A/N: Sorry for the longer wait on this chapter.
Part 1
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At that night's Dumbledore's army meeting, Harry was teaching people how to use the patronus charm. People had been asking about it ever since Harry's encounter with dementors had made headlines.
Several Gryffindors had also been bragging how Harry had fought off a hundred dementors in his third year. He felt that number was a little high, and was still trying to figure how people had heard so much about it.
It was making him uneasy. Maybe it was the fear of someone discovering his little trip through time with Hermione, but something about that felt wrong. It was probably that he was being asked to teach. Apparently Harry was the only Hogwarts student who could cast a patronus.
Usually Cedric was the one showing how to do spells, and Fred Weasley that one time. George had been in the hospital wing that week, something about genetically modified rabbits. Where George heard a muggle term like that, Harry had no idea…except Mr. Weasley. On second thought, George could definitely know that word. It was more of a surprise that he'd used it correctly.
When talking about the patronus, Harry noticed the transfiguration classroom was completely silent. Club members were always talking, but not this time. They just listened as he explained. "The patronus draws on a happy memory. The happiest thing you can think of."
Harry pulled out his wand. "Expecto Patronum!" A white light in the shape of a stag shot out of his wand. It pranced around in the air.
Several students gasped as Harry put his wand down. The stag disappeared and Harry started speaking again. "The memory needs to be a strong one. The stronger and happier the memory, the stronger the patronus."
Everyone tried casting a patronus. No one managed to summon a creature, but Luna and Neville both managed to get some whisps. Everyone else had nothing to show for. Even Cedric and Hermione couldn't conjure anything.
It was odd to see Neville succeed where everyone else was failing. Sure it was just a wisp, but he was usually way behind everyone else in the club. Even Luna's wisp was short-lived. Neville's on the other hand was getting stronger.
It wasn't much, but his first attempt was arguably better than his own first time. It was also the first time he realized Professor Lupin had been right. Most people really struggled with the patronus. Tapping into that feeling was second nature to Harry, like digging into yourself for hope in a desperate situation. Looked like Neville might have that same attitude, even if he didn't have the same skill level yet.
Several students flocked over to Neville asking what he'd done. A few also went over to Luna. Neville just stammered a little, not getting a lot of words out. Luna talked about conversations with her mom about green gilled shoebills. She started talking about their grey feathers and the clicking sounds they made in summer.
Cedric was still focusing on his own wand, trying over and over again to cast a patronus. But he failed again and again. On closer inspection, Harry noticed a small crack on the wand.
He looked at his own wand for a moment, but didn't notice any damage on it. He figured it might be worth asking about it later. Ron's broken wand had caused a lot of issues in his second year, though maybe a damaged wand was at least still usable. That and it had saved Ron and him from Lockhart's memory spell.
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Part 2
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Cornelius Fudge walked into Azkaban prison, escorted by over a dozen ministry personnel. He'd decided against having any aurors come with him in case they were needed elsewhere, settling with several less skilled magic users.
With Lestrange escaping Azkaban, he'd decided to investigate the prison himself. He'd visited before the escape of Sirius Black, but hadn't noticed any issues at the time. He'd visited Black in the hospital to ask about how he'd escaped.
None of the people who'd talked to Black understand how he escaped either, even when he'd explained it to them. Fudge, to his own annoyance, was just as confused at the auror's explanation of his escape when meeting in person.
The rudeness and personal insults he could deal with. Getting cussed out was just part of the job as minister of magic. The cryptic words and sarcasm didn't help in figuring out Azkaban's security issues. Something about resolve that wasn't based on happiness, and being an animagus. Well, the animagus part was helpful, but after examining inmates, none of them seemed to be animagi.
It was possible that Lestrange was also an animagi, though Fudge was certain Crouch wasn't one. So even if that were the case, it only explained why one escape happened. Fudge's thoughts were interrupted by a chill over his back. He'd gotten somewhat used to having a few dementors around as bodyguards, but he still could barely stand in a place with so many of them.
The minister of magic entered Azkaban prison, massive metal doors closing behind him. The presence of the dementors was even stronger here, causing him to shiver. For a moment he thought he heard screams. But surely that was just an illusion from the dementors. Then at the corner of his eye, Fudge saw He Who Must Not be Named.
He turned to face the direction, but there was nothing there. The minister laughed to himself nervously. His old eyes were playing tricks on him. It was no wonder he was seeing things in such a cursed place. The black stone walls covered in ash, the dim light from the candles, it was truly a terrifying place. What better place to break the spirits of those monsters who'd been locked in here? Even knowing he could leave at any time, the minister felt trapped as though inside a coffin. Sweat formed on his forehead and Fudge heard someone speak. "Imperio."
The minister of magic before hearing the word again. "Imperio."
Suddenly the dark halls didn't seem so daunting. It was so easy to sink and stop worrying, so easy to stop thinking. He found himself wandering off into a pleasant dream, not recognizing the bald, noseless figure in black robes smirking in front of him.
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Part 3
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Percy Weasley stepped into the minister's office. The door behind him faded as it closed. The walls showed the image of an open space above the ocean. A storm brewed above, lightning striking in the distance. Percy had to admit the image was cool, but had no idea how the minister got anything done with such intense scenery. A calm ocean would be one thing, but this was ridiculous.
Fudge raised his head to face Percy. He raised an eyebrow as Percy sat down in front of him. "Dumbledore knows. I don't know how, but he knows I'm a spy."
Fudge stared at him silently for a few moments, then looked away. "Honestly surprised he didn't find out sooner." He faced Percy again. "So. How did he find that out?"
"I don't know."
"Well. For now I guess try to gain any information you can from that Order of the Phoenix group. They might know something. And keep an eye on Snape."
Percy raised an eyebrow. "But why would they give me information if they know I'm spying on them?"
"Simple. If they have nothing to hide, they'll go out of their way to prove it. Which means if they are up to anything nefarious, they'll try to limit how much information you have." Fudge shrugged. "Besides. Even if you don't find anything, it's useful to at least keep a transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts for the entire year."
Percy nodded. "All right. I'll see what else I can learn." He stood up, heading out of the room.
Barty Crouch Jr. stepped out of the wall. "So…one of the Weasley's is spying for the minister. This could be useful." He looked at the wall next to him. "My lord. Might I ask why you wanted an eye on Severus Snape?"
Voldemort stepped out the wall as well. "The minister didn't seem to know how Dumbledore knew you took Harry to the department of mysteries. Or how he knew about that ambush you set for Mcgonnagall."
"And you don't believe Pettigrew is a traitor?"
Voldemort shook his head. "No. I tortured him and searched his mind. The conversation you mentioned, before my plans were interrupted. He doesn't remember it."
"What!? That's impossible." Crouch scratched his chin. "Could his memories be altered?"
"Perhaps. But I think it more likely that someone copied his form. The question is…how, and who?"
A/N:
Comment responses
@Elay grimm: Gracias por tu atencion. De acuerdo que la muerte de madam pomfrey es malo, pero Crouch es un hombre horrible. Crouch trabaja con Hitler mágico. Los ciento por partes raros en mis palabras. Necesito practicar mi español más. ¿Tienes interés por un adaptación español de la historia?