Plains
At the Riddle Mansion:
"AAARGH! Damn mudblood… or half-blood, whatever! HE MUST DIE!" roared Voldemort in fury, ripping a black dagger out of his shoulder.
He didn't understand how it had gotten there. He had only noticed it once he was already safe, inside his mansion, surrounded by the remnants of his entourage. That was when he looked toward the other Death Eaters, lying scattered on the floor, still bleeding and groaning from their own disputes. Luckily, none had cast a killing curse… otherwise, he would've lost more useless fools.
In the dimly lit room, in a quiet corner, stood the man who had saved him. Covered with a black mask that completely hid his face, he was Voldemort's best Death Eater. The only one with the wit and strength to hold Voldemort back at just the right moment, allowing him to escape from the professor who had nearly destroyed him.
A grim smile crossed Voldemort's face as he looked at his loyal warrior. That man had arrived one day during the war, like a shadow amidst chaos. He had joined their ranks without asking for anything in return, proving himself to be an unstoppable war beast. He had never failed a mission. He even seemed to enjoy the bloodbath he left behind. Pure chaos. Pure destruction. A being made for war.
"Well done… You've earned a reward," said Voldemort with satisfaction. This Death Eater was the only one he didn't demand bows or to be called "my lord."
"I don't need a reward," replied the masked man in a calm, almost satisfied voice. "I've already found what I was looking for…"
And his gaze drifted toward the horizon, as if he were already seeing the next battlefield.
....
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts:
The air was heavy when Einar's group suddenly appeared before everyone's eyes. The crowd in the stands watched in disbelief. No one knew what to say. Everyone had seen it. No one could deny it… or so they thought.
"My son!" cried Amos Diggory, running toward Cedric, who lay unconscious on the ground. He checked him quickly and, seeing he was alive, let out a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you… thank you…" he repeated over and over to Einar and Harry, completely forgetting any past resentment. He had seen his son mere seconds away from death under an Avada Kedavra. That image had squeezed his heart like never before.
But in the midst of the emotion, a voice thundered across the stadium. Cold. Full of authority and distrust.
"Dumbledore… what are you playing at?" It was Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, his face contorted with rage.
Murmurs began to rise among the crowd. Everyone was listening.
"Such an elaborate deception? What are you planning? Did you hire actors? Stage this whole scene?" he accused, pointing furiously at those present. "This won't be left alone! The Ministry will investigate every corner of this theater. Every piece of evidence, every lie, will be exposed!"
And without waiting for a response, he turned and left, followed by his officials, leaving behind a trail of distrust.
The stares began to shift toward Dumbledore. Some filled with doubt. Others with disappointment. And a few still firm, trying to believe.
Einar sighed in frustration. His voice rang out, devoid of any emotion.
"This is why I hate bureaucrats and their power games…"
He walked slowly away from the scene, Harry by his side and VIIR asleep in his arms. Hermione ran after them without hesitation. Fleur wanted to follow… but her duty was to stay with her family and her schoolmates.
The nurse quickly rushed to tend to Cedric, then to Harry. But he had already been healed by Neville. He had no injuries. Just exhaustion. Mental exhaustion… knowing that Voldemort had returned. Still, he was forced to stay in the infirmary. He stared at the ceiling, not really knowing how to feel. Lost.
"Looks like you've got a lot on your mind," said a voice beside him.
Harry jumped. Einar was sitting next to his bed, eating an apple. He hadn't appeared suddenly. He had just moved so silently that Harry hadn't noticed him. Maybe he did it on purpose to scare students…
"Professor… he's back," said Harry in a grave voice, as if saying it made it more real.
"Yes," Einar replied calmly. Almost as if he didn't care.
"You… you almost killed him. But he escaped. He's alive now. Free…"
Einar stopped his hand just before biting into the apple.
He knew how strong he was. He had fought enemies of inconceivable power. And when he crossed spells with Voldemort… he knew he could have destroyed him from the beginning. Even holding back, enjoying the fight as he usually did, would have been enough.
It wasn't his style to let monsters live when they endangered his students. So… why had he held back? Why didn't he destroy him?
Was it because of the prophecy? No. That didn't make sense. There was something else. Something he couldn't see.
Einar, the Destroyer. The Dragonborn. Son of Akatosh. Bearer of over a hundred dragon souls… had he been manipulated?
Had someone tampered with his mind?
He couldn't stop thinking about the masked man who helped Voldemort escape. For the first time… someone had stolen a prey from him. And that, though he didn't want to admit it, had wounded his pride.
"Looks like you'll have to train even harder, Harry," said Einar seriously, watching him intently with a piercing gaze full of experience and expectation. "I'll help you however I can… but it seems we both have a mission here."
Harry nodded, fire in his eyes, a fierce emotion he had never felt with such intensity. If Voldemort had returned, then he would become strong enough to face him… and defeat him.
A while later, the infirmary filled with voices and hurried footsteps. Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, and even Dumbledore, Fudge, and Snape stormed into the room, arguing heatedly.
"I've always given you freedom, Dumbledore. I've shown you respect, even when I haven't agreed with you. I've kept quiet. Not many in my position would have allowed you to hire a werewolf as a professor, or to keep Hagrid here… or to decide what to teach your students without consulting the Ministry. But if you're going to act against me""
"The only one I want to act against is Lord Voldemort. And if you're against him, then we're still on the same side, Cornelius," interrupted Dumbledore, his voice firm but calm.
"He can't be back, Dumbledore! He can't!" insisted Fudge, as if trying to convince himself.
Then Snape stepped forward. With a deliberate motion, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his arm: on it glowed the Dark Mark, vivid, dark, pulsing as if it burned.
"Look," said Snape tensely. "Look at this mark. It hasn't been this clear in years. Tonight, just an hour ago, it was pitch black. The Dark Lord used this mark to brand all his followers… to identify and summon us. When he touched one mark, we all had to appear at his side. This mark has been darkening all year… And Karkaroff's too. Why do you think he ran off tonight? Because he fears the revenge of the one he betrayed."
Fudge stumbled back abruptly, pale as a ghost, shaking his head as if refusing to understand. He looked at Snape's mark with revulsion, then raised his eyes toward Dumbledore, murmuring with a broken voice:
"I don't know what game you and your professors are playing… but I've heard enough. I have nothing more to say. Tomorrow, we'll discuss the future of the school. For now… I'll return to the Ministry."
He turned to leave, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Einar standing in the doorway, arms crossed and his gaze as solid as stone. An involuntary shiver ran through him under that stern stare. He swallowed hard, turned back around, and took a few steps toward the bed, placing a pouch on the small table next to Harry.
"Your prize. Five hundred galleons. The other five hundred will go to young Diggory, who was taken to St. Mungo's by his father… After all, it was a tie."
And without another word, he hurried out, slamming the door behind him.
Dumbledore watched him go, shaking his head slightly. Then he turned to Molly and the others.
"There is much to be done," he said gravely. "Molly… am I wrong to think I can count on you and Arthur?"
"Of course you're not wrong," Mrs. Weasley replied at once. Her lips were pale, but her eyes gleamed with determination. "Arthur knows Fudge well. His enthusiasm for Muggles is what got him sidelined at work. Fudge thinks he lacks pride as a wizard."
"Then we'll ask Arthur to use his position at the Ministry to speak with those not as blinded as Cornelius," Dumbledore said quickly.
"I'll go see him," said Bill, standing up. "I'll go right now."
"Tell him I'll see him as soon as I can. Fudge mustn't suspect I'm interfering with the Ministry," Dumbledore added.
"Leave it to me," said Bill, giving a quick salute before striding out.
"Minerva, please bring Hagrid to my office as soon as possible. And Madame Maxime as well, if she's willing," Dumbledore instructed, not missing a beat.
McGonagall nodded silently and departed with her usual efficiency.
Then Dumbledore's eyes turned to Einar, who still stood calmly, arms crossed, watching everything unfold with a faint mocking smile on his lips. It wasn't a childish smirk, but the smile of someone who understood perfectly the strings behind the theater playing out before him.
Einar knew the truth.
He knew Dumbledore didn't improvise. Everything had been planned from the start. When Harry was taken to the graveyard, Einar had left Dren with clear instructions… including to keep a close eye on the Headmaster.
And when Dumbledore saw Voldemort reborn using Harry's blood, his face had filled with a restrained emotion… an emotion he barely managed to conceal. That old man knew. He may have even arranged it.
So far, no one knew who tampered with the Goblet of Fire to add Harry's name. But Einar suspected Dumbledore already knew. And he, Einar, knew as well. That was why the mocking smile. Because both of them knew the truth… and both knew the other knew it too.
"Excuse me… Professor Dovahkiin… could you call him?" asked Dumbledore, not looking at anyone else.
Einar knew exactly who he meant. He responded calmly:
"He's been here from the beginning."
He glanced toward a corner of the room, right beside Harry's bed, and gave a slight nod. In that instant, a figure appeared out of thin air. As if it had always been there… just unnoticed.
"Sirius Black!" cried Mrs. Weasley, her voice a mix of surprise and fear, instinctively placing a hand on her chest.
"Relax, Mum. He's innocent," Ron quickly said, stepping forward to calm her.
The revelation caused an immediate impact. Snape froze, his face rigid with an expression of fury mixed with horror.
"What is he doing here?" he spat venomously, while Sirius stared back at him with the same loathing.
"I trust him, Severus, just as I trust you," Dumbledore intervened solemnly, looking firmly at them both. "It's time to let go of old grudges. You must trust each other, even if only for now."
The weight of Dumbledore's words filled the room. Of course, he had known that Sirius had been lurking around Hogwarts for some time. He himself had summoned him. He even had an artifact similar to the Marauder's Map, created months ago to track a particular person. However, whenever that name appeared, the dot burned and vanished from the map, as if someone wanted to stay hidden even from him. Strangely, it wasn't just one name"two different names behaved that way. Though Dumbledore suspected it might be the same person using multiple identities.
Eventually, he discovered that Sirius often visited Hagrid's hut whenever Einar was there. It didn't take long to conclude that the two had become allies… perhaps even friends.
"I'll settle for a truce," Dumbledore finally said, seeing Sirius and Snape exchange glances full of hatred.
Both reluctantly agreed. The circumstances demanded it. Even Sirius decided to momentarily set aside the grudges he still held against Dumbledore, for his godson could be in danger if Voldemort had truly returned.
"Sirius, I need you to find Lupin, Mrs. Figg, and Fletcher. Gather the old group. Hide at Lupin's house. I'll come to you when the time is right," Dumbledore ordered swiftly, like someone executing a long-awaited plan.
"But with Wormtail captured, it's only a matter of time before Sirius is proven innocent!" Harry interrupted excitedly. His voice was full of hope.
Dumbledore stood still for a moment, as if the idea had momentarily slipped his mind. For a brief second, a strange expression crossed his face… and only Einar noticed it. A crack in the mask of the wise strategist.
Einar smiled silently. One of the Headmaster's plans had just been disrupted. Wormtail was already in the custody of Aurors, and Einar had made sure he would reach trial alive. He had cast special enchantments to keep him conscious and breathing… just long enough to speak.
"Don't worry, Harry," said Sirius, turning to his godson with a confident smile. "I'll warn the others and come back for the trial. I'm sure I'll soon be able to walk freely by your side again."
He then turned to Einar and gave him a slight nod. He said nothing, but the message was clear: Take care of him.
With that, he vanished before everyone's eyes, fading into the air like a fleeting shadow.
Dumbledore stood lost in thought for a moment, perhaps readjusting his strategies, redrawing his invisible web.
"Severus… you know what I need from you," he said seriously, locking eyes with Snape. "If you're willing…"
"I am," Snape replied, paler than usual, as if already feeling the weight of the danger ahead.
"Then… good luck," said the Headmaster, his gaze tense and a note of apprehension in his voice. Snape gave a slight nod and left silently.
After a moment, Dumbledore turned to Einar.
"Professor Dovahkiin… would you accompany me to my office? I'd like a word with you."
With that, he began to leave the infirmary, nodding respectfully to those present.
Einar followed without a word, his steps calm, though the gleam in his eyes remained"that of someone playing a game of chess… and knowing he's about to check the king.