Revised: 6/15/2019
It was a somber Harry Potter that left the Great Hall that evening. Dumbledore's words were still weighing heavily on his mind and Fleur's imminent departure was a constant source of anxiety.
Ravenclaw had won the house cup this year, the lack of a quidditch season to pad the house points of the Sytherin and Gryffindor houses made way for the academically inclined 'claws to take the Cup. But considering recent events, the house cup wasn't exactly highest on his list of priorities.
Harry was interrupted from his inner musings by a high pitched voice from behind.
"Slinky is being asked to bring master Harry Potter Sir to Professor spinny eye before yous goes to bed sir!" The diminutive house elf stared up at Harry with familiar bulbous eyes as he delivered his message.
After a moment of consideration Harry, realized who he was being summoned by, thanked the elf and set off towards the DADA classroom pondering what Moody could want so close to the end of the year.
It wasn't as if he'd actually sat for exams this term… What reason could the paranoid ex-Auror have for summoning him so late into the year? On second thought, it made sense that a man like Moody might want a first-hand account of his time in the graveyard. But why wait so long?
Resigned to the fact that he would not know for certain until he talked to the man himself, Harry paced onward towards the moving staircases.
After climbing to the third floor he turned down a familiar hallway, his mind recalling his first year when this hall was being used for something much more ominous than the defense classroom. Apparently, it had been relocated specifically to house the stone, but had returned to normal from his second year onward.
Finally reaching his destination, Harry rapped his knuckles twice on the door and walked in after hearing a gruff: "Enter!" in Moody's familiar growling voice.
Harry eyed the weathered man surrounded by his numerous dark-detection devices before addressing him. "Evening, Professor, I was told to come meet you here after the feast. Is there something you needed from me?"
"Have a seat, Potter!" Moody barked. Following the order, Harry waited for Moody to continue, keeping alert as usual when in the ex-auror's company. It would not do to be caught off guard if the paranoid man decided now would be the perfect time for his special brand of pop quizzes.
The man hobbled around his desk, his gait as awkward as one would expect from someone with a wooden leg. "I summoned you to speak about the ordeal you've been through a couple weeks back; the school's been crawling with ministry officials for the past weeks, investigating the parties involved so I haven't been able to talk to you sooner."
Thinking it odd that having ministry officials in the castle would prevent Moody from talking to him yet not voicing his concerns, Harry nodded, indicating that he understood and waited for his defense professor to continue.
"Albus mentioned you were in the presence of the Dark Lord!" Moody uttered fervently. "Not only that, but you crossed wands with him and you've lived to tell the tale!" The thinly-veiled reverence and form of address of Voldemort was setting off alarm bells in Harry's head as the pieces began to fall into place.
"Well I wouldn't exactly say I fought him, sir, I really just ra—"
"Did you feel the power of his magic Potter?" Moody continued, "The absolute obedience his mere presence commands?!"
Harry by this point had risen from his seat and begun to inch towards the door. He leveled narrowed eyes on his Professor, whose sycophantic murmurings had reached a fever pitch. Though he was beginning to have his doubts that this even was Moody. The thought that an ex-auror responsible for half the population of Azkaban being a Death Eater was laughable. Moody, noticing Harry's hasty retreat, locked the door with a negligent wave of his wand.
A cruel smile further disfigured his already grotesque visage.
"The Dark Lord had plans for you, Potter, plans he has not felt the need to divulge to a lowly servant such as myself! His most devoted follower! But at this point I think he would reward me for my initiative. For delivering the head of his greatest enemy." By the end of his impromptu speech the man's voice had lost the gruff quality of Alastor Moody and transformed into one with a more cultured, whimsical inflection.
The difference was unsettling, and this persona no less dangerous, perhaps even more so.
Before Harry could think further on the matter, a surge of gathering magic tickled at his senses.
Harry was diving before the spell even left Moody's wand, taking cover behind a cabinet holding countless dark-detecting devices. He managed to clumsily banish a desk on the way down, buying himself the slightest of moments to take cover.
'Moody's' opening salvo was interrupted by the crash of splintering wood, but Harry paid it no mind. A quietly muttered expecto patronum, a pleasant memory and his shimmering stag familiar burst from the tip of his wand and ghosted through the stone walls of the classroom.
Incidentally, the day spent with Fleur learning how to send patronus messages was the same memory he used to cast this particular missive.
Harry flinched away as the cabinet he was using for cover splintered under the force of what seemed to be an overcharged concussion hex. Knowing a shield charm would be useless against the physical debris he dodged to the side, summoning another desk to intercept the spraying wood and glass shards. A trio of silent bludgeoners to throw the exposed imposter off balance followed by another banished desk was launched with precise flicks from Harry's holly wand.
Harry inwardly cursed his predicament. He was quickly coming to realize how impractical trading curses was with so many objects littering the room was. If he managed to make it out of this mess, incorporating transfiguration into his newly developing style of combat would be his number one priority.
Resolving to address that issue once he was out of this mess, Harry ducked out from his cover and let loose with an overpowered reducto at a mass of desks, peppering the north end of the room with debris. He peered through the imploded classroom supplies, leveling his wand at the shuffling figure ducking defensively.
"Ossis Fragmen."
The spell fell from his lips, his verdant eyes widening slightly at the electrifying rush of magic that flew from his wand.The Bone Fragmentation curse was one he had come upon in some of the less savory tomes in the Hogwarts library. Having not had much time or opportunity, he was unable to cast it silently, but with proper misdirection...
It wasn't exactly a spell approved for school curriculum, but wasn't that the whole point?
The writhing, orange-hued curse sailed across the room, slamming into the imposter's left shoulder with a sickening splintering noise.
Harry'd had enough broken bones in his lifetime to recognize the familiar injury. His spell had connected!
Speaking of magic he was familiar with… As Harry peered through narrowed eyes at the imposter, he was certain he'd seen the stomach-churning sight of bubbling flesh somewhere before… on second thought, he'd had firsthand experience with the sensation. It'd take a lot to ever forget his first experience with Polyjuice.
So that was how he'd gone undiscovered for so long… At least that meant Moody was still alive…
The imposter grunted in pain briefly from Harry's curse and grimaced as Moody's peg leg clattered to the ground to make way for his natural limb. Unfortunately for Harry, the shoulder he'd shattered was merely the man's weaker arm. Disregarding the pain, the fake Moody was still frighteningly free to cast as he wished.
Recovering quickly, the man tossed back a simple disarming charm. The first-year spell surprised Harry at first but he still managed a decent parry with a flick of his wand. His eyes widened as a second, ominously crackling yellow curse entered his vision having initially been hidden behind the disarming charm. The curse left a feeling of distinct malevolence as it sizzled past Harry's right ear, crashing into the wall of the classroom and eroding close to a foot into the gray stone of the castle, leaving behind a sizzling mess of corroded stone.
"We call that one an acid spitter, Potter!" An entirely unrecognizable voice filled with a malice unheard of from Moody's usual persona echoed around the trashed defense room, "'twas a favorite of mine from the last war! If you're going to throw out lethal curses, boy, you've got to be prepared to take 'em too!"
A shiver tickled Harry's spine. The kid gloves had clearly come off…
He might actually die.
A duo of acid spitters left the now much younger man's wand followed by what Harry recognized as an entrails expelling curse. The distinctly black and red undulating flightpath the book spoke of was a bit more frightening when it was careening towards your head.
The first two curses were quickly sidestepped and the third barely shielded by a muttered contego. The spell's effect was nullified, but Harry now found himself backed into the classroom's northern wall. His paths of escape were completely cut off, and he was clearly outmatched.
Before he could bring his wand up to retaliate, his opponent conjured two slabs of wood, banishing them at speeds Harry couldn't quite follow. The assailant's wand slashed through the air, transfiguring the speeding projectiles into shackles which slammed Harry into the rocky stone wall.
"For fucks sake! You know, I'm getting really bloody tired of being pinned in this position by the bad guys. I thought magicals weren't religious for Merlin's sake!"
Harry's sarcastic commentary belied his inner panic at being restrained by another rabid follower of the Dark Lord. He tugged fruitlessly at his restraints, defiant in the face of danger but realistically not seeing a way out of his predicament. Now would be the perfect time for Dumbledore to burst in to save the day!
His inner monologue was interrupted by the door exploding inward.
"Eat your heart out, Trelawney! There's a new seer in th-"
"Potter… I was under the impression that you were finished with your usual end of the yea, attention-seeking shenanigans already. But it seems being the topic of discussion that the school simply will not stop spewing out simply wasn't enough for the golden boy who chose, or whatever they are calling you these days."
God damnit! Well it wasn't Dumbledore, but at this point he really couldn't afford to be picky.Snape entered the room with his characteristic gliding gait until he was situated between Harry and the imposter Moody.
"Good evening, Barty, you're looking awfully spry for a dead man." Snape uttered in his familiar drawl.
"I see you've chosen your side, Snape; I always knew you were a spineless coward! The dark Lord will have your head when he hears of your betrayal!" The now-identified Barty, who Harry assumed may be a close relation of the Ministry head by the same name, sneered at Snape while struggling to fend off the fresh professor while nursing a shattered shoulder. Regardless of the advantage he'd had to begin the fight, Harry's respect for his antagonistic potions professor definitely went up a few notches.
Snape subdued the man within seconds showcasing his considerable ability with a wand despite his current career. He turned around once the man was subdued and released the bound Harry from the wall.
Harry eyed the man now wrapped in conjured ropes and addressed his professor. "Thank you, sir, a couple more seconds and I might have been buggered."
An imperious stare was his only answer until Snape responded with a curt, "Language Potter, regardless of this situation your foul mouth will not aide you. I believe it would be in your best interest to return to Madame Pomfrey for medical attention, I will take this one," he gestured to the downed Death Eater, "To Professor Dumbledore."
"Sir…" Harry started waiting for acknowledgment from the dour man, "Who is he? He's been polyjuiced as our defense professor the entire year and no one even noticed."
Seeming to debate with himself whether to answer the boy or not, Snape eventually replied "Bartimus Crouch Jr., supposedly arrested and deceased in prison years ago, I suppose it will be another headache-inducing affair now that it is realized that that fool Black was apparently not the first to escape Azkaban."
Theories and tangents running through his mind, Harry decided to take on one problem at a time. Getting healed definitely took priority, despite how curious he was at the implications of this information.
"Thank you again for the help, Professor, I was aiming my patronus for Professor Dumbledore's office but frankly you were just as much help." Snape said nothing as the sole reminder of his life's greatest mistake exited the room, but appeared grudgingly impressed with the young student holding his own against one of Voldemort's lieutenants for as long as he did.
As Snape levitated the body and headed for Dumbledore's office asking a nearby portrait to find the Headmaster, and to warn him of his imminent arrival, Harry limped his way to the infirmary, one thought on his mind.
For once he'd managed to come out of an attempt on his life with no more than superficial scratches. That was an improvement at least, right?
Right?
AN: So yeah, not that happy with this chapter, I think it's because I want to do more with the combat aspect of the fic, but Harry really isn't at the level where I can get really technical because he simply doesn't know enough magic to do the technical stuff nor is he good enough to force someone like Barty to either. Oh well, he'll get there eventually. Like always, if you care enough to want me to do something different, all it takes is telling me in a review. Next chapter should be faster!