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Aurora Areli
"IT COMES DOWN TO this," Hermione said, rubbing her forehead. "Either Mr Crouch attacked Viktor, or somebody else attacked both of them when Viktor wasn't looking."
Harry and I had just finished explaining everything that had happened in the Forest. Before he ran into me, Harry had been told that the third task was going to be a maze full of magical obstacles set up on the Quidditch pitch. After he and the other champions had been informed of this, Krum took him to the edge of the Forest to talk when Crouch showed up, confused on where he was and babbling madly about his dead wife and son, Bertha Jorkins, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and talking to Harry as though he thought he was Percy. That was when Harry went to go get help and left Krum alone with Crouch.
"It must've been Crouch," Ron said at once. "That's why he was gone when Harry, Rory and Dumbledore got there. He'd done a runner."
"I don't think so," Harry disagreed, shaking his head. "He seemed really weak — I don't reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything."
"But you can't Disapparate in the Hogwarts grounds, remember?" I said, earning a nod of approval from Hermione.
"Okay . . . how's this for a theory," Ron said excitedly, "Krum attacked Crouch — no, wait for it — and then Stunned himself!"
"And Mr Crouch evaporated, did he?" said Hermione coldly.
"Oh, yeah . . ."
. . . . .
The following morning, just as the sun began to rise over the horizon, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I crept out of our dormitories, and hurried up to the Owlery to send a note to Sirius. We were now standing looking out at the misty grounds, puffy-eyed and pale from talking about Mr Crouch so late into the night.
"Just go through it again, Harry," Hermione said. "What did Mr Crouch actually say?"
"I've told you, he wasn't making much sense," Harry said, distractedly twirling a lock of my hair in his fingers. "He said he wanted to warn Dumbledore about something. He definitely mentioned Bertha Jorkins, and he seemed to think she was dead. He kept saying stuff was his fault . . . he mentioned his son."
"Well, that was his fault," Hermione said testily.
"He was out of his mind," said Harry. "Half the time he seemed to think his wife and son were still alive, and he kept talking to Percy about work and giving him instructions."
"And . . . remind me what he said about You-Know-Who?" Ron said tentatively.
"I've told you," Harry repeated dully. "He said he's getting stronger."
There was a pause, in which I worried my bottom lip in thought. If Crouch really had gone mad, what could have possibly driven him to say something like that?
Then Ron said in a falsely confident voice, "But he was out of his mind, like you said, so half of it was probably just raving . . ."
Oh, good, that was reassuring.
"He was sanest when he was trying to talk about Voldemort," Harry said, ignoring Ron's wince. "He was having real trouble stringing two words together, but that was when he seemed to know where he was, and know what he wanted to do. He just kept saying he had to see Dumbledore."
Less reassuring.
Harry turned away from the window and stared up into the half-empty rafters, where every so often, an owl would return from its night's hunting through one of the windows. I could practically feel the disconcertment coming from him, so I took hold of one of his hands and leant into his side.
"If Snape hadn't held us up," Harry said bitterly, "we might've got there in time. 'The Headmaster is busy, Potter . . . what's this rubbish, Potter?' Why couldn't he have just got out of the way?"
"Maybe he didn't want you to get there!" Ron said quickly. "Maybe — hang on — how fast d'you reckon he could've got down to the Forest? D'you reckon he could've beaten you and Rory and Dumbledore there?"
"Not unless he can turn himself into a bat or something," Harry said.
"Wouldn't put it past him," I muttered.
"We need to see Professor Moody," said Hermione. "We need to find out whether he found Mr Crouch."
"If he had the Marauder's Map on him, it would've been easy," Harry said.
"Unless Crouch was already outside the grounds," Ron said, "because it only shows up to the boundaries, doesn't —"
"Shh!" Hermione suddenly hissed.
Somebody was climbing the steps up to the Owlery. I could hear two voices carrying up to us, arguing, coming closer and closer.
"— that's blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that —"
"— we've tried being polite, it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did —"
"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!"
"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"
The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione and me.
"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred said at the same time.
"Sending a letter," Harry and George said in unison.
"What, at this time?" said Hermione and Fred.
I blinked, confused. "What?"
Fred grinned. "Fine — we won't ask what you're doing, if you don't ask us."
He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. When I glanced at it, Fred, whether accidentally or on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered.
"Well, don't let us hold you up," he said, making a mock bow, and pointing at the door.
Ron didn't move. "Who're you blackmailing?" he said suspiciously.
The grin vanished from Fred's face, and I saw George half glance at his twin, before smiling at Ron.
"Don't be stupid, I was only joking," he said easily.
"Didn't sound like that," said Ron.
Fred and George looked at each other.
Then Fred said abruptly, "I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but —"
"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," Ron said. "George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that."
"Told you, I was joking," George said. He walked over to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands, and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. "You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like that and you'll be made a Prefect."
"No, I won't!" Ron said hotly.
George carried the barn owl to the window and it took off.
Then he turned round and grinned at Ron. "Well, stop telling people what to do then. See you later."
He and Fred left the Owlery. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I stared at each other.
"You don't think they know something about all this, do you?" Hermione whispered. "About Crouch and everything."
"No," Harry said, and I shook my head. "If it was something that serious, they'd tell someone. They'd tell Dumbledore."
Ron, however, was looking very uncomfortable.
"What, you don't think so?" I said, frowning.
"Well . . ." Ron said slowly, "I really dunno if they would. They're . . . they're obsessed with making money lately, I noticed it when I was hanging around with them — when — you know —"
"We weren't talking," Harry finished the sentence for him. "Yeah, but blackmail . . ."
"It's this joke-shop idea they've got," Ron said. "I thought they were only saying it to annoy Mum, but they really mean it, they want to start one. They've only got a year left at Hogwarts, they keep going on about how it's time to think about their future, and Dad can't help them, and they need gold to get started."
Hermione was looking uncomfortable now. "Yes, but . . . they wouldn't do anything against the law to get gold. Would they?"
"Wouldn't they?" Ron said, looking skeptical. "I dunno . . . they don't exactly mind breaking rules, do they?"
"But they wouldn't go so far as to break the law . . ." I said, trailing off at the look on Ron's face. "Right?"
Hermione nodded, like she was trying to assure all of us, as well as herself.
"This isn't some silly school rule . . . they'll get a lot more than detention for blackmail!" she said. "Ron . . . maybe you'd better tell Percy . . ."
"Are you mad?" Ron said. "Tell Percy? He'd probably do a Crouch and turn them in." He stared at the window that Fred and George used to release their owl, then said, "Come on, let's get some breakfast."
"D'you think it's too early to go and see Professor Moody?" Hermione asked, as we went down the spiral staircase.
"Yes," said Harry. "He'd probably blast us through the door if we wake him at the crack of dawn, he'll think we're trying to attack him while he's asleep. Let's give it 'til break."
History of Magic couldn't have gone by slower. All four of us were so tired we could have happily put our heads down on the desks and slept; even Hermione wasn't taking her usual notes. She was sitting with her head on her hand, gazing at Professor Binns with her eyes out of focus. I kept my arm on the surface of the desk for most of the lesson so that Harry wouldn't have to ask every minute when he wanted to see the time, since his own watch was broken.
When the bell finally rang, shaking me out of my sleep-deprived daze, we hurried out into the corridor towards the Dark Arts classroom, and found Professor Moody leaving it. He looked as tired as we felt. The eyelid of his normal eye was drooping, giving his face an even more lopsided appearance than usual.
"Professor Moody?" Harry called, as we made our way towards him through the crowd.
"Hello, Potter," Moody growled. His magical eye followed a couple of passing first-years, who sped up nervously; it rolled into the back of Moody's head and watched them around the corner before he spoke again. "Come in here."
He stood back to let us into his empty classroom, before limping in after us and closing the door.
"Did you find him?" Harry asked, without preamble. "Mr Crouch?"
"No," Moody said. He moved over to his desk, sat down, stretched out his wooden leg with a slight groan and pulled out his hip-flask.
"Did you use the map?" Harry said.
"Of course," said Moody, taking a swig from his flask. "Took a leaf out of your book, Potter. Summoned it from my office into the Forest. He wasn't anywhere on there."
"So he did Disapparate?" Ron said.
I opened my mouth to remind him that that would be impossible for the hundredth time, but Hermione beat me to it.
"You can't Disapparate inside the grounds, Ron!" she said. "There are other ways he could have disappeared, aren't there, Professor?"
Moody's magical eye quivered as it rested on Hermione.
"You're another one who might think about a career as an Auror," he told her. "Mind works the right way, Granger."
Hermione flushed pink with delight.
"Well, he wasn't invisible," Harry said, "the map shows invisible people. He must've left the grounds, then."
"But under his own steam?" Hermione said eagerly. "Or because someone made him?"
"Yeah, someone could've — could've pulled him onto a broom and flown off with him, couldn't they?" Ron said quickly, looking at Moody hopefully, as if he, too, wanted to be told he had the makings of an Auror.
"Well, if he wasn't in his right mind, it wouldn't have been hard for someone to just take him," I said, shrugging.
Moody turned to me with a look I couldn't quite decipher; it was almost like pride, but not exactly genuine.
"I see you were raised with the right outlook on things, Areli," he growled. "Not a surprise — your parents were the same way."
"Er — thanks," I said.
"So," Ron continued, "d'you reckon Crouch's somewhere in Hogsmeade?"
"Could be anywhere," said Moody, shaking his head. "Only thing we know for sure is that he's not here."
He yawned widely, so that his scars stretched, and his lopsided mouth revealed a number of missing teeth.
Then he said, "Now, Dumbledore's told me you four fancy yourselves as investigators, but there's nothing you can do for Crouch. The Ministry'll be looking for him now, Dumbledore's notified them. Potter, you just keep your mind on the third task."
"What?" Harry said with a start. "Oh, yeah . . ."
"Should be right up your street, this one," Moody said, looking up at Harry and scratching his scarred and stubbly chin. "From what Dumbledore's said, you've managed to get through stuff like this plenty of times. Broke your way through a series of obstacles guarding the Philosopher's Stone in your first year, didn't you?"
"We helped," Ron said quickly. "Me, Rory and Hermione helped."
Moody grinned. "Well, help him practice for this one, and I'll be very surprised if he doesn't win. In the meantime . . . constant vigilance, Potter. Constant vigilance." He took another long draught from his hip-flask, and his magical eye swivelled to the window, where the topmost sail of the Durmstrang ship was visible.
"You three," — his normal eye was on Ron, Hermione and me — "you stick close to Potter, all right? I'm keeping an eye on things, but all the same . . . you can never have too many eyes out."
. . . . .
Sirius sent our owl back the very next morning. It fluttered down beside Harry at the same moment a tawny owl landed in front of Hermione, a copy of the Daily Prophet in its beak. She took the newspaper, scanned the first few pages, said, "Ha! She hasn't got wind of Crouch!", then joined Harry, Ron and I in reading what Sirius had to say on the mysterious events of the night before last.
Harry — what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the Forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.
Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to Rory, Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your letter giving me your word you won't stray out of bounds again.
Sirius
"Who's he, to lecture me about being out of bounds?" Harry said in mild indignation, as he folded and put Sirius letter away in his robes. "After all the stuff he did at school!"
"He's worried about you!" Hermione said sharply. "Just like Moody and Hagrid! So listen to them!"
"No one's tried to attack me all year," Harry said. "No one's done anything to me at all —"
"Except put your name in the Goblet of Fire," I piped up, earning a look of betrayal from him.
"Exactly!" said Hermione. "And they must've done that for a reason, Harry. Snuffles is right. Maybe they've been biding their time. Maybe this is the task they're going to get you."
That's what I was afraid of.
"Look," Harry said impatiently, "let's say Snuffles is right, and someone Stunned Krum to kidnap Crouch. Well, they would've been in the trees near us, wouldn't they? But they waited 'til I was out of the way until they acted, didn't they? So it doesn't look like I'm their target, does it?"
"They couldn't have made it look like an accident if they'd murdered you in the Forest!" Hermione said. "But if you die during a task —"
"They didn't care about attacking Krum, did they?" Harry said. "Why didn't they just polish me off at the same time? They could've made it look like Krum and I had a duel or something."
"Harry, I don't understand it either," Hermione said desperately. "I just know there are a lot of odd things going on, and I don't like it . . . Moody's right — Snuffles is right — you've got to get in training for the third task, straight away. And you make sure you write back to Snuffles and promise him you're not going to go sneaking off alone again."
. . . . .
For the next few days, much to Harry's disappointment, he, Ron, Hermione and I spent all of our free time either in the library, looking up hexes, or else in an empty classroom, which we sneaked into to practice. Harry was concentrating on the Stunning Spell, which he had never used before. The only trouble with it was that it involved certain sacrifices on mine, Ron and Hermione's part.
"Can't we kidnap Mrs Norris?" Ron suggested during lunchtime on Monday, as he lay flat on his back in the middle of our Charms classroom, having just been Stunned and reawoken by Harry for the fifth time in a row. "Let's Stun her for a bit. Or you could use Dobby, Harry, I bet he'd do anything to help you. I'm not complaining or anything" — he got gingerly to his feet, rubbing his backside — "but I'm aching all over . . ."
"Well, you keep missing the cushions, don't you!" Hermione said impatiently, rearranging the pile of cushions we had used for the Banishing Spell we had found in Flitwick's cabinet. "Just try and fall backwards!"
"Once you're stunned, you can't aim too well, Hermione!" Ron said angrily. "Why don't you take a turn?"
I shook my head, and sent Harry a look. They argued like an old married couple.
"Well, I think Harry's got it now, anyway," Hermione said hastily. "And we don't have to worry about Disarming, because he's been able to do that for ages . . . I think we ought to start on some of these hexes this evening."
"Definitely," I agreed, looking down at the list we had made in the library. "What about this one? The Impediment Jinx? It's supposed to slow down anything that's trying to attack you, Harry."
Hermione nodded, reading over my shoulder. "We'll start with that one."
The bell rang. We hastily shoved the cushions back into Flitwick's cupboard, and slipped out of the classroom.
"See you at dinner!" Hermione said, waving, and she set off for Arithmancy, while the boys and I headed towards the Divination tower. The corridor was brightly lit with broad strips of dazzling gold sunlight shining through the high windows, which showcased the exceptionally bright blue sky.
"It's going to be boiling in Trelawney's room, she never puts out that fire," Ron complained, as we started up the staircase.
Unfortunately, he was right. The dimly lit room was swelteringly hot, along with being almost unbearably perfumed by the fire.
"D'you think she'd let us open a window?" Harry asked, tugging at the neck of his robes.
"Probably not," I said, shaking my head as I sat down in my chintz armchair. That didn't stop him, however, because Harry sneakily opened one of the curtained windows an inch while Professor Trelawney was looking away, before taking a seat beside me. The soft breeze from the window provided a nice contrast of fresh air.
"My dears," she said, sitting down in her winged armchair in front of our class, and peering around at us all with her strangely enlarged eyes, "we have almost finished our work on planetary divination. Today, however, will be an excellent opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is placed more interestingly in the present time. If you will all look this way, I will dim the lights . . ."
She waved her wand and the lamps went out, leaving the fire's orangey glow as the only source of light. Professor Trelawney bent down and lifted a miniature model of the solar system, contained in a glass dome, from under her chair. It was a beautiful thing; each of the moons glimmered in place around the nine planets and the fiery sun, all of them hanging in thin air beneath the glass.
I watched in mild fascination at the shimmering planetary display as Professor Trelawney began to point out the angle Mars was making with Neptune. Harry was leaning on one of his hands, while the other was holding mine under the table, letting me absent-mindedly play with his fingers. Somewhere in the background, an insect was humming gently.
To mine and Ron's amusement, Harry's eyes began to droop, and he eventually nodded off. I didn't try and wake him — we had barely gotten any sleep last night, and of all people, he needed it the most.
The next quarter of an hour or so of the lesson went by perfectly normally — Professor Trelawney babbled on about the planets, throwing in a few warnings about tragic deaths to come here and there. That was until I felt Harry's hand suddenly tense, but when I looked over at him, I found that he was still asleep. I shrugged it off. He was probably just dreaming.
That dream, however, must have been more like a nightmare. Harry's breathing became audibly louder and quicker, and just as I was going to get Ron's attention, Harry let out a yell, and collapsed from his chair.
"Woah, what's wrong with him?" Ron said in alarm, standing up.
"I don't know," I said, shaking my head and kneeling down next to Harry, who was still yelling. I was starting to panic as the rest of the class began to crowd around our table. "He was fine a minute ago, I don't —"
Harry's yells amplified, and he clutched his forehead like he was in pain, writhing and trembling. I had no idea what to do — should I try and wake him? Should I go and get help? What was happening, what was happening, what was happening . . .
"Harry! Come on, mate," Ron said, eyes wide and looking terrified.
"C'mon, Harry, it's not real," I said loudly, snapping out of my panicky state, and grabbing hold of his shoulders. "It's not real, wake up, Harry! Harry!"
Harry finally opened his eyes, which I was surprised to see were watering. He stared around in shock, still breathing heavily. Then he turned to me with a look that made my heart hurt.
"Are you all right?" I asked in concern.
"Of course he isn't!" said Professor Trelawney, looking thoroughly excited. She loomed over us as she gazed at the boy in question. "What was it, Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?"
"Nothing," Harry said, though I could tell he was lying. I helped him sit up — he was still shaking, and kept looking around at the shadows fearfully. What on earth had he been dreaming about?
"You were clutching your scar!" Professor Trelawney exclaimed. "You were rolling on the floor, clutching your scar! Come now, Potter, I have experience in these matters!"
Harry just looked up at her.
"I need to go to the hospital wing, I think," he said. "Bad headache."
"My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!" Professor Trelawney said. "If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever —"
"What he needs is a headache cure," I interrupted, before I turned to Harry. "Come on, I'll take you."
He nodded, then stood up. I did the same. The class backed away, all looking unnerved.
"See you later," Harry muttered to Ron. Then we picked up our bags and headed for the trapdoor, ignoring Professor Trelawney, who seemed greatly frustrated, as though she had been denied a real treat.
When we reached the bottom of the stepladder, however, Harry told me that he wanted to go to Dumbledore's office.
"You're sure you don't want Madam Pomfrey to check you?" I said.
Harry shook his head. "Sirius told me to go straight to Dumbledore if my scar ever hurt again, so I'm going to listen to him."
"All right," I agreed, admittedly a little hesitantly, as we started down the first of many flights of stairs. "Did you have another nightmare back there?"
"Yeah," Harry said, frowning. "It was really bad this time — like the one I had over the summer back at the Dursleys'."
Then he told me what it was about. He had heard Voldemort accusing Wormtail of making a blunder, but an owl had brought good news, the blunder had been repaired, and somebody was dead. That meant Wormtail was not going to be fed to Voldemort's snake. Instead, Harry was.
"He said that?" I said in horror.
Harry nodded again. "And then he used the Cruciatus curse on Wormtail. That's when my scar started hurting again."
I bit my lip, frowning. What did that mean? Whenever I had nightmares (which was more often than normal), there was never any physical pain. From my understanding, you couldn't feel pain in dreams. So was it really a dream?
"Hang on, we passed it," Harry said, and sure enough, we really had walked past the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office without even noticing. The two of us retraced our steps, stopping in front of it.
"D'you know the password?" I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.
"Er — sherbet lemon?" Harry tried tentatively.
The gargoyle did not move.
"Okay," Harry said, staring at it. "Pear drop. Um — Liquorice wand. Fizzing Whizzbee. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans . . . oh no, he doesn't like them, does he? . . . Oh, just open, can't you?" he said angrily. "We really need to see him, it's urgent!"
The gargoyle remained immovable.
I jumped Harry kicked it, only to jump back in pain, swearing.
"Chocolate Frog!" he yelled angrily, standing on one leg. "Sugar quill! Cockroach cluster!"
The gargoyle sprang to life, and jumped aside. I blinked. It actually worked.
"Cockroach cluster?" Harry said, seeming amazed. "I was only joking . . ."
"C'mon," I said, and we hurried through the gap in the walls, stepping onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upwards as the doors closed behind us, taking us up to a polished oak door with a brass door-knocker.
There were voices coming from inside the office. Harry and I looked at each other. We stepped off the moving staircase and hesitated, listening closely.
"Dumbledore, I'm afraid I don't see the connection, don't see it at all!" I frowned. What was Cornelius Fudge doing here? "Ludo says Bertha's perfectly capable of getting herself lost. I agree we would have expected to have found her by now, but all the same, we've no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, none at all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty Crouch's!"
"And what do you think's happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?" Moody's growling voice said.
"I see two possibilities, Alastor," Fudge said. "Either Crouch has finally cracked — more than likely, I'm sure you'll agree, given his personal history — lost his mind, and gone wandering off somewhere —"
"He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly.
"Or else — well . . ." Fudge sounded embarrassed. "Well, I'll reserve judgement until after I've seen the place where he was found, but you say it was just past the Beauxbatons carriage? Dumbledore, you know what that woman is?"
"I consider her to be a very able Headmistress — and an excellent dancer," Dumbledore said quietly.
"Dumbledore, come!" Fudge said angrily. "Don't you think you might be prejudiced in her favour because of Hagrid? They don't all turn out harmless — if, indeed, you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster fixation he's got —"
"I no more suspect Madame Maxime than Hagrid," Dumbledore said, just as calmly. "I think it possible that it is you who are prejudiced, Cornelius."
"Can we wrap up this discussion?" growled Moody.
"Yes, yes, let's go down into the grounds, then," Fudge said impatiently.
"No, it's not that," Moody said, "it's just that Potter and Areli want a word with you, Dumbledore. They're just outside the door."