GOF: Part 18
As soon as Harry hit the ground with Cassius’ dead body, he knew he had to tell someone, he knew he had to tell them about Moody, or the not Moody. He knew he was still here, in the stands somewhere, was he sitting beside Millicent or Ron and Hermione, was he talking with Ely in sly tones, wondering about how his boyfriend was fairing in the maze when he was the one who had just murdered him?
But he didn’t have to say a word.
As soon as not Moody saw Harry hit the ground. He stood and with a fierce anger in his crazy eyes fired the Dark Mark into the sky. Then before anyone could do anything, he slung killing curse after killing curse at Harry.
He was too far away to hit him, but faster than Harry thought possible, Sirius was by his side knocking him away. Remus was dueling with Not Moody over the heads of screaming students. Then Dumbledore joined in, binding Not Moody with the ropes the way that Harry had just been bound.
“He is risen. The Dark Lord is alive. He’s back. He’s back!” Not Moody screamed, still glaring at Harry as if he could cast the curse to kill him with his eyes. His wand had fallen and Remus had picked it up. He had levitated it to Dumbledore who cast prior incantatem on the wand, and the blood spell that had resurrected Voldemort played out for the enclosed group to see.
“He’s back!” Harry cried. “Voldemort’s back!”
Then Ely McGovern was at his side, faster than even Not Moody in his zeal to defeat Harry, faster than anyone could stop him because Cassius Warrington laid dead on the grass. Ely fell to his knees beside the dead body, and shook him.
“Cass? Cass! Please….what happened? What happened?!” he asked Harry. But all Harry could say was. “He’s back. He’s back.”
Sirius pulled him into his arms and helped get Harry to his feet.
“Sirius, get Harry inside the castle. Remus levitate Crouch to my office and wait for me. Severus, help me with the boy.”
Cornelius Fudge made his way over to the lifeless body of Cassius Warrington and a screaming Ely McGovern. Warrington’s mother was making her way to the ground, pushing through the horde of students and aurors trying to keep back prying eyes. Warrington’s father was nowhere to be found.
Dumbledore motioned to let her through.
They should all bear witness to this, his eyes seemed to say.
Harry, for one, couldn’t look away.
***
The real Mad-Eye Moody was found in a trunk, wizard’s space; he had been stunned and under control of the Imperious Curse. He was weak, but alive Not Moody turned out to be Mr. Crouch, or at least Crouch Junior. Harry hadn’t recognized him in the graveyard, but when the remnants of the polyjuice potion he had been making all year finally wore off, Harry was told it was him. The man who Ely had written him about. Crouch’s death eater son.
Crouch, in the custody of Dumbledore and with a mouth full of Veriterserum confessed to everything. His sick mother had convinced his father to grant her one last wish. To save their son from Azkaban. She took his place and the dementors never suspected a thing. No one did. She died but they buried his body.
Crouch had been kept under lock and key by his father. Imperioused and under an invisibility cloak at all hours until he heard something, felt something. Harry knew that something was Voldemort calling to him.
Winky had been the one to watch him. She had nursed him, had cared for him since he was a child, before he was a Death Eater, before he knew what a Muggle born was, or learned to call them Mudbloods instead. She had loved him since he was born and so she wanted him to be free. One night out, the Quidditch World Cup would be perfect because Winky knew how much little Junior loved Quidditch. But things had gone wrong.
Crouch Jr. had been learning to fight off the Imperious Curse, and when he saw the other Death Eaters the ones who hadn’t been searching for their master, “the ones who lied and pretended”, he had released the Dark Mark into the air. His father had found out, gotten rid of Winky, but by then Crouch Jr. was free and he got to Mad-Eye Moody. He killed his father. He entered Harry into the tournament, and had been using the Imperious on Warrington periodically throughout the year, used him to help Harry get to the Cup, and then had murdered him when he was no longer proved malleable to his will.
“You is a bad master,” Winky had said, sobbing into Harry’s chest.
“Winky has no family,” she proclaimed, despite Crouch’s pleads.
Winky had heard everything, and Harry couldn’t shake the sound of her tears as she learned that the little boy she once loved was no longer the person sitting in front of her as she listened to his confession.
Later, in Dumbledore’s office with Sirius and Remus, Harry told them what happened.
“He said my blood would make him stronger than if he’d used someone elses,” Harry told them. “He said the protection my mother left in me…he’d have it too. And he was right, he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.’
For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. But next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.
“He asked me if I knew how to duel,” Harry went on, but when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort’s wands, he found his throat constricted. He tried to keep talking, but the memories of Cassius, the old man and Bertha, his parents flooded into his mind.
Sirius broke the silence.
“The wands connected?” he said looking from Harry to Remus. “Why?”
“Priori Incantatem,” Remus muttered.
“The Reverse Spell Effect?” said Sirius sharply. “Exactly,” said Dumbledore. “Harry’s wand and Voldemort’s wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,” he added, and he pointed at the scarlet and gold bird that had perched itself peacefully on Harry’s knee.
“My wand’s feather came from Fawkes?” Harry said, amazed.
“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand the moment you left his shop four years ago.”
“When a wand meets its brother,” Remus explained. “The wands will not work properly against each other.”
Dumbledore continued. “It’s a rare effect, where one of the wand’s will force the other to…regurgitate the spells it has performed in reverse. The most recent first, and then those which proceeded it.”
“Which means,” said Dumbledore. “That some form of Cassius appeared.”
Harry nodded at the nonquestion.
“He came back to life?” Sirius asked 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 Cassius which retained his appearance and character.”
“An old man came too,” Harry said, his throat still constricted. “Bertha Jorkins. And…..” He looked at Sirius and Remus.
“I saw my parents.”
Sirius grip on Harry’ shoulder was now so tight it was painful.
“They protected me, told me to hold on…dad….he told me what to do. Cassius told me to take his body back, to show them what had happened, and to tell Ely… to tell him that he loved him.”
At this point, Harry found he could not continue. Fawkes had left his knee, having fluttered to the floor, he rested his beautiful head against Harry’s leg. Pearly white tears fell to his injured leg and it started to repair itself.
“Harry,” said Dumbledore. “You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. Now, I suggest a sleeping potion. There’s no need to return to the dormitory tonight. Sirius, Remus would you like to stay with him? I’m sure Cornelius will allow this in light of current events.”
When Dumbledore pushed open the door to the infirmary, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Blaise, Hermione, Ron, and Millicent grouped around a harassed looking Madame Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as he entered with his two guardians and Dumbledore.
Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.
“Harry. Oh, Harry!”
Dumbledore tried to move between them, but Mrs. Weasley side stepped him, pulling Harry into her arms. Harry felt himself start to cry. He hadn’t been able to touch his own mother, but Mrs. Weasley’s comfortable arms surrounding him, her hand in his hair was real and strong and clearly not an echo of anything but love.
“I’m all right,” he said as soon as he was able. “Just tired.”
Sirius and Remus helped him get into bed.
Sirius eyes watched over him carefully as he smoothed his bed covers. With the help of dreamless sleep Harry quickly fell under. He hoped that he wouldn’t dream about cauldrons, and the shrill voice of Voldemort. He hoped he wouldn’t hear anything at all. And he didn’t. Until the next morning.
Harry kept his eyes closed, hearing the curiosity in Mrs. Wealsey’s voice as she and Bill Weasley listened to the conversation that was quickly turning into an argument right outside the hospital’s doors.
“What has happened?” said Dumbledore sharply, coming through the doors and looking from Cornelius Fudge to Professor McGonagall.
“Minerva, I’m surprised at you…. I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch.”
“There is no need to stand guard anymore, Dumbledore,” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”
Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. Not when Crabbe transfigured his teapot into a bowling ball and nearly knocked several holes in her desk or even when Tracey Davis, transfigured her quill into a pair of scissors deciding that then would be a good time to trim her bangs in class before the scissors took on a life of their own, cutting not only people’s hair, but also people’s robes, in rather inappropriate places and patterns. Crabbe’s nipples still burned into Harry’s memory.
McGonagall’s hands were balled into fists, she was trembling with fury.
“Mr. Fudge called for a dementor when we were finished questioning Barty Crouch.”
“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore,” Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him that 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 criminal. Mr. and Mrs. Warrington thought that it was a fine idea. They care for my personal….”
Sirius laughed.
“They don’t care about you, Fudge. All they cared about was getting revenge for their son. They used you, Minister.”
Fudge scoffed.
“By all accounts, he is no loss. It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!”
“But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore. “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 I’ve heard. He thought he was following you-know-who’s orders!”
“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 has succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”
Fudge blocked this out. Argued. It was as if Fudge had his hands over his ears saying, “Nananananananana.” For all he was listening to the rest of them.
“I believe Harry,” said Dumbledore, his eyes blazing now.
“I heard Crouch’s confession under veriterserum, and I heard Harry’s account of what happened after they touched the cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.”
Fudge smiled strangely.
“You are prepared to believe Lord Voldemort has returned on the word of a lunatic murderer and a boy who as I understand it is not only a Parselmouth but has also been having funny turns all over the place.”
“I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?” said Dumbledore cooly.
“You admit that he has been having these pains then?” said Fudge quickly.
“Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly hallucinations?”
Remus had to hold Sirius back.
“I suggest you stop reading Skeeter’s swill, Minister. There’s only so many brain cells you can sacrifice,” said Sirius. Fudge snarled.
“Listen to me, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge. “Harry is as sane as you or I or anyone else in this room. 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.”
“Look, I saw Lord Voldemort come back!” Harry shouted. “I saw Death Eaters. I can give you their names. Malfoy. Avery.”
“Both cleared,” roared Fudge.
“Macnair,” Harry continued.
“Also cleared, now working for the Ministry!”
“All old names. All acquitted thirteen years ago.”
“And we all know the Ministry is flawless,” barked Sirius.
“You fool!” cried Professor McGonagall. “Mr. Crouch, Cassius Warrington, these deaths are not the random work of a lunatic.”
“What evidence?” shouted Fudge. “It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything that we have worked for.”
“Voldemort is back,” said Dumbledore. “Cornelius, you are blinded! Act now, get to the giants, the dementors or 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, backing away. “Mad….”
“He can’t be back Dumbledore, he just can’t be…”
Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore pulling up the left sleeve of his forearm and showed it to Fudge who recoiled.
“There,” said Snape harshly. “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 he fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Death Eater’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”
Snape was a Death Eater.
Fudge turned to leave before stopping and dropping Harry’s winnings on his bed then leaving. Mr. and Mrs. Warrington seemed to be waiting for Crouch in the hallway. Harry rose shakily to his feet, and moved to the door.
“Do you know what he died for?” Harry nearly shouted at the prim looking couple. Red, tear stained eyes turned to Harry in surprise.
“He died trying to protect me. He died fighting for what was right. He broke the imperious curse for me, and for himself…for the life that he will now never get to live. Ely…”
“Don’t say that name to me!” Mr. Warrington shouted, staring at Harry coldly. “That gold digger is the reason that Cassius is dead. He never should have been involved in this tournament. He never should have been the one to touch that Cup. He should never have been with that overly ambitious sod. And now he’s left his entire inheritance to that boy. I’d say that was the plan all along. To ruin my son and then reap the benefits. It should never have happened!”
“No,” said Harry calmly. “It shouldn’t have, but you know that’s not Ely’s fault. Don’t you, sir?”
Mrs. Warrington eyed her husband discreetly.
“Don’t you want revenge for the person responsible for your son’s death?”
Mr. Warrington looked like he was about to say that he just had, but Harry couldn’t stomach that.
“Crouch may have fired the curse that killed your son, but don’t you think Voldemort could have stopped it if he wanted too? Don’t you think he could have saved him? But no, he condemned him. You, too. Cassius chose what side he wanted to be on, now you have to do the same.”
Then Harry turned and left the grieving parents in the hall. He had his own family to be getting back to.
***
“The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, “of another year.”
He looked at the Slytherin table and Harry felt as if he was looking at each of them.
“There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Slytherin table, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all to please stand and raise your glass to Cassius Warrington.”
They all did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the hall stood and raised the goblet and echoed, in one loud, low rumbling voice, “Cassius Warrington.”
Ely wasn’t at the feast. He hadn’t been able to leave his room, Harry had heard his roommates saying.
“Cassius Warrington was a good person and a great friend. He was steadfast and strong, gifted in astronomy and like the stars he had memorized, he was headed for a bright future. His death has affected you all whether you knew him or not. I think that you have the right therefore to know exactly how it came about.
Cassius Warrington was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”
A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror.
“The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. Some of your parents may be horrified that I have done so either because they believe you are too young to know or because they will simply not believe it themselves. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferred to lies and that any attempt to pretend that Cassius died as a result of an accident or some sort of blunder of his own is an insult to his memory.”
Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sat ashen faced, but attentive to Dumbledore’s words.
“The Triwizard Tournaments aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened Lord Voldemort’s return, such ties are more important than ever before.”
Harry looked at Madame Maxime and Hagrid, Fleur who had went to the ball with a Hogwarts student and who Harry knew had exchanged promises with Hermione to write and Viktor Krum who sat only a few seats from Harry, Millicent and Blaise. The boy who was more than just his talent on a broomstick.
Viktor momentarily looked as if he thought Dumbledore was going to say something to him, but Dumbledore had forgiven worse crimes then going to a school that supposedly teaches the Dark Arts. Snape had been a Death Eater and somehow he had wormed his way into Dumbledore’s good graces again.
“Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all once again that we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great, but we can fight it with an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.
We are all facing dark and dangerous times. Some of you in this Hall have already been directly affected by the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder, and not one week ago, a student was taken from us.”
Dumbledore looked at Harry then.
“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cassius’ body back to Hogwarts. And to show the world what Lord Voldemort has done. And for his bravery, I honor him.”
Many raised their glasses in salute of Harry, but a few noticeably did not and not just the sons of the Death Eater’s that he had escaped from.
“As some of you leave these halls for the last time, I implore you to show the world what you have become, so that when it comes time, and I fear it will come, to choose between what is right and what is easy. I hope you remember how you feel right now in such loss and remember that the boy we mourn, the boy who loved the stars, chose right.”
As they left the Great Hall, someone bumped Harry’s shoulder, but instead of seeing a green robe it was a blue one.
“Murderer.”
Harry looked around, but no one else was stopping. Then from across the hall, Harry heard, “Slytherins always do betray their own kind.”
Harry instantly shook his head.
“It’s all a lie,” said someone else and a Hufflepuff pushed him, nearly causing him to stumble. “Wanted to be champion so bad he murdered Warrington!”
“Yeah,” called someone else. “Dumbledore’s just covering it all…”
“Enough!” roared a voice, who sent a spell that knocked the most outspoken of the group to the floor.
It was Ely.
He looked gaunt and wild, nothing like the normally well-dressed, put together, impeccable image he normally presented to the world. Harry hadn’t seen him all week, but had gone over every variation of what could happen when they met again, but he could have never thought of this.
Ely stopped beside him, calling the attention of every student present though he didn’t say a word. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott stood not far off absorbing everything intently.
“Cassius was a two hundred and thirty pound seventh year Slytherin. He learned how to cast hexes before he even came to Hogwarts that most only learn well after third year. He had a fast dueling arm and used to love playing Exploding Snap. He was every bit the conniving, strategic, ambitious, biting Slytherin you all have this vision of…” he stopped briefly.
“and you think, you honestly believe that this scrawny nothing killed him?”
Ely laughed cruelly.
“You all really are fools.” Ely looked straight at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed Cassius.”
Everyone heard. It seemed as if no one had left the halls except for the staff. No one planned to miss this.
“While I saw Potter here, as nothing more than a nuisance, something that stood in the way of Cass becoming a champion Cass thought that Potter was a good kid, defiant, unruly but better than most.” Ely eyed the crowd, contemptuously.
“I was close enough that night to hear what Harry was saying. I saw, we all saw Crouch Junior attack Harry Potter so that he would stay silent, but I will not stay silent. This unruly, mouthy fourth year didn’t kill anyone. The Dark Lord killed the boy I love, and I won’t let anyone taint him with lies.”
He raised his wand.
“And I’ll curse anyone who says differently.”
Just then, the upper year Slytherins who had been watching stepped up and joined Ely then. Then Krum, “Harry Potter is a valiant champion and I stand by him.”
“Me too,” said Fleur and a whole host of others stood by him, his friends even people he had never talked too.
The dissenters nodded meekly before filtering out of the Hall. Harry nodded to his friends and they too, walked away. Ely moved off as well, but Harry couldn’t let him go.
“Ely!” Harry called. He had to tell him. He might not get another chance. Ely stopped. His cheeks still red with anger. He was breathing heavy, no energy from lack of food for the past week.
He looked at Harry expectantly, but impatiently. Harry’s mouth went dry. But after everything Ely had just said for him, he could say something for Warrington.
“Cassius, he wanted me to tell you he loved you.”
Harry said, but instead of tears or more yelling, Ely simply laughed.
Ely shook his head, “No, he didn’t Potter. Cassius never once said those words to me.”
He turned to walk away, Harry followed him.
“He said, tell Ely that he’s the exact opposite of the thing I despise the most.”
Ely stopped, then faced him. A gentle smile now on his face.
“That’s more like it,” he said. “He always said things like, “I adore you.” “You’re brighter than the lights from the Lake.” “One day it will be us.” “I’ll show you how.” “Study with me?” Cass never said, I love you, and yet he said it every day since fourth year.”
Ely put his hands on Harry’s shoulders.
“If you think life right now is shit just wait, Potter. Cass has got it easy now. The dead don’t have to make any choices.”
“Won’t you miss him?” asked Harry. He thought Ely was being a bit pragmatic about this.
“Weren’t you guys going to live together, make a life? That’s what Cassius said in the maze.” Ely laughed again. “I’m surprised he told you that, Potter, he must have thought you were more than what you let on.”
Ely released him.
“It was only an idea, Potter. Cass comes from a great wealthy family and would have been expected to make a good marriage and produce an heir. The only good place we had was here and in his imagination. We both knew it wasn’t going to happen.” Harry shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t. Harry looked straight into Ely’s eyes.
“Perhaps you should contact Cassius’s parents before you taint him with anymore lies. Or at least send an Owl to Gringotts,” said Harry. Harry moved past Ely’s still disheveled form.
“He loved you more than you think.”
Ely nodded. Harry didn’t have to see the tears in his eyes to know they were there.
“Thanks P….Harry.”
“You’re welcome,” Harry said.