Harry was speechless. Bartemius Crouch Jr.? As in Barty Crouch? The man who had Sirius put in Azkaban? This strange man, bound and unconscious on the floor of Dumbledore's office was Barty Crouch's son?
"Damn," Professor Jackson grunted, "That's not going to go over well,"
"No, no it will not," agreed Dumbledore, "Barty Crouch has gone to great lengths to bury this part of his life…literally, unfortunately."
"You said he was supposed to be dead?" Asked Professor Jackson, and Dumbledore nodded.
"I suppose you wouldn't have heard," mused Dumbledore, "Some years ago, it was reported that young Barty Crouch Jr. had succumbed to the presence of the dementors at Azkaban and had passed away."
"Clearly that didn't happen," said Professor Jackson, "Think Crouch knew that his kid was still alive and kicking around?"
"It is difficult to say," said Dumbledore, "But I suppose that anything is possible."
"One way to find out; want me to wake him?" Asked Professor Jackson,
"Do you not think we should rouse Madam Bones?" Asked Dumbledore,
"No," said Professor Jackson quickly, "I don't think it's smart to bring the government in on this yet."
"Not that I necessarily disagree," said Dumbledore, "But why?"
"Bones is married to the job. Good woman that she is would be honor-bound to tell Fudge, she'd want to be responsible for interviewing Crouch herself, and I don't know about you Albus, but I sure as Hades don't trust enough people in the government to believe that at least one person wouldn't slip it out to the press or worse. We know that Voldemort has this guy working for him, who's to say that he doesn't have more stoolies working for him? The absolute last thing we want is for this to get out before we have the opportunity to take advantage of all of this."
"Then what do you suggest?" Asked Dumbledore, he didn't seem to disagree with what Professor Jackson was saying, but rather that he was merely curious as to what the man was thinking.
"Put him down." Professor Jackson said coldly, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn't the most clued into most American colloquialisms, but he was pretty sure he knew what that meant, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Professor Jackson had suggested it.
"I was worried that's what you would say," sighed Dumbledore sadly, "Perseus-"
"No!" Snapped Professor Jackson, "Albus, this won't be like last-time. You understand me! This. Is. War. We are at war with these monsters. They won't hesitate to put us down. We don't even know what they've done with the real Moody yet, for all we know he could be dead in a ditch, and that's to say nothing about the purpose Crouch is here in the first place. The time for playing by the rules went out the window when he began targeting a fucking fourteen-year-old!"
Professor Jackson looked like a wild man. His eyes were glowing, and a strange pressure had descended onto the room, almost like a storm was brewing just overhead. Outside the window, a crack of lightning followed by a dull roar of thunder shook the foundations of the castle.
Dumbledore was silent for a few moments, a look of utter sadness on his aging features.
"You would really recommend that we murder a man in front of your student, Perseus?"
"Don't give me that pretentious holier-than-thou bullshit Albus Dumbledore," Professor Jackson snapped, "This isn't about morality. This is about making sure that innocent lives are preserved. This is about making sure that we make a statement. Voldemort wants a fight? Then he's going to get a godsdamned fight. What else would you have us do with him Albus? Hold him hostage in the dungeons? Turn him over to the authorities when it becomes convenient to us? What kind of questions is that going to raise? You think nobody is going to ask why we had the supposedly dead son of a Ministry Head of a Department tied up in a broom closet? Get your head out of your ass and start seeing the big picture Albus."
"The difference," said Dumbledore patiently, "Is that we preserve what humanity we have left. That we do not become like the monsters we are fighting. We kill a defenseless man, regardless of his sins, and we become no better than those we seek to defeat."
"This is why you lost, Albus," said Professor Jackson bitterly, "You talk a big game, you sit high atop that ivory-fucking-tower of yours, looking down at the mere mortals staring up at you, and you make the decisions that only end up harming those around you."
Professor Jackson pointed a finger at the man, "You knew what had to happen the moment that you gave me the go-ahead to get this bastard. You knew. So don't try and play the chaplain now. Just because you don't want to get your hands dirty doesn't mean that we can't avoid it. That's the nature of war Albus, lives will be lost, and it's high time you got adjusted to that."
Dumbledore sighed, looking every bit his over a hundred years of age, as he collapsed into his chair.
"I have seen too much bloodshed, Perseus. I have buried too many bodies. Too many friends and those I hold dear."
"Then it's time to pack it up and go home," said Professor Jackson coldly, "Because if you can't see what needs to be done, then you don't deserve to be leading this fight."
"That you would discuss this so casually, in front of Harry, it is distressing," said Dumbledore,
"Don't play that game with me, Albus," said Professor Jackson, "Not me. You can't protect him from this. Like it or not, Harry is in this, they're going to be coming after him, and we won't always be there to protect him. He's going to be dragged into this. He's going to have to fight, and he's going to have to do some things that are going to be with him for the rest of his life."
Harry didn't know when this had become about him, but what Professor Jackson said struck a chord with him. He felt his stomach constrict with anxiety, as he was forced to confront something he hadn't thought he would have to consider for some time.
"What happens Albus, is on you," said Professor Jackson "It's on you because you didn't do what needed to be done last time. Well that's not going to happen again. People aren't going to die needlessly because of whatever guilt you have for shit that happened decades ago. If you aren't willing to do what's necessary, then I will."
"…There's no persuading you, is there?"
"Of course not," said Professor Jackson simply, and what little remaining strength in Dumbledore seemed to fade away.
"Do what needs to be done…" said Dumbledore quietly, and Professor Jackson nodded as he whipped his wand out in a flash and pointed it at Crouch Jr.
"Enervate," He intoned, and the man's eyes snapped open. He immediately began thrashing against the restraints, but with another wave of his wand, Professor Jackson petrified Crouch Jr.
"Legilimens," muttered Professor Jackson, and Harry watched in muted fascination as Crouch Jr.'s eyes went wide. Sweat began to pool on his forehead and dribble down his cheeks. Harry wasn't certain, but it certainly looked as though whatever it was Professor Jackson was doing, was causing a tremendous amount of pain or discomfort.
A few minutes passed, before Professor Jackson lowered his wand. A jet of red light shot from the tip of Professor Jackson's wand, and Crouch Jr. went limp.
"Okay…" said Professor Jackson slowly, "Okay…that-that was a lot."
"What did you see? Asked Dumbledore quietly,
"He hasn't had any direct contact with Voldemort, all of his orders have come from letters from Voldemort, and even there, it's been vague. He's under orders to get Harry through the Tournament at all costs, to get him to the final task. Something about the final Task being a race to the Cup?"
Dumbledore nodded, "The Third Task will be a race to the Cup through a maze, which will act as a portkey out of the maze. I presume that Voldemort wishes to have Young Crouch Jr. here manipulate the Task so that Harry gets to the cup first, so that the portkey takes Harry directly to Voldemort."
"Not in so many words, but that was my understanding of the order, yeah." Nodded Professor Jackson, "I also know where Moody is."
"Is he alive?" Asked Dumbledore, a little more energy flooding back into him,
"Yes," said Professor Jackson, "He's in the chest in the Defense office. I assume you want to go get him out?"
Dumbledore nodded, and got to his feet, he hesitated before leaving the office, his eyes darting back towards the body of Crouch Jr.
"Go," ordered Professor Jackson, "You let me deal with this."
Dumbledore still looked conflicted, a bitter and sad expression on his face, but he acquiesced, and without another word, he exited the office.
Harry wasn't sure what to do. He knew what was about to happen, and he didn't want to be there for it. He didn't want to watch Professor Jackson kill a man.
Professor Jackson made the decision for him.
"Harry, stay." He ordered, and Harry felt his body go stiff. "This is a war kid, and you're going to have to become accustomed to these kinds of things." Sadness flashed across his face, "I really wish that it didn't have to be this way, but you wanted to be involved in this, and like it or not you're going to be at the center of this mess…You have to know the costs of war…"
Harry gulped, and was unable to bring himself to speak, so he nodded his head.
"Enervate," said Professor Jackson, and Crouch Jr. woke up once more.
"Who…the hell…are you..?" Gasped Crouch Jr., his voice was quite unlike Alastor Moody's. His voice was hoarse, and crass, almost as though he hadn't used it in many years.
"Your executioner," said Professor Jackson, "Avada Kedavra." Crouch Jr. only had a moment to process what was happening, and his eyes went wide in horror and he struggled against his restraints, but it was too late. The light slammed into his chest, and as though he'd been stunned again, Crouch Jr. fell limp to the floor. His eyes open, wide and unseeing.
There was no gasping. There was no final convulsion as he entered the throes of death. He simply fell still, and limp.
It was…oddly anticlimactic, Harry thought dispassionately. It didn't even look like he was dead. Just as though he were laying on the ground. But Harry knew better, he was too familiar with the spell not to know on an intellectual level exactly what that spell did and what it meant.
A strange, cold numbness descended on Harry. It was like looking at an accident, he just couldn't bring his eyes away from the still and unseeing eyes of the dead man.
"Harry," said Professor Jackson quietly, but Harry didn't even hear him, "Harry," said Professor Jackson a little more forcefully.
Harry was barely registering anything however, and so Professor Jackson appeared to give up on it for the time being. Harry, his gaze still glued onto the still body, watched in a numb curiosity as Professor Jackson conjured a body bag and began shoving the body inside. When the job was done, Professor Jackson threw the body over one shoulder, and walked back over to Harry. He didn't say anything to Harry, he simply put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and suddenly a strange sensation tugged at him.
It wasn't like apparition, it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable, but there was a slightly familiar tugging sensation around his naval. Then the strange sensation of skimming through a cool stream washed over him. The sensation only lasted for a handful of seconds before it stopped, and Harry became vaguely aware that they were somehow in Professor Jackson's office. Harry felt Professor Jackson guide him over to the chair at the desk, and was gently placed in the chair. Professor Jackson then disappeared through the door into his personal chambers.
Harry barely even noticed.
He was too numb. Too overwhelmed. Professor Jackson had always been such a pillar of all that was good…sure he had fought and hurt those Death Eaters at the World Cup…but they were hurting other people. Professor Jackson had been fighting to protect people.
That had been different.
This…this had been something else entirely. Crouch Jr. had been defenseless, helpless. Professor Jackson had even said himself that he was going to be the man's executioner and then he…it had just been so cold. So quick. So brutal.
That wasn't the man that Harry knew. That wan't the man that Harry respected. Was that what Professor Jackson had meant when he said that he didn't want Harry to end up like him? That he didn't want Harry to become like that, to be able to murder a man in cold blood like that?
Professor Jackson reappeared through his doorway, he was holding a pair of steaming mugs in his hand. He placed the mugs down on the desk, and pulled his chair out from behind the desk and brought it up beside Harry. He then thrust one of the mugs into Harry's hand, and the warm and comforting smell of hot coco wafted up to Harry. without thinking, Harry brought the mug to his lips and the warm concoction washed down his throat smoothly. Abruptly, a wave of calm descended on him, passing over him like a warm blanket. He felt his shoulders relax, and for the first time in minutes he felt as though he could see and think clearly.
"Calming draught," said Professor Jackson simply, "We need to have a conversation Harry, one I really wish that we didn't need to have." Professor Jackson sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Absently, he pulled at the knot on his tie and tossed the neck-piece off to the side.
"This is what you were talking about, wasn't it?" Asked Harry quietly, "When you said you didn't want me to be like you."
Professor Jackson nodded, "Yup," he said simply. He'd never been one to mince words.
"It's time that you really become aware of what your life is about to become Harry. If we're honest, it probably was always going to end up this way, I just wished it could have waited a little longer."
"Why did you do it?" Harry asked,
"Because it needed to be done," said Professor Jackson without emotion,
"No it didn't!" Harry said hotly, "It didn't 'need to be done!' He could have been handed over to the aurors! He could have been handed over to the Ministry! We could have told people! But you just-just murdered him!"
"And what would that have accomplished, Harry?" Asked Professor Jackson, his voice even, as he took a slow pull of his own mug. He wasn't looking at Harry, he was staring off out the window behind his desk, his eyes were distant and unseeing,
"People would have known! Fudge, the Ministry, Madam Bones, somebody! He didn't need to die!"
"You have a good heart, Harry," said Professor Jackson, "But it blinds you to the reality of our situation." He sighed again, and put his mug down on the desk, before folding his hands behind his desk and propping his legs up on the desk. It was an oddly casual appearance, given the emotionless tone in which he spoke.
"The world isn't ready to admit that Voldemort is coming back, Harry." He said, "I've been around Fudge and that Ministry for a long time now; worked for the ICW for even longer. I know what the reaction would be if Dumbledore or myself came to someone and told them that Voldemort was coming back. We'd be laughed out of the room."
"What does that have to do with killing a man in cold blood?" Demanded Harry,
"Everything, Harry, everything." Said Professor Jackson. "What do you think happens if we bring Crouch in? He either immediately gets the kiss or he's tossed right back into Azkaban. He broke out once, nothing to say that he couldn't do it again either. Then what happens, the Ministry starts poking around, starts asking uncomfortable questions. Chief among which would be the how and why. Well say we go to the Ministry with it, tell them the truth, they'd laugh us out of the room."
"We could have lied!" Harry shouted, "We could have told them anything, could have told them that he just wanted revenge or some shite! He didn't have to die!"
Professor Jackson shrugged, he still wasn't looking at Harry, "Maybe you're right. But I'll stand by the decision regardless."
"Why?" Harry demanded again, he could feel the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He just didn't understand it. Didn't understand how this man that he had looked up to, revered so fervently could be so callous about killing someone so brutally.
"Because this is war, Harry," said Professor Jackson softly, "Because wars have casualties, because these people want you dead, and if they want you dead then as far as I'm concerned, that means their lives are forfeit."
He sighed,
"More to the point however, and if we want to look at this as coldly as possible, then it was strictly more practical. Crouch was supposed to bring you to Voldemort. Whatever his reasons for wanting you kid, I can promise that it isn't good."
"You just keep making excuses," said Harry, "But none of it explains why you killed him."
"I told you, Harry," said Professor Jackson, "Because we are at war. War, Harry. Do you know what that means, and I mean really know? It means that people are going to die. It means that you either are doing the killing, or you're the one being killed." He finally turned and looked at Harry. "You need to understand that, because you're about to be in the middle of all of this."
"W-what?" Harry asked, unsure what he meant,
"You're going to be in the middle of this, Harry." Professor Jackson reiterated, "This is why I fought so hard against you being involved in this. Why I didn't want you involved. You're too young, too damn young to have to be exposed to this. To have to come to terms with the realities of what's about to happen. But that's too little too late."
Professor Jackson pulled his feet off of the desk and turned the chair so that he was facing Harry, leaning forward slightly so they were only about a foot apart and so Harry had no choice but to meet him in the eye.
"You're in the middle of this now. You're on the radar, playing the game. Had you not exposed yourself, we could have handled this and kept you in the dark. But you wanted to be a part of this, and now you need to understand what that means. They're going to come for you. They're going to try and kill you, which means that you need to be prepared to do the same."
"But-but the Ministry," Harry tried to say,
"I just told you, Harry," said Professor Jackson patiently, "They won't listen. They won't. This isn't going to be a war that's fought by the Ministry, it just won't be. And even if it was, they are in no way prepared to fight a prolonged fight against someone like Voldemort. This is going to be a fight behind closed doors. People are going to die, and people are going to die for you. This is a reality that you need to come to terms with."
Harry didn't say anything, he didn't know if there was anything he could say.
"You look like you need to think," said Professor Jackson, "So go to bed. Think about what I said. Whether you agree with me or not by the way, I expect you to be here tomorrow night for training. I don't see you, then I'm going to get you myself."
"Yes sir," Harry said softly. Taking the cue to leave, Harry stood up, and silently left the office.
Professor Jackson was right. He had a lot of thinking to do.
AN: Alright, last chapter for a bit I think. This one was a little heavy, but I'm overall rather pleased with the way it turned out. Things only begin to heat up from here, both emotionally and physically. Harry needs to do some mental prep for what he's signed himself up for, and there are still two more tasks to get through along the way! As always shoutout to Double0Sxvxn for being an awesome Beta and dealing with my bullshit and as always if you enjoyed this but haven't checked out my other work, give them a try you never know you might find something else you like. I'm also on discord now, where I and a bunch of other writers hang out, chat and brainstorm ideas, you just have to copy the link that's in my profile bio if you want to come and hang out with us. Stay safe, stay healthy and have an awesome week.
All My Love and see you next week,
LilDB