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TWENTY-TWO
——ANGEL BY THE WINGS
CATATONIC, THAT'S WHAT EFFIE FELT. She couldn't help but feel like Cedric's murder was a declaration of war.
She felt the ground beneath her reverberating with their footsteps. They had come back to the edge of the maze. She could see the stands rising above her, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above. All she could do was stare.
Had her father known about her mother's demise? Her past with Voldemort—but it couldn't be. He would've told her. He tells her everything. Does he, really?
Someone larger and stronger than her was half pulling, half carrying her and Potter through the frightened crowd—Moody is an impostor, that's Crouch Jr. Moody is an impostor, that's Crouch Jr.
She was a girl who knew too much, and she'll be damned if she doesn't use that. Effie was so close that she heard all of it—she'll be making a hell of a murder board after this, her wand stuck close to her side.
Every goddamned word proved her suspicions true and true. "You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course," Fake Moody said. "I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I Stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear. I tried to kill Lillian Stark, but she escaped, so I turned the maze against her."
And he babbled on and on. "But she figured it out, hadn't she?" Fake Moody sneers, swiveling on Effie. "No one would've believed the girl who knew too much. The muggle medication that came in last September was mine. Powdered Baneberry, familiar with it?"
With a sinking feeling, Effie realized that it was this impostor who broke her mind. She snarled viciously, "Don't you even touch—"
Fake Moody made a slicing motion with his wand, a white light hitting Effie smackdab in the chest. Potter's scream died down in his throat as Effie fell to her knees. Blood was dribbling from her ears, her eyes, even her nose. Not a second would follow, her mouth too. It added to all the blood that was already covering her.
Blood loss is fucking fatal, she thought as she doubled over, coughing, unable to breathe and her vision spun. How am I not dead yet?
There was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Fake Moody's office was blasted apart—
Fake Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Stark stood in the doorway, Dumbledore in front, his wand outstretched. There was cold fury in every line of the ancient face, a sense of power radiated from Dumbledore as though he were giving off burning heat.
He stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath Moody's unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back, so that his face was visible.
"Dad," Effie croaked, blood dribbling down the side of her lips. Eleazar's eyes widened, pushing through the room towards his daughter. Then her eyes rolled back in her head.
✨
EFFIE FELT AS IF SHE WAS FLOATING, HER CONSCIOUSNESS WAS IN AND OUT THAT EVERY NOW AND THEN SHE WOULD HEAR MUFFLED VOICES AND BLANK AGAIN.
Until finally—finally, Effie was able to open her eyes without fading away. Her mouth fell open and let out a slow, ragged breath, but then found it hard to breathe, like she ran out of oxygen.
Smell the roses, blow the candles. Smell the roses, blow the candles. Smell the roses, blow the candles, she remembers. She could breathe again.
Effie looked around, the first face she sees was her dad, who looked at her, concerned. Then Ginny. And she remembers what the fuck just went down. "I figured out," She says hoarsely. Now she felt the pain residue from the garrote. "Moody, I—that wasn't—I—"
"Take it easy," Eleazar advised her.
"No!" She snapped, her voice breaking, and suddenly plunged the room in silence. Effie sat up and grabbed the inhaler on the nightstand next to her, puffed it onto her palm. Crushed, pink dust crusted over her palm, and tears filled her eyes. It was all fucking real. Effie launched the inhaler across from her where it broke and dusted the same pink particles all over the floors. "I've been inhaling poison all this time and—and all I've figured out was who he was—I couldn't—Cedric, he—"
A loud sob cut her off, which Ginny instantaneously hugged her for. "At least—At least tell me I was right," Effie wiped her eyes quickly, pushing Ginny away. Her eyes lands on Dumbledore, "You found the Polyjuice Potion, did you? He knew—He knew I smelt it and he switched it out for Fire Whiskey when Ginny smuggled it. I wasn't going insane."
The most unexpected thing was, Dumbledore sat at the foot of her bed, looking at her gently. "Your father told me everything, Effie," He says kindly, gesturing to the tape recorder on the nightstand. "If you could confirm it please—"
"Bertha Jorkins is dead," She tells him, but then soon got frustrated. "Cedric died for me. It was supposed to be me, it was supposed to be me who's dead! If he hadn't—If he hadn't turned us around, if he—" Another frustrated sob escaped her lips. "I killed him."
"No you didn't," Eleazar soothes her. "Sweetheart, that was his choice wasn't it? To save you?"
"But he sacrificed his life for mine!" Effie dug her hands in her scalp. "Crouch broke my mind, dad," She snapped, getting up and nearly stumbling, but she managed, and started pacing. "Let's see—" She started counting on her fingers. "—he chased Pansy and I down in the World Cup, he fucking made me inhale poison all year; which results to my insomnia, addiction to amphetamines, nightmares, and hallucinations, then he tries to kill me in the maze. Bloody hell, people I didn't even know I cared a bit about died a thousand times in my nightmares—where is that son of a bitch—if he hadn't—"
Ginny grabbed Effie by the arms. "Hey, stop. It's over, Effie, alright? Everyone knows it, and you're not driving yourself crazy anymore. You figured it out—"
"I figured it out too late! My ex got killed because I didn't figure it out sooner!"
"But you did! Okay?" Ginny snapped back, "Now look at me, and calm down."
"I am calm!" Effie shot back, before her stormy eyes landed on her father. "Did you know? About mum, about her past with Voldemort, being the trickster?"
"No," Eleazar said instantly. "That was one part of her she never told me about. I would have told you, Effie. I would."
Effie rubbed her eyes tiredly, collapsing back on the bed. "I have a hell lot of recovering to do," She said, and that's when she finally noticed the other occupants of the room. Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ronald, Granger, Potter, and a great black dog who Effie knew was Sirius. "Goddamn this era."
"You made Voldemort a promise," Potter says quietly, all heads snapping towards her.
"The devil was in my words, Potter," She said blankly, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. "I swore to keep my silence from the public, but not the ones I trust. So technically, I wouldn't be breaking my word. Did Crouch get what he deserved?"
"Dementor's kiss," Ginny says, almost hesitantly. Effie clapped her hand over her mouth, feeling bile rise up her throat. "Fudge doesn't believe neither Harry or Dumbledore."
"Preposterous," Effie murmured, pulling the scarf—which she noticed just now—closer because it kept her warm. "Of course he wouldn't," She laughs mirthlessly, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "He'd be kicked out of his post as Minister if the public finds out the godforsaken, poor excuse of a god has returned under his nose."
"He likes the power," Ginny adds, looking at Effie to see if she was right. "He doesn't want to believe he's been outsmarted because he has it in his head he's cleverer than Dumbledore, doesn't he?"
"Phemy's rubbing off on you," Eleazar commented with a fond look. "The public outrage will be enough for him to be kicked out of his office."
Effie rubbed her eyes again, unable to stop a yawn and caused Ginny to rub her back sympathetically, "Look, Professor Dumbledore, if you still want to know how everything connected in my head I would probably put up a murder board soon to calm my mind."
"Of course, Effie," Dumbledore says politely, before standing up. "There is work to be done. Molly. . . am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"
"Of course you can," Mrs. Weasley answered. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."
"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," Dumbledore said. "All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."
"I'll go to Dad," Bill stood up. "I'll go now."
"Excellent," Dumbledore nodded. "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry—"
"Leave it to me," Bill stated. He clapped a hand on Potter's shoulder, nodded at Effie, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room.
"Minerva," Dumbledore continued, turning to Professor McGonagall, "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also—if she will consent to come—Madame Maxime."
"Poppy," Dumbledore said to Madam 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."
Just in time, Pretzel appears out of nowhere, her eyes teary as she dashed up to Effie, nearly spilling ginger tea everywhere. "Oh missus, Pretzel came as soon as she heard. Pretzel is very worried, missus! But Pretzel made Missus Phemy her ginger tea because missus deserves peace of mind!"
Effie briefly hugged Pretzel, but hugged as tightly for comfort. "Thank you, Pretzel."
Pretzel patted Effie's hair lightly, "Pretzel will prepare the best for when missus Phemy is ready to come home." With a crack, Pretzel disappears.
Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam 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. Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.
"Sirius Black!" she shrieked, pointing at him.
"Mum, shut up!" Ronald yelled. "It's okay!"
Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, 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 at my invitation," Dumbledore responds, looking between them, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."
"I can't stay here, dad," Effie whispers to Eleazar. "The pills, I—I nearly couldn't stop last time. And I hallucinated once, nearly pitching myself off the Astronomy Tower. I can't—I need. . . I need help."
Eleazar nodded with a hard expression. If it's what she wanted, then he'll see to it that she'll get it. "Albus, Lillian can't stay here. The damage that Crouch drove her to has reached the point where she needs the assistance of a muggle rehabilitation facility."
"Is that what you want, Miss Stark?"
"It was me who suggested it, Professor," Effie answered. "I need it. I need help. I got addicted to the amphetamines on my own accord, and I've to fix it."
"Very well, then," Dumbledore decides.
Eleazar straightened his suit as Effie squeezed Ginny's hand. "I'll bring her overseas in America, Albus. And while I'm there, I could convince connections too. We both have plenty of connections, after all."
"I'll tell Pansy," Ginny says softly. "I'm sure I can come up with something. Good luck, alright? I'm proud of you for not giving in."
Almost did, Effie wanted to say, but instead smiled at Ginny before Eleazar leads her away to Dumbledore's office, where they could floo back home.
"Recovery takes time, sweetheart," Eleazar said softly as he sealed off their floo network once they arrived. "You don't rush it. No one blames you for what Crouch put you through."
They left by muggle transportation—and by that, Effie meant airplanes, which was far more calming than side-along apparition. I have a hell lot of recovering to do, she thought as her body was swamped in a blanket, and the distance between the ground and the plane grew bigger. Months.
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END OF ACT ONE