The Portkey released them back onto the Hogwarts grounds, and Harry landed hard on the grass with Victor beside him.
For one brief second, all he could hear was the roar of the crowd — the spectators had seen the Triwizard Cup return with the two boys and immediately assumed Harry had won the Tournament.
Cheers erupted from the stands.
Harry pushed himself upright, still trying to catch his breath. "We're back," he said, looking around in confusion. "Victor, we're—"
He stopped.
Victor hadn't moved. He lay on his back, eyes open, fixed on nothing. Harry stared at him, waiting for him to say something.
Nothing.
"Victor?"
Harry reached down and shook his shoulder. No response. He pressed a hand to Victor's chest. Nothing.
The colour drained from Harry's face. "No..."
He pressed his fingers to Victor's neck, remembering the first-aid lessons the adults around him had drilled into him. No pulse.
"Victor!"
His shout carried across the stadium. The cheering died at once.
Harry looked desperately toward the teachers. "Help! Somebody help him!"
Dumbledore was already moving, Snape right behind him, his expression turning grim the moment he saw Victor on the ground. Madam Pomfrey hurried after them as the crowd began murmuring uneasily.
Dumbledore knelt beside Harry. "What happened?"
Harry looked up at him, still pale. "The Cup took me somewhere else. A graveyard. Voldemort was there." The name drained what noise remained from the stands. He swallowed.
"He came back. He has a body again. Victor fought him because he was trying to get me out, but..." He looked down at Victor. "...he was hit."
Snape knelt and checked Victor's pulse himself, fingers at his neck for several long seconds, then checked for breathing before looking up at Dumbledore.
A small, grim shake of the head.
Harry stared at him. "No. No, he's not..."
He couldn't finish.
Whispers spread through the stadium.
"Did he say Voldemort?"
"Voldemort's back?"
"Harry said You-Know-Who came back..."
"Is Malfoy dead?"
The news moved through the stands like a shockwave.
Hermione had been watching from among the Gryffindors, already terrified when Harry came back looking frightened instead of triumphant. When she saw Victor lying motionless beside him, her face went completely white.
"Victor..."
Her knees gave out. Ron caught her before she hit the ground.
"Hermione!"
She didn't seem to hear him, eyes locked on Victor as the teachers gathered around him.
Harry sat there, unable to move.
***
The infirmary had fallen into a silence that felt completely wrong for Hogwarts.
Victor lay motionless on one of the beds, his skin cold beneath the white sheet. Madam Pomfrey had tried everything she could. No response.
Dumbledore stood at the foot of the bed, staring at him for a long moment. McGonagall stood beside him, her face unusually pale. Snape remained near the bed, expression hard, eyes fixed on Victor.
McGonagall finally spoke. "Albus... what are we going to tell the students?"
"The truth, Minerva. At least as much of it as we can establish."
"Harry says You-Know-Who has returned," she said quietly. "If that's true, the Ministry needs to know immediately."
"They will. But first we must determine precisely what happened."
Snape glanced toward the door. "And Barty Crouch Junior?"
Dumbledore's expression darkened. "Dead. Or at least, that is what we believed when we found the body wearing Moody's face."
McGonagall looked at him sharply. "You believe he was the one who arranged all this?"
"I believe it is too much of a coincidence that Crouch Junior was found here tonight, after impersonating Alastor Moody for an entire year, and that Harry was then transported straight to Voldemort immediately afterward." He walked slowly toward Victor's bed.
"Harry told us Victor appeared in the graveyard. That means someone else arranged for him to be brought there too. Crouch Junior was controlling the Tournament from inside Hogwarts — he had access to the maze, the champions, the Cup itself."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Then the entire Tournament was manipulated."
"That is what I fear."
McGonagall looked down at Victor again. "And the boy discovered it."
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Perhaps."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Outside the hospital wing, the castle was no longer celebrating a Tournament winner. Students were being kept inside, teachers moved through the corridors, and rumours about Harry's words had already begun to spread.
Dumbledore turned to Snape. "We need to secure the castle. No student leaves without permission, and I want the other champions accounted for."
"And Harry?"
"Harry stays here until we've spoken with him properly. He has just survived an encounter with Voldemort and watched another student die protecting him."
McGonagall's gaze went back to Victor. "After all these years..." Her voice faltered.
Dumbledore understood what she meant. Hogwarts had seen injuries, accidents, curses, dangerous creatures before. But it had been a long time since one of their own students had died inside the school.
He lowered his voice. "We must prepare ourselves, Minerva. If Harry is telling the truth, tonight was not the end of something." He looked toward Victor's still face. "It was the beginning."
*****
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