Chapter 8: Some Investigating
Hermione was on autopilot. She ate lunch brainlessly, pondering. How did the Professor get the pistol to work? She was sure the school was charmed to prevent muggle weapons like the gun to fire. How did he have so many preserved artif— "Hermione! Hello?!" She blinked coming back to her senses.
"Yes, Ron?" She asked, in a slight daze.
"Are you okay? You seem to be spacing out a bit," Ron said, concerned.
"Sorry, it's nothing, just trying to review what happened last time in Arithmancy. Don't mind me, I'm going back to thinking." She doubted it was a good idea to say anything about it yet, she didn't want to jump to conclusions.
How did he have so many preserved items from the past? She doubted that he borrowed them from a museum, or from his vaults, as he seemed to be a muggle-born, knowing what and how to use a gun. That staff he brought in when he gave us a short unit about the Origins of Magic was authentic, and of very well preserved. Unless he stole it, Profesor Kirkland would never have gotten a hold of it.
He seems way too young to be in the age range of being a Death Eater, but yet he is way too knowledgeable to be in his twenties! Yet, he states he is twenty-three. Plus, people like him in the past (a seemingly innocent person), always had something that they hid. Professor Kirkland fit that role. She decided a talk with the professor might give her some answers, the only thing she needed was a reason to talk to him. Hermione knew the opportunity would come up soon, as things always hit her at the most random times, or luck would just happen upon her.
—
England heard the wailing before he had heard Filch's cry of "PEEVES!" He set down his quill (he had been doing some paperwork) and exited his quarters, right into the hall of the fourth floor. He still wore his black robes, though, his robes were more often an emerald green than black.
"What is going on here Filch?" he asked, gazing at the man. The caretaker gestured to the golden egg in his possession.
"It's Peeves, Professors," Filch whispered malevolently. "He threw this egg down by the stairs."
England clambered up the stairs rather quickly, Snape, who had also come to see what happened followed. "Peeves?" Snape said softly, staring at the egg in Filch's hands. "But Peeves couldn't get into my office…"
"This egg was in your office, Professor Snape?"
"Of course not," Snape snapped. "I heard banging and wailing—"
"As did I," England said, joining in.
"—Yes, that was the egg—"
"I assume we were both coming to investigate."
"But when I passed my office, I saw that the torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! Somebody has been searching in it!" Snape snapped again.
"But Peeves can't have done it…" England muttered.
"I know fully well that he couldn't have! I seal my office with a spell none but a wizard could break!" England looked up the stairs and noticed that someone was there, however, Snape didn't seem to have realized this.
Suddenly, all of them heard clunks. England saw Mad-Eye Moody hunkering up the stairs. "Pajama Party, eh?" he growled.
"Professors Kirkland, Snape, and I heard noises, Professor. Peeves the Poltergeist, throwing things around as usual — then Snape discovered his office had been broken into—"
"Shut it!" Snape hissed.
"I would say that it was time to go to bed for you two professors, also, I think you dropped something, Professor Kirkland," Moody said, pointing out the piece of parchment on the ground. England picked it up and stuffed it into his pocket. That person in the invisibility cloak was Harry Potter, that he knew, as a Prefect, Cedric still had permission to wander around as patrol.
"I think you should hand the egg to me, it's stolen property," England said, knowing the emerald-eyed boy would prefer to have it back. Snape quietly headed away from the scene, presumably going to bed.
"No! This is evidence of Peeves' treachery!" Filch clutched the egg as if it were his first-born child.
"It is the property of the champion he stole it from. I'll make sure this gets back to them." England insisted. Filch grumbled but handed the egg over to him, and left with Mrs Norris. Moody left with Filch, magical eyeball swirling. They disappeared from view.
"Close one, Harry," England said to the boy, coming up the stairs. "I knew you were there the moment I picked up this map you've got."
"Yeah… I— er— thanks…" Harry said quite awkwardly.
England pulled out the map. "Just what is this exactly?"
"Map of Hogwarts, Professor."
"My lord," England said, looking down on the map. "This… This is some map you've got here, Harry."
"Professor, do you think you could help me?" England looked at Harry, noticing his foot was caught in the trip step. He nodded before he took hold of the boy's arms and pulled. England's eye suddenly stopped at a point on the map, staring. It was his dot, however, it flashed many things way too quickly, but England caught onto them.
The Unite…
Eng…
Bri…
This happened rarely, as it mainly stayed as Arthur Kirkland. It was his real name at the time, so England took that logic into mind. He noticed a Barty Crouch Jr. in Mad-Eye Moody's office. "Say, Harry did you see who broke into Snape's office?" he asked warily.
"It was Crouch sir," Harry replied.
"I see… Say, were you going out for a walk with the egg?" England asked though he knew Harry probably figured out the clue.
"Er… No, I was working out the clue." Harry said.
"Well, tell me after our next class, I do believe it's too late for you to be up and about. Go before I have to give you detention for staying up after curfew."
—
England knew he would have to sit out for the Second Task. Professors weren't allowed to intervene, they had wanted to test what the champions could do on their own. Plus, England didn't like the water very much, even if he was a pirate at one time. He was a pirate that couldn't swim.
He waited anxiously for Harry to return to the surface. After all, the other Champions came back, the one from Beauxbatons had failed, something England could hold over France's head. Well out of the range of an hour later, Harry emerged with Ron, and Gabrielle, Fleur's sister. Out of the brit's ear, he could hear Krum say something. "—there's a water beetle in your hair—" He blinked. That better not be Rita Skeeter… However, before he could think, he was suddenly pulled into a hug.
"Damn Frog! Get off of me!" He could smell the familiar cologne the Frenchman used.
"But it's been a while…" France murmured.
"You've seen me on the weekends!" England managed to escape the Frenchman when it was time for the judges to decide on the scores for the champion's performances.
"Most of the judges," and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However… Mr Potter's score is forty-five points."
England, who had been worrying about the last task heard only this out of all the scores. "The Third and final task will take place on the twenty-fourth of July," Bagman continued. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the Champions."
—
Hermione received yet another hate letter from the mail. It seemed that everything was going downhill for her, when Professor Kirkland asked to have a talk with her, over some tea. She knew she only needed to wait, and her opportunity had arrived.
Hermione knocked on Professor Kirkland's door at three o'clock that Saturday, the time that they had agreed to meet for their small chat. "Come in, I just brought in the tea," she heard the professor say. Opening the door, she found the Professor at his desk an extra chair there, and stacks of paper set to the side. "Have a seat, I hope you don't mind Earl Grey."
"Thank you, Professor, I do enjoy Earl Grey quite a bit," Hermione said as she sat down. Professor Kirkland poured her a warm cup of it. "What did you want to talk to me about, Professor?" Hermione asked, before taking a small sip of the warm tea.
"Yes, I just wanted to see how you were doing, with all of that hate mail getting sent to you," Professor Kirkland replied. She set down her cup.
"I'm doing okay, I don't really care about it, though it does get annoying when the howlers and curses in envelopes arrive," Hermione replied. The professor smiled.
"I'm glad you're staying positive, the media can be tough sometimes," Kirkland said, "It does get tough with all the rumours and gossip, I've never experienced it, but I've seen others get backlash. Don't worry though, because it always dies down after a few weeks."
Hermione nodded, "Yes, that's the concept, I mean news can only repeat so long until it becomes boring."
"Well, in that sense, it's true, but usually, something bigger comes along and takes over," Kirkland paused. "Is there anything that's been on your mind lately? You seem spaced out in lessons." Hermione thought for a moment. Was she worrying too much about Professor Kirkland?
"Oh, it's nothing really, I was just wondering about what is going to appear on the finals! It's always best to prepare early," she lied. If Kirkland was a suspicious character, she probably shouldn't tell him anything too out of the ordinary.
"If you're wondering about that, don't worry, it should be quite easy for you, and just a hint, don't tell anyone, there are muggle events for a very small section." Hermione nodded.
"Thanks, Professor," She replied curtly.
"Is there anything you wanted to talk about in particular?" Kirkland asked. Hermione saw her chance. She thought about this carefully a few hours ago.
"What did you do before you applied as a teacher for us?" Hermione asked. She thought it would be best if she got a range of what his skills could be, based on his past job. Kirkland took a sip of tea before he answered.
"I worked in the ministry. Quite a small segment of it. Paperwork. It was quite dull, and I was delighted to hear that the History of Magic spot at Hogwarts was open. Anything to get away from paperwork." Kirkland replied. "It's more interesting to read student essays, not as dull." Hermione nodded, though working paperwork in the ministry didn't give much away, it was a good start.
Something-Short
It was the twenty-third of April, as expected, England got a storm of letters, about fifty in total, wishing him a happy birthday. Most of them said happy twenty-fourth birthday, though France went all fancy and wished him a happy two-thousand-three-hundred-ninety-third birthday. He tossed most of the cards away, into a small box he had to hold the letters. The one from France, he put it in a separate box, one that would be invisible, as France's card contained his true age. It's not like he put it in a separate box just because it was from France!
—
At nine, England headed down to the Quidditch Pitch. England and the other assisting teachers were on the side, while their champions were in the centre. "Now, I can imagine you can guess what we're making here?"
No one spoke for a moment Then—
"Maze," grunted Kurm.
"That's right! A maze. The task is very straightforward, just get through the obstacles set in the maze, and be the first to get the Triwizard Cup." Bagman exclaimed.
"If you don't have any questions, we should head inside, it's getting a bit chilly out…" Bagman said before hurriedly heading back into the castle. England noticed Kurm tapping Harry's shoulder.
"Could we have a talk?" England had a bad feeling about what was going to happen at the talk. And he was right to follow.
Crouch had staggered out of a tall oak, barely recognizable. "Dumbledore!" Crouch gasped. England watched the scene a bit longer. "I need… see… Dumbledore…" England quietly summoned some paper and an ink pen and wrote down the message. He sent it to the headmaster before he stepped in.
"Harry, Viktor, stand back. I'll deal with him." England said, ignoring the shocked faces of Harry and Kurm. "Mr Crouch, it's me, Arthur. Remember, I used to work at the office?"
"Arthur… England… Warn Dumbledore…" England's eyes widened for the fraction of a second. How could Crouch have known his secret? Crouch pulled at England's robes. " I… escaped… must warn… Dumbledore… Bertha...dead…all my fault… my son…my fault… tell Dumbledore… Harry Potter... the Dark Lord...stronger… England… they know..."
Crouch seemed to forget all of this as he went to talk to the tree, but soon Dumbledore, whom England sent the message to, arrived. "Arthur, please, escort Harry and Viktor back, Moody should be arriving to take care of this." England nodded.
"Come on boys," he called to the two teens, who had been completely shell-shocked.
England paced his office. How could have Crouch figured out his secret? This required further investigation. It couldn't be, could it…? His eyes narrowed, face grim. Unless Voldemort found out… That would be disastrous, the secret they've kept so long would be out. England sighed. Why was this so complicated?
He rubbed his temples. Maybe he just needed to chill for a little. England looked at the time. Yes, it would be nice to get some reading time before his classes arrived. He grabbed his copy of Macbeth (by William Shakespeare) off the self and headed into his class.
