''𝙏𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪.''
𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝗸. Which also seems to be the day that Voldemort had returned. Not just that, but Cedric had passed on and Barty Crouch Jr. had been revealed to be disguised as Alastor Moody the whole time. It just seems that two days ago, would be the worst day of my life. And nothing was going to change that.
I haven't told anyone about my talk with Barty Crouch Jr., who - surprisingly enough - was basically my adopted father. Though he couldn't look after me for most of my life, he had made sure that he kept track of me through the Daily Prophets that they gave him in the cell. He happened to point out that I was in almost every single picture that they had of Hogwarts, whether it was one of Harry or Dumbledore. Even both. He started to worry if he hadn't seen me in about five papers.
That was before he had escaped Azkaban, which he didn't tell me how he had done so. My guess would've been something like Sirius had done, but I highly doubted that when it turns out that he wasn't an Animagus. If he was an Animagus, I could imagine him being a weasel, possibly a dingo.
After I had left the office, I had heard that they brought him back to Azkaban to be locked up until they find a better punishment for him. I didn't want to know what that meant, and I didn't want anything happening to Barty, so I asked Dumbledore if they could keep the punishment to a minimum. Like maybe, cleaning the clothes or watching the dishes, whatever they do in Azkaban.
I just didn't want him to be lifeless the next time I'd seen him. I've seen enough of that happening this week.
Dumbledore had gathered everyone in The Great Hall, which wasn't as bright as it usually was. He had brought everyone together to talk about what had happened at the last task, presumably a funeral for Cedric. The tapestries that hung from the ceiling weren't colored, but black with a white 'H' on them. The room wasn't separated by tables, everybody sitting next to either someone from a different house or one of the guest schools.
I sat down between Ron and Harry, Hermione sitting on the other side of Ron. I wouldn't have came down here if Hermione hadn't dragged me down, but then again, it made me sad to think that I was thinking about not coming here. It's the school mourning for the loss of Cedric, I wouldn't want to miss that so I let Hermione drag me down here after an hour of thinking over my decision.
Amos was talking with Professor Sprout and Dumbledore before he had left to go back home, them telling Amos how amazing his boy was. I'm sure that didn't really help, but it was nice that they had tried. He had spoken a few words to me before he had left through the Floor Network, I just hoped he was having a better time dealing with this then I currently was.
Ron noticed my gaze that was settled on the dusty, stone floor, along with my slouched posture. He put a hand in my shoulder, offering a small smile. I wanted to smile back, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. When Ron had looked away, he craned his neck to look over the mass amount of students, as if he was looking for someone.
He wasn't looking for Neville, Seamus and Dean, since they were sitting just in the other side of Harry. He wasn't looking for Ginny, since she was sitting with another friend of hers a few benches in-front of us. He could possibly be looking for the twins, but that was turned down when the twins were already facing him and gesturing over behind them and a little to the right.
Malfoy was sitting between Blaise and Goyle. Theo was sitting next to Blaise on the left side of Malfoy, with Goyle sitting in the right side with Crabbe beside him. Astoria was sitting behind Malfoy, with Daphne and Pansy sitting a few people beside her. Blaise had caught Ron's gaze, looking sympathetically at me. When Ron had poked my shoulder, he gestured over to Blaise.
Blaise had also given me a small smile, though it seemed forced at the time. He had nudged Theo with his elbow, who shot his head up from looking at the back of the bench in-front of him. Theo looked at me too, offering me a small wave, to which I gave a curt nod. I didn't want to talk, and I could barely show any affection towards my friends and sister right now. Dumbledore then stood up at the podium, making everyone look in his direction.
''Today, we acknowledge a really terrible loss. Cedric Diggory,' The name felt like a bullet wound in the chest, tears starting to form in my eyes. ''Was as you all know, exceptionally hard working, intricately fair minded. And most importantly, a fierce, fierce friend. I think therefore, you have the right to know exactly how he died. You see, Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.'' A few tears had ran down my face, my gaze flickering away from Dumbledore. ''The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this, but not to do so, I think would be an insult to his memory. Now the pain we all feel at this dreadful loss reminds me, reminds us that while we may come from different places and speak different tongues, our heart beats as one.''
Subconsciously, my eyes glance over to the blonde headed boy that sits on the opposite side of the room. His face isn't the usual scowl or cold demeanor, but more compassionate and mournful. When his eyes caught mine, his brows were slightly raised and scrunched towards the middle, his eyes showing that he wanted to comfort me. He didn't try to smile at me either, he knew that I wouldn't be able to.
''In light of recent events, the bonds of friendship we made this year will be more important than ever. Remember that, and Cedric Diggory will not have died in vain, you remember that. And we'll celebrate a boy who was kind and honest and brave and true right to the very end.'' Dumbledore finished, scanning over the mass room of students. I'm sure his gaze had settled on Harry, because Harry had shifted in his seat and sat straighter.
Soon enough, the students were dismissed. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were getting ready to leave, walking around the school back and forth again. It still didn't feel right, Cedric wasn't here and this was supposed to be his last year at Hogwarts. He was supposed to be graduating, having a celebration at home with his father and deciding what to do next with his life.
But now, that's not going to happen. Now he's under the ground, in a wooden casket that had been put together using magic. In a hole, that was also dug up with magic. The least they could've done was do it the Muggle way, but these are Ministry folk, they wouldn't do it any other way besides the magic way.
Leaning against the wall with my hands in my pockets, I saw Viktor Krum with a paper in his hand walk up to my sister. She lightly took the paper from him as he mumbled something to her, a bright smile making it's way across her face with a curt nod. He then walked away, not without giving her a kiss thought. And she said that she wasn't affectionate with him.
Two of the Beauxbatons girls - Fleur and her sister - had came and kissed Ron on the head, thanking him for saving Gabrielle. His face had tinted pink very quickly, surprised by the sudden action. I couldn't help but smile, seeing him frozen in place for a few minutes. Harry had walked down the corridor, just got done from packing his things and getting ready to leave Hogwarts for the end of year four.
Ron jumped through a window without glass in it, sitting on the windowsill. Hermione came around the corner, almost twirling around the wall. I pushed myself off the wall, standing next to Harry. Hermione was standing between Harry and Ron.
''Do you think we'll ever just have a quiet year at Hogwarts?'' Ron asked.
''No.'' Hermione chuckled.
''No, I don't think so.'' Harry agreed.
''The only quiet we've ever got if when everybody is asleep. And even that isn't quiet.'' I added in, causing them all to laugh. After our laughter had died down, Hermione suddenly asked,
''Everything is going to change now, isn't it?'' She looked a little saddened by her own question, and I know that I was too.
''Yes.'' Harry answered, giving Hermione a saddened look.
''Promise you'll write this summer. Both of you.'' She looked between Harry and Ron.
''Well I won't. You know I won't!'' He was right, he almost never writes. Especially when the owl delivering the letter is Errol.
''Harry will, won't you?'' Hermione looked at Harry, almost begging.
''Yeah. Every week.'' Harry nodded. I'm sure he actually wouldn't be doing that, due to his living conditions. But I don't want to give up Hermione's spirits right now.
The four of us walked to the balcony, leaning on it to watch as the Bulgarians ship sinks under the water and the Beauxbatons carriage is flying away. Small bubbles had surfaced the water from where the boat had sank, but soon disappeared the longer the ship was under the water.
The sun was shining, everyone was smiling. Almost everyone. I haven't seen Cho Chang, mainly because I know that she doesn't like me much and I plan on avoiding her to the best of my abilities. As Harry, Ron and Hermione stayed leaned against the railing, I slowly pushed myself off and turned around. At the end of the corridor, Marcus was leaning against the wall, looking at me.
He gestured his head to the corridor behind him, before disappearing behind the corner. I sighed before walking ahead to follow him, Ron only catching this sudden movement. He raised a curious brow, before I pointed with my thumb at the corridor where Marcus had just gone down. Ron nodded and shooed me off with his hand, he probably thought that I was off to see Malfoy or something. But I wouldn't correct him.
Turning down the corridor that Marcus had disappeared down earlier, I kept on walking until I had found him around one of the other corners. After about five corners, I still hasn't found him, but I was now walking about at the far side of the castle. Barely anybody comes here, which is why this is the perfect place for two teens wanting to sneak out around at night. The Professors and Filch don't know that any of them come down here.
''Hey.'' Marcus softly called, suddenly walking beside me.
''Where did you go?'' I asked, looking behind me to find nothing but stone walls and torches. Not even another corridor was connected with this one.
''Magic.'' He shrugged with a small grin. I gave him a deadpanned look, not like we're in a magical school or anything. ''Follow me.'' Lightly grabbing my wrist, he led me through the corridor and past a hidden wall, which I had payed no mind to. The familiar door was awaiting there, the wooden door with the black, rusted, metal engravings.
I had entered through the door first, Marcus looking around before closing the door behind him. The room was filled from top to bottom with piles of junk. All sorts of things, papers, books, tables, chairs, couches, etc. I wonder if this is where Hogwarts stores their old things when they renovate the school, just stuffing it all in here without a care.
There were no windows in the wall, so the room was dark, but light enough to where one could see the narrow trail around the room. Marcus had led the way again, looking down every now and then to not trip over whatever was lurking in the walkway. I'm sure that there were actual creature somewhere in here too.
Marcus had moved over to a glass casing, where he had opened it and grabbed something from it. I didn't know what to was, like a saucer of some sort. It looked like it had water in it, as it floated out of Marcus' hands and in-between the two of us.
''What's this?'' I asked.
''That, my dear Muggle, is a pensieve.'' He stated, matter-of-factly. ''Look, I know about the vile in your pocket.'' My head then snapped up to look at him, a concerned expression on his face. ''Let me see it.'' He held out his hand, awaiting for me to hand it to him.
''Why?'' I asked, barely taking a step back. He had noticed, but decided not to say anything. Instead, he put his hand back down at his side and sighed.
''There is a lot that you'll learn in that memory, and you need to see it. Barty gave it to you for a reason, and that reason is for you to watch it. Now, can I please see it?'' He held his hand out again, his expression almost begging for me to give it to him.
My foot moved back to it's original position, my right hand digging through my pocket for the vial. The only thing in my pockets were the vial and my wand, along with a chocolate that I had totally forgot about. It's probably melted inside the wrapper. Slowly pulling the vial from my pocket, I gently set it in his hand. He hasn't lost my trust since first year, so why would I trust him with this?
He nodded at me, popping the top off of the vial. Tipping the vial over, he poured it into the pensieve. The almost clear colored water, was now becoming a dark grey with a black fog swirling around it. He put the vial on a small table that sat off to the side, watching as I stood and stared at the water.
''You need to see it.'' He simply stated, gesturing to the water. I didn't know what to do, but I looked back into the water and slowly got more entranced by it. It felt a little like I was falling, apparating maybe. I wasn't in the Room of Requirement anymore either, more on the sidewalk in-front of a mansion, fog surrounding everything. That only made it harder to see anything.
Standing next to me was a silhouette of a figure, not being able to see their features besides a dark abyss. Even with the thick fog, one could tell that a wand was in their hand. I moved closer, slowly inching my way beside them to try and make out their features. It was the familiar freckled face and brown eyes that I had seen only days ago.
''Barty?'' I questioned, standing beside the man. He didn't look over to me, he didn't even acknowledge my presence. ''Hello? Barty?'' Waving my hand in his face, he had turned into a ball of smoke and flew over the fence. I wanted to follow, but I couldn't half-apparate like he could. Before I could find another way over the black metal fence, the scene had changed.
I was now inside the house, watching as a house elf gets thrown across the room and dies from the impact against the opposite wall. It's small and frail, it would've died by the smallest amount of force. But that's not to say that I didn't feel bad for it. Unlike Barty - who was currently pushing soft silk clothes off the stairway railing as he trailed up the steps - I took in the entrance area of the house.
The floor was marbled with golden trims along the top and bottom of the walls. Painting covered almost every inch of the walls. The paintings were brimmed with bronze metal, which seemed to be polished more then ten times a day. Lights were hung from the ceiling of the corridor, a yelp coming from the top of the stairs.
Making my way up the stairs, I saw that Barty was standing over a woman who was tied in robes, a silk robe and blonde hair going just below her shoulder. From the looks of it, she must've recently taken a shower. Barty walked away from the woman, towards the opposite end of the corridor. From a look at the woman, she doesn't look a thing like me.
Barty was at another door, which was opened just the slightest. I was able to walk in without disturbing anyone, so that's what I did. A man with messy black hair was holding a belt in his hand, glaring intently at the little girl that lay below the window. She had her hands above her head, whimpering in pain as she started to shake.
I watched as the man basically threw the little girl around, Barty still peeking through the crack in the door. Before the man could do anything else, Barty had thrown open the door and the man turned around. The scene flickered a few times, where the man was pushing Barty with his index finger at his chest. Then the man hitting the little girl with the belt for the last time, since Barty had killed him straight after.
The green flash had made me re-think the third task. Even if the spell wasn't directed towards me and I wouldn't have gotten hurt anyways, I felt like I knew what Cedric felt when he had heard the spell being directed towards him. Harry told us some of the story, about how Peter Pettigrew had killed Cedric under Voldemort's orders. I still wish it had been me instead of him, but I wasn't in the tournament in the first place.
With another flash, the scene had changed. I was now back outside, Barty holding my small, three-year-old body in his arms as I gradually fall asleep. His thumb rubbing against my left shoulder, even if this was years ago, I feel like I could still feel his thumb against my shoulder, comforting me as I slept.
As Barty walked further into the fog, it had changed again, this time, a different mansion. Barty didn't have to half-apparate over the fence, since it had just opened for him. Two adults opened the door, a lady with black hair that was kept in an up-tight bun, a cold look on her face, When she had seen Barty at the door, her brows had furrowed, glancing down at the child that he kept in his arms.
Barty did say in his story that he took me somewhere for the night, and not back to wherever Voldemort had been hiding out at the time.
''What are you doing here?'' The lady asked, her voice as cold as her expression.
''Just let me in, Alisandre.'' Barty went to push past her, but she blocked his way inside.
''We told The Dark Lord, that we were done for the day.'' She seethed through her teeth, glancing down at my stirring figure again. ''Is that the girl?'' She then asked, her eyes widening slightly.
''Open the door, it's cold as fuck out here.'' Barty wrapped his arms tighter around my frame, practically shielding me from the cold with his chest. With a huff and a mental roll of her eyes, she slowly opened the door and Barty rushed inside.
''What are you doing here?'' A man walked down the stairs, almost as if he was rushing. He wore a white blouse with grey trousers, quiet muscular without a tie around the collar of the blouse. His voice didn't sound much happier then the woman's voice did.
''He has the child with him.'' The woman spoke up from behind Barty, closing the door.
''I don't want that thing here! That belongs to The Dark Lord, where it's supposed to be right now.'' The man stomped up to Barty, looking down at him. He was slightly taller then Barty, only by about an inch or two.
''I'll take her there tomorrow. Just for tonight, she's staying here with me.'' They argued for a few minutes, not noticing the little boy that looked down upon the three of them from the top of the stairwell. I walked up the stairs, crouching beside the boy.
He had an emerald green shirt on with light grey sweatpants, his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms wrapped around his legs. His chin was resting on his knee, looking between - who I thought to be - his parents, Barty and the little girl in Barty's arms.
''Fine!'' The man suddenly shouted, throwing his arms in the air. ''There is a room upstairs that you can stay with her in. But my son is asleep, wake him, and you're out of here.'' He then threatened, Barty not caring much about the threat. The little boy stood up and ran back to his room, barely making any noise as he did so.
Barty rushed up the stairs, the girl still held tightly in his arms. He opened the door that was three doors down the corridor, on the right side. There was a queen sized bed in the room with think blankets and fluffy pillows. Lightly, Barty set the little girl on the bed, her eyes fluttering open every now and then.
When she had groaned, she had rubbed her eyes with her hands and looked at Barty - who was crouched down beside the bed.
''Where am I?'' She softly asked.
''Don't worry about that right now.'' Barty replied in the same tone, bringing the thick blanket to cover the girl up to her chin. ''Get some sleep, everything is going to be alright.''
It was slowly, but she did fall back asleep. It's still a little weird to see myself as a three-year-old. Barty stayed crouched next to the girl until she fell asleep, then moving to a chair that was set against the wall. He was slouched back against the chair with his hands on his knees, his head tilted back as his eyes started to flutter closed.
The door then opened, before Barty could fall asleep. A little strand of light coming through the dim corridor outside. Barty opened his eyes, slowly moving his head to look at who had just arrived in the room. It was the little boy from earlier, he had left before Barty had gotten up the stairs and to the room.
''What are you doing up, kid? Aren't you supposed to be asleep?'' Barty harshly questioned, watching as the boy flickered his gaze between the little girl and Barty. I was standing off to the side, beside the headboard of the bed that the past me currently lay in.
''I guess.'' The little boy shrugged.
''Well, get to bed then. I don't want to be kicked out of here.'' Barty shooed the boy with his hands, wanting to push him out the door without getting up from his chair.
''Who is she?'' The little boy gestured to my past self, still asleep on the bed. I hadn't stirred either, which meant that I was currently in a deep sleep. Barty followed his gesture, looking over to me. His previous scowling expression went soft and caring when he had seen me, but quickly returned when he had to look back at the boy.
''Nobody for you to bother yourself with. Now go, you need to get to bed, now.'' Barty stood up, grabbing the little boy's shoulders, turning him around and pushing him outside the door.
''But-!''
''No.'' Barty instantly declined, closing the door. The little boy had stood outside the door for a few more seconds, before returning back to his room. Barty didn't bother to check if the boy was still there, slowly making his way around the bed to crouch down, able to see my face. ''I won't let anyone else hurt you.'' He pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, which had made my present self smile. ''I promise.'' He put his forehead to mine, and the scene had changed again.
It fogged up with blue swirls before the scene became clear, it was a little home. The floor was made with hardwood, a rug in the middle of the room. It was a plain white rug, which suffered from the cherry red couch. The walls were a beige color, a window on the right side of the room with a fireplace set in-front of the couch and small table between the two. It was basically your modern day small home.
I didn't know what this scene was, since Barty had never said anything about anything remotely relative to this. Sitting in an armchair near the window, I had to jump right back up when someone almost sat on me. Even if they couldn't see, hear nor feel me, it was still awkward either way. So instead, I took the idea of just standing in the side of the room and watching.
Another person walked in, this time with me on their shoulder. The faces were a bit blurred, but soon became clear. There I was, on Barty's shoulder. I had one hand on top of his head, making sure I didn't fall - Barty also had a hand up to me to support me on his left shoulder. I was laughing at something, but I didn't know what it was since I'd only been in the living area.
''Father, watch.'' Barty pipped up, joyously. Only then had I seen that the guy in the armchair - the one who also almost sat on me - was Barty's father. He looked younger then the last time I saw him, which just happened to be dead. He didn't have a mustache, and barely any wrinkles covered his face. Though, he still had the same hatred in his eyes, which had also came with brown hair that was slicked to the side, only about two or three grey strands showing.
Reluctantly, he looked over to his son, as Barty Crouch Jr. had turned to me.
''What's my name?'' Barty asked, trying to bite back a smile. My younger self looked at him and tilted its head, almost in confusion. ''Come on, what's my name?'' He stuck his bottom lip out a bit, looking up at my younger self through his lashes.
''Dad.'' My younger self threw it's arms around his head, hugging him with my face in his hair and a smile on my face. A bright smile also came across Barty's face, one that he could bite back, no matter how hard he tried. It almost looked like he was about to cry, and I couldn't lie, I felt like I was too.
''You?'' The eldest Crouch had bellowed, letting out a laugh from the back of his throat. Barty's smile started to falter. ''You'd make a lousy father. Do you even know the first thing about being a decent parent?'' He leaned his left arm on the armrest of the chair, gradually leaning closer to his son till he couldn't no more. Barty, now had a frown on his face, his head tilted towards the ground.
''It wouldn't hurt to try-''
''That's what I've done!'' His father cut him off, pointing his index finger into his own chest. ''I have tried being a decent parent, and where had that gotten me. Your mother had left me and now I'm stuck with you.'' He got up, inching closer and closer to Barty. ''And what have you done?'' His face was now right in-front of his son's, almost in a menacing way. ''That's right, nothing.''
''Maybe, I could just-''
''Maybe, you could get rid of that thing.'' His father gestured over to me, who wasn't paying attention to the conversation. I was currently playing with Barty's hair, looking like I was trying to put it into a small braid using a few strands of hair I had randomly picked out. ''Leave her out on the street and someone else will come looking for her. Someone more worth then you.''
''Father, listen-''
''NO!'' His father stomped his foot, glaring right into Barty's eyes. ''If that thing isn't gone by tomorrow morning, then I'm going to deal with it.'' Barty's father casted a quick glance to me, before looking back down at his son and stomping off to his room upstairs. I had slowly moved closer to see my past self and Barty better, since it was a little hard from the corner.
My younger self finished the braid that I had made with the few strands of hair from Barty's head, which I seemed pretty proud of to say the least. Barty was still sad, looking towards the ground. My younger self poked the side of his face, before going to lift up the corners of his mouth in a lazy smile. Barty then smiled, turning to look at my younger self.
He picked me off his shoulder and held me in his arms, giving me a hug as he did so. After that, the scene had changed, but it didn't change into anything else. I was back in the Room of Requirement, Marcus leaning against one of the bookcases as he watched. I rubbed my forehead with my hand, a headache starting to form in the back.
''What did Barty do? About his father?''
''He killed him.'' Marcus shrugged. ''That little stunt that Crouch pulled in the corridor, after the champions were picked. That's already happened, you were obliviated a week after that last scene. Barty did take you out of the house, he took you to a Muggle park.''
''Crouch obliviated me in the middle of a park?''
''No, I wasn't finished.'' He gave me a look. My legs were starting to hurt, so I sat down on an old couch in the corner. ''Barty turned for maybe a minute or so, presumably to talk to someone. But by the time he turned back to you, you were gone.''
''How did he know that his father was the one who took me?''
''His Ministry pin fell off his coat. So, he found you at the Ministry, but you were already obliviated by the time he had gotten there. It destroyed Barty, he got sent to Azkaban not long after. His father didn't show mercy.'' Marcus watched as I rubbed my hands down my face.
''Why-'' I cut myself off, taking a few breaths before starting again. ''Why didn't he take me to Voldemort? Like he was suppose to?'' I looked up at Marcus, my forearms leaned against my knees.
''He saw something in you, something that reminded him of his younger self. When Barty had seen you, with your blood father in the room. He thought that he could save you, give you a better life. And if he gave you to Voldemort, you'd automatically belong to them. He didn't want that for you.'' Marcus shook his head, crossing his arms.
''How do you fit into all of this? How do you know any of this?''
Marcus tensed at the question, before trying to play it off. ''He told me.''
''But I doubt that he'd tell you the little details. The little details that you know about, so, how do you know about it?'' I stopped leaning my forearms against my knees, straightening my back as I looked at Marcus. ''Marcus, please.'' With a sigh, he pushed himself off the bookshelf, uncrossed his arms, and looked over at me.
''Barty came to my house that night, the night that he took you from your blood family. He couldn't find anywhere close enough and it was cold outside, he didn't want you to be out for so long. My parents were reluctant about it, willing to kick you both out by the smallest thing. I watched Barty carry you through the door and I talked to him that night.''
''So you were the little boy watching at the top of the stairs.'' I concluded, looking at the ground. Marcus nodded. ''One more question.'' I stood up, watching as Marcus raised his brow at me. ''What's the deal with your arm?'' His face seemed to pale, his eyes widened the slightest.
''What do you mean?'' He glanced off to the side, trying to avoid the question.
''You know exactly what I mean.'' I grabbed the wrist of his left arm. ''What happens to this? Why does it turn purple? Don't think I haven't seen it.''
He jerked his wrist out of my hand, bringing it back down at his side with a sigh. ''Fine. If you really want to know, I'll tell you.'' I momentarily raised my brows, waiting for him to continue. ''I made an Unbreakable Vow.''
''You. . .what. . .''
''Actually, Barty and I both did. In 1991, before I had left on the Hogwarts Express, Barty came by and we did the vow. My parents weren't home at the time, off at the Ministry.''
''Wait, wait. 1991 is when I had first attended, is that just a coincidence?'' Marcus sighed at my question.
''No, it's not.''
''What did you do the vow for?''
''To protect you.'' My face paled, I backed away a couple steps and soon fell back onto the couch. ''Wood and Diggory are also in on the deal, they just didn't make an Unbreakable Vow.''
''Cedric?'' I mumbled under my breath. Marcus sat next to me on the couch.
''He was supposed to get the cup, he knew that it was a portkey.''
''Harry talked about that, saying that it led to some graveyard.''
''Yeah. Cedric was supposed to get there before Harry did, I don't know what happened, but something went wrong.''
''What was supposed to happen?'' I asked, leaning my head against his shoulder.
''He was supposed to get there before the rest of them, taking the cup for himself. Then, if he was quick enough, avoid dying. But, Potter took the cup with Cedric. Since Potter took the cup with him, now Voldemort is back and Cedric is dead. And that's not good for you.'' I rasied my brow at him from his shoulder. ''Voldemort thinks that you're dead, for specific reasons that I'm not going into right now. He wasn't supposed to come back, but Potter had messed that up. Now with Voldemort back, you have to be protected.''
''Well, you aren't going to be here next year.''
''Trust me, I'll be here the moment I feel something.'' I gave Marcus a side hug, which he tensed at.
''Thank you.'' I mumbled into his shoulder. He slowly brought his arm around my shoulders, hugging me back.
''Anytime, Y/n.''