Daughter of Mine | Harry Potter

XXII.

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" said Ron stubbornly.

"Well," said Sirius slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the thing he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of Death Eaters. Crouch, though ... he's a different matter ... is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not ... what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.

"Your say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," said Ron doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jerkins while you're at it," said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article there," said Sirius, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all - quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a liability at the Ministry of Magic ... maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long ... ."

Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?"

Harry checked his watch, then remembered it hadn't been working since it had spent over an hour in the lake.

"It's half past three," said Hermione.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen ..." He looked particularly hard at Harry and Lalia. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you and then Remus would attack me."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, but Sirius scowled at him.

"I don't care ... I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and began hugging them goodbye. When he got to Lalia, he placed the paper bag he had been carrying in his mouth earlier in her hand.

"The untouched dew. Do not open it until you need it ," he whispered to her. "Remus told me about the egg causing you to repeat the prophecy, be careful, please?"

"I will," she whispered, unsettled.

"You haven't had more dreams with him?"

Lalia bit her lip as she shook her head, knowing she couldn't tell anyone that she had stopped taking the draught.