"Climb the mountain just a little bit to test that it's a mountain."
Cassius decided to take a slightly longer path to Moody's office. In part, this was because he wasn't sure why Professor Moody wanted to chat with him, but also because Cassius was starting to really worry about the Second Task and wanted some time to think. He had no idea what to make of the screeching egg. He'd opened the egg twice now, both times in the Slytherin common room, and both times he'd only gotten a headache out of it. He'd taken to carrying the egg with him in case inspiration struck – or if he chanced upon another champion cracking the secret.
He was in third place, and he needed to figure out the egg as quickly as he could. Potter had forty points – he suspected that only Maxime's scoring was properly unbiased, though there was no way to prove it. Bagman's bias was obvious, at least. Still, he'd seen Potter fly circles around that dragon. Say what you would about him, but his flying was impressive. Delacour was in second place, at thirty-six points. He was surprised that Maxime had given her an eight instead of a nine – though to be perfectly frank, he had to admit that his opinion might have less to do with her performance and more with her composure. Most Hogwarts girls would have been too rattled by their skirt catching fire to continue properly. He was only one point behind Delacour, and he had to admit that if Dumbledore was playing favorites, he was doing a damn good job of masking it – he'd given him a nine, more than any of the other judges had given him, and it was the same score he'd given Potter. Krum wasn't worried about his score of thirty – in fact, when asked he said it was too high since he'd smashed half his eggs. Karkaroff, of course, was in a temper over the scoring; he claimed unfair discrimination at every opportunity, but all that did was remind the Slytherins of how they tended to react whenever they lost points or got detentions.
As he approached Moody's classroom, he had a strange sense that he'd forgotten something important. He shook his head and knocked on the door. "Come in, and close the door behind you." came the professor's gruff voice. The defense professor's office changed annually, just as its occupant did (Cassius had heard rumors that the Dark Lord had cursed the position out of spite), and this year it reflected the paranoia of the sixth defense professor he'd had. A foe-glass directly opposite the door, a sneakoscope high on the shelf, and various other secrecy sensors in strategic locations. Even his seven-locked trunk exuded an aura of paranoid caution. Cassius shook his head and focused on Alastor Moody – or rather, he focused on the tank of water behind him.
"You're worried about the Second Task." The professor stated once the door was closed and warded. "How many times have you opened your egg?"
Cassius nodded. This can't be all there is to it. "I've opened it twice now, and only screeching."
"Open it in there." Moody indicated the tank of water.
He hesitated for a moment. Things weren't adding up. "Why?"
"Because I said to."
"No. I mean, why help me?"
Moody's magical eye fixed on the door. "First, Potter's in first place. Second…" He took a drink from his flask. "Potter asked me the same thing when I helped him figure out how to deal with his dragon. Cheating's just part of the tournament, though Albus likes to think he's above such things. The other judges will be helping their champions, though, and I've heard rumors that Bagman's got money on Potter; even if Albus won't cheat for him, Bagman still could. Who've you got helping you, then?"
A claim of altruism? He must have money on one of us. "I'm sure the odds on Potter were more attractive."
"Only before the First Task. You and Krum are the ones with long odds now, and Krum didn't think of flying like Potter did. Smart money's on you at the moment since you knew the right spells and had the sense to lure your dragon away from her nest first."
A saying of Snape's came to mind: The brewer who mans two cauldrons drinks only poison. "Why waste time helping a no-name gelding when the dark horse has better odds to begin with?"
"It's called 'hedging my bets.' My money's not on Potter, it's on Hogwarts. I may as well help you both where I can. Besides, five points won't be that much in the long game."
Cassius gave another minute of stalling, of trying to read the professor. By Moody's own admission, he'd already helped Potter once, and the two of them weren't exactly close in points – despite the ex-Auror's claims. Why would Moody tell him anything helpful unless he was sure it would get back to Potter? He can't be seen helping Potter? Why? He decided to ask a new question as the room filled with a distinct lack of screeching – in fact, it was almost musical. Almost. "Planning on sharing this with Potter?"
Moody gave him a look. "Yes, you're too perceptive to be manipulated indirectly like that. Now that I've got a personal stake in the outcome, I need to be more subtle than I was before. So no, I won't be sharing this with The-Boy-Who-Warned-You-About-The-Dragons."
He knows I owe Potter, and he's betting on me trying to make us square by helping him with the egg. There was something else bothering him about this whole thing though, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Who would be able to make trouble for Paranoid Auror Alastor Moody if he were too obvious in helping Potter? Or maybe he can't be seen helping only Potter. He probably doesn't want it to get out that he's betting on Potter. He considered for a moment the change in sound. "Mermish?"
Moody only grunted in confirmation. I'll have to listen to it underwater, then. "Take your egg then. You're free to go, lad."
Cassius closed his egg and removed it from the tank. This whole meeting had him on edge though, and he couldn't place why. It still felt like he was forgetting something important. He shook his head again and refocused on Moody's behavior. Dumbledore has proven in years past that he would gladly play favorites for his precious Boy-Who-Lived, and if Moody's being honest about all this then Bagman's on Potter's side as well. Neither of them have reason to care if Potter's being aided overtly or not, and my own progress is inconsequential at best and inconvenient at worst. Why would either of them use Moody as a proxy to secure Potter's victory?
He let his legs take him to the Slytherin common room as his mind wandered. Bagman's not subtle enough to use a proxy – his clumsy last-second attempt at coaching Potter proves that much. And if it were Dumbledore, either I'd be left out of the loop entirely or else we'd both have been coached at the same time. Crouch already has a history of despising criminals and cheats – just look at his own son! – and he wouldn't dare risk what little clout he has left just for the sake of a game. And neither Maxime nor Karkaroff would really aid Potter, indirectly or otherwise, since they've already got their own champions to manage. He paused to look out a tower window that had a clear view of the lake. I don't have enough information about this, and anyway there's virtually no point in me trying to suss out who's pulling Moody's strings since they're not likely to be anyone I know anyway.
And as he started down the stairs again a new thought came to him. What if the reason he wanted me to think he's betting on Potter is just because he's betting on Potter? The simplicity of this possibility explained most of the problems with the meeting. Potter himself would get suspicious if Moody kept helping him, and I doubt Moody would have been as frank with Potter as he was with me about his reasons. I've been spending too much time around the Malfoys, looking for plans within plans within plans. If Alastor Moody's actually being manipulated, I'll eat my cauldron. He really is just making sure he wins his bet.
And why shouldn't he? Cassius smiled slightly. If he timed his bet well, he stands to make a mint. Boy-Who-Lived or not, Potter is only fourteen. The oddsmakers would have discounted him – all of us, really – in favor of Krum, the real winner of the Quidditch World Cup. Yeah, the odds will be different now that he's in first place, but anyone winning a bet like Bagman's, placed before the First Task, stands to make a fortune. I'll bet that I could still make a killing from a Potter victory – maybe even more than the promised thousand galleons, even! His smile grew wider. I'd need a proxy bidder, though, and I'd need to wait until after the second task – if I can pull close or even ahead of him then that just extends how much I'd win in the end, and Moody can't complain since he's already told me he's bet on a Hogwarts win…
And as he reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, a solution delicious in its simplicity came to mind. Why use a proxy bidder when I can just blackmail a judge?
Ariel Hawkins gave him a kiss before she ducked into the Hufflepuff common room. "Good luck tonight, Cass. And don't forget, I want Honeydukes for when you ask me properly to the ball."
Students weren't officially allowed in the kitchens, but nobody cared enough to keep them out. Except Filch, and then only if you were out of bounds after hours anyway. Which he was, but having a girlfriend in Hufflepuff meant that he knew the other secret exits from the Kitchens – one of which would put him right outside the Slytherin common room.
He decided to wait an hour – disillusioned, of course - before assuming Potter thought it was a trap. It wouldn't have been the first time Potter'd have been lured into a trap – Malfoy had tried twice in his first year, though only the second trap was somewhat successful. He poked his head into the kitchens and ordered one of the elves to set up a chair.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Doubt and paranoia settled in firmly. If Potter doesn't show, then I'll have to be more direct with my next-
"You put Malfoy up to it." No preamble, just the accusation. Potter didn't even do the courtesy of revealing himself.
"Not here. Inside" He tickled the pear and climbed through to the kitchen.
He waited for the door to close behind him, and then Potter's voice came again while Cassius was disillusioning himself.
"You put Malfoy up to it."
"Of course I did. If it had been his idea, you wouldn't have heard the Mermish song on your way down to retrieve it." He waited a moment, and imagined Potter's eyes widening in realization. He smiled as he took a stale baguette from a passing elf, and settled into the chair. "And he asked me the same question you're about to. You get the same answer he did: I owe you for the dragons, and anything else would have been suspicious. Using Malfoy's distaste for you as a proxy allows us to keep up appearances."
"And the duel we're allegedly having now?"
"I'm not stupid enough to really go out and meet you in the corridor outside of the Hufflepuff common room for an illicit after-hours duel. Or at least, not without having prepared an alibi first, and as there's no useful escape route for me from said corridor I would have been at a disadvantage from the word 'go.' So I can't look like I've been in a duel. Since I'm not here according to testimony, Hufflepuff house as a whole isn't stupid enough to start a school-wide prank war, and Filch is a squib, you can't look like you've been dueling either as there's nobody here to hex you." As fun as starting a prank war sounds, now's really not the time. "You proved three years ago that you're too slippery to catch out of bounds even when the deck's stacked against you, so even if you get caught you'd just get away anyway." He paused for a moment. "Hell, now that I think about it, your being rude and not revealing yourself only helps since this way if they decided to question me for being here, I can honestly say I never saw you."
"I thought it was odd that you were actually down here like Malfoy said you'd be. I came down to find out what you wanted." That caught Cassius's ear. Either he's got a network of spies or he's got some other way of knowing where people are. Either way, this is unexpected, and I'm not sure which I'd prefer. Is there some way to test this? What methods can I rule out? "I'm not used to Slytherins being so…"
"I had a reason for wanting to talk with you, Potter. Do you know where Ludovic Bagman is right now?"
"…Bagman? Why?"
"I'm sure you noticed his… obvious attempts at helping you during the First Task." Cassius paused for a second, then continued. "The rumor is that he's bet you'll win the tournament."
"Bagman's a judge."
Cassius gestured meaningfully with his bread. "And the Kitchens are off-limits to students. Yes, he's a judge – which means that he could be prosecuted for violating the terms of his appointment as judge. If he has money on you, I want a cut of his winnings in exchange for guaranteeing them – and for keeping him from being scrutinized too closely. At least a thousand galleons if his bet's big enough…"
"You'd blackmail him into making me the winner."
"You wound me with your bluntness." Cassius stood up and held his hand over his heart, pantomiming having been run through with a sword. He couldn't see it, but Harry Potter was fighting a smile at the overdramatic display. "But yes, blackmail. Of course, if you object I could just reach out to Professor Snape or the Headmaster instead for help with contacting Bagman…" Damn, I wish I could see him. This works so much better when I can read body language. "I know Bagman's not in the castle – if he were, I'd have reached out to the Weasley twins directly since he owes them money over the World Cup."
"That would explain…" There was a pause and the sound of paper rustling. Paper? He's under a cloak or something – disillusionment only covers the target and their clothing. "I can't tell you anything about Bagman that you don't already know, then."
Must be limited to the castle. "What about Moody? He's been haunting the dungeons and I'd rather not run into him and his magical eye. It can see through disillusionment."
There was a heavy pause, then "You suspect that I spy on people." Quick on his feet, but about as subtle as a giant.
"Not directly spying, no." Otherwise you'd have already countered with blackmail of your own. "You were able to verify that I was down here before coming down here yourself. You did not intend for me to realize this, either. And since I've already demonstrated that you can't hex me without raising the wrong questions, making me forget is out of the question. Of course, you do still have me at a disadvantage in that you could discover my secrets far more readily than I can discover yours, so blackmailing you into cooperating is out of the question as well."
"Then what do you want out of me? Or did you just want to use me as a stepping stone to get at Bagman?"
"For now? An answer and a request."
"I'm not telling you how I knew you were here."
"I didn't expect you to. What does being pureblood mean to you?"
"It means nothing to me. Besides, I'm not a pureblood." This was objectively true – Potter's mother being a mud—a muggleborn was part of his legend as The Boy-Who-Lived.
"Then what should it mean?"
"Nothing." No hesitation, no deliberation. An answer he truly believed in. You're perceptive, you're practically fearless, and you're quick on your feet. If you were to meld those qualities with subtlety, you'd be unstoppable.
Cassius gave it a moment, then nodded. "My request is that you have fun finding a date to the Yule Ball. I'll be more direct about it if we need to have another chat."
And with that, he left the kitchen before Potter could ask for clarification.
