Chapter Thirty - Cracked

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"Ms. Black!" Moody's voice called.

I didn't turn to him, bolting from the maze and sprinting towards the castle entrance. I need to get that proof.

ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ

Students were running through the corridors frantically, making it easy for me to slip into the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Hey!" I pulled on one of the student's sleeves, turning their fearful expression towards me.

"Kenneth Towler. Which one is his dorm?" I asked them.

The Gryffindor shook their head violently, breathing ragged. "I don't know," they muttered.

I let go of them, turning around in my spot. My eyes caught a glance at a couple of older students. I rushed over.

"Kenneth Towler. Which one's his dorm?" I asked them.

One of the Gryffindors turned their head to face me. "Upstairs, third door on the left."

I nodded quickly. "Thank you."

Sprinting up the spiral staircase, I made for the boy's dorm room.

Throwing the door open, I was panting heavily. There was no one in the room.

"He keeps him in a box in his dorm room."

Mattheo's words came to mind. I quickly scanned the four-poster beds, looking at the initials on each of the trunks.

"A.C, B.Q, F.M, K.T." My eyes landed on the last one, rushing towards the leather box by the foot of his bed.

My hand hesitated on the latch. What happens when I open this? If what Riddle said was true and if the facts lined up as I thought they did, I would find the real Kenneth Towler in here, and the one that I knew, wasn't real.

No one spoke. No voice entered my mind to give me advice. No woman appeared at my side to taunt me about poor decisions. I had to make this one on my own.

I made it quickly, going with my gut and pushing the trunk open. I gasped upon seeing the contents.

There was nothing in the box but a small figurine shape. They stood in the middle of the trunk, eyes looking up at me as I leaned over. It was Kenneth. It was, without a doubt, the Sixth Year Gryffindor.

I jumped away, falling onto the floor of the room. Breath quickening, I scurried away from him, backing myself up against the wall. I stared wide-eyed at the open trunk.

He was right. I was right. Kenneth hadn't been Kenneth at all. He was Crouch. It suddenly all made sense in my mind. How quick our relationship progressed. The insistent need to want to get to know me. The constant running off and disappearing for days. My mind had become so muddled that I couldn't put the pieces together.

My hand came to my mouth, shaking as I rested them against my lips.

"What was it?" a wispy voice entered the room. I turned to find a beat-up Barty Crouch Junior approaching me.

I held my breath. "I - "

"The thing that revealed my identity. What was it?"

I stood up, slowly pulling myself up against the wall. "Depends on which identity we're talking about."

He smirked. "I'm assuming you learned about the teacher first. Explains the library rendezvous with Riddle."

"The Second Task. Your tongue," I told him, shuffling along the wall.

"I almost ran out of Polyjuice. And what about loverboy?"

I stopped when his eyes locked on my again. "Your poetic words in the library."

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