Posted in Feliciano and the Goblet of Fire, Stories

Chapter 10; The Dark Lord

Harry cried in pain from his scar as Italy and Cedric ignored his command. “Get back to the cup!” Harry repeated.

“But you’re hurt.” Italy insisted.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Cedric pressed. He began to ignore the two minors when he saw a stranger walk up to them holding a skeleton of some sort. “Who are you?” he asked the stranger, holding up his wand for protection. “What do you want?”

“Kill the spares.” a voice hissed.

“Avoda Cadavera!” The man whipped his wand, and in a flash of green, Cedric flipped over and his heart stopped instantly. Then, the stranger turned to Italy. “Avoda Cadavera!” The same green light came as he summer salted, hitting his leg on the huge grave stone, and his head on the staff the statue held. Pain shot up his leg to his hip, and the blast to his head felt as though it cracked through his thick skull. The last thing he heard was a muffled “NO!” before everything was out of ear shot and vision.

When Italy’s eyes slowly came into focus, he saw Harry running up to him, pick him up, run over to Cedric, and summon the cup to transport them back to the beginning. He faintly heard cheers and happy music before everyone started to look grim. “Feli!” Germany called as he raced down from the stands to his friend’s side. “Feliciano!”

“Feli?” Romano followed Germany in a more urgent suit.

Italy looked around weakly, finding it difficult to focus his eyes and make out who was who.

“What happened?” Germany asked. “I thought-“

“MOVE POTATO BASTARD!” Romano shoved Germany out of the way and eyed his brother. “Fratello, your leg! Where’s the bastard who did that to you?!”

Germany placed his hand behind Italy’s head, but took the hand back, trembling. “Italy, you’re bleeding!” he exclaimed. Italy tried to talk, but his confused look and the bleeding location said everything. “You don’t know who we are,” Germany concluded. “do you?”

“WHAT?!” Romano yelled when Italy shook his head.

“I’ll take you to the hospital wing.” Germany offered as he lifted Italy from the wet grass. Italy groaned in pain from his leg as Romano eyed ‘Professor Moody’ taking Harry away.

He followed the ‘professor’ in the office, seeing Harry sitting by the fire. “Harry,” Romano greeted. “what happened to Italy?”

He simply averted the Italian’s gaze. “All I can say is that he’s lucky to be alive.”

The first year was about to respond when they heard groans from where the ‘professor’ was. The two boys looked over. “Do you really think that Hagrid would’ve told you about the dragons if I hadn’t told him myself?” he asked. “Or that Nevil would’ve known to offer you and that bloody Italian Gilly Weed if I hadn’t given him the book on Gilly Weed to begin with?” he continued asking as he dug through his boxes. “Imagine the reward I would receive,” he started as he turned, revealing that his face was half melted. “when the Dark Lord finds that I have done the believed impossible, silencing once and for all the great and famous Harry Potter!” he yelled. “I’m sure the Dark Lord would be over joyed when I present two bloody cocky boys to his feet.” he added, eyeing Romano.

After all that was said, everything happened too fast. Some professors came in, Moody pointed his wand at Harry and Romano, Snape disarmed him, Dumbledore pushed him in a chair, and Romano shielded Harry from all the commotion. “Snape!” Dumbledore called as the potions master poured a potion in the melting face of Professor Moody. “Do you know who I am?”

“Albus Dumbledore.” he growled.

“Are you Alistair Moody?”

“No.”

“Is he in this room?” The imposter looked at the chest Harry and Romano used to hide behind. “Boys! Get away from there!”

Professor McGonagall guided them out from behind the chest as the head master whipped his wand at the lock. Seven locks later, it revealed a deep hole. At the bottom was the true Alistair Moody covered in sweat and striped to his under garments. “Wait,” Romano stopped everyone. “if that’s the real Moody,” everyone looked at the imposter. “then who’s that?!”

The face continued to melt and change its features. Dumbledore glared at the man. “Barty Crouch Junior.” he hissed.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Barty promised as he pulled up his sleeve to reveal his skull and snake tattoo. Romano looked confused as Dumbledore forced Harry’s arm forward to show the cut. “You know what this means, right?” he asked. “He’s back. The Dark Lord has returned.”

The head master pushed Harry from Barty’s view and barked commands to the other professors. “How’s Italy?” Harry asked when they left the room.

“Germany took him to the hospital.” Romano answered as the two walked to the wing.

They walked all the way to the end where Italy laid and Germany refused to leave. Italy’s head was bandaged and his leg was in a large cast consuming from his toes to the base of his abdomen. A wheel chair was parked next to the bed. “It’s my fault.” he claimed, not even bothering to see who came in. “I shouldn’t have even urged England to bring him here in the first place.”

“How bad is his leg?” Romano asked.

“How bad is his head?” Harry added.

“Madam Pomfrey said that he has a major concussion,” he stated. “he must relearn everything. How to walk, talk, and feed himself, etc. as if he was a new born babe. As for his leg, everything split up to the joint in his hip. It would take months of recovery.”

“If he was human, right?” Romano asked nervously. “Because he’s a country, his memory and leg will get better in a few days, right?”

Germany shook his head. “If he was human, he would possibly be crippled for the rest of his life.”

“You three never had to do anything for me this year.” Harry stated. “You never had to come, I could’ve taken care of myself, and Italy wouldn’t have been thrown across a grave yard, hit by grave stones, just because he was with me.”

“I want to know who did this to him,” Germany growled. “I want to know who I should kill with my bear hands.”

“With the wave of his wand, you’d be an empty shell!” Harry exclaimed. “He’s killed children as young as new borns and not blink an eye.”

“I don’t care!” he yelled in pain. “I just want to kill him! I want to tear him apart limb from limb and watch him bleed slowly, dying in agony!”

“It would be my pleasure to join you, potato.” Romano growled in agreement. Germany smiled at the boy until they heard a groan from Italy’s pail lips. “Fratello!” the elder brother exclaimed. “Remember me? I’m your fratello, your big brother.”

“F-fra-te-llo?” he asked. “Bro-ther?”

Germany took a plate of spaghetti and placed it in front of him. “You must be hungry,” he stated. “surely you remember pasta.” Italy watched as Germany took a fork full of the carbs and gently placed it in the crippled Italian’s mouth. “Pasta.” he recited.

“Pasta!” Italy repeated gleefully.

Germany urged Harry more and more each day to tell him who crippled Italy, and Harry refused to answer each time. Italy slowly learned from Germany, Romano, and Madam Pomfrey about how to talk, and feed himself. His leg slowly got better, but he still couldn’t walk by the time Cedric’s funeral came.

Germany helped him in his wheel chair and pushed him through the halls to the Great Hall. “Where are we going?” Italy asked.

“To a funeral.” Germany answered.

“What’s a funeral?”

The German tried to find a good way to explain. “It’s an event where you honor someone who’s died recently.” he answered.

Italy looked confused. “But, I don’t know anyone who’s died?”

“Yes, you do,” he stated. “you just don’t remember.” As they entered the Great Hall, Germany pushed Italy next to a bench and put on the chair’s breaks before sitting down. “In a funeral, you don’t speak,” he stated to Italy. “just listen.” Soon, Jane came up and sat with him while Romano sat across the aisle with Sallin.

Dumbledore sat in the front, making a move to stand. “Today, we acknowledge a very terrible loss.” he stated. “Cedric Digory, as you all know, was extremely hard working, and a fierce, fierce friend. Which is why I believe you all have a right to know exactly how he died. The Ministry of Magic doesn’t wish for me to tell you this, but in doing so, I believe, would be an insult to his memory.” he paused. “You see, Cedric Digory was murdered by Lord Voldemort. The pain we all feel shows that, even though we are from different places, our hearts beet as one. May Cedric rest in peace, and hopefully, one day, we would be able to sleep at night, knowing his death wasn’t in vain.”

As silence fell, every face held sadness, some with open tears, and others with bowed heads. Germany looked down, not in sadness, but in vengeance. Lord Voldemort. he repeated in his mind. That’s who crippled Italy in attempt to kill him.

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