Chapter Seven-

Tempest had made it through the night without breaking down.

When she appeared in the middle of the street in Hogsmeade, not far from the Hogs Head, she had maintained her composure. She had stared at the bleeding gash where the flesh that had been gouged out of her arm used to be; and ignored the way the wound swam before her eyes. She had torn a strip from her already ragged robes, and bound a tourniquet above the wound, then stumbled up to the door of the Hogs Head.

Tempest had meant to knock. Instead, she collapsed against the worn wood, and blessedly, it seemed to sound loud enough for the door to open, and her to fall inside.

Consciousness' came and went. She was being carried… seated… something warm and smelling very strongly of animal was draped over her shoulders… Someone was speaking to her- perhaps the owner, perhaps his goat… she might have replied, she wasn't sure. Other than the pain- the ever constant, throbbing of the pain that wracked her (she couldn't stop shaking- why couldn't she stop shaking?)- she felt a sense of dull urgency. She needed to tell someone- everyone, about Voldemort's return. She needed to tell Dumbledore of the not-Moody at Hogwarts. She needed to let someone know about the deaths of the muggle and Bertha Jorkins. She needed to speak to Cedric's parents…

And then she became aware of approaching footsteps, of a door opening and closing, and there- framed in the doorway of the dusty pub, stood Dumbledore, Remus, Snape, and Minnie.

"Tempest," said Minnie. She sounded strangled.

Tempest blinked once, and got to her feet.

The whole world tilted alarmingly, then there were arms grasping her- Minnie's and Remus' – keeping her upright.

Tempest stumbled a step closer, and buried her face in the fabric of Minnie's shoulder. For several moments, she stood there.

Her wounds throbbed and Tempest noticed she was bleeding all over Minnie and Remus. She mumbled, so quietly that only Minnie and Remus could hear; "Where's Sirius?"

"Dumbledore had him wait in his office," said Minnie, strain still audible in her voice, "it would have looked suspicious… Tempest-"

So Sirius was still at Hogwarts. Tempest felt a wave of relief crash over her. Finally, she lifted her head from Minnie's shoulder, still woozy from blood-loss and exhaustion. "I want to see him," she said hazily, "and… I think... I think I might need medical attention… and… Professor Dumbledore, sir… I need to speak to you."

Dumbledore was looking at Tempest. His eyes were very soft. Minnie let go, and Remus stepped away for Dumbledore to grasp Tempest's arm. "I'll take her to my office directly," he said. He gave further instructions to Minnie, Remus and Snape that Tempest did not hear, and then they were gone, snapping through space in a nauseating whirl.

They landed in the middle of Dumbledore's office to an overwhelming amount of noise. Dumbledore ushered her to the chair in front of his desk, and Tempest collapsed into it. Sirius was in human form, standing before one of the large headmaster portraits, talking very loudly, while the rest of the portraits made noise of their own.

At their arrival, Sirius turned around and saw them. His wild expression faded into such a blindingly relieved expression, Tempest's chest hurt.

And then he surged forwards, and Tempest stood again, only for Sirius to sweep Tempest into his arms for a crushing, bruising, soul-rattling hug. Tempest, who had never been swept into anyone's arms in her entire life, who had multiple open wounds and thought the hug might kill her, decided she liked it very much.

"I thought this would never happen," breathed Tempest, screwing her eyes tight and inhaling the scent of Sirius, a feeling so out of place after the night she had had. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"You're here," said Sirius, no less vehemently, "you're back, you're safe."

He continued his reassurances, and Tempest felt, with a rush of fondness, that they seemed to be directed at himself in equal measure.

"I am here," said Tempest, laughing shakily, and Sirius set her down, holding her at arms length, eyes searching her face. "You're injured," he said, concern etched into every line of his face, helping her sit back down.

She was, Tempest noticed with a mild sort of guilt, dripping blood all over the chair and carpet.

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

"Lo, Fawkes," said Tempest quietly. She let her injured hand fall to rest on the phoenix's beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. Fawkes blinked peacefully up at her. There was something comforting about his warm weight. The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and Tempest felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down her throat into her stomach, warming her. The phoenix had craned his neck. It was resting his beautiful head against Tempest's arm, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto her splinched arm.

The pain vanished. Skin knitted over the wound leaving barely a scar. Sirius and Tempest watched with wide eyes as Fawkes set about healing her shoulder and her hand.

Tempest blinked down at the phoenix, gratitude struggling in her chest. She realized she was still gripping her wand with her newly healed right hand; tight enough for her to fear it's breaking. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers from around it, slipped it into its holster.

"What happened?" asked Sirius, directing the question to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had quieted the portraits. They were silent and watchful now. He conjured a chair for Sirius beside Tempest and motioned for him to sit.

"Cedric Diggory's body arrived holding the Triwizard Cup some twenty minutes ago," he said, and Tempest felt her throat close up. "Understandably there was a lot of confusion and fear. We were of course trying to locate you, while the Minister of Magic remained with Cedric's parents in support. I suspected Voldemort's return. Karkaroff left the judge's podium very quickly, and there were… other indicators. Meanwhile, Severus, Minerva, Remus and I were attempting to recreate the spell about the Cup to locate you, at which point, I received a patronus from Alberforth that you had appeared at his bar, badly injured. I sent Sirius in his dog form to my office to wait, as too many people would ask why a dog needed to accompany us."

Here Dumbledore stopped, and Tempest remembered all in a rush, what she needed to say. "The Moody at this school is a Death Eater," she said, "it's Barty Crouch Jr- the dead one- polyjuiced as him. He was the one who obliviated me that night in the hallway," she added. "I'd found out who he was, and he cursed me. I didn't remember until Voldemort talked about him tonight."

At this, Dumbledore rose to his feet abruptly. He did not question Tempest, he motioned with his wand. Twin streaks of silver flew from the wand tip and vanished through the walls of the office. "I have sent instructions," he explained, "to Minerva, Severus and Remus to apprehend and question the man. We must find the real Alastor as soon as possible."

Tempest felt immense relief. One danger was removed. "He must have been behind everything…" she said, "putting my name in the cup… that night in the corridor, I remember Moody showing up right after Snape suggested we go to you, Professor. Voldemort said he was the reason for tonight, too."

Sirius reached over to grip Tempest's shoulder, and she looked up at him, emotions once again battling in her chest.

"Tempest," said Dumbledore softly, recalling her attention to him, "I need to know everything that happened after you touched the portkey in the maze."

"We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" said Sirius harshly. "Let her have a sleep. Let her rest."

Tempest felt a rush of gratitude toward Sirius, but Dumbledore took no notice of his words. He leaned toward Tempest, who met his blue eyes tiredly.

"It's fine," said Tempest to Sirius, "It's over, it's fine- I'll tell you." And as she spoke, the night played out before her eyes in visions that came and went. She recounted their appearance in the graveyard, Pettigrew's reveal and Cedric's initial escape from death. At times, her voice faded until she cleared her throat and began again, and in these moments, she focused on Sirius's hand as though it were a lifeline. For all she said it was fine- Tempest wanted little more than to close her eyes for a while and will the world away. But she continued speaking, for she felt that once she was finished, it would finally be done with.

When Tempest told of Pettigrew taking her blood to use in the potion, Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Tempest started. She had the feeling that Dumbledore would've asked to see the cut had it still existed- but with Fawkes' tears, her wounds had melted away.

"He said he wanted my blood specifically for the protection that I- that my mother's- that Lily gave me- so that… so that he would possess it too. And… unlike first year, he could touch me without burning… and so he did."

Sirius made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. And Dumbledore, wore for a fleeting moment, a triumphant look. Yet in the next moment, Tempest was sure she had imagined it, for Dumbledore looked as old and weary as ever.

"Very well," he said, "Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Tempest, continue, please."

Tempest looked down at her right hand. No longer holding her wand, she stretched out her fingers carefully. Skin moved smoothly and only with the dullest ache over the bones of her hand as she folded it into a fist.

"After Voldemort… came back… he summoned the other death eaters, and we spoke… briefly… about my death… and then Cedric-" Here Tempest had to swallow several times before she could go on. Cedric, who would be alive if she had just taken the cup by herself, or if she hadn't failed to distract Voldemort enough… She cleared her throat. "Cedric must have regained consciousness, and he attacked Voldemort. He threw me my wand- that was why my hand was the way it was- I had to get free of the ropes to catch it… and we tried to hold off Voldemort, but he was too… we couldn't manage it, and since Cedric was closer to the cup, I thought… I thought it would be better, if it weren't the both of us who had to die that night. If someone could spread the word that Voldemort was back."

Sirius's grip on Tempest's shoulder became almost painful.

"But Voldemort… he managed to curse me, and… by the time I had recovered, Cedric had lost his wand and he was just at the cup when… when Voldemort-" Tempest's voice faded off, and Sirius reached over, and grasped her hand. "I think Cedric was dead before he touched the cup," she said. "And at that point, the death eaters had arrived, and they were just watching." She recounted what little she could recall of Voldemort's account to the death eaters, some of their exchanges; Pettigrew's silver hand. "He did kill Bertha Jorkins," said Tempest quietly, "and Mr Crouch is dead. I'm guessing his son killed him that night he was on the grounds." She spoke then of how he had achieved his rebirth of sorts, and his movements throughout the years. "Mostly I was trying to summon my wand to myself," she said, thinking back to the long minutes where she had pleaded with the powers that be to grant her that one thing.

"I've done wandless magic before," said Tempest, "and I managed it at the last moment. I got my wand back..." She did not mention Voldemort's offer, his invitation to join him. "We dueled for a bit- though it was barely a duel, he was toying with me, I could tell… and when he finally got bored… he sent a killing curse at me, and it connected with a spell that I sent… and… and then…"

But here, Tempest found she could not continue any longer. She was glad when Sirius broke the silence.

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

"Priori Incantatem," muttered Dumbledore.

"The Reverse Spell effect?" said Sirius sharply.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "Tempest'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 added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on the corner of his desk.

"So what happens when a wand meets its brother?" said Sirius, speaking for Tempest, who had yet to recover her voice.

"They will not work properly against each other," said Dumbledore. "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 Tempest, and Tempest looked away. She looked at Fawkes again, and spoke in a voice she held rigidly steady.

"I saw an old man," she said. "Bertha Jorkins. And…"

"Your parents?" said Dumbledore quietly.

Tempest jerked her head down roughly. "So the night wasn't a complete loss," she said tightly, pointedly looking at nothing at all, "got to see to my parents for all of a few seconds."

And then Sirius had let go of her hand and was cupping her face between his hands. "You shouldn't have to be fucking tortured to see your parents," he said vehemently, his grey eyes desperately kind and infinitely sad.

Tempest stared at him, and emotion clogged in her throat. "But it's my lot," she said, unable to keep the quaver out of her words. "And I need to deal with it."

"Not alone," said Sirius, promise in his voice. "So help me, never again, and never alone."

Dumbledore spoke, and Tempest remembered they were not alone in the room. Sirius's hands slipped away, leaving Tempest feeling bereft.

"Tempest… these echoes… these shadows of Voldemort's victims… what did they do?"

"They mostly surrounded Voldemort," said Tempest, "they distracted him… and my… and James… he told me to apparate outside of the graveyard… and…. And Lily said my patronus would help me on… and it did. I… I still don't know how."

Here Dumbledore's eyes regained a shade of their old light. "Apparation in it's essence is to wreath and surrender to the magic within the apparator, managing to transport them between spaces, focused by the strength of their mind. It is in fact, a far less complex process than you may imagine, however do not mistake me, Tempest, your ability was by no means a small feat. As are your accomplishments with wandless magic, you demonstrated exceptional ability."

"But I splinched."

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "When your patronus passed through you, you must have been enveloped in a concentrated mix of all the positive emotions accumulated in your life, directing you towards a place or person where you had felt the most safe or happy- in this case, Hogwarts. However, due to the school's wards you instead appeared close by- the Hogs Head. The diversion, coupled with your first time apparating must have resulted in splinching."

Tempest was digesting this, while Sirius sent his eyes roving over Tempest, as though to check again for some missing body part.

"I'm fine, Sirius," reassured Tempest, and from behind his desk, Dumbledore stood.

"Tempest, you have shown courage 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. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it- and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace... Sirius, would you like to stay with her?"

Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into Padfoot and walked with Tempest and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing.

The first thing Tempest saw when they entered the room, was Remus accosted by Ron and Hermione, who seemed to be demanding to know the exact details of what had happened when he had seen her.

Their heads snapped around when Tempest and Padfoot entered, and Tempest had barely a moment to prepare herself, before Ron and Hermione were rushing toward her.

Dumbledore halted them with a hand however. "Whatever conversations you may wish to have, will wait until Tempest is ready. She has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. She has just had to relive it for me. What she needs now is sleep and peace. ""

Ron and Hermione nodded, looking abashed. Ron was looking at Tempest with something close to terror.

"Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, "may I ask what-?"

"This dog will be remaining with Tempest for a while," said Dumbledore simply. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Tempest- I will be back as soon as I have met with Minerva, then Fudge. I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school." He left.

As Pomfrey led Tempest to a nearby bed, she caught sight of Moody lying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room. His wooden leg and magical eye were lying on the bedside table. This, she realized, must be the real Moody- they had found him.

Pomfrey gave Tempest some pajamas and pulled the screens around her, allowing her to change. Tempest took off her robes and cast several scourgifys to rid herself of dirt and blood. She put on the pajamas, still feeling unclean. She felt it might be a while till that changed. She cleaned her wand as well; it had been encrusted in her dried blood. She got into bed. Remus, Ron, Hermione and the black dog came around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of her. Ron and Hermione were looking at her cautiously, as though scared of her.

Tempest had had enough of being an exhibition for that night.

"You don't need to stay," said Tempest to them. "I'm fine."

Ron looked deeply uncomfortable. "You sure?" he said, looking at Hermione, "You'll be all right?"

And Tempest repeated; "I'm fine."

They left, and Tempest remained with Remus and Padfoot, who both seemed to content to sit with her.

Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet. "You'll need to drink all of this, Tempest," she said. "It's a potion for dreamless sleep."

Tempest looked at Remus. "I need to talk to Cedric's parents," she said quietly, "I said that I would tell them what happened-"

"In the morning," said Remus, "they're… still with the body right now."

Tempest took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls.

Rarely did she find it easy to sleep all at once, yet the potion turned the world about her hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at her in a friendly way through the screen around her bed; her body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of the feather mattress. Right before the darkness claimed her, Tempest tried to speak.

It was a petty request, yet Tempest struggled against the potion to form words.

She did not need to.

Just as she was succumbing to sleep, she felt a hand slip into hers.

Tempest woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that she didn't open her eyes for a moment. There was a hand in hers, a rough, calloused hand that Tempest never wanted to let go. When she finally opened her eyes, it was Remus's hand, and he was looking past the screen, muttering to Padfoot, who was standing alert at his side.

Now Tempest realized what had woken her; there were people shouting and running toward the hospital wing.

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

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Minnie. "When Dumbledore finds out-"

Tempest heard the hospital doors burst open. She sat up, which Remus noticed immediately, and he pulled back the screens so that they could all see. Madam Pomfrey stuck her head out of her office.

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

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Remus.

"He's not here," said Remus, his tone hostile. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, there are patients-"

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

"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Minnie. "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!"

Tempest had never seen Minnie so livid. 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!" Minnie 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 Tempest 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 Minnie'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-"

Tempest felt a chill in her stomach as Minnie struggled to find words to describe what had happened. She gripped Remus's hand so tightly, her knuckles turned white. They both knew how close Sirius had come to having his soul sucked out through his mouth. To be worse than dead.

"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 heavy weight 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, "they heard Barry Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told them 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 Tempest. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, 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 Tempest and Cedric touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, they were transported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "Tempest witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office." Dumbledore glanced around at Tempest and saw that she was awake, but shook his head and said, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question her tonight."

Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Tempest, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are- er- prepared to take Tempest'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 Tempest," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. "I have heard Crouch's confession relayed, and I heard Tempest's account of what happened after she 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 Tempest before answering.

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

Fudge shot Tempest another look, and Tempest suddenly understood. "You've been reading, Skeeter, Minister," she said.

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face. He addressed Dumbledore again. "Do you admit that it is true then? That you've been keeping certain facts about the girl very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place-"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Tempest has been experiencing in her scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.

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

"Listen to me, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge, and he seemed to radiate an indefinable sense of power that hummed with magic. "Tempest is as sane as you or I. That scar upon her face has not addled her brains. I believe it hurts her 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 heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before..."

Tempest had had enough. "I saw Voldemort come back, Minister," she said, "I faced him. Cedric faced him… he died facing him- I wish it as much as you- more even- that he hadn't, but we were there. He summoned his death eaters; I could name them for you- Lucius Malfoy-"

Snape made a sudden movement, but as Tempest 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!" continued Tempest.

"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 girl was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too- her tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them- the girl can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think she's trustworthy?"

"You fool!" Minnie cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mister Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary! I see a girl who had an uncommonly stressful night, filled with mishaps!" shouted Fudge, 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!"

Tempest's opinion of Fudge had turned on its head. She had thought him a little blustering, a little pompous, but essentially good-natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before her, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of disruption 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-"

"Preposterous!" shouted Fudge 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!" 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 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," whispered Fudge, still backing away. "Mad..."

And then there was silence. The eyes of the room were on 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-" Here, Sirius growled loud enough for Tempest to feel it, and Remus had to stop Tempest from rising in outrage. "-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 Tempest's bed.

"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto his bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. 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 Minnie.

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

Minnie nodded and left without a word.

"Poppy," Dumbledore said to 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 Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.

Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Pomfrey's footsteps had died away, before he spoke again. "And now," he said, "it is time for two of our number 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.

Snape did not startle, 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 for Tempest," said Dumbledore, "and at my invitation, as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

Neither Sirius or Snape seemed receptive to the idea; they 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."

Sirius lingered by the edge of Tempest's bed unmoving for a moment, then swallowed, and in two quick steps, he walked toward Snape, and the pair 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, Remus, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher- the old crowd. Sirius, low at Remus' for a while. I will meet you there."

Sirius nodded at Remus, then turned to Tempest. "I'm sorry to go," said Sirius. "I will send you an address, and we will see each other soon. But in the meanwhile, I must do what I can."

"Of course," said Tempest.

Sirius placed a hand on her cheek briefly, then transformed into Padfoot, and with Remus, walked the length of the room to the door. Then, they were 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. And for a moment, he looked in Tempest's direction, a gaze she could not decipher.

"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. "There are things I must attend to… Tempest, I suggest you go back to sleep. Goodnight."

Dumbledore left, and Tempest slumped back against her pillows. She cast a look over at where the real Moody lay unconscious still. On balance, his day had been better than hers. Tempest reached over for the cup of dreamless sleep. As she did so, her hand brushed the bag of Triwizard gold and she stopped.

The bag sat there, a simple brown cloth bag, filled with gold, and it could've contained a severed head for all Tempest wanted it.

She could still see it. Cedric's eyes, already dim, his mouth open slightly in surprise, and in her mind, he was still falling. Falling… and falling… and dead. She had never seen the body land. She felt a burning feeling start behind her eyes. The thing that had been battling in her chest on and off ever since she had come out of the maze was threatening to burst out.

Tempest fumbled wildly for her wand on the nightstand. She grasped it and held it tight. The burning feeling had reached her throat now, and she curled forward in the bed, her knees pulled to her chest and face buried in them, fighting against a howl that was struggling to escape her.

Tempest forced her head up with a gasp. She drank in several shuddering breaths of air and gripped her wand still more tightly.

The cup of dreamless sleep still sat on the nightstand, the promise of a short escape. Tempest drank it down in a single draught. Tempest's head immediately clouded over. She fell back against her pillows and succumbed to sleep.

There would be time enough in the morning.

After, things seemed to exist in a state of bated breath.

When Tempest looked back, even a month later, she found she only had scattered memories of the next few days. Most of what she could remember was painful. One of those occurrences was when she met with the Diggorys the next day.

Tempest told them how their son died. Told them how he had fought Voldemort himself and saved her, more than once.

They believed her. They did not blame her for what had happened. Mr Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs Diggory's grief seemed to be beyond tears. "His last thoughts were of us then," she said, when Tempest had told her Cedric's request. "Of people who love him. And he died a hero, Amos… he died fighting You-Know-Who."

When they got to their feet, she looked down at Tempest and said, "You look after yourself, now."

Tempest felt emotion clog in her throat again. "It should've been me," she said. "Cedric shouldn't have died, he wasn't meant to be there, it should've been me."

"No, dear," said Mrs Diggory. She sounded constricted. "He would never have been able to forgive himself, if it had been you."

But you wish it was.

Tempest seized the sack of gold on the bedside table. "Take it," she said, "it should have been Cedric's, he won, you take it-"

But she backed away.

"Oh no, it's yours dear, I couldn't… you keep it."

Tempest returned to Gryffindor Tower the following evening. From what Hermione and Ron told her, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Tempest alone, that nobody ask her questions or badger her to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Most people, she noticed, were skirting her in the corridors, avoiding her eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as she passed.

Tempest avoided them all.

The only person she sought out was Neville, who she took aside one day after Herbology, and they stood behind the greenhouses to talk.

"There were three people on trail for what happened to your parents," said Tempest to a pale Neville. "The Lestranges were sentenced, and went to Azkaban, but there was one more person."

"Bartemius Crouch Jr," said Neville. "He died in Azkaban."

"No," said Tempest quietly. "He escaped. Someone died in his place. He came to Hogwarts this year. He polyjuiced as Professor Moody. I wanted to tell you… the night that Cedric died, we found out. Professor McGonagall was watching him, and he was tied up, confessing. The Minister came in after, with a dementor. He was kissed."

Neville was shaking, and his hands were fists. He said nothing.

"I didn't want to intrude," said Tempest, "but I thought you had the right to know."

"I'm glad," said Neville. His weak, boyish face was very hard. "I was glad he died, and I'm glad he suffered worse."

And then Tempest found that it was she that had nothing to say.

When Moody- the real Alastor Moody had woke, he was a twitchy and paranoid mess, starting worse than his imposter at every turn, and reaching for his wand at every noise. Tempest couldn't blame him; the man had spent most of a year imprisoned in his own trunk.

She had asked Minnie what Crouch had said, and she had relayed most of his confession under Veritaserum. She had been in Moody's office since, the Marauder's Map recovered from being locked inside the same trunk that Crouch Jr had been keeping Moody captive.

Tempest had been to see Moody; a Moody who was so alike the one Crouch had been that Tempest shouldn't have been able to tell the difference. Yet the uneasy feeling she had gotten from Crouch was not present around the true Moody, a fact she mentioned as a reassurance, to gain fixed attention from Moody.

"Few people possess that ability," he said, and his normal and magical eye bored into Tempest. "You would make a fine auror, Miss Potter. You have the right mind for it."

Tempest stared at him.

Moody grunted and his magical eye span away from Tempest to fix, as it so often did these days, on the doors to the Hospital Wing. "My imposter said the same, didn't he?"

Tempest grimaced. "Twice over, and word for word."

"Of course," said Moody, and the conversation ran stale not long afterward.

Bartemius Crouch Sr's body had been recovered, and handed over to the Ministry of Magic. He had no family left, and the Ministry were to hold a funeral for him. He had died the night that Tempest and Krum had seen him. He had been murdered by his own son and buried in a patch of dirt as a bone with none to miss him.

The thought haunted Tempest, as did the memory of the old man- Frank Bryce and Bertha Jorkins. They had all died randomly and senselessly, like Cedric, because they had happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Voldemort was back. He was back and he had the support of his death eaters. There hadn't been any other mysterious murders or disappearances being reported in the newspaper, but Tempest felt restless nonetheless. Voldemort, somewhere in the world, was drawing breath. Even if there was little she could do, Tempest wanted to know what steps were being taken against Voldemort, and he wanted to help, in any way she could.

She itched to leave Hogwarts, to leave behind the eyes of the students that followed her everywhere now. Their gazes were suspicious, skeptical and speculative in turn, and it set Tempest on edge, detached and resentful.

Skeeter hadn't written another article since the one where she hinted that Tempest was insane, which was a small mercy. Everything seemed so unimportant these days, trivial or annoying, and Tempest avoided as much of it as she could.

One of her strongest links to some form of peace was Sirius. More and more now, Tempest looked forward to seeing him again. The dream that she had held for several months of living with Sirius had in one night become impossibility and a distant heaven. But she had survived and Tempest now clung to the idea with a sort of desperation. He had written to her, and Tempest carried the words with her like a talisman as she went about the last few days of the term.

Dearest Tempest- To the strongest person I know. I hope the days have passed well, and that they will continue to do so until we meet again, very soon. Moony and I are helping Dumbledore set the wheels in motion to counter any further moves Voldemort is making go regain footholds in the Wizarding world. The exact details I cannot disclose in a letter, but know that we are not sitting idly by in a world where Voldemort has returned. To reassure you; the world has not ended, nor shall it, not today or any time soon. As for our plans, I'm staying with Moony until Hogwarts finishes for the year. I'll be at 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington after that. Feel free to join me whenever you are ready. – Yours, Sirius.

Slowly, so slowly the last weeks of term drew to a close, and Tempest had packed. The map sat safely folded in her trunk, along with her invisibility cloak, which Sirius had owled back on the night of his leaving. Nyx, after much coaxing and struggle, was in her carrier.

Ron and Hermione had gone ahead of Tempest down to the entrance of the hall where they would wait with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade station.

Tempest had lingered. She had no desire to wait for any extended period of time with her year.

It was a beautiful summer's day. She knew Minnie's cottage would be in bloom, and the sea would glimmer beautifully beneath the moon when she arrived there that evening. Her unactivated portkey in the form of another sickle sat in her pocket as she finally left the dormitory.

Tempest had yet to tell Minnie she was leaving to live with Sirius. She wasn't sure how to go about broaching the subject. She put the thought out of her mind.

She left the common room and walked through empty corridors, dragging her trunk along behind her. She was almost at the corner that led to the top of the stairs leading to the entrance hall when someone, walking very fast, rounded the corner and crashed into her.

Tempest stumbled.

The person reached out to steady her, and it was, of course, Malfoy.

"Potter," he said in surprise. "I was looking for you."

Tempest hadn't seen much of Malfoy since the night of the third task. Unlike the majority of the school's population, he hadn't seemed eager to crowd her and ask after the events of that night. She supposed he hadn't needed to. His father had been there.

"Sorry," he said, letting her go.

Tempest cast a look down the empty corridor, then looked back at him. There were things she wanted to say. "We haven't spoken in a while." "I imagine this changes things." "I think your father saved my life."

"I thought of you that night. The night where everything seemed so far away."

She said; "excuse me."

Malfoy stepped aside, and Tempest wasn't sure if she felt relief or not. Then, he spoke. "I just wanted to give this to you."

He put a hand into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a small glass jar. Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle.

Tempest looked at the jar, uncomprehending.

"There's an unbreakable charm on the glass, so she can't transform," said Malfoy. He held the jar out to Tempest. "I found her on the windowsill in the Hospital Wing the morning after... that night."

"Why were you in the Hospital Wing?" asked Tempest numbly.

"Here," said Malfoy, holding the jar out more insistently. "Do what you like with her."

Tempest took the jar. "Thanks," she said. Looking down at the glass, the beetle waved it's feelers angrily at her. She put the jar in her pocket and walked past Malfoy.

She was one of the last to arrive in the entrance hall, but there were still some people waiting for her. Fleur Delacour was standing with Ron at the foot of the entrance hall steps.

"Tempest!"

Fleur hurried up several steps to greet and briefly embrace Tempest, who stood awkwardly, unaware that she had reached such familiarity with the girl. "We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," said Fleur, "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."

"It's very good already," said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him; he turned bright red.

"It would be good to get to know you better," said Tempest.

"Goodbye," said Fleur, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"

Tempest found her smile ease as she watched Fleur hurry away to where the Beauxbatons carriage waited for her, her silvery hair rippling in the sunlight.

Tempest joined Ron, who stared after Fleur, still clearly enraptured.

"We talked about goblins," said Ron slowly. "It was the best conversation I've ever had."

"I don't doubt it," she said, and looked around. "Where's Hermione?"

Ron's expression became sullen. He shrugged. "Krum wanted a word with her."

"You're not still annoyed about him, are you?" said Tempest, "look, they're coming back now."

Sure enough, Hermione and Krum were returning through the crowd at the front doors. Ron was staring at Hermione, who kept her face impassive.

"I am sorry," said Krum abruptly to Tempest, "for vot happened in the maze. I liked Diggory. He vos always polite to me, even though I vos from Durmstrang- with Karkaroff."

"It was good to meet you," said Tempest.

Karkaroff grunted. He held out his hand and shook Tempest's hand, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. Krum had already started walking away when Ron burst out, "Can I have your autograph?"

Hermione turned away, smiling at the carriages that were now trundling toward them up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for Ron.

On the train, Tempest, Ron and Hermione managed to get a compartment to themselves. Tempest let Nyx out of her carrier though she knew it would be a struggle to get her back in afterward. Crookshanks was allowed to roam free as well, choosing instead to curl up on the spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. Pigwidgeon remained in his cage, hidden beneath Ron's dress robes to prevent him from hooting continually.

Tempest slipped from the compartment early in the ride to ask for Lee Jordan's camera and locked herself in the bathroom. She snapped a picture of the beetle and waited for the film to print. Evidence safely stowed away in her pocket, she held the jar up to her eye level.

"Hello," she said, watching the beetle scurry up a twig and wave its feelers madly. "This is what you get, I suppose, for nosing about, poking your nose into other people's business, and all for what? For the next nail-job?"

Tempest shook the jar slightly, and watched the beetle tumble off onto the floor of the jar. It landed on it's back, legs waving helplessly in the air.

"I despise you," she said, quite calmly, though anger was building up in her chest. "So Malfoy said you were in the Hospital Wing. I suppose you were spying that night? When Cedric Diggory was dead, and I just wanted the world to go away, there you were, taking notes. I need you to know how fucking wretched you are, how fucking low- and so you're not to write a single thing about anyone, about anything, indefinitely, from now on. Or I'll be letting some select people know about you being unregistered, and then I imagine you could write an insider's view on Azkaban."

Tempest paused. It didn't seem like enough. She loathed Skeeter, with disgust that she couldn't verbalize. She was scum in a lower, weaker sense than Pettigrew was, and, as Tempest thought about everything in the past month, insignificant. "I need you to remember this," said Tempest quietly, "because I can hurt you a hell of a lot better than you can hurt me. Do you have your wand on you?"

The beetle was still on it's back, and Tempest tilted the jar so that Skeeter could regain her footing.

"I need an answer," prompted Tempest.

The Skeeter beetle bent it's feelers slowly.

"Great," said Tempest, and unlatched the bathroom window.

Instantly, the sound of wind filled the small room, and waves of air buffeted Tempest. She could hear the chuffing of the train, and the wheels on the rails clattering by. She unscrewed the top of the jar.

"Find your own way back," she told the beetle, and tossed the whole thing out of the window.

After returning the camera to Lee Jordan, Tempest returned to her compartment to find Fred and George there as well. George was playing with Nyx, charming a feather to dance about the compartment.

With Tempest back, they started a game of exploding snap, and halfway through the fifth game, Tempest inquired about Bagman.

"We've given up," said George resignedly, slapping down a five. "It's pointless, he's done a runner anyway, and no one knows where he is. Left right after the third task."

"Did everything happen that night?" said Tempest tiredly, "why? He wouldn't run over failing to pay up for one bet with you guys-"

"It was larger than just us," said Fred, putting down a six, seven and eight in quick succession. "Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

Tempest shook her head.

"He put a bet on you, mate," said George. "Bet you would win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

Suddenly, Bagman's behaviour during the Tournament made a lot more sense. "Well- I did win, sort of- so he's free to pay you back."

George shook his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. First they said dead or not, Diggory arrived back first with the cup. Second they said even if you did reach the cup at the same time, it was a joint victory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. He's gone now."

He sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again.

The train trundled on, and Tempest found herself looking forward to dinner that night with Minnie. They'd talk about the year, and Minnie might complain about a particularly vexing class… If the weather held, the water would be gorgeous, and she could go for an evening swim... Nyx could reclaim her nook in Tempest's room…

The Hogwarts Express pulled into platform nine and three-quarters. The usual noise and bustle filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out with their respective cage and carrier, dragging their trunks behind. Tempest, however, stayed put.

She waited until the twins had left the compartment, before digging out her Triwizard winnings and a scrap of parchment and quill. She shushed the impatient hiss from Nyx, and bent over to write:

Fred, George- This is the Triwizard gold. Consider it an investment for your joke shop. I can't keep it- I don't want or need it. I know you'll want to kick up a fuss, but for my sake, please don't. Let this be the end of it. – Thanks, Tempest.

Done, Tempest followed her friends off the train. She spelled the note and gold into George's trunk without him noticing, and felt a weight in her chest lift.

Mrs Weasley was waiting on the platform. She must have been told of Voldemort's return as she hugged her children one by one, and then approached Tempest with a trembling mouth.

"Tempest, dear- You're always welcome at our house," she said emotionally, "if you need anything-"

Tempest nodded. "Thank you."

"See you, Tempest," said Ron, clapping her on the back.

Fred followed suit, while George ruffled her hair. "Write," he said, "don't get into too much trouble without me."

Tempest managed a grin.

"'Bye, Tempest!" said Hermione, and kissed her on the cheek.

Tempest waved them off and remained on the platform watching Hermione join her parents, and the Weasleys leave together.

In the thinning crowd, Tempest took the sickle that was the portkey from her pocket and held it in her hand. She watched Neville greet his grandmother, Lee Jordan reunite with his dad, and through the clouds of steam from the train, there, not twenty yards away, stood the death eater that had watched Cedric die, watched her be tortured. There stood the man who served Voldemort.

Lucius Malfoy nodded at his son, smiled briefly at his wife. And then the family was gone, Lucius's arm around Narcissa's waist, and a hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

The coin began to glow blue in Tempest's hand.

And Tempest made a decision.

She scribbled a note, folded the sickle into the parchment and placed the coin on a nearby bench.

Tempest grasped her trunk very tightly and made her way through the barrier, out into the busy hall of Kings Cross. Out on the street, she fought for a taxi and clambered inside.

The cabbie twisted around in his seat to look at her. "Where to, miss?"

Tempest's legs knocked against her trunk, and she settled the carrier in her lap. She smiled, more free than she had felt in her life.

"Islington, 12 Grimmauld Place, please."