ᴇᴘʜᴇᴍᴇʀᴀʟ | Harry Potter X Reader ∞

56

"Completely outrageous....only children...."

She had run a diagnostic charm on them, Y/N didn't think she could forget the look of horror on her face when Madam Pomfrey had realized that they had both been crucioed.

She did everything that she could.

The amount of dittany on Harry's wound was probably weighing down his arm.

She told him it wouldn't scar.

Madam Pomfrey had casted almost every single healing charm that could come to her mind. She had fixed everything, though the soreness in their bodies lingered.

Pomfrey forced them to eat an entire extra meal. Claiming it would help with the exhaustion.

Harry already felt overly full because of the amount of potions that had been poured down his throat.

It hadn't even been half an hour before Y/N and Harry were called to the defense against the dark arts office.

They did as they were told, walking out and to the room.

The first thing they saw when they entered the room was Snape, Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore all huddled around a chest.

Moody— well, crouch, was stunned, sitting on the ground with his back flat against the wall.

Dumbledore looked up. "Ah yes, do come in, we have much to discuss."

Snape glanced at them. Their presence seemed to agitate him.

Y/N and Harry stepped further inside.

"It appears you were right Miss Black" he held up Moody's hip flask, unscrewed it, and turned it over.

A thick liquid splattered onto the office floor.

"Polyjuice Potion," said Dumbledore. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see.." he motioned them to look inside of the chest, they did.

It was deep, it seemed like an entire other room.

And there he was, in the flesh, the real Alastor Moody.

"his hair . . ." Dumbledore looked down on Moody in the trunk. "The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done . . . on the hour . . . every hour. . . . We shall see."

Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor.

It was right on time, almost immediately, they watched as the face of the man began to change. The scars disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth,The long mane of gray hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning dark.

"Crouch!" Snape said, "Barty Crouch!"

"Told you" Y/N said, looking bored as Snape glared at her.

"Good heavens," said Professor McGonagall, stopping dead and staring down at the man on the floor.

"Severus, you have the potion?"

Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle of completely clear liquid: the Veritaserum, with which he had threatened Harry in class.

Dumbledore got up, forced the man's mouth open and poured three drops inside it. Then he pointed his wand at the man's chest and said, "Rennervate."

Crouch's son opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that their faces were level.