revealed to her shock. Him speaking, she couldn’t hear him but she knew what he was saying, how he had chosen his side of the war a long time ago.
“Professor?” Heather asked, after Harry questioned where the Diggory family was. “Where are my mother and Kira?”
“With Professor Flitwick, he should be collecting Kira and contacting her mother.” he told her.
“But he doesn’t know who-”
“That will be taken care of shortly, I assure you.” he said gently but sternly and Heather nodded, not wanting to argue.
They had reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore gave the password, it sprang aside, and they went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open. Sirius and Remus was standing there. Sirius looked as pale and gaunt as he had when she saw him in the shrieking shack a year ago. Remus looked very worried, he was wringing his hands and every line on his tired face was etched.
“Heather, are you all right?” she heard Remus ask, two hands coming to her shoulders.
“I knew it-I knew something like this-what happened?” the last question was said in unison by Remus and Sirius.
Dumbledore began to tell Sirius and Remus everything Barty Crouch had said. Heather was only half listened staring at the floor, she was so tired. Her head throbbed in sync with her arm; she looked to her hand that lay limp to see it was trembling still. Heather wished she could sleep, but she knew Dumbledore wanted to know what happened…he wanted them to relive everything. It was times like these she wished she could faint on cue or just lose consciousness for a while. It was then a large phoenix flew down to them and landed softly on Harry’s knee.
“’lo, Fawkes,” he said quietly and stoked his neck.
Heather tensed when she felt a warm weight on her shoulders and realized it was a cloak. She looked up, Remus smiled sadly down at her and she realized that Dumbledore had stopped talking and was sitting across from them…looking at Harry. Dumbledore asked Harry to relive everything that had happened after her touch the portkey. Heather looked to him, tapping slightly into his mind she could feel his exhaustion way on her and moved away.
“If I thought I could help you,” he said gently, “by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you both 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 have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened.”
The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air; Heather felt clear headed once more, and sat up a bit suddenly feeling the full extent of the pain in her arm. It was then Harry began visions of everything he said crossed her eyes. Cedric’s body, Voldemort’s resurrection and the apparating death eaters around the graveyard. Once or twice, Sirius mad ea nose as tough about to say something, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him. Remus remained silent by her side, his hand still upon her shoulder. It was when Harry recalled Wormtail cutting his arm Dumbledore stood after and exclamation from Sirius. Heather jumped as he strode around the side of the desk and Harry showed him his arm.
“He then Voldemort started talking to Heather’s father and she broke free of her restraints and ran.” Harry said, and looked to her, she tensed it was her turn.
“My dad and my biological father appeared next to me. I didn’t recognize Ling Wong until his mask was removed, I asked him what he was thinking but he just told me ‘There are many sides to a war, Heather; I’ve chosen mine a long time ago.’ He told me that he had been on this ‘side’ only a year after he adopted me and kept quiet. I don’t know how I broke out of the vines, but the two held me there. I escaped briefly and transformed, I tired to make for a church just visible on the horizon but they caught me. That’s how I broke my arm, I was in mid ump when they stunned me and I fell over a tombstone into a grave.” Dumbledore nodded for her to continue. “My real dad was shocked that I transformed in to a wolf, nonetheless transformed at all. He said Remus was a bad influence on me, they said if my mother hadn’t interfered and kept contact with him I would have grown up normally.” she heard Remus scoff and muttered ‘normal…’ under his breath sarcastically. “It was then my father mentioned Isaac’s mother, how she assisted him in watching me over the past year; she was among those who returned. They said I knew too much and thanks to my sarcastic remark I was rendered unconscious.”
It was then Harry continued getting to the part where he and Voldmeort were dueling and how the wands reacted to each other. It was then the memories of the ghost haunted Harry and he couldn’t continue, instead Sirius broke the silence.
“The wands connected?” he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. “Why?”
Dumbledore explained a spell called Priori Incantatem, a reserve spell effect, saying that Harry and Voldemort’s wands share cores. It was a phoenix feather that came from his bird Fawkes, when the wand meets its brother it won’t work properly. But when they are forced to battle against each other the spell occurs though it’s very rare.
“Which means,” Dumbledore said slowly, his eyes upon Harry’s face, “that some form of Cedric must have reappeared.”
“Diggory came back to life?” said Sirius sharply.
Heather shook her head, “It was a ghost…” Harry nodded.
“No spell can reawaken the dead,” Dumbledore said, explaining it must’ve been an echo effect, a shadow of the living Cedric.
“He spoke to me,” Harry said, trembling as she was. “The…the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was spoke. An old man, Bertha Jorkins did too and…”
“Your parents?” Dumbledore said quietly.
“Yes,” Harry responded.
Harry described what the figures did and how Voldemort seemed to fear them and how his father told him what to do. How he took his advice and how he and Heather made a mad dash to the cup and returned to the Quidditch Pitch. Heather realized at the point the tears that once again fell from her cheeks and the heaviness of Remus’ cloak on her shoulders. Sirius now sit down his head in his hands and Remus had his hands folded behind his back thinking.
“I don’t want either of you returning to your dormitories tonight. A Sleeping Potion and some peace…Sirius, Remus would you like to stay with them?”
Sirius nodded and stood up transforming into the great black dog that was his Animagus form.
“Yes,” she heard Remus say as she stood and walked to the hospital wing with them.
When Dumbledore pushed open the door, Heather saw the Weasley clan was there as well as Isaac Kira and her mother. There were two other people there, a tall man with dirty blonde hair with another woman who had brown hair.
“Harry! Oh, Harry!”
Heather heard the two mothers say frantically but Dumbledore came between them. “Molly, Aimi,” he said holding up a hand. “Heather and Harry have been through a terrible ordeal tonight. They have just had to relive it for me. What they need now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with them,” he added looking to their friends. “You may do so. But I do not want you questing him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.”
Mrs. Weasley rounded on Ron and the others as though they had been noisy and warned them that Harry needed quiet. Her mother walked past Dumbledore and reached out to Heather leading her to a bed; Remus reached out and took his cloak off her shoulders. Madam Pomfrey fixed up her arm and a few scratches before letting her dress into her purple pajamas behind a screen. Heather sat down on the bed and felt her mum push her legs onto the bed and pull the covers over her lap.
“I’m okay,” Heather said, to a very, very quiet Kira and Isaac. “I’m just very tired,”
“Here,” said Remus, putting a goblet in her hands.
“Drink it all,” Madam Pomfrey said, “It’s a potion for dreamless sleep.”
Heather nodded and drank a few mouthfuls, feeling drowsy immediately; she drank the last before giving it back to him and lying down. Everything became hazing fuzz as sleep took her; she only hoped her father wouldn’t be able to break the potion. She felt like she was in her third year all over again, wondering if everything she had just learned was right. It was then someone pulled the covers closer around her and ran a hand through her hair and she let her exhaustion carry her to sleep.