Harry's eyes snapped open as his back slammed against the dusty wooden floor.
Thud.
He groaned, a hand flying instinctively to his wand—only to stop halfway when memory rushed in like a cold wave.
Little Hangleton.
The ritual.
The explosion of magic.
The escape.
He blinked a few times, letting the room come into focus. The cracked ceiling boards above him were familiar — the Shrieking Shack. A faint morning light filtered through the broken window, catching the floating dust.
Then—
THUD — THUD.
Two more bodies hit the ground in nearby rooms.
Harry let out a slow breath. So that's what happened…
Sirius's conjured beds had simply expired overnight.
Footsteps shuffled, curses muttered. A moment later, Sirius Black, hair wild and eyes half-open, limped into the room rubbing his tailbone.
He spotted Harry sprawled on the floor and burst into laughter.
"So you fell too!"
Harry pushed himself up with an unimpressed look. "Your conjured beds are pathetic. Couldn't even last till morning."
Sirius placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "Oh please. As if your conjured furniture would sit around like permanent luxury suites!"
Harry smirked. "If I conjured it, it would last a week."
Sirius scoffed. "Of course it would. You're obviously the Merlin reborn. Should I start bowing now or wait until you levitate this old shack into a castle?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "You should focus on conjuring better beds, old man."
"Old—?! I'm only thirty-something!" Sirius protested. "That makes me rugged. Distinguished. Mature—"
"To children maybe," Harry shot back.
Before Sirius could launch another dramatic monologue, Remus Lupin walked in, rubbing his temples. He looked tired but composed — the voice of reason as always.
"Stop bickering, both of you," Remus sighed. "Honestly, you two sound like first years fighting over chocolate frogs."
Harry gave a small, guilty huff. Sirius pointed dramatically at Remus.
"He started it!"
Remus massaged the bridge of his nose. "Doesn't matter who started it. What matters is that Harry is missing from Hogwarts during an international event and hundreds of Ministry officials are crawling all over the grounds."
Harry's smirk faded instantly.
Right.
If anyone discovered his disappearance…
Remus continued, voice calm but firm. "If you don't get back before people notice, we'll trigger a full-scale international search. Foreign ministries will be alerted. They'll bring Aurors, dragons, Dementors—"
"Okay, okay, I get it," Harry interrupted.
Sirius snorted. "See? Told you we should have carried him back last night."
"You could barely walk," Remus countered. "And Harry nearly collapsed after Apparition. We all needed sleep before someone passed out permanently."
Harry rubbed his neck. "Did Moody stay on guard?"
"Yes," Remus said. "He's in the shack's lower room with the Crouch. He's… very eager to get his hands on Junior once again." A brief grimace crossed Remus's face.
Sirius stretched, cracking his back with a groan. "Alright. Let's get the kid back before Hogwarts explodes."
Harry grabbed his cloak, straightened his robes, and glanced once more at Sirius and Remus.
"You two get some rest," he said. "Today's going to be messy at school. They'll want explanations. And I need to keep up the act of the confused champion's friend."
Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder. "We'll see you tonight. Mirror-call if anything goes wrong."
Remus nodded. "Be cautious. The Dark Lord may not have risen the way they planned — but something strange happened last night."
Harry's jaw tightened.
"I know."
The stairs creaked as Harry descended to the lower floor. The morning light barely reached this part of the Shrieking Shack, leaving long shadows across the broken wooden planks.
Moody was already awake.
He stood near the wall, rolling his shoulders and flexing his arms, testing each joint for stiffness. Compared to the weak, exhausted figure they had freed last night, he looked almost like the legendary ex-Auror again — worn, scarred, but dangerous.
On the floor nearby lay Barty Crouch Sr., bound tightly and unconscious. Whether he was simply asleep or Moody had knocked him out again… Harry didn't ask. He wasn't sure he cared.
Harry cleared his throat. "Good morning, Professor."
Moody shot him a glare with his real eye while his magical eye spun once, checking the room.
"I ain't no professor," he growled. "I never taught anyone a damn thing. If you must call me something — call me Moody."
Harry nodded respectfully. "Alright. Good morning, Moody."
Moody grunted — which was as close to polite acknowledgment as he ever offered.
Harry continued, "I'm headed back to Hogwarts. Sirius and Remus are up — they're upstairs. You don't have to wait for them. If you want to bring Crouch straight to the Ministry, do it."
He paused, studying the ex-Auror's scarred face.
Moody's expression sharpened. "How did it go? Did he rise? Did you stop him?"
Harry exhaled slowly. "Something happened. Something big. But the ritual…"
His voice dropped a notch.
"I sabotaged it so badly that it backfired. Hard."
Moody raised an eyebrow — the real one — with interest.
Harry continued, "We felt the backlash — the cauldron exploded from inside. The magic was too unstable. We escaped right after the surge hit. That's why we were disoriented when we Apparated back here. We passed out almost immediately."
Moody gave a dark chuckle. "Good. Let the bastards choke on their own dark work."
His magical eye fixed on Harry. "If the Ministry hears a whisper about this before we speak, they'll muck it all up. I'll escort Crouch to the DMLE myself — squeezed like a sponge for information."
Harry nodded. "If you learn anything, write me. I want to know everything."
Moody muttered something that sounded like "damned right you will" as he checked the knots binding Crouch Sr.
Harry glanced one more time at the unconscious man. "Don't go easy on him. He deserves what's coming."
Moody's lips twisted into a crooked, vicious smile. "Oh, I won't."
Harry turned toward the slanted door in the corner — the hidden entrance to the underground passage.
"I'll see you later," he said.
Moody only grunted in reply.
Harry slipped into the darkness of the hidden tunnel, letting the old boards shut behind him. The smell of damp earth guided him forward.
The passage stretched on, familiar and silent, leading toward the base of the Whomping Willow.
Harry slipped out from beneath the Whomping Willow, dusted himself off, and crossed the Hogwarts lawn toward the castle. The bright morning sun stung his eyes — far too cheerful considering what had happened only hours ago.
But the moment he stepped inside…
Nothing.
No panic.
No search parties.
No chaos.
Just students yawning their way to breakfast.
Fred and George were the first to see him. The twins hurried over, concern written across their usually mischievous faces.
"Oi, Harry!" Fred said.
"How's your headache?" George added, leaning in.
Harry blinked. "Headache?"
"You know," Fred said, tapping his own temple.
"The headache you got last night?" George chimed in.
Harry felt his pulse skip. Headache? He had been in a dark graveyard fighting to stop Voldemort's return. But he forced a casual shrug.
"Oh— that. Yeah. I'm fine now."
The twins accepted that with a grin and left. Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower, mind racing. When he opened the dorm room door, Neville stood waiting, arms folded awkwardly.
"Harry! Where were you?" Neville asked. "You said you had a headache — Then I must've fallen asleep. When I woke up, your bed was empty!"
Harry stared. Neville thinks he saw me on his bed?
He needed answers fast.
He kept his voice light. "Yeah, I got some fresh air. I'm better now."
Neville nodded, still concerned but relieved.
The moment Neville left for breakfast, the air beside Harry rippled — and Dobby appeared, looking extremely proud of himself.
"Master Harry!" Dobby squeaked. "Dobby did what Master Harry wanted — Dobby made sure no one missed Master!"
Harry crouched quickly. "Explain. What did you do?"
Dobby beamed, rocking on his heels.
"Dobby told everyone Master had a headache!" he whispered excitedly. "And Dobby used powerful Force mind tricks — just like Master Salazar taught — so everyone believed Harry Potter was sleeping!"
Harry's eyes widened. "You used the Force… on the entire house?"
Dobby puffed his tiny chest. "Dobby made all of them think Harry Potter was in bed!"
Harry blinked. "And the… sleeping part?"
Dobby nodded furiously.
"Dobby slept in Master's bed, under Master's blanket, and made Master's breathing sounds!"
Harry stared at him. "…Breathing sounds?"
Dobby demonstrated:
"Shhhh—hmm—shhhh—hmm…"
Harry rubbed his face, torn between gratitude and disbelief. "That's… impressive, actually."
Dobby clapped his hands, thrilled. "Dobby's magic is growing stronger every day! Dobby is learning Force Mind Control and Master Salazar says Dobby might become the strongest!"
Harry's lips twitched into a rare grin. "You saved me. No one will know I was ever gone. Thank you."
Dobby's ears wiggled happily. "Anything for Master, sir! Dobby loves hiding bodies and evidence—"
Harry froze. "—What?"
Dobby stiffened. "Dobby meant… hiding Master! Yes! Hiding Master Harry!"
Harry sighed. "Right. Let's stick to that version."
Dobby nodded vigorously, saluting as if he were a tiny soldier.
Then he disappeared with a POP, leaving Harry alone in the dorm room.
Harry exhaled slowly, leaning back against his bedpost.
Everyone thought he was here.
Sleeping.
Safe.
Not out preventing the worst wizard in history from rising again.
It was exactly the way Harry needed it.
Now he just had to pretend nothing had changed… while knowing everything had.
When Harry came down from the dorm room, the Gryffindor common room was buzzing with leftover excitement from the night before. It was packed — students talking loudly, exchanging rumors, replaying scenes from the maze, waving newspapers around.
Hermione spotted Harry the moment he stepped off the stairs.
She rushed toward him, worry and relief mixed on her face. "Harry! You're alright! How's your headache? You scared me yesterday!"
Harry forced a casual shrug. "Fine now. I slept it off. No pain at all."
Hermione let out a huge breath, pressing a hand over her chest. "Good. Harry, you should've stayed to watch!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Watch what? What happened in the maze?"
Hermione's cheeks immediately flushed a bright shade of pink. She looked anywhere except Harry's face.
Harry narrowed his eyes playfully. "Victor won, didn't he?"
Before Hermione could respond, a third-year girl giggled from the sofa nearby.
"Oh, he didn't just win — he kissed Hermione in front of everyone! It's in the Daily Prophet!"
Hermione squeaked. "It… it wasn't like that! He was celebrating!"
Harry crossed his arms, smirking. "Celebrating, huh?"
Hermione swatted him lightly on the arm, embarrassed. "Harry! He was just happy he won. And… and he wished you were there. He was disappointed you weren't in the stands cheering for him."
Harry's smirk softened into a small smile. "I'm glad he won. He deserved it."
Hermione nodded, relief still lingering in her eyes. Then she continued, "Cedric got trapped in Devil's Snare — they pulled him out quickly, he's fine. And Fleur got crushed by the hedge… not badly, just the maze squeezing too hard. The healers fixed her up."
Harry's heart eased. "So everyone's alright?"
"Yes," Hermione said happily. "No injuries, no dark surprises… nothing horrible happened! The worst thing was Viktor nearly fainting from excitement after he saw the audience applauding him."
Harry exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Good.
The students. The parents. The spectators.
All safe.
Hogwarts hadn't suffered last night.
"For once," Harry said quietly, "things worked out better than planned."
Hermione smiled. "Except Hogwarts is very disappointed. Durmstrang is taking home the Triwizard Cup."
A few Gryffindors nearby groaned loudly in agreement.
Harry didn't join them. He was too relieved. The dangers that were meant for the Tournament… had been diverted, twisted, and crushed before they reached anyone.
He leaned back against the armchair, letting the noise of the common room fade into the background.
But inside?
He was alert. Focused. Waiting.
Because somewhere out there, Moody was handing the captured Crouch Sr. to the Ministry.
Sirius and Remus were keeping an eye on the fallout.
And whatever was left of the ritual's failure would shake the wizarding world soon enough.
Harry's eyes flicked to the fireplace — as if expecting a mirror-call or a letter to appear any moment.
Nothing yet.
But he knew news was coming.
And when it did — he would be ready.
Author's Note:
Enjoying the story?
Consider joining my Patreon to get early access to more chapters and exclusive fanfictions! Even as a free member you will get one extra chapter and you'll receive early access to chapters before they're posted elsewhere and various other fanfictions.Your support helps me create more content for you to enjoy!
Join here: Patreon(dot)com(slash)Beuwulf