novelraw Chapter 120: Crouch's Confession
Chapter 120: Crouch's Confession
A long-standing mystery circulating in Hufflepuff House—what exactly was in Professor Moody's large trunk—had finally been solved.
"In my opinion, the Hufflepuff puzzle is a lost cause. No student will ever get the answer. I'll wager no student in all of Hogwarts would dare open Professor Moody's trunk without permission—he might just cast a Cruciatus Curse on anyone who does so as a warning to others," Pansy Parkinson once boasted in the Slytherin common room. "Anyone who dares open that trunk, or even just go round and have a look, I'll give them a proper bow."
"Pansy, don't be so absolute," Blaise said, raising an eyebrow at her. "A generous reward will surely bring forth brave souls. But could the bowing ceremony be replaced with something else—like a kiss or something?"
"Of course not!" Pansy said, blushing, her voice trembling with offense. "I'm just expressing my opinion on this! I'm not encouraging anyone else to do it, Blaise Zabini!"
It seemed Blaise's caution was correct—Pansy currently had quite a few people to bow to—Draco thought with a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he subtly glanced around the Headmaster's office.
At this moment, Professor Dumbledore had completely suppressed his outward emotions. He was leisurely crouching before Professor Moody's large trunk with seven locks and began unlocking them one by one, trying to find the real Professor Alastor Moody.
Draco silently watched the compartments he opened, finally unraveling the mystery and satisfying his barely perceptible curiosity: spellbooks, various broken Sneakoscopes, some parchment and quills, two silver Invisibility Cloaks...
"Is that yours, Draco?" Hermione asked in a low voice, tugging at his sleeve as she looked at one of the Invisibility Cloaks.
"I expect so," Draco said, staring at it, tilting his head slightly, and whispering to her. "It was left outside Professor Snape's office that night. No wonder I rushed there early the next morning and couldn't find it anywhere. Barty Crouch Junior is really shameless."
"Should I go and talk to Professor Dumbledore—" she said hesitantly, wanting to step forward.
"No, don't do anything rash," Draco said, quickly grabbing her hand and stopping her from moving forward. "Don't get yourself into trouble. Let me think about what to do, all right?"
"All right," Hermione said, her cheeks feeling rather hot.
Should she pull her hand from his? She wondered nervously.
They were holding hands openly in the Headmaster's office.
But she couldn't break free from him. She craved the feeling of him holding her hand.
He gave her a strange sense of peace—which was exactly what she needed at that moment.
So she moved closer to him, letting her long black robes conceal their clasped hands.
That way, the professors probably won't be able to see their hands, she thought slyly.
Draco didn't know what she was thinking; all he knew was he felt pleased by her approach.
"Who was it that forbade me from using it before, threatened me, and told Professor McGonagall?" he asked in a slightly mocking tone. "What made you change your mind and even want to get it back for me?"
"That's your stuff—of course it should be returned to you!" She widened her eyes, gave him a reproachful look, and muttered under her breath, "I still don't approve of using it to break school rules... but over the years, I haven't seen you use it to do anything bad... you always had a legitimate reason, didn't you..."
"I'm glad you think that way," Draco said. A warm feeling rose in his heart—warmth enough to free his frozen lips from the cold—and he smiled lazily.
Finally, Dumbledore opened the seventh keyhole. Inside the trunk was a large pit, like a basement, with an unconscious person lying on the floor about ten feet deep.
That was the real Mad-Eye Moody. He was emaciated, his wooden leg was gone, there was no eyelid beneath his magical eye, and a tuft of his gray hair was missing. Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, bent down to examine the sleeping Moody, and said to the people gathered above the trunk, "He's been Stunned—he's under the Imperius Curse—and he's very weak."
"That's why his name was always in the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office," Draco said regretfully to Hermione, his voice low. "Yet I never noticed anything unusual about Moody."
"I understand," Hermione said. "You have lessons during the day, so you can't keep an eye on it all the time; and you can't know his exact whereabouts at night either. You can only see his name appearing in the office—who would think of anything else?"
"But you discovered him in just one day," Draco said with admiration. "That's a remarkable talent."
"I just had rather more luck and rather more focus," Hermione said in a low voice, beaming with pride. "I've been studying it all day, trying to see if I could find any dirt on Moody."
"Good work, girl. Nobody would dare mess with you, would they?" he said with a smile.
"That's not quite right—" Hermione said somewhat awkwardly. Seeing Professor Dumbledore bringing up the weakened real Moody, she quickly broke free from Draco's hand, grabbed her cloak, and draped it over the poor, frostbitten man.
She glanced back at the boy who was still staring intently at her and muttered in a barely audible voice, "Only you dare mess with me like that."
At this moment, Madam Pomfrey had already rushed over.
"Albus, what have you done to poor Mad-Eye?" she said accusingly. "First Sirius Black with his broken arms and legs, then the frostbitten and weak Alastor Moody, and I sincerely hope no one else will be seriously ill this year! I don't want to see anyone else on death's door this year!"
"Poppy, calm down," Dumbledore said. "I know that with your skillful hands you can surely turn the tide for him. As for your hope, it is also my hope. But things don't always go as planned."
Madam Pomfrey glared at him, clicking her tongue in dissatisfaction, and Levitated the weakened real Moody away.
At this moment, Professor Snape brought the house-elf Winky from the kitchens, while Professor McGonagall brought Harry and Ron from the Gryffindor common room, who'd been celebrating their discovery of the golden egg clue.
"The Petrificus Totalus has been lifted, and I've recast the Stunning Spell on him," Professor Snape said as soon as the Headmaster's office door closed. Expressionless, he poured three drops of clear liquid down the throat of the bound and unconscious fake Professor Moody. He told Dumbledore, "If he drinks it while he's awake, the Veritaserum won't work."
"Well done, Severus," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. With that, he sealed the Headmaster's office, waved his wand, and used Rennervate to revive the fake Moody who'd been given potent Veritaserum.
By this time, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion had worn off, and he no longer resembled Alastor Moody. The wooden leg had clattered to the side, and the magical blue eye had popped from its socket.
"Barty Crouch Junior?" Sirius Black exclaimed in surprise as he emerged from the fireplace in the Headmaster's office. "He's still alive?"
That's right—this fake Moody was transforming back into the appearance of Barty Crouch Junior—pale skin, a few freckles, and a head of light blond, messy hair.
At first, with slightly drunken eyes, Winky let out her first wail—she immediately recognized her young master.
"Master Barty, Master Barty, what are you doing here?" the little elf shrieked, lunging at the chest of the young man with vacant eyes and sagging cheeks, clutching his robes. "You'll get your father into trouble!"
But Crouch Junior's eyes were vacant, and he didn't react to her at all.
"Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"I can hear you," the young man said in a low voice, his eyelids fluttering slightly.
"Master Barty—" Tears streamed from her large, sorrowful brown eyes. She glanced around at the wizards and began tugging desperately at Crouch's sleeve, her voice urgent. "You have to go—you can't stay here!"
"Oh, Winky, don't do that," Hermione said anxiously, looking at Winky's trembling, thin shoulders.
"Help me, Miss Granger, please help me get my young master away from here, all right?" the little elf said, looking at her as if grasping at a lifeline, asking for help from this girl who'd always been kind to her for the first time in her life.
"I'm sorry, I can't, Winky," Hermione said sadly. "He did something bad, something very bad. We have to find out what he did."
Disappointed, Winky lowered her head, not looking at Hermione again, and knelt at Crouch's feet, sobbing. "Master Barty, we have to go. If we stay any longer, we'll be in trouble..."
Hermione was extremely anxious. Looking at Winky, she suddenly realized how inadequate her words were.
It was she who'd captured Winky's young master, leading to Winky's current breakdown; however, she'd had to capture Barty Crouch Junior—the former Death Eater who harbored scheming plots and stirred up trouble at Hogwarts—she'd do the same thing if she had the chance. She only regretted not exposing him sooner.
"You did the right thing, Hermione," the boy beside her whispered. "That house-elf is completely devoted to her master—whether he's good or bad—and you can't reason with her right now. House-elves are a very loyal species, and their loyalty to their former masters can be incredibly stubborn. You have to understand that."
Hermione frowned, then nodded. She shifted her gaze from the elf and began observing the others around her.
"What are you two doing here?" Ron said, moving closer to them and asking in a low voice. "And what were we called here for?"
"I suspect Professor Dumbledore thinks you need to witness this firsthand," Hermione whispered, gesturing toward Barty Crouch Junior with her chin. "He's been impersonating Professor Moody for a while now. I told you something was off!"
Ron's mouth dropped open: "Impersonating?!"
At that moment, Harry recognized Barty Crouch Junior. He said to his godfather beside him, "Sirius, I've seen this face in my dreams before!"
"What?" Sirius Black asked, his brow furrowed. "Harry, did you see what he was doing?"
"In my dream," Harry said uneasily, "he was kneeling before Voldemort, solemnly swearing he'd bring Harry Potter back."
Everyone present fell into deep thought.
Then Dumbledore began asking questions, and the veil of mystery was slowly lifted by Barty Crouch Junior's flat language.
They learned how Barty Crouch Senior, at the pleading of his dying wife, had the two of them drink Polyjuice Potion mixed with each other's hair, thus switching identities. The poor mother had struggled to drink the Polyjuice Potion until her death, taking it every hour.
"Is this possible?" Hermione asked Draco. "Has no one discovered this?"
"I don't know if the prisoners would see through it. But the Dementors won't. They have no sight—they only act on their senses. They can sense whether a person's soul is alive or dying, but they can't tell which person it is," Draco said calmly. "Ministry officials won't go to the island unless absolutely necessary. After Mrs. Crouch dies, the Dementors will probably bury her somewhere on that island very soon. In the end, she died quietly and without a trace—a very clever switcheroo."
Dumbledore continued asking questions calmly, while Barty Crouch Junior continued recounting the little-known inside stories in a methodical manner.
They learned how Barty Crouch Senior had faked his wife's death, leaving the loyal house-elf Winky to watch over and care for his frail son until he recovered; he'd even cast a very powerful Memory Charm on Bertha Jorkins, who'd stumbled upon the secret, causing her to forget it and even inflicting permanent damage.
"Why is she meddling in my master's private affairs?" Winky sobbed. "Why won't she leave us alone?"
Barty Crouch Junior continued recounting how his father had used the Imperius Curse to control him and prevent him from going out and doing evil; Barty Crouch Senior had been completely unaware his son had begun resisting the Imperius Curse's restraints and was becoming increasingly clear-headed.
"Young Master Barty, Young Master Barty," Winky sobbed, covering her face the whole time. "You shouldn't have told them—we'll be in trouble..."
"Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup," Dumbledore said.
"Winky took pity on me and convinced my father to give me some privileges as a reward for my good behavior. I hadn't left the house in years. I love Quidditch. She persuaded my father—she talked to him for months. She said he could wear an Invisibility Cloak and watch the match. Let me get some fresh air. She said my mother would want me to go. She said my mother saved me to set me free, not to put me under house arrest for life. My father finally agreed."
"I regained my senses in the Top Box of the Quidditch World Cup and stole a boy's wand. Winky didn't know; she had a fear of heights and kept covering her face with her hands."
Winky's tears streamed down her face. "Young Master Barty, you naughty boy!"
"That night, we returned to our tent, and I heard the voices of those Death Eaters. Those people who'd never been to Azkaban, who'd never suffered for my master—they betrayed him... I was furious. I grabbed my wand and wanted to teach those disloyal bastards a lesson... I wanted to show those Death Eaters what true loyalty to the Dark Lord was, and punish their disloyalty. I used the stolen wand to launch the Dark Mark into the air..." Crouch Junior licked his lips excitedly.
Upon hearing this, Draco suddenly realized, "Hermione, do you remember the Dark Mark incident? Barty Crouch was frantically searching the bushes not to find a scapegoat but to find his own son."
"Yes, I expect he eventually found Crouch, but for some reason Crouch escaped," Hermione whispered to the boy who was looking down at her. "No wonder Barty Crouch looked so dreadful when he appeared at Hogwarts last time."
"I reckon he was worried about his Death Eater son who'd defected, not just about the *Daily Prophet*'s report," Draco said with a sarcastic chuckle. "I didn't expect Barty Crouch to be such a hypocrite—so strict with others but lenient with himself!"
"How did Voldemort find you?" Dumbledore was asking Barty Crouch Junior at that moment.
"When Peter Pettigrew was imprisoned, he was in the same cell Sirius Black used to be in—right next to Bellatrix Lestrange's. She didn't have much trouble getting information from Peter Pettigrew about the outside world, and an important piece of information—that the master's soul was trapped somewhere in Hogwarts," the young man said emotionlessly, his eyelids trembling.
Harry and Ron gasped. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape exchanged glances, their expressions grave. Sirius Black's face was blank and somber, lost in thought.
Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance and saw a sense of "aha!" in each other's eyes.
The mastermind behind "letting the Dark Lord go" last school year was finally about to surface.
"My cell was right across from Bellatrix's. I expect she saw my mother drinking Polyjuice Potion, or perhaps she slipped up when the Dementors carried her away to bury her after she died. Anyway, she knew I wasn't dead. She persuaded Peter Pettigrew to escape and come find me. Peter Pettigrew dared not disobey. By then, I'd gradually learned to resist the Imperius Curse's control, and occasionally I could break free of it and regain a period of lucidity."
"Winky doesn't know I'm getting stronger. She can't always be by my side; she has to take care of the housework. I planned everything while she was away and had that rat Peter Pettigrew carry it out, and in the end, we rescued our master," he said, licking his lips with a twisted smile.
The answer to the mystery that had kept them up at night last year had finally come to light.
The series of ingenious maneuvers they'd faced last year, which involved releasing the Dark Lord, were the work of Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Junior—two invisible and formidable adversaries.
Draco felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn't expected that even in Azkaban, his mad aunt, Bellatrix, could extend her reach so far.
Bellatrix wouldn't let any opportunity for the Dark Lord to make a comeback slip by—that was an indisputable fact—no one was more fanatical about the Dark Lord than she was; but he was still shocked by the meticulousness of her mind, which didn't seem like something a pure madwoman could do.
She still possessed the Black family's keenness and cunning—even after being tormented by Dementors in Azkaban for over a decade.
And then there was Barty Crouch Junior. While resisting the Imperius Curse, in those brief moments of lucidity and freedom, he'd orchestrated this horrific Dark Lord escape—a meticulously planned and intricately plotted scheme... what a chilling adversary!
Fortunately, Hermione had discovered him in time and caught him.
Draco couldn't imagine what the world would be like if this scheme succeeded.
He'd probably fall into darkness and chaos again, just like in his previous life. Thinking of this, Draco couldn't help shuddering.
"It's a pity Peter Pettigrew is dead—though he was foolish, he was still somewhat useful. My master came to me after the Quidditch World Cup—he appreciated my loyalty—and he knew I was still alive from Peter Pettigrew. He was possessing Quirrell, very weak, and needed potions to stay alive. By then, Winky had already been driven from Crouch's house, making it much easier for me to break free of the Imperius Curse," Crouch Junior said, shaking his head, a maniacal grin spreading across his face.
Winky let out a desperate wail.
"I ran away from home while my father was at the Ministry and rediscovered myself. Quirrell and I subdued Moody, using Polyjuice Potion Quirrell provided to me to impersonate him. We did a splendid job, successfully fooling Arthur Weasley when he came to check on things, making him believe it was just another of Moody's fussing; then I arrived at Hogwarts as I'd hoped, ready to capture Harry Potter for my master," Crouch Junior said, his smile widening.
"How do you plan to capture Harry? By using the Triwizard Tournament?" Dumbledore asked with deep suspicion.
"The Goblet of Fire is the best Portkey. A Confundus Charm would make it think Harry Potter is the only candidate from a fourth school. I will help him clear the way and be the first to get the Goblet of Fire, so he can be taken to the graveyard at the right time, resurrected, and regain his powerful body. I will receive a reward no wizard can even dream of," Crouch Junior said, a greedy look on his face.
"Why does the Dark Lord need Harry to be resurrected?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"The Dark Lord wants something from him," Crouch Junior said monotonously.
"Harry's blood?" Professor Dumbledore asked coldly.
"Absolutely right! That's exactly it," Barty Crouch Junior said with satisfaction.
"Now we understand—he really does intend to use the resurrection ritual," Professor Dumbledore said, glancing at Draco.
"I already told you, sir," Draco said, returning his gaze with an expected look.
It was Hermione who'd come up with the specific method, he thought proudly.
From the corner came the sound of Sirius gritting his teeth, cracking his knuckles in a grim manner, as if he wanted to beat up Crouch Junior.
Draco glanced at Harry, who looked utterly bewildered, shocked, and disappointed.
Harry was naturally taken aback. He'd never imagined this fake Professor Moody would be the culprit who'd dragged him into all this suffering.
The misunderstandings, slanders, and ridicule he'd encountered over the past two months were all thanks to the fake Professor Moody—Barty Crouch Junior?
Not long ago, he'd actually grown fond of this Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and had even confided in him about the contents of his first task, and even felt a certain affinity for him...
Draco saw Ron's expression of surprise and shame.
It seemed the fool had finally realized he'd wronged Harry. Draco shook his head.
As for Hermione, she was frowning, deep in thought with a troubled expression. Sensing the boy's gaze, she quietly clutched his sleeve, raised her bright brown eyes, and forced a smile at him.
"Where is Voldemort now?" Sirius couldn't help asking. "When will he reappear?"
"I don't know. I haven't contacted him since I impersonated Moody. We have to get Dumbledore to trust me and avoid any unnecessary suspicion. My master told me he'd be waiting for me at the cemetery on the night the third task of the Triwizard Tournament begins," Crouch Junior said.
"Which cemetery?" Sirius Black pressed.
"Little Hangleton's graveyard. His father's grave is there," Crouch Junior said flatly.
Sirius fell silent. He scratched his chin, his gaze fixed in the distance, as if deep in thought.
"That's enough questioning," Dumbledore said briefly, and with a wave of his wand, Barty Crouch Junior immediately fell unconscious.
With a sob, Winky threw herself against his chest and angrily cried out to Dumbledore, "You killed him! You killed him! You killed your master's son!"
"He's just under a Stunning Spell, Winky," Dumbledore said. "As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I have to ask you to keep quiet about everything that happened today and not to mention it to anyone. In particular, do not inform Mr. Crouch."
With deep yet blind sympathy and concern for her former master, she nodded and let out a painful sob.
"Severus, take Winky back to the kitchens, will you?" Dumbledore said.
Professor Snape left without a word, accompanied by the weeping house-elf who kept turning back to look.
"How did you discover Professor Moody was acting strangely?" Dumbledore asked Hermione and Draco.
"I once smelled Polyjuice Potion on him. Later, I heard Professor Snape had lost boomslang skin and Bicorn horn—both key ingredients for Polyjuice Potion," Hermione said.
"That's right—he peeked into Professor Snape's office several times," Draco said.
"Just these?" Professor McGonagall asked in shock.
"Yes," they said. They exchanged a glance and answered in unison.
They subconsciously avoided the role of the Marauder's Map in this matter.
"I must say, you have very keen observation skills and rich imaginations... most importantly, you guessed correctly," Professor McGonagall said tremulously, looking them over with suspicion.
Professor Dumbledore looked exhausted and didn't dwell on the matter any further.
He glanced around the Headmaster's office, where people were either deep in thought or looked disgusted, and slowly asked, "What do you think should be done with him?"
"I don't care how you deal with him. But I really hope that before you deal with him, I can beat him up first!" Sirius said viciously.
Draco almost burst out laughing. He personally hoped Sirius would go all out and settle his score as well.
"Barty Crouch Junior—what an excellent student he was, with twelve O.W.L.s... I've always felt sorry for him," Professor McGonagall said regretfully. "But it's too late now. We have to hand him over to the Ministry and put him back in Azkaban. I can tell he's still stubborn; his talents aren't being used for good, which is extremely dangerous for the wizarding world."
"He might have some valuable intelligence," Sirius said, staring at Barty Crouch Junior. "I suggest locking him in Moody's trunk, just as he did to Moody."
"Sirius, haven't you heard he can resist the Imperius Curse? Think about it—if he were even slightly conscious, he'd have informed his master!" Professor McGonagall said disapprovingly.
"He could even escape Azkaban, so how can we be sure he's safe if he's locked up again?" Sirius said. "Are we just going to keep him locked up with Bellatrix and let those two lunatics plot how to help Voldemort?"
"I didn't say that," Professor McGonagall said. "We could separate their cells—"
"That's only treating the symptoms, not the root cause. Just because the prisoners can't get out doesn't mean they can't communicate with each other. There are too many loopholes on that island; the prisoners can easily exchange information," Sirius said somberly, with a hint of self-mockery in his tone. "Trust my professional advice; after all, I've been there for so many years."
"Oh—" Professor McGonagall said softly. "Of course. I'm sorry about that."
These "decent people" were too lenient with Barty Crouch Junior, Draco thought. It seemed no one considered the other possibility—a Dementor's Kiss—death.
Draco had no sympathy for Barty Crouch Junior. This fanatical and loyal Death Eater was no different from Bellatrix. Given the chance, he'd try escaping and help the Dark Lord rise again. He wasn't stupid; in fact, he was cunning and resourceful, and such a sharp mind would be a great threat.
If they couldn't control such a dangerous person, it was better to just let him disappear than to let him keep eyeing Harry, Draco thought coldly.
Just then, there was a noise at the Headmaster's office door. Professor Snape strode in and said to Dumbledore, "She's been sent back. I've told the house-elves to keep an eye on her and watch her condition."
"Very good," Dumbledore said approvingly. "We are discussing what to do with Crouch Junior. Obviously, sending him to Azkaban carries a great risk of him escaping again; even if he's placed under house arrest, he can resist the Imperius Curse, so that's not a completely safe option either."
"Petrify him, just as Miss Granger just did. In this state, he's completely harmless," Professor Snape said slowly. "Besides Petrificus Totalus, I know of some potions that can enhance this petrification state."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.
She'd never imagined that one day, Professor Snape, who'd always looked down on her, would suggest using the method she'd come up with in a moment of desperation—this was too unusual.
"Let's do it this way for now. Lock him up," Dumbledore decided. "We can't alert anyone and let them know about this."
Sirius's eyes lit up. "That's right—there's a fantastic opportunity to catch Voldemort—"
"What do you mean?" Professor McGonagall asked, flustered.
"Isn't it obvious? Every detail of the Triwizard Tournament—including the dates of each task—will be widely reported. No one in the wizarding world will be unaware of it! Since Crouch Junior hasn't contacted Voldemort, Voldemort will definitely find out about these things through the newspapers. If we go to the graveyard before the last task of the Triwizard Tournament, we might be able to ambush him! As long as we don't tell anyone, he still thinks the plan's going smoothly!" Sirius said, his handsome face losing its numbness and being replaced by an excited look of anticipation for an adventure.
Draco finally chuckled softly.
As expected of Sirius Black—this brilliant strategist—both unexpected and insightful.