Word Count: 2,967.
Warnings: None.
Mattheo and I were in the school library the next evening after classes. We had hidden ourselves in between two of the aisles and were quietly discussing the events of last night.
"Well, at least we learned something," he told me.
"Yeah, that Crouch molested and possible raped my mother. That was wonderful information," I replied. "And extremely helpful." My tone was sarcastic.
"I was going to say that we learned he was a madman like he son, but that works too."
I sighed, leaning back against the shelf, my head hit the wood softly. "We don't have anything to go on."
"Well we can assume that it was his son that attacked the Enforcer. It couldn't have been anyone else."
"Assuming will get us nowhere. We need concrete proof."
Mattheo shook his head, his throat contracting as he seemed to struggle for words.
"We know he's the spy. That's something."
I nodded. "What do we do now? I can already feel my mind slipping. I'll forget half of this shit in the next hour."
He shook his head. "I won't let you forget. Okay?"
"How did you do that last night?" I asked him, changing the subject.
He sucked in a breath. "You were having a breakdown. I needed to you to stop breathing so that your body could reset. It's how people calm down after panic attacks."
"So you kissed me?"
"It stopped you breathing for moment which gave your brain time to push out that bitch."
"And kissing me was the only thing you could think of that would stop me breathing?"
"At that moment. Yes." Mattheo moved closer to me, but I found myself turning away, towards the shelf.
I let out a deep breath. Mattheo sighed at my movements, and I heard him move away. Scanning my eyes over the titles of the book in front of me. I looked for anything that would help us but after a while, all they were was a jumble of letters.
"What are you doing now?" Riddle asked.
"When in doubt, turn to the books."
"What?" he asked.
"Something Moony always said. When in doubt, there's always an answer in some book, somewhere."
"Lyra!" There was a shout from the doorway of the library. Harry came running through.
I walked out to meet him. "Potter?" I asked.
He was sweating. "I need you to come with me."
"Why?"
"Please."
Turning to Mattheo for a moment, I gave him a quick glance before nodding to the Gryffindor. "Let's go."
He made for the door. I followed but was pulled back by Riddle who was looking at me worriedly. "Be careful with whatever dangerous shit you're about to get yourself into," he told me.
I nodded. "I'm always careful. Stay here, okay? Don't leave the library."
"I won't move until you tell me to."
I rushed from the library, sprinting down the corridor after Harry. What the hell was this kid getting me into?
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
Harry led me to Dumbledore's office. Stepping off the ascending eagle, I walked into the room cautiously.
Potter, different to me, rushed into the room, heading straight for a small fountain like structure. He noticed my hesitation to enter.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"The last time I walked into this room, I was rendered unconscious and thrown under water for hours. I'm not taking another chance like that."
He rolled his eyes playfully. "You need to see this," he told me firmly.
I quickened my pace hesitantly, hurrying over to him. "What is so urgent that I need to see it immediately?" I asked him once I had reached the bowl.
"This holds memories."
"Memories?"
He nodded. "I was searching through them and I found one that showed something quite interesting."
"Expand," I urged him.
"One of them had the name Bartemius Crouch on it, and after finding the Enforcer acting like a madman in the forest –"
"Of course you were the one who found him," I commented.
"I thought that it could tell me something about the man, but that's not what I found. Put your head in the bowl."
"What?"
"You need to submerge your head underwater."
I shook my head vigorously. "I'm not going near water for a very long time."
Harry sighed in frustration, grabbing the back of my head and pushing it under the water. I screamed into the fountain. Struggling against him, the clear liquid swirled around, colours bursting out of its centre, a picture forming in front of me.
I was in a large room, hundreds of people lining the walls of it, all dressed is very similar clothing. I soon realized that I was in the Ministry. It was one of the courtrooms. I was no longer in Dumbledore's office but was instead stood in the stands of the room. The water had seemed to vanish, and I no longer struggled for air.
The door in the corner of the circular room opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room. He didn't look like the Bagman I had met at the Quidditch World Cup, but instead looked to be younger. "Memories," I muttered to myself. "This is someone's memories."
Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair and he glanced around at the watching crowd, waving at a couple of them, and managed a small smile to others.
"Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters," a booming voice echoed through the room. I turned sharply, finding Bartemius Crouch Sr. sat at the highest podium in the court. He was looking down on the man with a look of authority. Of pride. "We have heard the evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgment?"
"Ludo Bagman? A Death Eater?" I asked myself, shocked. "Now that I did not see coming."
"Only," Bagman spoke up, smiling awkwardly, "well – I know I've been a bit of an idiot –"
One or two wizards and witches in the surrounding seats smiled indulgently. Mr. Crouch did not appear to share their feelings. He was staring down at Ludo Bagman with an expression of the utmost severity and dislike. I wondered if he ever felt or showed anything else when he was in his right mind.
"You never spoke a truer word, boy," someone muttered dryly to a man behind me. I turned to see that Dumbledore sat to my left. It must have been his memories.
Turning back to where the voice had come from, I found a much younger looking Mad Eye Moody. He had gained the attention of everyone in the room. The Auror continued to speak.
"If I didn't know he'd always been dim, I'd have said some of those Bludgers had permanently affected his brain..."
"Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters," Mr. Crouch ignored Moody's input. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than –"
There was an angry outcry from the surrounding benches. Several of the witches and wizards around the walls stood up, shaking their heads, and even their fists, at the Enforcer.
"But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman called earnestly over the crowd's babble, his round blue eyes widening. "None at all! Old Rookwood was a friend of my dad's... never crossed my mind he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on... once my Quidditch days are over, you know... I mean, I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?"
There were titters from the crowd. "It will be put to the vote," Mr. Crouch replied coldly.
He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. "The jury will please raise their hands... those in favor of imprisonment..."
I looked toward the indicated side of the dungeon. Not one person raised their hand. Many of the witches and wizards around the walls began to clap. One of the witches on the jury stood up.
"Yes?" Crouch barked.
"We'd just like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match against Turkey last Saturday," the witch said breathlessly. I didn't like her. Crouch didn't seem to either. He looked furious.
The dungeon was ringing with applause now. Bagman got to his feet and bowed, beaming. I rolled my eyes at his movements. He was facing what could be his death trial and the man was taking thanks for a Quidditch match. I will never understand the importance of that incredibly dangerous game.
"Despicable," Mr. Crouch spat at Dumbledore, sitting down as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. "Rookwood get him a job indeed... The day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a sad day indeed for the Ministry..." The world dissolved around me and I prepared to be back in Dumbledore's office with Harry. That wasn't where I found myself when the world formed around me again.
The atmosphere of the room had changed dramatically. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands. I looked up at the Enforcer and saw that he looked gaunter and grayer than ever before. A nerve was twitching in his temple.
"What?" I asked myself.
"Bring them in," Crouch spoke up, and his voice echoed through the silent dungeon. The door in the corner opened yet again.
Six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. The watchers in the crowd turned to look up at Mr. Crouch. I followed their gaze. A few of them whispered to one another.
The dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch; a thinner and more nervous-looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd; a woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. I knew him. I knew that man's face.
The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief. The Enforcer stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face.
"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," he said clearly. My gaze hadn't moved from the teenage boy.
"Who are you?" I asked him as Mr. Crouch continued to talk.
"So that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous –"
"Father," said the boy with the straw-colored hair. "Father... please..."
My eyes widened. "Barty Crouch Junior," I breathed. It was him. Unmistakably him. It was the man I had seen at the Quidditch World Cup, which meant that he wasn't lying. He really was who he said he was.
" – that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," Crouch spoke, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son's voice. "We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror - Frank Longbottom - and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named –"
"Longbottom," I commented. "Neville's father."
"Father, I didn't!" shrieked the boy in chains below. "I didn't, I swear it. Father, don't send me back to the dementors –"
"You are further accused," bellowed Mr. Crouch, "of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury –"
"Mother!" screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. "Mother, stop him. Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"
"I now ask the jury," shouted Mr. Crouch, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"
In unison, the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd around the walls began to clap as it had for Bagman, their faces full of savage triumph.
The boy's demeanor changed suddenly, his scared expression turning stern as he pressed himself up against his chains. His tongue left his mouth, making a snake like gesture.
"The tongue," I muttered.
Men rushed forward to grab the man, dragging him towards the exit. Barty Crouch Jr pulled himself away from them, reaching the front of his father's podium.
"The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"
The guards pulled him away from the Enforcer, who looked on him with a blank expression. His mother was wailing beside him.
"I'm your son!" he screamed up at his father. "I'm your son!"
"You are no son of mine!" bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. "I have no son!"
The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed.
The Enforcer's son slumped slightly, giving the guards the opening they need to throw the teenager into the hold of the Dementors.
"Take them away!" Crouch roared at the creatures, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"
Crouch Jr's demeanour changed again as they began to lead him away. He was suddenly back to being a scared teenage boy. "Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"
Moving backwards, I found myself tripping over the seats, falling back into the water as the world dissolved again.
I gasped, ripping my head from the water and slumping to the ground. Harry rushed to my side. I was back in Dumbledore's office.
"Did you see it?"
I stared at him blankly. "I saw something."
"Mr. Crouch's son was a Death Eater," Harry informed me. I acted like it was new information.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know, but did you see that weird thing he did with his tongue?"
My head shot to look at the fountain. "The tongue. He did the thing with his tongue."
"What?"
"Moody," I muttered breathlessly.
"The Professor?"
I jumped up. "I have to go," I told the boy.
"What?" he asked.
"Harry, I need to go."
"Where are you going?" he asked as I made my way towards the exit.
"I think I just figured something out. I'll tell you when I'm sure, just, be careful." I rushed from the room without a reply from the boy.
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
"Mattheo!" I screamed, entering the library.
"Shh!" Every head in the room turned to me as I entered. I moved through them, looking for the Slytherin.
"Mattheo," I whispered, looking through the aisles.
"Lyra, what's going on?" Riddle emerged from behind one of the shelves, a book on defensive spells in his hand.
"I know who the spy is," I told him breathlessly, watching as his expression turned shocked.
"Good afternoon Professor Moody," Madame Pince's voice sounded from behind me. My eyes widened.
Taking Mattheo by the hand, I dragged him into an aisle of books, pushing him up against the wall.
"What?" he asked.
I watched the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher through a crack in the book.
"Moody is the spy," I told him. Mattheo's face changed, almost looking relieved at my reveal.
"How do you know?"
"Harry just dragged me to Dumbledore's office where there was this big fountain thing and then he pushed me under water, which was completely uncalled for –"
"Lyra, get to the point."
I took a deep breath. "Crouch makes a distinctive gesture with his mouth. Like a snake. I saw Moody do it after the Second Task."
Riddle nodded. "So our teacher is the spy? How did he get around so easily? Surely you'd hear him from a mile away."
"I don't know."
"And the Hogwarts robes? I mean you saw the Enforcer's son in them on the Map, right?"
I nodded. "So, he's a student too. He has to be using Polyjuice potion. He could have more than one flask, but all I know for certain is that Mad Eye Moody is most certainly Bartemius Crouch Junior."
Mattheo eyes turned scared, moving his gaze to watch the Professor sit down. I followed.
"What do we do?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "I don't know, but if we want to out him, we're going to need proof. Solid proof that even Dumbledore can't ignore."
I paused, turning back to watch the Death Eater manoeuvre around the library, leaning himself against Madam Pince's desk as he talked to her. "We need to bring him to court."
"What?" Mattheo asked. I turned to look at him.
"We need to prove, without a shadow of a doubt that he is who we think he is, otherwise no one will believe us."
"That's not going to be easy."
I nodded, feeling myself smile. "Easy is boring and I think I remember you telling me that you hate boring."