Chapter Four: The Combination Of Elves And Polyjuice
12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
August 4th, 1997
Hermione Granger stumbled around blindly for a moment, as the white light from the latest vision of 'what might have been' – thanks to the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities – vanished from her eyes. "What the – no! I wouldn't have done that! That, that was just pure nonsense, you-you simply made all of that up!"
The image of Draco Malfoy from within the mirror just smirked at her. "Sorry, princess, but no. It might all have happened that way, if the Weasel had gotten the idea to give that broomstick a proper send-off!"
"But, but..." Hermione suddenly noticed that Ron was carefully backing away from her and Harry was lost in his own world, gazing at nothing in particular. "What's wrong with you two?"
"Sirius," Harry breathed, obviously relishing the vision he'd had just now of his dead godfather. "I mean, it was Snuffles, yeah – but we still saw him. We heard him! It was like he'd been given back to me – to us," the young man quickly corrected himself. "Just for a few moments, I know, but still. It was a chance for me to say... goodbye, I guess."
Hermione frowned – something about her friend's words bothered her. She wasn't sure what, exactly, but still – the intensity of Harry's tone made her uncomfortable, for some reason. Then she noticed Ron putting even more distance between them, and demanded, "Ronald, what are you doing?"
"You just hexed me, Hermione, what does it look like?" the ginger demanded, finally coming to a halt.
"Weasel's got a point, princess," Mirror Draco pointed out, that blasted smirk now even bigger than before. "Anyone ever tell you that when it comes to interpersonal relationships, you're nowhere near as knowledgeable as you think you are? Besides. If it had been a 'damaged beyond repair' Gutenberg First Edition, instead of Scarhead's broom? I'm pretty sure that along with a funeral, you'd have insisted upon setting up a mausoleum for it, with ever-burning votive lights and animated guardian figures..."
"I would not!" Hermione said shrilly, but with a hint of embarrassment that indicated to both boys that Mirror Draco's words probably weren't all too far from the truth. "Ugh. The memory of that whole thing will doubtless leave me scarred for life!"
"Oh, wait... I just remembered what you said, that bit at the end – Hermione tells me and Harry to get lost and finds new friends, which ends up being bad for Sirius and all the rest of us? How, exactly?" Ron wanted to know, staring at the Mirror intensely.
"Come on, Weasel. If the princess wasn't speaking to you and Scarhead anymore by the time that Scabbers was unmasked as Pettigrew, what do you think would have happened?" Mirror Draco smiled evilly.
"Oh, no..." Hermione suddenly gasped, as Ron automatically came close to her again. "That whole terrible affair with Buckbeak's execution –"
"THWACK!" Mirror Draco interrupted, looking gleeful. "No last minute time-turner rescue for that hippogriff, according to most possibilities. Can you guess what else?"
"If Hermione wasn't there in the Shrieking Shack... and afterwards, when we exited out of the Whomping Willow..." Harry's eyes started to grow wide.
"That's right, Pot-head. Loopy the werewolf mauls you, Snape, the Weasel and Black, as you and the princess don't show up from the future in order to save yourselves. Then the Dementors swoop in and feast on all your souls, on account of there's no Prongs super-patronus to drive them off. The only survivor is Wormtail himself, who rushes off to find his master in Albania – even Lupin doesn't live after that fiasco, seeing as the Ministry executes him at dawn the very next day. That Macnair bloke, who'd have thought he'd have such a huge smile on his face – as he cuts off two heads in less than two days?" Mirror Draco laughed in genuine amusement.
"You. Are. Utterly. Despicable," Hermione hissed in distaste.
"That what you think, princess? And yet, it was just a few moments ago I was considered a magical miracle! You need to make up your mind, already," Mirror Draco smirked at her.
"Um, I have a question... it's rather ridiculous, I know, but – I'd still like to know the answer, anyway," Harry spoke up, looking directly at the image of the platinum-blond youth within the magical mirror.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Is there any possibility that the splinters of my broom could have ended up like something out of Fantasia?" Harry asked, looking thoughtful.
"Like what?" Ron asked in confusion.
"Fantasia, it's a decades-old muggle entertainment story," Hermione explained to him quickly. "Basically, the Sorcerer's apprentice enchants his master's broom to carry water to refill the indoor cistern in the Sorcerer's castle, instead of doing it himself by hand. When the apprentice couldn't get the broom to stop filling the cistern, he chopped it up into splinters. Then he took a nap, and all the splinters turned into brooms, and started carrying water inside all over again – until the castle was completely flooded!"
"Ha! That sounds pretty entertaining, yeah," Ron smirked, nodding his head enthusiastically; as it was one of the few muggle stories he'd heard that actually made sense to him. "But what's this got to do with Harry's – oh! You wanted to know if there's any possibility that the splinters could have become new brooms, and everyone on the Quidditch team could have gotten brand new Nimbus 2000s? Yeah, I'd be interested in knowing the answer to that myself!"
The Golden Trio was then treated to the unique experience of the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities hesitating for two entire seconds. Mirror Draco then said reluctantly, "There's only one possibility in all the millions of possible outcomes where that happens. And all I'll say is that Viktor Krum's presence is necessary for something like that to happen, and leave it at that."
"Vicky? What did he do?" Ron immediately scowled in annoyance.
"Don't call him that!" Hermione instinctively whacked Ron on the arm for the insulting nickname, which caused the Weasley to yelp in pain.
"Oh, you want to see a different outcome in your fourth year where Krum is concerned, Weasel? No problem, glad to oblige," Mirror Draco said quickly – and before anyone could tell him not to, that blinding white light appeared to engulf the three teens all over again.
Now somewhat used to this sort of thing, Ron, Harry and Hermione saw and heard –
Close to the Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
May 27th, 1995
Once Harry and Viktor Krum had reached a quiet stretch of ground a short way from the Beauxbatons horses' paddock, Krum stopped in the shade of the trees and turned to face Harry.
"I vant to know," he said, glowering, "vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny."
Harry, who from Krum's secretive manner had expected something much more serious than this, just stared up at Viktor in amazement.
"Nothing," he said at last. But Krum continued to glower at him, and Harry, somehow struck anew by how tall Krum was, elaborated, "We're friends. That's all!"
"Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often," Krum replied, looking suspiciously at Harry.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, "because we're friends."
To be honest, Harry couldn't quite believe he was actually having this conversation with the internationally famous Quidditch player and fellow Triwizard Tournament champion. It was as though the eighteen-year-old thought that he, Harry, was an equal – a real rival for Hermione's affections –
"You haff never... you haff not..." Krum said slowly, and somewhat warily.
"No," Harry replied, very firmly.
Krum stared at Harry for a few seconds, and then said, "Then if not you, who is the true object of Hermy-own-ninny's affections? There must be another... It cannot be the redhead who made her cry at the Yule Ball, can it?"
"Oh, you mean Ron? Er, well," Harry replied uneasily, suddenly feeling like he was on very treacherous ground. "I don't think – that is to say..."
But the next instant, something moved behind Krum in the trees – and Harry, who had some experience with the sorts of things that lurked in the nearby forest, instinctively grabbed Krum's arm and pulled him around.
"Vot is it?" the Bulgarian demanded.
Harry shook his head, staring at the place where he'd seen movement. He slipped his hand inside his robes, reaching for his wand...
At that moment, a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Harry didn't recognize him – but then he realized it was Bartemius Crouch, one of the Tournament judges.
He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His neat hair and moustache were both in need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing compared to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see.
"Vosn't he a judge?" Krum asked in confusion, staring at Mr. Crouch. "Isn't he vith your Ministry?"
Harry nodded, hesitating for a moment – but then he walked slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at him, but continued to talk to a nearby tree.
"...and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve..."
"Mr. Crouch?" Harry asked cautiously.
"...and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen... do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will..."
Mr. Crouch's eyes were suddenly bulging out of their sockets. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees.
"Who is this Vetherby person?" Krum wanted to know.
"Um, he means Ron's brother, Percy Weasley. He's Mr. Crouch's assistant, actually – he was there at the Quidditch Word Cup that night, same as the rest of us," Harry replied, recalling that night when Mr. Crouch had gone ahead and –
Suddenly, Harry had an idea. "Dobby!"
There was a loud crack! And then a tiny creature appeared, his enormous, green, tennis ball-shaped eyes brimming with eager happiness. He looked exactly as Harry remembered him from earlier in the year; the pencil-shaped nose, the bat-like ears, the long fingers and feet...
"Harry Potter, sir! How can Dobby be helping the great Harry Potter sir?" the manikin almost squealed in pleasure at being summoned this way.
Harry pointed at Mr. Crouch, who was still muttering to himself while down on his knees. "Can you go get Winky? Maybe she might know what's wrong with him..."
"Who or vot is this 'Vinky'?" Krum asked, keeping one eye on Crouch as Dobby nodded and disappeared with another explosive crack.
"Mr. Crouch's house elf. Well, she used to be," Harry shrugged slightly. "He dismissed her from his service, after the Word Cup –"
There was another loud crack, and Dobby reappeared – only this time, there was another house elf with him. The petite creature looked different to Dobby; for one thing, she was smaller, and her eyes were brown, and her nose was the exact shape and color as a tomato. Plus her tea towel/clothing was ragged and dirty, and quite smelly as well. She was clutching a bottle of butterbeer in one hand –
"Oh no! My poor master!" Winky wailed in horror, dropping the bottle at once. "Poor Mr. Crouch is needing me, he is needing my help!"
"Right, so – best get him to the Hogwarts hospital wing, shouldn't we?" Harry mused, looking around at Krum as if to get the older boy's opinion on the subject. But Winky surprised him – she grabbed hold of the clearly-incoherent man, and with yet another loud cracking noise, they vanished from sight.
"What just-?" Harry yelped in surprise.
"House elves can be taking witches and wizards wherever they needs to go, Harry Potter sir," Dobby said helpfully, his ears waggling slightly. "Does the great Harry Potter wish to be taken to Winky and Mr. Crouch, sir?"
"Yeah, all right," Harry shrugged. He then said to Krum, "Well, uh, good talking to you, I guess –"
"You vill talk to me again, von't you? About this Veasley boy, and Hermy-own-ninny?" Krum asked, his glowering expression becoming a slight scowl.
"We'll talk again, sure," Harry promised vaguely, not wanting to make any firm assurances at this time. That whole issue of his two best friends acting the way they did was a... well, a complicated one. Sometimes when he thought back to that Yule Ball fiasco, Harry wondered if...
{ No, surely not. That nasty affair of Ron accusing Hermione of fraternizing with the enemy, it was just because he wants me to win the Triwizard Tournament, that's all, } Harry thought firmly to himself, before Dobby took his hand and they vanished with an obnoxiously loud noise.
The darkness was painful and somewhat disorienting, but it only lasted a moment or two before Harry recovered and took in the familiar sight of the school's hospital wing. What was unusual, though, was the sight of the crying Winky and the muttering Mr. Crouch...
"Dobby, could you go tell Ron and Hermione that they need to come here? I'll find Madam Pomfrey, get her to help Mr. Crouch," Harry said, shaking his head to try to get rid of the dizziness.
"Dobby will do as the great Harry Potter sir wishes!" the house elf proclaimed eagerly, before disapparating.
"What in Merlin's name is all this confounded noise?" Poppy Pomfrey bustled into the room from her private office, before she spied Mr. Crouch on the floor alongside Winky and Harry standing not far away. "Potter? What are you doing here? And what happened to Mr. Crouch?"
"Errr, I-I found him like this, actually," Harry semi-stuttered, pointing to the wizard in question. "I was out on the grounds with Viktor Krum, and then -"
"Are you accusing that Durmstrang student of doing this to Mr. Crouch?" the school nurse interrupted, her eyes narrowing.
"NO! Krum and I found him like this, and then Winky – she used to be his house elf," Harry pointed at the tiny creature, who was still bawling in tears, "she brought him here, after I told her to do it."
"I see. Well, help me get him to a bed – elf! That's quite enough out of you!" Madam Pomfrey suddenly shouted at Winky, who immediately shut herself up. "Go and clean yourself up, you're filthy and you – are you drunk? Is that butterbeer I smell?" The school nurse then snapped, "Leave at once, elf, and don't return here until I say so!"
"But poor Mr. Crouch – my poor master, he is be needing me!" Winky protested.
"Apparently he's not your master anymore, and I am perfectly capable of treating my new patient without your so-called assistance. Now go – do you hear? Get out, and stay out of my infirmary!" Poppy ordered the house elf in no uncertain terms.
{ That was a bit harsh, } Harry thought to himself in surprise, as Winky let out one last cry of grief and vanished with the usual explosion of noise. { Then again, I suppose Madam Pomfrey does have a point; she's the school nurse, and it's not like we actually need Winky anymore... }
"Bartemius Crouch, what have you gotten yourself into? If I didn't know better, I'd swear you..." Poppy trailed off, immediately looking concerned as Mr. Crouch suddenly lunged forward. "What –"
"Dumbledore!" gasped Mr. Crouch. He seized a handful of Harry's robes, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Harry's head. "I need... see... Dumbledore..."
"All right," Harry nodded in confusion. "I can go get him."
"I've done... stupid... thing..." Mr. Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must... tell... Dumbledore..."
"Right, I've heard enough. Potter, keep Mr. Crouch company – I'm off to get the strongest Calming Draught in my possession. I'll be back soon," Poppy said resolutely, marching quickly towards her private office.
Harry just stood there helplessly, as Mr. Crouch pulled him even closer and the older wizard finally managed to look into his eyes.
"Listen... to... me!" Mr. Crouch whispered, his eyes bulging again. "I... escaped... must warn... must tell... tell Dumbledore... my fault... all my fault... Bertha... dead... all my fault... my son... my fault... tell Dumbledore... Harry Potter... the Dark Lord... stronger... Harry Potter..."
Harry felt his blood almost turn to ice in his veins. { Bertha Jorkins is dead? } he wondered to himself. Last he'd read was that she was only missing. { And Voldemort's getting stronger? And it's all Mr. Crouch's fault? Why? How? I don't understand... }
"Bloody hell, Harry, what's going on?" Ron's voice cut through Harry's musings, as he turned his head to see his two best mates having arrived in the hospital wing. "Oi – is that Percy's boss, Mr. Crouch?"
"Yes, it is. I know that face anywhere," Hermione's voice was strident and thick with dislike, which didn't surprise Harry at all – he knew that the Granger girl had been outraged by Mr. Crouch's treatment of Winky, and how house elves everywhere were treated by wizardkind, at least in Britain. "Harry, what happened to him?"
"No idea," he replied, gently removing Mr. Crouch's hands from his school robes. The Department Head abruptly fell backwards into the bed, and started muttering something about how his son had gotten twelve O.W.L.s, and he needed to send a letter to the Andorran Minister of Magic, and other such drivel. Harry ignored that and said to Ron and Hermione, "Listen, could you two please stay here and keep an eye on him? I have to go fetch Dumbledore, as Mr. Crouch has been asking for him –"
"Sure thing, mate. You go get the Headmaster, then – we'll be right here," Ron interrupted, nodding his head.
"Yes, Harry, you go on – Ron and I will keep Mr. Crouch company," Hermione likewise nodded her head, although Harry could tell she wasn't happy about this.
"Alright, be back soon," Harry told his friends, and headed for the doors to the hospital wing. But then, and not entirely to his surprise, Ron and Hermione started bickering...
"Whatever's happened to him, you know, I think Mr. Crouch deserves it!" she said spitefully.
"Oh, come on, are you still upset over how he treated Winky? Please, Hermione, that was months ago!" Ron replied wearily.
"What does it matter when it occurred? And how can you condone slavery like this?!"
"Well, the house elves aren't complaining, are they? They like being enslaved, horrible as that may sound to you!"
"OH! Ron Weasley, you are the most insensitive wart I've ever met!" Hermione screamed.
The doors closed behind him as Harry made his exit, and the male teen briefly wondered if those two would ever stop quarrelling like this. And just for a fleeting moment, he wondered what Krum would say, if he had been present to witness their conversation.
{ Probably something like, "How dare you speak that vay to Hermy-own-ninny!" I suppose, } Harry thought to himself with a sigh, imagining how that three-way argument would go and almost cringing in horror. { No doubt about it, poor old Ron would soon end up in the hospital bed right next to Mr. Crouch! And by his former idol, no less! }
Pushing such thoughts aside, Harry quickly made his way to the Headmaster's office. A few minutes later he was hurtling toward a stone gargoyle, standing halfway along an empty corridor.
"Sher-sherbet lemon!" he panted at it. That was the password to the hidden staircase that led to Dumbledore's office – or, at least, it had been two years ago. The password had evidently changed, for the stone gargoyle did not spring to life and jump aside, but rather kept still and glared at Harry malevolently.
"Move!" Harry shouted at it. "C'mon!"
But nothing at Hogwarts had ever moved just because he shouted at it; Harry knew that was pointless. He looked up and down the dark corridor. Perhaps Dumbledore was in the staff room? He started running as fast as he could toward the nearby staircase –
"POTTER!"
Harry skidded to a halt and looked around. Severus Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him, even as he beckoned Harry back toward him.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" Snape demanded.
"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" Harry said, running back up the corridor and skidding to a standstill in front of Snape. "It's Mr. Crouch... he's in the hospital wing –"
"What?" Snape interrupted, his black eyes glittering. "What are you talking about? What's happened to the man?"
"Viktor Krum and I came across Mr. Crouch near the Forbidden Forest, he was – he wasn't right in the head, I mean he was acting like he was completely out of his mind," Harry said rapidly. "He was asking to see Dumbledore, he mentioned that Bertha Jorkins was dead – that Voldemort was getting stronger -"
"DON'T SPEAK THAT NAME!" Snape interrupted thunderously, looking like he wanted to hex Harry right on the spot. He brought out his wand, and Harry reflexively took a step back –
The stone wall behind Snape slid open. Dumbledore was standing there, wearing long green robes and a mildly curious expression, his eyes twinkling madly. "Is there a problem?" he asked, looking between Harry and Snape.
"Professor!" Harry said, sidestepping Snape before the Potions master could speak, "Mr. Crouch is here – he's in the infirmary, he wants to speak to you!"
Harry expected Dumbledore to ask questions, but to his relief, the old man did nothing of the sort.
"Come along, then," he said promptly, and Dumbledore swept off along the corridor behind Harry, leaving Snape standing next to the gargoyle and looking twice as ugly.
"What exactly did Bartemius want to see me about, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, as they walked towards the marble staircase.
"I dunno, but he said he wanted to warn you... said he's done something terrible... he mentioned his son... and Bertha Jorkins... and, and Voldemort... something about Voldemort getting stronger..."
"This sounds most serious," Dumbledore said, looking concerned. "We'd best get to the hospital wing, then, as quickly as possible."
The headmaster of Hogwarts then started moving at a fast pace, taking such long strides that Harry had to virtually run to keep up; which quickly left him out of breath again, and in no shape to continue the conversation. Soon enough, they arrived outside the hospital wing, only to hear Ron and Hermione still screaming at one another –
"And another thing – what's this I hear about you and Krum meeting in the library, and hiding yourselves over in the stacks?!" Ron's voice yelled angrily.
"It's the only place we can go for a private conversation, without hordes of giggling, foolish fangirls following us! And for that matter, Ronald, why do you even care?" Hermione's voice shouted back.
"Ahem," Dumbledore coughed as he opened the hospital wing doors, and Harry saw both his friends (who were looking more than a little red-faced) turn to look at the old man in sudden fear. "Am I interrupting something?"
Harry's friends were saved from answering when Madam Pomfrey entered the ward, looking very cross. "Will you two kindly – oh, Albus, you've arrived! Good," the school nurse abruptly changed her demeanor. "You need to inform the Ministry that Barty Crouch is here, and that he's got to be transferred to St Mungo's at once. That man needs a mind healer, immediately!"
"What's wrong with him, Poppy?" Dumbledore frowned, examining Mr. Crouch carefully.
"I don't know. You'd almost think that he's been the long-term victim of the Imperius curse, the way he's acting," Poppy shook her head in disbelief. "Which sounds utterly ridiculous, I know. But I've seen these sorts of symptoms before, back during the war –"
"But I thought – doing that spell was a one-way ticket to Azkaban?" Harry interrupted, looking rather ill. "I mean, Professor Moody told us that, months ago!"
"Yes, quite right, Harry. And speaking of Alastor, he ought to be here for this. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, would you both be so kind as to go and fetch him?" Dumbledore asked in a distracted tone of voice.
"No need, Albus, I'm right here," Mad-Eye Moody's rough-sounding voice interjected, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher stomped into the infirmary. The scarred man with the magical eye and a wooden leg was looking annoyed, as he clutched the Marauder's Map (which Harry had given him months ago) in his left hand. "What's going on, then? What's Crouch doing here?"
"That remains to be determined, Alastor," Dumbledore said vaguely, and Harry noticed that Moody had brought out his hip flask and was taking a sip from it – or he tried to, anyway. Apparently the flask was empty, and the professor angrily flung it aside.
"Professor Moody? What's wrong?" Hermione asked at once, looking concerned.
"Nothing, girlie, nothing at all. Mind yer own business," Moody growled at her.
"Alastor, that's no way to speak to a student," Madam Pomfrey frowned at him. "And Miss Granger has a point, you're looking pale –"
"I'm fine!" Mad-Eye insisted stubbornly, twisting around to look at her. In the process, he dropped the Marauder's Map – and Ron, who was the closest to the former Auror, bent down to pick it up.
"Oi! Give that here, boy, right now!" Moody reached out and grabbed the map from the surprised-looking ginger.
{ What's going on? } Harry looked surprised as Ron grabbed Hermione and started to drag her backwards. { Why is he-? }
"Who are you? You can't be Mr. Crouch – he's right over there in that bed! I don't – how can the map be wrong, and say that you're him?!" Ron started to babble. "'Cause the map's never wrong, it, it even identified Peter Pettigrew when he was hiding as Scabbers –"
"Stupefy! Stupefy!" Moody brought out his wand and stunned both Ron and Hermione, before Harry could even blink. The scarred DADA professor then grabbed Madam Pomfrey by the throat and put his wand to her temple. "Don't move, old man, or she dies instantly! Same goes for you, Potter!"
"It's all right, Poppy, he won't harm you. Young Bartemius knows that he'll never leave the school alive in that case – don't you, my boy?" Albus drawled, as the imposter slowly dragged his hostage over to the hospital doors.
{ Young Bartemius? } Harry asked himself, before looking over at where Mr. Crouch was asleep in his hospital bed. Then a metaphorical light bulb lit up over his head. { This must be Mr. Crouch's son! Bartemius Crouch junior! That would explain why the map identified him as such – he must be using polyjuice or something – but in that case, where's the real Professor Moody? }
"I'm not your boy, old man! And I'm taking her with me, Dumbledore, so don't try anything stupid," the fake Moody hissed, as he continued to head towards the exit. "I'm – no, no, not yet! I'm not – arggh!"
Right before Harry's very eyes, the man's face began to change. The scars started disappearing, the skin becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled gray hair withdrew into the scalp and turned into the color of straw. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; the next moment, the magical eyeball popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor, and continued to swivel in every direction.
"Damn it!" Barty Crouch junior cursed, distracted by his recent transformation – before Madam Pomfrey hit him in the gut with her elbow, and managed to get loose.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry immediately cast the Disarming charm with his wand, causing the stick in Crouch's right hand to fly off and hit the nearby wall, before clattering to the floor.
"Damn you-!" Crouch junior cursed, looking like he was about to run for it.
"Stupefy!" Harry then cast a Stunner, sending the evil wizard to the floor, completely unconscious.
"Well done, Harry," Dumbledore said mildly. He looked rather proud of his young protégé, as he directed the Boy-Who-Lived to help Madam Pomfrey to pick up Ron and Hermione – and then put them into a couple of nearby beds.
"Shouldn't we wake them up?" Harry asked uncertainly, gesturing to his friends.
"In a minute," Dumbledore replied. The headmaster then looked at Crouch junior, and the smile quickly vanished from his face – instead, Harry could see cold fury in every line of Dumbledore's ancient face, could feel the magical power the old man was radiating like burning heat –
"INCARCEROUS!" Dumbledore shouted, his wand nowhere in sight – and thick, black ropes appeared that wrapped themselves around Crouch junior tightly, almost turning him into an Egyptian mummy. "There, that should hold him for a while. Harry, go find Professor Snape, and inform him that he is to bring some veritaserum here immediately. Poppy, contact Minerva and inform her that she needs to summon both Cornelius Fudge and Amelia Bones to the school at once. Quickly, now!"
As both Harry and Madam Pomfrey hurried to obey his orders, Dumbledore quickly woke up Barty Crouch senior and dived into his mind, using Legilimency.
That was how Albus learned by what means Crouch's son (someone who had supposedly died years ago) had been smuggled out of Azkaban; his dying mother taking his place, and then he saw how the boy had been kept prisoner for years and years, with Winky as his keeper and caretaker. Dumbledore also learned how Crouch junior had been liberated by Voldermort and Pettigrew months ago, and that the traitor also known as Wormtail had recently neglected his duty of keeping Crouch senior under control – Bartemius had escaped from the Crouch residence, and headed for Hogwarts to confess everything...
{ It's unfortunate that you'll almost certainly end up in Azkaban for life yourself, Bartemius, after everything you've done – but I'll do what I can to save you, } Dumbledore thought to himself. { After all, you may have managed to provide me with the perfect opportunity for Harry to get rid of Tom, assuming we can capture him and Mr. Pettigrew at your manor! }
As it turned out, it wasn't quite that simple – Voldemort wasn't a fool, and both he and Wormtail had vacated their base at Crouch Manor by the time the Aurors showed up there – but at least the aftermath of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament turned out very different, and Cedric Diggory never died in that Little Hangleton cemetery.
Which in turn, meant a very different fifth, sixth and seventh year for the Golden Trio...
A/N: Thanks to everyone sending in reviews, feedback and suggestions, as always! And this 'might have been' initially begins near the middle of chapter 28 (p. 552) of JKR's 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire'. Everything from therein doesn't belong to me and for the record, this chapter was actually inspired by Srikanth1808's story 'When Harry Missed the Trick Step', which is definitely worth a read! Anyway, I hope you keep reading and reviewing this story – please, tell me what you think, and how it could be improved!