Author's Note: Minor gore and violence.

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.

Then everything happened all at once. Harry screamed, his knees buckling and his wand slipping from his fingers as he brought his hands up to claw at his face; as Cedric caught him with one hand, wand immediately up and in a defensive position with the other, he heard a voice whose words he could not make out over Harry's screaming, then another shouting two horrifying syllables:

"AVAD–"

Cedric was an Auror's son, and his father had lived through the Dark Lord's war. Any responsible parent who'd survived those times, his father swore, trained their children not only to recognize the opening syllables of the Unforgivables, but to have their bodies begin to dodge before their minds could consciously choose to act.

That training saved his life, as Cedric wrenched both himself and Harry out of the way just as the night lit up in green light. Without thinking, he snapped out several nonverbal spells, only to swear under his breath as the hooded figure countered them; whoever this was, he was no slouch.

Only one thing saved him from being taken down himself, dragging a deadweight as he was, and that was the figure's bundled burden; he looked as though he'd prefer a much more mobile dueling style, but struggled not to fumble whatever he held under one arm. That meant Cedric's life would only end the second after he gave up his balancing act and managed to put it down.

As another spell rang off his Shield Charm, Cedric managed to get Harry behind a large gravestone and dropped him there. The boy let out one last retch of pain, then cracked his eyes open. "Cedric–" he groaned.

"Stay here!" Cedric snapped as a reddish-purple bolt sent a chunk of rock flying off from the headstone's corner. "I'll hold him off!"

As Harry tried to slur out a response, Cedric jumped out from behind the stone and began sprinting perpendicular to the figure's line of sight – fortunately, the assailant didn't seem bright enough to lead his target. "Look at me, coward!" he bellowed, slinging a nonverbal Exploding Curse for emphasis. "I'm the one you want!"

"End this game!" a voice hissed from the bundle – the bundle? That was no baby – "Kill him, then take Potter!"

Oh, lovely. Someone actually was out to kill Harry. Despite the unconscious portion of Cedric's mind keeping up the barrage of spells and counter-spells, the conscious portion deeply appreciated being an incidental causality in somebody else's story. Not.

His Seeker's vision caught sight of a short, straight stick on the ground amid the strobing flashes of many colors, and his Seeker's reflexes allowed him to hit the ground rolling, grab it, and spring back up without ever pausing in his mindless chains of spells. "HARRY!" he bellowed, swinging back one arm. "CATCH!"

The figure's head turned to follow it, wand instinctively rising to divert its path, and earned a bloody, burning wound to his shoulder for his trouble. Cursing, he returned his attention to Cedric just before another spell would have impacted his chest, and the wand reached its destination unhindered. Out of the corner of his eye, Cedric glimpsed a hand coming up to grab it, and grinned: say what people would about Quidditch being a waste of time for anyone not going professional after school, but there was nothing like a Seeker's skill –

"CEDRIC! YOUR RIGHT!"

Cedric's gaze snapped right, and time seemed to slow to a crawl: a monstrous snake, as big around as a strongman's thigh, reared up beside him, hood flaring and fangs glistening with venom –

As he dodged back, a Stunner rocketed out from his left and hit it squarely in the mouth, knocking it back for the instant he needed – its fang sliced through the sleeve of his robe, but did not find his arm. He had no time to rejoice, however, because a purplish-black spell was heading straight for him. As desperately as though he saw a Bludger heading for his skull with his hand an inch from the Snitch, he twisted his torso to dodge, but it brushed him as it passed, and his skin split open like an overripe fruit.

A scream rang out, so loud and so piercing he barely knew it was his own. Dizzy with the pain, he stumbled towards another row of gravestones, his legs moving on their own, and dove behind an angel-riddled headstone just as a Blasting Curse rumbled past his ear. A quick wand-movement and babbled incantation slowed the spread even as subcutaneous fat crawled out of the wound and split muscle fibers reached writhing into the air; some dim recollection of N.E.W.T. Defense told him he ought to be grateful, because he would have been better off cutting the arm off himself had the curse done more than brush him. It was very hard to be grateful.

He jerked his head up as a curse rattled the gravestone, dust and pieces of rock flying into the air, and blindly swung a Cutting Curse in the direction of a curving cylindrical silhouette. It recoiled again, but, as he glimpsed its hide in the light of another spell, he saw its scales were not even chipped. Swearing, he ducked back – nearly retching with the pain as he brushed his bad arm – and wove his best protective charm while he was still behind cover. At least that would buy him a few mistakes' worth of margin if he was forced out from behind the crumbling stone.

From his position, he saw the snake being lifted up and hurled into a tree; unfortunately, it immediately regained its bearings and began slithering down, but at least Harry had again narrowed this down to a duel on one front for a short time. As the figure swung around to focus on Harry, Cedric took advantage of the distraction to Transfigure two adjacent gravestones into dogs – he silently apologized to those whose graves he defiled – and sent them charging at the enemy.

He had the dumb luck to have an opponent with a crippling phobia of dogs.

At least, that was his only conclusion as the figure let out a scream of mortal terror and turned tail, running as though hellhounds were after him. The dogs growled as they gave chase, which made him start crying and pleading for them to have mercy; for one idiotic moment, Cedric was struck dumb by the sight, then regained his senses and sent a curse at the fleeing figure's back.

Unfortunately, he dodged. Even more unfortunately, then the bundle – whatever it was – brought the figure to his senses. "Wormtail!" it snarled. "Wormtail, you fool! Stand and fight!"

The figure – Wormtail – darted a glance over his shoulder, then inexplicably yelled, "Hey – you're not serious!"

Cedric was extremely serious, but that didn't help as Wormtail swerved his wand through a complicated pattern, and Cedric's Transfiguration gave way; with the last of his control, he canceled the Transfiguration as the dogs turned around, snarling, and began to grow scales and wings. That left Wormtail with winged, scaly headstones, and he swore and Banished them in Cedric's direction. One cracked his cover in two, and the other mussed his hair as he dodged just barely in time. Well – so much for that.

As he got up and ran, Harry landed a successful Disarming on Wormtail, but the man snatched his wand out of the air as it began to fly away and dodged Cedric and Harry's incoming hexes to boot. And the snake, the snake –

His world lit up in fire, and Cedric mindlessly screamed as the back of his thigh came open. He fell to the ground, writhing as lifeblood spurted into the cold night air, and a thick, muscular mass slithered over his helpless back – he knew instinctively its fangs would next sink into the exposed, pitifully vulnerable back of his neck, but he could not move, he couldn't –

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wormtail begin another spell barrage –

"Accio Snake!"

Suddenly the weight was off of him, and Cedric watched, disbelieving, as the enormous serpent flew precisely into the line of fire. For one stunned moment, he watched as curse after curse impacted the great sinuous mass, and then his survival instinct kicked in: he twisted about and tried to seal the wound on his leg, unthinkingly aware from the rhythmic spurts of blood that it had opened the major artery, but it would not close, the terrible venom spreading through his leg would not allow it to close…

In his closing moment of consciousness, he cast the Emergency Tourniquet Charm, and gave a wheezing gasp as all sensation in his leg was cinched off. Darkness took his vision – and then he gasped, heart stuttering, as a second wind kicked in. It felt as though his entire body was burning.

He'd only heard about this from his father and their friends – Auror's Last Hope, the surge of magic that kept a witch or wizard going when they should have been no longer able to function, yet remained in mortal danger. To an admiring boy, it had seemed so – wonderful and incredible. He'd fantasized about growing up, following in his father's footsteps as an Auror, and getting into a daring battle in which he was wounded unto death, but came roaring back just in time to beat the bad guy –

In reality, it warred with the Cruciatus for the worst sensation he'd ever felt in his life. He burned and froze, sweat beading on his forehead and trickling down clammy skin; his wand shook uncontrollably as he raised his arm, his eyes wide and barely seeing. They focused on Wormtail, and he opened his dry mouth – his mind too incoherent to manage nonverbal spells – for his final chain of spells, the man standing frozen in horror as the bundle screamed at him for the injury of the snake.

Wormtail came back to himself in time to dodge. But he dodged straight into Harry's chain of jinxes.

At least someone knew how to lead a target.

As he crumpled, Cedric saw Harry come running out from cover and turn toward him; he flailed with his wand in Wormtail's direction, and Harry stopped, nodded, and ran that way. No use letting him get up, not after this…

Cedric smiled woozily at the snake, despite himself. Look at them. After it had taken Wormtail's curses, it was in as bad a shape as he was: burst open, bleeding, broken, and yet still somehow alive, still struggling to move… just like him. That seemed very funny.

He began to giggle, but that stopped as he reached behind him and tried to do something more about his leg. Oh, that really wasn't good. Look at all that blood. That was probably why he was feeling so funny. And it still wouldn't close – as soon as he tried to seal it with his wand, it split right back open. That probably made it good he couldn't feel the leg any more. That did look really bad.

A piercing scream made him look up, and he saw Harry bent over Wormtail, raising his hand and bringing it down repeatedly. Something gleamed in the darkness. The bundle was screaming too, but then Harry brought his hand down again, and it was more of a gurgle than a scream.

Then Harry stood up, flicked his wand, and came running over to Cedric with Wormtail and the bundle floating behind him. He had the good sense to skirt the snake, at least.

When Cedric turned his eyes, half-blindly, to the dripping knife in Harry's hand, the boy flinched.

"Animagus – no choice," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Spells, he can transform out from under – physical injuries stay. I –" He caught sight of the back of Cedric's leg, and his eyes widened. "Cedric – Cedric–"

"Help me up," Cedric croaked, the terrible knowledge of the one last effort he must make settling upon him.

"You – you shouldn't – put any weight on that–" Harry babbled, dropping to his knees and casting basic Quidditch first-aid spells on the injury; as with Cedric's own efforts, it did nothing. But it was evident, even to the half-conscious Cedric, that he didn't know what else to do.

"Help me up – I have to stand for this –"

Hyperventilating, Harry complied. His every muscle screaming, Cedric forced his good leg to stand and kept the bad arm around Harry's shoulders, gripping onto a headstone with his good one to stay upright. "Bring them over – need Wormtail's ankle, at least – we've got to take them, they – custody –"

His knee buckled, and he felt Harry stumbling as the boy tried to keep him upright. "Yes, Cedric – right, Cedric–" Harry gasped, and a moment later he had Wormtail's foot being shoved into his hand. When he looked over, he saw the bundle laying against the incapacitated, wounded man's chest.

Good enough. Cedric closed his eyes, struggling to retain consciousness as he focused on the image of the hidden St. Mungo's Emergency-Apparation Area for Aurors and Dark Arts victims in critical condition – his father had brought him there as soon as he earned his license so that he might impress it upon his mind, just in case – and turned on the spot with a sickening lurch, the world vanishing just as his good leg gave out beneath him.

With a horrible, wrenching sensation comparable to the Cruciatus, he was gone, and the world rushed in around him in a blur of white walls and bright lamps. Somewhere, there was a scream; it couldn't be him, because he was struggling not to vomit as the world spun around him.

"Help him! Help Cedric!" he heard Harry begging, far, far away…

He became aware of the room growing darker, despite the bright lights, and shifted on his feet as he tried to figure out why; his foot slipped on a puddle he didn't realize was there, and as he fell, the answer came to him. The clumsy Apparation had torn the Emergency Tourniquet Charm loose, and even his magic could no longer support him.

Darkness claimed him before he hit the ground.

He awoke in a featureless white room.

For a moment, he thought it might be the hereafter. Then enough of his wits came back to him to disagree. He'd thought he'd been a reasonably good person in life, even if that judgment might be a bit presumptuous of him, and he couldn't imagine that, in the afterlife, good people would hurt this much.

He groaned, and heard a gasp from beside him. A hand squeezed around his.

"Cedric! You're awake!"

"Cho?" He tried to sit up, but that hurt. One arm in particular flared up, making him flop back down, gasping. "What – Where –"

"Oh, I'm so glad," she choked out; when he turned his head to look at her, he saw tears glimmering in her eyes. "I'm so glad – They told me you could wake up soon, but you were so still, and –"

"Cho… Cho… Don't cry," he said, squeezing her hand. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and blinked several times, forcing a brave smile. "Cho. Dearest." Her smile grew a bit more genuine, and then she hastily mopped at her eyes again. "What happened? What…"

"You've been unconscious for a week," she said, gripping his hand tighter. "Do you remember what happened before that?"

For a moment his mind was blank, and then it came roaring back. "The Triwizard Tournament!" he gasped, again reflexively trying to sit up and again instantly regretting it. As he lay back, gasping, he managed, "Harry – Where's Harry? And the man we brought in – Wormtail –"

"Harry's recovering in another room," she said, a frown appearing on her face. "I don't understand why – Something to do with his head. At least, that was where the bandages were, the last time I caught sight of him." She sighed and shook her head. "They haven't been telling most of us much, but so many things are going on right now." A pained smile flickered across her face. "I'm sure the Daily Prophet has already put out another 'special edition'. They seem to have those every few days at present."

Cedric blinked slowly at her, then nodded. He guessed he understood Harry needing treatment – the way he'd reacted when they'd met Wormtail, the man must have somehow nonverbally cast the Cruciatus on him. Though everything he'd ever heard always said the Cruciatus had to be verbal…

He sighed and laid back. Harry must have had some adverse delayed reaction. After experiencing the Cruciatus for himself, he was just glad Harry was safe and recovering now.

"What has been happening?" he said at last.

She gave a small laugh. "I don't even know where to begin." She sat back, stroking his hand.

"The Triwizard Tournament turned into a madhouse – I know it was worse for you, Cedric, but we didn't know anything. First they brought Krum out of the maze, and then they found Fleur and brought her out, too… But they couldn't find you or Harry anywhere, and then they found the Cup was gone too, and yet you weren't where you were supposed to be, back at the judges' table–"

"The judges' table?!"

Cedric shouted without thinking, and regretted it immediately as Cho flinched. He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, letting out a pained laugh despite himself. "But – Cho, you don't understand – the judges' table–"

"I know," she said, swallowing hard. "They told us that much, at least. Just when things were reaching a fever pitch about the 'missing Champions', someone arrived from St. Mungo's – they'd run all the way from Hogsmeade – and went straight to the judges, and then people closest to the table started yelling what they'd just overheard, and the people closest to them yelled what they thought they were hearing, and it turned into the most awful mess – people were claiming He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, that Harry Potter had been killed by Death Eaters, that you were a Death Eater, that you'd been killed by Harry Potter – dearest, I know it was worse for you, but, even so, you can't imagine – no one knew anything and people were claiming everything, and it was like the entire world had gone mad–"

She pressed a hand to her forehead. "They forced us to all go back to our Common Rooms, and a little news trickled in at a time. You were alive, they said, but no one knew if you'd make it through the night. Harry was all right, but they said at first that he'd been sedated because the shock of whatever had happened had broken his mind – he kept babbling about how the Triwizard Cup had taken them to a graveyard where the two of you had fought off Peter Pettigrew, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and a giant snake."

Cedric raised a finger. "Well, he wasn't making up the snake or the graveyard, I can tell you that."

"We know that now," Cho said, looking stricken. "When the judges traced the Cup, they found it in a minor Muggle village's graveyard – along with a wounded giant snake." She took a deep breath, then let it out. "And the man you brought in – that Death Eater – he –" She swallowed hard. "They identified him as Peter Pettigrew."

He stared at her. "Isn't he, ah," Cedric mumbled, once he remembered to work his mouth. "You know. Dead?"

Cho gave a tired laugh. "No," she said, "but they say he is missing a finger."

The biggest piece they ever found of Peter Pettigrew was his little finger.

He opened his mouth, ready to make a crack that he was just grateful Harry was wrong about the Dark Lord, and then remembered that strange little bundle from which Wormtail – Pettigrew – took orders. That high, hissing voice, which commanded Pettigrew – a Death Eater? – to finish him before going after Harry –

"Oh," he said, suddenly feeling like he might have woken up a bit too early. "I see."

"He was taken into custody and is awaiting trial," Cho went on. "He already tried to escape once – Did you know he was an Animagus?"

He remembered what Harry had told him, and nodded.

"Oh, you did?" Cho blinked. "Well – Marietta said he turned into a rat and tried to crawl away, but he was too hurt to make it all the way out of the Ministry. And the undersecretary had sneaked in one of her cats to work…"

If not for the way his arm was still throbbing and his leg was aching, he might have felt sorry for Pettigrew. "Oh Umbridge," he said in a tired voice. From his father's tales, the woman was notoriously fond of bending the rules for herself, yet would gleefully legalize the Cruciatus as a "suitable penalty" for everyone else's most minor infractions. Cedric was sure that was an exaggeration… if not by too much.

"After that, he's been very well-behaved, they say," Cho concluded. "Though he does start crying if his guards meow at him.

"Now, returning to what we heard at Hogwarts…" She shook her head. "First we heard that Professor Moody went to St. Mungo's to check on you."

"Oh," Cedric said in surprise. "That was very nice of him."

"Then word came back that–" Cho swallowed hard and squeezed his hand. "I should jump ahead a bit. He wasn't Professor Moody."

His heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"He was holding Alastor Moody captive all year," she said in a trembling voice. "Marietta says it was in his own trunk – but I think that was just a rumor, but still – That wasn't Moody at all. He was only keeping him alive for Polyjuice. It – it turns out he was another Death Eater who was supposed to be dead. Barty Crouch Jr.? Did you ever hear of him?"

"I…" He shook his head. "I didn't even know Mr. Crouch had a son."

"He killed his own father," Cho said, her voice tight and strained. "It came out a few days ago, part of his Veritaserum confession leaked – Mr. Crouch saved him from a life sentence in Azkaban – put someone in there in his place, I didn't read whom – and he – he repaid him by betraying him, bewitching him, and – and then killing him –"

Cedric squeezed her hand, even as bile rose in his own throat. Both he and Cho were close to their fathers; to think of someone so horribly abusing their own father, especially one who must have violated all his principles out of his love for his son…

And that monster had been their Defense professor?!

"It was so awful," Cho continued thickly. "He – he was the one who put Harry's name in the Goblet. It – it was some sort of sacrifice plot, he wanted to use Harry in a Dark ritual, and use the Tournament as a cover to do it – And – Cedric, he said he put Viktor under the Imperius and had him attack you –"

"He was under the Imperius?"

Oh. Well, that explained it – and suddenly Cedric felt very guilty over hoping, for however short a time, that he'd get eaten by an Acromantula.

"Never mind," he said awkwardly. "Go on."

She nodded. "He was in league with Pettigrew," she said. "When he got to St. Mungo's, they say he kept trying to to see you and Harry, and started pressing immediately for details on what had happened, and – once he heard Pettigrew was taken–"

She shut her eyes and swallowed hard. "He just snapped.

"Oh, Cedric, it was horrible. The pictures – I don't even know how the Daily Prophet got them, but – He just started attacking everybody. He was screaming he'd kill all the blood-traitors and M– well, you know, Muggleborns – and casting curses every which way. In the hospital." The look of horror on his face must have matched hers. "If he hadn't been disguised as Alastor Moody, he wouldn't have been taken alive. One Mediwitch died, three more are in critical condition, two are on bedrest, and five visitors are severely injured. It would have been a lot worse if it wasn't in the middle of St. Mungo's – they estimated at least half a dozen of them would have died without immediate medical attention."

Cedric was speechless. "And that – he –" He swallowed hard; to think he had once thought Gilderoy Lockhart was the worst Defense Professor possible… "He was our teacher?"

"Yes," Cho said. Tears filled her eyes. "Cedric, I'm a horrible person – all I could think of when the news came was – I was so glad he didn't do it at Hogwarts – it was all I could think – I just kept looking at the first-years and thinking I was so, so glad he was somewhere else, that if Professor Moody was going to go mad – we didn't know he wasn't Moody then – that at least he hadn't done it at Hogwarts – I should have been thinking of the poor people at St. Mungo's, but –" She broke down crying, and Cedric could only numbly pat her hand.

"You're not a terrible person, Cho," he said. "If I'd been there–"

He thought of "Moody" taking the curses he had been teaching them to recognize and counter in N.E.W.T. Defense, and unleashing them on a classroom full of firsties – and it was all he could do not to vomit. How? How had something like that happened? Wasn't the Headmaster a close friend of Moody's? How had he not known a Death Eater had replaced his old friend, and let that monster walk among them?

"Then the Polyjuice wore off after the Mediwitches took him down, and they found Moody – the real Moody – being held prisoner in his office, and –" Cho shook her head. "That's all we know for certain.

"With two active Death Eaters captured and – Marietta thinks there's something else, from what her mother says, but she doesn't know what – the Ministry is in shambles. Some factions are trying to reopen investigations into all the Death Eaters who pleaded bewitchment, while others call them brutal opportunists who are taking advantage of tragedy to dispose of political opponents – I don't know who to believe. Even at Hogwarts, people were dueling in the halls over it.

"The official winner of the Triwizard Tournament is still undecided – you and Harry both won, magically speaking, but there's been much debate on who should have won – apparently Harry says you should have, since he's only alive thanks to you, but Viktor disagrees and says Harry should win, because you could only make it there because he saved you from Viktor while he was under the Imperius."

"He's right, Harry should win," Cedric volunteered, and Cho let out an agonized sigh.

"I was afraid you would say that – You must understand, Cedric, there is an issue when both victors swear the other victor was the rightful one…

"And then, of course, there are Maxime and Karkaroff, who want this Tournament declared invalid. They say it is now public knowledge that an Englishman was tampering with the Tournament throughout to ensure an English boy won the Tournament, regardless of his reasons for seeking that end, and that he confessed to taking out both their Champions during the Third Task – so it is an absurd joke to pretend that there was an actual competition. They're threatening to contest the result before the ICW."

Cedric sighed. "In all honesty, since it's the truth… I can't blame them."

A reluctant smile crept across Cho's face. "I couldn't expect anything else from a Hufflepuff.

"Your father might disagree, however – he's been telling everyone that you won and you'll be up to claim your prize any minute now." She looked suddenly somber. "He and your mother have been by your side almost all the time," she said. "I only got here after exams ended and Professor Flitwick allowed me to depart the school early. They were here from the start – they're only away because the Mediwitches insisted they had to go home and rest for their own well-being." She grimaced. "Your father only agreed to it once his boss intervened and threatened to sack him if he didn't. He'd been up seventy-two hours straight."

Cedric winced. "I'll go tell him I'm all right, then," he said, trying to get out of bed. It didn't work for more reasons than pain – he found that his injured leg was in a restraint. And, he became uncomfortably aware, some drainage equipment had been attached to the back of the thigh.

"I'll send word," Cho said, placing her hand over his. "They say you probably won't be able to leave your bed for another week, at least. Your leg is still in very bad shape – they've never seen this particular venom before, and it's proving resistant to treatment. Work on an antidote is continuing, but until then, it won't fully heal." She avoided his eyes. "It… was that, they said, or removing the leg entirely."

"Peg-Leg Diggory. Or perhaps One-Liggory Diggory – has a certain ring to it," Cedric joked. He stretched and sighed. "What do they think of the arm?"

"A few more days. It will require retraining of the affected muscle, but the effects of the curse will be gone, at least."

Cedric grimaced and reminded himself that it was still better than if the curse had scored a direct hit. "Any long-term effects? Disgusting medications?"

"If the work on the antidote is successful – nothing. Until then – only a continuing regiment of Blood-Replenishing Potions." Cho glanced toward the door. "They'll probably be bringing another in soon. They do that quite often – don't worry about the cost, Harry's promised to pay for all your hospital expenses out of his own vault…"

Cedric lay back in bed and sighed, squeezing Cho's hand and staring up at the immaculate white ceiling. A contested Tournament, a trusted teacher steeped in evil, and a long period of invalidity before him. Life… certainly could have been much better.

Yet, in spite of everything, he could only be grateful. He had a loving girlfriend, two devoted parents, and – once he got out of bed, of course – his choice of careers before him. The depraved were in custody and would be brought to justice. And, whatever vile scheme they had intended to execute that night – an unexpected extra presence had tipped the scales, and their master, rather than reaping the harvest of a human life, would finally pay the price for his atrocities.

Something told him it could have been much, much worse.

Author's Note: Some notes:

Part of the issue with writing a non-central character is that he doesn't automatically know the key points of canon. So Harry has had his Horcrux removed, Sirius will be pardoned, etc. Voldemort, currently in Ministry possession, will meet his end via Veil, Kiss, or hunt of the remaining Horcruxes (which are now known to the authorities, given Harry's scar and Nagini). The two Champions will probably receive Orders of Merlin for their hand in apprehending the dastardly Peter Pettigrew (in reality, for bringing in Voldemort, but the Ministry will never admit to that).

Harry was a little put out after an assassination attempt and his fellow Champion nearly dying. He used Wormtail's own knife, of course.

After Death Eater interference in the Triwizard Tournament and the assault on St. Mungo's, there will continue to be a heavy backlash against anyone suspected of Death Eater activity. This will partially be a witch hunt and partially look like a witch hunt – tragically, the Wizarding world is so rife with corruption that a witch hunt will score some genuine witches.

While the Ministry would have covered up Crouch's Veritaserum testimony, as in canon, he was taken as a violent criminal rather than remaining as a Hogwarts internal affair, and so his testimony was already transcribed by the time Fudge returned to the Ministry. The transcript that leaked was a heavily-redacted copy accessible to low-ranking employees and completely omitted the classified knowledge of Voldemort's survival and attempted return; both the implication of the transcript and the Ministry spin that followed was that Pettigrew, long in hiding and now driven mad by Sirius Black's pursuit, broke Crouch out of confinement and conspired with him on a psychotic scheme to resurrect the dead Dark Lord by ritually sacrificing Harry Potter, which had about as much relation to reality as the average Quibbler article. The Quibbler, meanwhile, speculated that the Death Eater duo were as crazy as foxes and actually acting under direct orders from a returned but crippled He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who had been secretly captured along with Pettigrew and taken to the Department of Mysteries… but no one pays attention to those insane conspiracy theorists anyway.

Well, hope readers enjoyed.