Last disclaimer: Not mine.
Previously on… Like Father, Like Son
Right at the bottom of his vision, Harry could see the Sorting Hat tucked under Crouch's right arm. He could see the gap where your head was supposed to go. With a sudden glimmering shimmer, the rubied hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor appeared within. And then it fell.
It fell towards their wrists. Towards the Horcrux.
In short, it's finally time to settle this once and for all.
Crouch yelled in alarm, and ease of motion returned to Harry in a disorienting rush. Not questioning the good fortune, Harry immediately stumbled back, desperate to be out of Crouch's reach lest he fall under the effects of the Horcrux again, only to run into McGonagall's desk and nearly fall backwards onto it. Neville, conversely, was markedly more composed about the situation.
Crouch, who had jerked his left hand—with the Horcrux on its wrist, watchband wrapped tight around it—up and away from the falling sword, thus releasing them from the lethargic effects, seized the Horcrux with his right hand with a wild look in his eyes like he could hardly believe what was happening.
Neville took one step forward and scooped the sword out of the air as it fell and planted his feet and gave it a measured swing. He was aiming for Crouch's wrist again. With another very un-Dark Lordly yelp and a crack, Crouch Apparated to the other end of the office, pressing his back against the double doors.
The Sorting Hat hit the floor.
Harry barely had time to process any of that before Neville had shouted, "GET DOWN!" and dived behind the headmistress's desk. Harry had learned and relearned not to question things that Neville shouted urgently during emergency situations, and he quickly leaned back to roll over the desktop, shamelessly knocking papers and ornaments down as he went, and landed in a crouch next to the headmistress's chair. He was surprised upon landing to see Neville prone and staring intently at his own watch on his left wrist as he clutched the sword tightly in his right hand.
"Very slick, Professor Longbottom, very slick!" Crouch shouted from across the office, sounding unabashedly caught off guard.
Harry had to agree. He knew that the sword appeared to Gryffindors in need, but it was one thing to know that, and quite another thing to not only anticipate its appearance, but to also be ready to catch it and attack at the literal drop of a hat like that.
It was luck, really, that things had been positioned the way they were, that Crouch had held the hat exactly where it needed to be for the sword to fall where it had fallen, that the exact motion Crouch needed to make to protect the Horcrux from the falling sword freed the two captives, that the falling sword would be just within reach for Neville to grasp it and follow through.
But it was not luck that allowed Neville to so winningly seize the opportunity to escape.
"Quite the hiccough you've contrived," Crouch continued, and he was sounding a little more at ease. "But I will have my way. Potter, you shall be my prisoner, and Longbottom, I will kill you. And then I will leave this place and continue the Dark Lord's quest in his name."
Harry automatically felt his coat pocket in the vain hope that his wand had somehow magicked its way back to where it belonged. No such luck, unfortunately.
He glanced at Neville, praying that the other man would have a plan, and was surprised to see that he was still staring at his watch.
"What—?"
Before he could say more, Neville, eyes still glued to the watch face, hissed, "Eighty-one… eighty-two… eighty-three…! Get ready to move! …eight-five… eighty-six… Go!"
Given the situation, Harry felt he had little choice other than to do as Neville said, lunging away from the headmistress's desk and chair and landing in a squat to the right of the desk. He was shocked when, an instant later, Crouch appeared next to the chair with a crack. Crouch grabbed at him, but Harry managed to twist out of the way, and staying low, he began running back across the office towards the doors. Neville swung at Crouch with the sword, discouraging pursuit, and then hurried after Harry.
Harry gave the large brass doorhandle a single try before giving up. There was a keyhole below the handle and given that they hadn't had an issue coming in, Harry was betting that the key had been in the lock. But now, it was most likely in Crouch's pocket. Sparing no thought to lament the circumstances, Harry quickly took cover behind the small archway that graced the entrance to the headmistress's office. Neville squeezed into the spot next to him.
"How the hell—?" Harry started to say, but Neville was already explaining.
"Crouch accidentally showed us his weakness during his little monologue," he said breathlessly. "Every time he used those elf powers, he paused for a length of time. And then, did you notice? He kept looking surprised immediately after using them. There's got to be some sort of a delay—a—a—a cooldown of sorts after each time he uses it. When I noticed it, I started counting every time after he did a trick. I couldn't see my watch, but I kept getting to the mid-nineties. Based on that last time, I think we're looking at an interval of eighty-eight seconds! He probably hasn't even realized that the timing is so predictable as all that. I'm guessing he's just been willing the effect to happen as soon as he can make it."
Neville glanced around the archway so casually that it was almost unnerving. He looked at his watch again.
"Like he said, none of us have wands, so he's down to elf powers and then the Horcrux effects, which he can only apply to us by touch. He could rush us and use the elf powers for a fireball or something, but if he can't see us, then for all he knows, he could be about to charge into a swing of the sword. So long as we stay in cover, he'll most likely use Apparition to try to get the drop on us and affect us with the Horcrux again. We just have to make sure we start heading for new cover immediately before that."
He glanced out again. "Want to make for the cauldron next?"
Harry nodded distractedly. It was a good thing that the Horcrux had not slowed down their thoughts along with their movements. "How did you—?" was as far as he got before Neville took a look at his watch and interrupted again.
"Six seconds! Five… four… three…!" Neville charged out of his cover with Harry hot on his heels. Sure enough, an instant later, they heard a crack from behind them, but they were already settling themselves behind the large cauldron that remained in the center of the room.
"You think Crouch will stay and fight? He's probably able to Apparate out of here if he wants." Neville continued, as if their conversation had been paused for nothing more than a quick run from one awning to the next on a rainy day.
"What—? I mean—err—I don't think he'd leave. Now that he's declared his intention to capture me and kill you, pride will probably keep him here, unless he's really losing," Harry said, struggling slightly to keep up.
"And what are the chances of him summoning Winky to back him up?" Neville pressed.
"Probably pretty low if he's practically making up reasons to get her away from here while he kills you," Harry reasoned. Then he frowned. That reminded him… Crouch was letting Uriah go. He said it was because the boy was pureblooded, which certainly tracked with their ideology. Why did something seem wrong about that?
"You got any wandless magic?" Neville asked.
Harry shook himself. Now was very thoroughly not the time to be spacing out. "Just 'expelliarmus', unfortunately, and I will have to say the incantation aloud."
"Better than what I've got," Neville muttered. His grip seemed to tighten around the hilt of the sword. "You think you have enough leeway with Disarming to take a watch off someone's wrist?"
"Maybe a normal watch," Harry said apologetically. "And it would be difficult even with a wand. Without a wand, targeting a Horcrux? Definitely not."
"Shit," Neville muttered, and then, for the first time since he started speaking a few moments ago, he was quiet with contemplation.
"Have you got a plan?" Harry couldn't help asking, knowing that he sounded like a civilian. He couldn't help it. He was good in a fight, but Neville was bloody fantastic in a fight, and in situations like this, the margin always felt like it became all the more obvious.
"I'm trying," Neville replied distractedly. "I just—to destroy the wristwatch and take down Crouch with only the sword and 'expelliarmus'? That's a tall order. I mean, assume we get the Horcrux. Crouch would be mortal, so we just have to kill him. But he still has the elf powers. Right now, he has to make sure that we can't land a single hit with the sword, or else he risks us destroying the Horcrux. That means limiting himself to Apparition, because so long as he can attack us from an unexpected direction, we won't have time to counterattack. But if the Horcrux is gone…"
Neville paused, risked a peek above the cauldron to look around the room, and then glanced at his watch again. "Wardrobe," he grunted. "Four seconds."
Harry barely had time to process that, much less say anything, before they ran to their next hiding place, the telltale crack of Apparition sounding behind them. They shouldered their way through a few heavy traveling cloaks, and Harry slammed the door shut behind them.
From the dark interior, Neville continued, "If the Horcrux is gone, he won't be worried about protecting it. He can use his elf powers in any way. Granted, it'll only be once every eighty-eight seconds—ideally, we'd just stab him with the sword before he could do anything else—but if he goes after whichever one of us doesn't have the sword, he can Side-Along Apparate that person away from the other. And then he's just eighty-eight seconds away from fireballing them. We have better unarmed fighting skills than most wizards, but to kill or subdue someone in eighty-eight seconds? Especially given that anything touch-based—chokeholds and so forth—leaves us susceptible to more Side-Along Apparition."
"What if we try to do it all together immediately?" Harry asked. "We've got that eighty-eight second window. What if we start heading for different cover, but when we hear Crouch appear behind us, we double back and attack him? I'll restrain him, and you take the Horcrux out of the picture in one swing and then go for a killing shot with the next one? The whole thing will take less than thirty seconds."
"The Horcrux is activated by touch, remember?" Neville pointed out. "You try to hold him, and most likely he'll freeze you. And then, if I'm Crouch, I take you hostage. If he puts you between me and him, there's no way I'm swinging the sword. Not if there's a chance I'll hit you as well." Neville smiled ruefully. "I bet you wouldn't mind taking one for the team, but I'd never go through with it. Of course, if you wanted to reverse roles…"
Harry glared at him. "Stop offering to sacrifice yourself!"
Neville chuckled and glanced at his watch. "Only joking. We've got fourteen seconds. Back to the desk?"
This time, when they burst out of the wardrobe at the last second, Crouch appeared in front of them instead of behind as Harry had expected. He dived out of reach, avoiding Crouch's grab by so little, he felt the man's fingers whoosh past his ear. His shoulder hit the carpeted floor, but he quickly rolled back onto his feet and skirted around Crouch, sprinting to get behind the desk before the man could intercept him.
He found Neville crouched like a cat ready to pounce, the Sword of Gryffindor on his shoulder, looking very much like he had been less than a heartbeat away from springing to Harry's aid. He visibly slumped in relief as Harry took position kneeling next to him.
"Obviously we can't do this forever," Harry said, voicing what he was betting was on Neville's mind. "We still don't have any ideas?"
Neville managed a smile again, though it was far more forced now. "We could still—"
"What did I just say about offering to sacrifice yourself?" Harry demanded. "Honestly. You really think that I'd swing the sword if Crouch had you in his grasp?"
But as he said it, Neville lit up. "Wait, wait, actually, this is amazing! This is perfect! It's like you said, we double back and attack him, only I'll be the one to grab him—"
"Neville. You were the one who told me that whoever tries to restrain him is going to get frozen—" Harry began, exasperated at this point.
But Neville cut him off excitedly with another glance at his watch. "No, no, listen, I've got it! Shut up for forty-eight seconds while I explain."
Harry sighed, the Sword of Gryffindor held tight in his left hand. This plan made him nervous but… it did make sense.
"Alright, on the count of three," Neville murmured, staring at his watch.
"I thought we had eleven seconds left!"
"We're moving early this time—! Two… one…!"
With absolutely zero seconds left to argue, Harry did as had been planned—as well as much as he and Neville had done after they first hid behind the desk at the beginning of the fight.
Harry stood up and ran right, and Neville stood up and ran left.
The crack that signaled Crouch Apparating within striking distance of them came several seconds later than usual, and Harry realized with a start that Neville had planned that too, and apparently ruled that there was no time to explain this part. He spun on his heel to look at Crouch.
As Neville had doubtless intended, with the few extra beats before he could Apparate, Crouch had realized that Harry and Neville were splitting up and that Harry was the one with the sword, and at the last second, he made the decision to Apparate directly next to Neville instead of splitting the distance between them as he had every time before. Of course he would do that. It was obvious to aim for the weak link, the unarmed one, and he had stated his intention to kill Neville while simply taking Harry prisoner.
Predictably, Crouch was able to grab Neville by the shoulder with his left hand—the one with the Horcrux—easily as the man attempted to run by, stopping him dead in his tracks.
Harry stopped as well, pretending (as agreed earlier) to be horrified.
"That's right Potter," Crouch said smugly. "I don't know how the two of you have been moving at the perfect instant each time I Apparated, but clearly your luck has run out!"
"Let him go!" Harry yelled.
"Why?" Crouch asked, as if it were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. And… he had a point. "Drop your sword and walk over to the center of the office there, or I swear I'll kill the professor." He was smiling in triumph as he gave the command.
Crouch didn't realize that Neville, frozen by the effect of his Horcrux, was also smirking.
And now, Harry grinned as well.
With a brandish of his right hand, Harry pointed two fingers at Crouch and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
Crouch barely had time to open his mouth in confusion before the jet of red light from Harry's fingers hit him in the chest. As Crouch stumbled back a step, the fingers of his left hand, until that instant clenched around Neville's shoulder, uncurled against his will. Free movement returned to Neville instantly, and he whipped around the face Crouch. The would-be Dark Lord's eyes widened, but he didn't have time for much more than that.
Because, moving in tandem with one another, Neville held up his right hand, and Harry hurled the Sword of Gryffindor across the room and towards him with his left.
It felt as if time slowed down as the sword tumbled through the air between the three of them. Crouch seemed to begin to lunge towards Neville, to reach and grasp for him in an attempt to put him back under the effect of his Horcrux before Neville could grab the sword. Neville twisted away, avoiding his grip, and Crouch seemed to decide halfway that this wasn't going to work. Quickly, he began to pivot, to run away from Neville.
Perhaps if he had committed to one course of action or the other, to attacking Neville or fleeing from him, he would've made it. But that single breath of indecision was too much.
With a grin still on his face, Neville snatched the sword out of the air by the hilt and swung it downwards towards Crouch's wrist. The wannabe-Dark Lord howled in protest and vainly attempted to jerk away.
Harry knew, in that moment, that they had won. Once the Horcrux was destroyed, it would be a simple matter for Neville to change tact and thrust the sword through Crouch's heart.
But then, the blade of the sword crashed into the face of the watch, and Harry suddenly remembered that the destruction of a Horcrux was not a casual affair.
A high-pitched keening noise pierced through the air. Harry noticed little else before there was a great flash of light and a deafening bang.
Before he fully knew what was happening, he was picking himself up off the floor, leaning heavily against the wall of the office. He shook himself to clear his mind and quickly looked around to regain his bearings.
He had been thrown backwards against the wall, bumping his head which now throbbed, but a quick touch to the aching spot confirmed it was not bleeding. Neville, closer to the implosion itself, had evidently been lifted off his feet and flown through the air towards the center of the office where he landed sprawled on his front. The Sword of Gryffindor lay a couple of armlengths further than him, and he began crawling on his chest to grab it.
But back in the corner of the room, Crouch was straightening up. He looked near as winded as he did furious. His left hand was a charred stump, and Harry could see no sign of what remained of the Horcrux from where he stood. And… apparently, it had been eighty-eight seconds.
With a roar, Crouch suddenly conjured a ball of fire and tossed it towards where Neville scrabbled towards the sword. The ball impacted onto Neville's back in a small explosion, forcing him face first into the floor. Immediately, the smell of burning flesh filled the air. The ball of fire left a charred spot the size of a Quaffle in the center of Neville's back. Several spots on his shirt still smoldered. Neville did not stir.
"Neville!" Harry shouted, and he took three steps towards him before he remembered himself.
Eighty-eight seconds.
He heard Crouch's rapid footsteps and scream of rage as the bastard charged him. He glanced at his watch.
Eighty-eight seconds.
Harry pivoted before Crouch reached him. The man—if he could still be called that—seemed to be going for a tackle. Harry easily sidestepped out of the way. Crouch stumbled to a halt, and Harry ignored the opening that gave him, allowing Crouch to turn towards him with his right hand—his only hand—balled into a fist. He threw a sloppy punch.
Harry ducked underneath the blow, grabbed Crouch's arm, twisted it around just so, rammed into Crouch's side, and then quite handily threw him over his shoulder. Crouch slammed onto the floor behind him. He felt the slightly discomforting satisfaction of knowing he had harmed an enemy.
Crouch groaned, but he seemed to recover quickly, bouncing onto his feet.
"You know," Harry said with a calm that he did not feel, "There are few things that are still bothering me about this whole situation." He stood normally, waiting for Crouch to attack again.
Crouch was crouched into some semblance of a fighter's stance, but he hesitated. Harry was sure he was an accomplished dueler, but he was far outmatched in this particular contest, and he clearly knew it.
"Winky! I think it's about time you rejoined us," Harry said.
There was a pause, and then Winky appeared to the side of the office with a crack, facing away from the two men. "Harry Potter, sir," she said quietly.
"Winky," Crouch hissed, "Get away! Why did you follow his command? Just—just go back to the forest and wait for me. I'll take care of this."
"You sure?" Harry challenged. "Those balls of fire look dangerous, but they weren't exactly very quick."
"Shut up, Potter!" Crouch barked, clearly reeling. "Winky, give me one of the wands!"
"Winky, tell me, how is Uriah?" Harry asked, ignoring Crouch now.
"The boy is fine," Winky said, still not looking towards them.
"Winky!" Crouch hissed again. He took a few more steps back.
"How merciful of you, Crouch, not to harm the boy," Harry drawled. "Good thing he was a Pureblood, right?"
Silence descended in the office.
Harry smiled, though he felt no mirth. "'I ain't been droppin' no eaves'? It's a movie reference, idiot, Muggle entertainment."
"He—he lied—" Crouch stammered quickly. "The boy lied to me—!"
"Told you that when you grabbed him, did he?" Harry asked calmly, and as Crouch started to nod and say something in panicked confirmation, Harry continued sharply, "I thought he was Stunned."
Crouch paused and glanced around a moment. "I—"
"Don't even try, Crouch," Harry said. "You lied, said that you spared the boy's life because he was a Pureblood, but you knew he wasn't. Why?"
Harry hadn't been counting, but his instincts warned that they were getting close, and he was quite ready to spring out of the way as Crouch's sudden conjured ball of fire flew towards him. It exploded harmlessly against McGonagall's death as he dusted himself off, standing up from the floor off to the side. He was halfway beginning to congratulate himself for his foresight when he refocused on Crouch and saw the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand.
"Oh," was all he could say before Crouch charged at him. Harry quickly adopted a much lighter stance, balancing on the balls of his feet, and sidestepped and ducked as Crouch swung the blade wildly at him. Dodging away, Harry was able to land a kick into Crouch's ribs, sending him staggering back until he finally lost his footing and tumbled down into a heap on the floor. But Harry did not press his advantage, because an armed foe knocked to the floor was still an armed foe. Things were getting dangerous again, and Crouch would be able to use magic in seventy-odd seconds, and Neville could probably really use some healing at this point. Time to wrap this up.
"You lied because you needed to keep Uriah alive," Harry said aloud, acting for all the world as if there had been no interruption. "You needed to keep him alive, and you didn't want to arouse suspicion. But in the end, your lie just called my attention to it."
He glanced at Winky. "You made him promise not to hurt any of the students, didn't you?"
Winky cringed at being singled out, but with a fearful glance between Harry and Crouch, she nodded reluctantly.
"Potter! Shut up!" Crouch cried, using the sword like a cane as he picked himself up from the floor. "Winky, back to the forest, now!"
"I'm not sure you're in a position to be giving any commands," Harry said tauntingly to Crouch. "Let's see… Winky went missing month ago, but you only made your first real move yesterday. What does that tell us?"
Crouch charged him again, and he casually resumed his dodging.
"I think maybe Winky wasn't all the willing servant as I had initially assumed," Harry mused, ducking another swing of the sword. "I think that maybe, when she found you in the Room of Requirement you asked her to help you return, and she hesitated. You told her where your corpse was buried, and she dug it up and starting regrowing the skin, but not for the intimidation factor. She did it because she loved her master, and she missed him. Is that right?"
Crouch continued his fruitless attacks against Harry while Winky stayed to the side, avoiding looking at the two men. They both said nothing. Harry smiled.
"You asked Winky to release you, but she wouldn't do it. She wouldn't do it because she was scared of what you might do. I reckon you began to worry that she wouldn't let you out of your prison at all. But then… let's see… I suppose what comes next is me showing up, looking around for you. That's right, isn't it?"
He redirected his attention to Winky. "When I showed up, you panicked. You realized that if I figured out where Crouch was, that he was still alive, you'd lose your chance to bring him back. You weren't even sure if that's what you wanted, but you worried you'd regret it if you didn't take the chance."
Harry felt sudden panic as he realized that another fireball was probably coming, but then, he had a stroke of inspiration.
He backed off from Crouch as if he were scared, and then, all of a sudden, he thrust his right hand forward again. "Expelliarmus!"
A jet of red light hit Crouch again, though this time, as the Sword of Gryffindor suddenly seemed to jump out of his grasp and towards Harry, he looked positively outraged.
Unlike when the sword had fallen out of the Sorting Hat, Harry was ready this time. He cleanly caught it in his outstretched right hand, and then, as Crouch regained some of his magic for a moment and hurled another ball of fire at him, Harry fluidly switched to a two-handed grip and swung the sword to intercept the ball of fire, effectively dispelling it in a burst of heat and light. Crouch fell backwards onto the floor and stared hopelessly up at Harry.
Harry moved to thrust the sword into Crouch's chest, but then he hesitated. Neville needed help, damn it, but there was a much cleaner ending if he just kept going a little longer.
"Winky," he continued. "You finally let Crouch out of his prison and agreed to help him, but the first thing he does after that? He sets an Inferius on a greenhouse full of first years. I reckon you didn't like that."
Crouch scrambled to his feet and started heading for the door, and Harry sprinted around the office to block his path.
"After the greenhouse attack, you almost abandoned Crouch, isn't that right?" He addressed Winky, though he kept his eyes on Crouch. "It's why you were such a convincing little actress when you finally came down to the Great Hall. You truly were shameful, angry, disappointed with yourself and everything that Crouch was doing."
Winky said nothing.
"The only reason you continued helping Crouch is because he finally agreed not to harm any of the students for the rest of his scheme. You thought maybe you could have the best of both worlds: your old master back, and nobody hurt along the way. And I'm afraid I'm going to have to tell you what you already know. Neither of those things are possible anymore. Crouch may not have hurt Uriah or Justin. But what about Neville? And he may still be Master Barty to you, but the Crouch that you loved for all those years is long gone now. In fact, I reckon that you're still thinking of the sweet boy who you helped his mother and father raise, and that boy has been gone for much longer."
Winky sighed heavily.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, and he glanced at his watch, though he realized that he hadn't checked when the eighty-eight seconds would have started. "You know I'm right. But listen to me. You want to make up for what you've helped Crouch do? You want to do away with all that hate and anger? Help me beat Crouch, right now."
"Winky, please," Crouch whispered. Harry knew that he'd be able to Apparate away any second now, but he waited for Winky's decision.
Finally, in a very small voice, Winky said, "I… I revoke my flesh."
"NO!" Crouch screamed, but suddenly, he was no more.
Harry blinked. He—he had not necessarily realized that Winky could do that, though he supposed that an elf would have more options, more power over their master than, say, Wormtail had over Voldemort. But he had not expected the ensuing mess. It made sense in the end, though, even if it was unsettling to look at the pile of blood and bones which were apparently all that remained of Crouch.
He had only a beat of surprise before he remembered himself. "Winky! Heal Neville, now! You can do it, right? You regrew the flesh on Crouch's corpse…!"
The elf had already dropped to her knees besides Neville's crumpled form and thrust out her fingers as if to play the piano, and before Harry's very eyes, the charred skin was giving way to a smooth pinkish flesh.
He finally sighed in relief, wandering over to crouch down on the other side of Neville.
They were silent for several moments while Winky did her work.
Finally, Neville gave a soft groan, and he lifted his face from the floor. There was blood coming from his nose, and Harry realized that he must have smashed it when he slumped over after the ball of fire hit him in the back.
Neville sniffled, and Harry automatically reached into his robe again before remembering that Winky still had his wand. He glanced at the elf to see two wands sticking out of a pocket in her skirt. One of them was definitely his holly, and the other, unfamiliar looking, he thought might be Uriah's. He wondered for a moment where Neville's had gotten to when he suddenly noticed the man holding it loosely in his right hand, hidden beneath his thigh. He must have stolen it from Winky while she was distracted healing his wound, effectively Disarming her and winning its allegiance back.
Harry grinned. Feeling cocky at this point, he pointed two fingers at Winky and cast, "Expelliarmus!" again. The elf jumped in slight surprise but said nothing as Harry's wand and the other shot straight up a few feet out of her pocket—a fancy little maneuver that he knew most wizards wouldn't have been able to manage even with a wand. Harry reached out and snatched them from the air. Now, that was his wand's allegiance sorted. Things might get a little complicated with Uriah's. He tucked that one into a pocket for the time being.
"Well, now I feel rather confident that you're not being controlled or anything," Neville said casually as he straightened up a bit. He must have been faking his sluggishness when he came to consciousness. "Want to do security questions anyway?"
"Sharp as ever, I see," Harry commented, not unimpressed. "I think we're fine. Episkey."
Neville's nose stopped bleeding, and the man vanished much of the blood staining his face with a casual flick of his own wand.
"So, I'm guessing we won?" He asked, looking around the room with mild interest. "Hullo, Winky. I'm pleased to see you've made the right decision in the end."
The elf hummed quietly.
By this point, Neville's back looked pretty much fine. There were some scars remaining, but the way he flexed his arms and shoulders showed that he was obviously in no pain. He straightened up and brushed off his clothes.
"Could you take me to Uriah, Winky?" He asked.
The elf nodded and started towards him.
"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Could you tell him where Uriah is? Could he get there with directions?"
Winky paused and then nodded again. "The boy is Stunned at the same spot where Master Barty's body is buried before we is digging it up."
Neville nodded. "Alright then."
"You go on ahead, Neville," Harry said casually. "Winky and I will stay here and tidy up McGonagall's office. Meet you down in the Hall in a few?"
"Sure," Neville replied, glancing towards Winky. He obviously could pretty well read Harry's intent, but he said no more and made his way out of the office.
As he left, Winky sauntered over to the pile of Crouch's remains, and Harry started when he realized what she was doing.
He sighed. "Winky… we're not actually cleaning the office. I need to talk to you."
The elf paused.
Harry opened his mouth to say more but hesitated. Things had been moving at breakneck speed for quite a while, and he found that he wasn't quite sure what to say next now that they had finally slowed down. There were a number of important things that remained to be addressed, but sometimes—mainly at times like this, really—he wondered how he did it all without collapsing.
For a moment, perhaps, the Auror work could wait.
He wandered over to the desk and hopped up to sit on it, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands. Winky remained standing in the center of the office, but she sagged her shoulders and began taking slow, shaky breaths.
Harry stared at her and felt a sudden rush of sentiment. "How… how are doing, then?" He asked softly, hoping that it would cover all the years he had neglected to ask it.
Winky turned to him, and he was surprised, though not overly so, to see tears in her eyes. "I—I is killing my master," she whispered, and then, as if saying it made it real, she gave a sudden mired sob.
As she began crying in earnest, Harry did not know what to say. There were many things that he believed to be true—that Crouch was evil, that he had planned to kill a number of people, and that she did the right thing in ending this life he had manifested through dark thoughts and actions—but he thought it quite obvious that none of those things would console her. Winky was sad because her master was dead, and none of the reasons why it had needed to happen would raise her spirits.
"Winky…" he said for lack of a better idea, though he doubted she was listening to him either way.
After a couple moments, she seemed to have cried herself out, and Harry felt himself coming into his second wind. Well, he supposed, now was as good a time as any to broach the elephant in the room.
"Winky, you discovered a known murderer alive and incapacitated in a school. Instead of arranging for it to be brought to the attention of the authorities, you harbored him for a number of weeks and then helped him escape and carry out his plans," he said heavily. "You stopped him in the end, and you didn't have to—you likely could've guaranteed his success, even—and that counts for something, or at least it does with me… but Winky…" He trailed off.
Winky wiped at the tear trails on her cheeks. "I is sorry."
"Unfortunately, sorry's not going to cut it," Harry said. "I—what are we supposed to do with you?"
The elf shrugged, and Harry shook his head. "No, no, I don't think you get to be apathetic anymore."
When Winky glanced at him in surprise, he continued, "You chose this path. And obviously it's painful for you to walk, but it's where you are now."
He sighed. "I should arrest you, but I don't want to do that. I think that perhaps the best punishment for you might also be a reward, of sorts, or at least, you might come to think of it as such. I think the best way to deal with you now is to not. Winky, I'm leaving it up to you. You make the decision of what you're going to do with your life."
Winky stared at him, openly at a loss, but Harry did not plan on yielding on this point.
"If you think you belong in prison, then believe me, I'll take you there, albeit begrudgingly. That's what the law says should happen. But I don't think that's right for you. I think that the luxury of not having to choose for yourself, not having to sort out how you want to live is a luxury that you don't deserve. And if nothing else, I can assure you of this: You won't find redemption in Azkaban."
Winky rubbed her stump.
"Alternatively, whether you decide you want to or not, you can't stay here," Harry continued. "There'd be an outcry if you continued working at Hogwarts, and not an unreasonable one at that. Parents, staff, and many of the students themselves would likely believe that you posed a danger to them. I'm sorry, but you'll have to go."
"Where is I supposed to go?" Winky whispered.
Harry shrugged. "Wherever you want. The point is that you have to decide. I mean—Winky. Let me put it this way: In all the years that I've known you, if I'm being honest, I never once would have described you as happy. Even before you were cast out of the Crouch household, I only ever saw you doing unsavory jobs—sitting in the Top Box at the World Cup, covering for Crouch, Jr. after he cast the Dark Mark… You never seemed to be doing something that you actually liked. Leaving the Crouches should've been great for you—but instead, you became depressed, wandering around aimlessly until Dobby found you and brought you to Hogwarts. And it's not like you were happy here, either. For your entire first year, I only ever saw you crying your eyes out or drowning your sorrows in a bottle of Butterbeer. And now, Crouch comes back, and he orders you to help him return. You didn't have to do anything, yet you put yourself through this whole series of events—your fear for the students, your anger and disappointment at Crouch, your guilt for involving yourself in the first place—for what? To go back to where you started, serving a master who didn't even value you, who made you do things you didn't want to do in the first place?"
He sighed again. "I'm… I'm not saying I don't empathize with you. I wish you hadn't had such a rough go at it all this time. But all these years, all you've ever done is follow orders that made you upset. At what point are you going to take responsibility for your own happiness? At what point will you decide what you want to do?"
He tucked his hands into his pockets. "Only you can make that decision."
There was a pause as Harry waited for Winky's response. He started at the sudden crack as she simply vanished.
He stared at the spot where she had stood not a moment ago and blinked. Well. He supposed that that must mean she was following his advice, leaving Hogwarts and going to choose a life that made her happy. That was good. It was. But…
He… he had sort of expected her to what she would tell him what she planned on doing before she left. Not that it was necessarily any of his business, but not knowing would bother him.
He could probably figure it out, though. Just a little more investigating to do then, perhaps. He went over it in his head for moment, thinking through what he knew about Winky. Regardless of what, exactly, she decided to do with the rest of her life, there were a few obvious places that she'd likely stop by no matter what, mostly those related Crouch—the old family home seemed a natural choice, or perhaps the graves of the mister and missus. And while he was on the subject of graves, she might want to pay her respects to Dobby as well, so a visit to Shell Cottage wouldn't be out of the question. Maybe—
Harry stopped in the middle of a thought, and then changed it partway through. Maybe, he reflected, it would be best just to leave her be.
Plausible deniability aside—he had, strictly speaking, let her go when he should've arrested her, like he said—maybe it was time to start practicing what he preached.
"At what point are you going to take responsibility for your own happiness?"
He was not happy with all the investigative work he was doing. To a great extent, this was his job. He had a responsibility to protect Wizarding Britain. But no one had ordered him to figure out where Crouch got to. He had found that mystery of his own initiative, and it had resulted in him preventing a crisis, surely enough, but truly, he had manifested the crisis as much as he prevented it.
He couldn't have known that Winky would not have made a move if not for his appearance causing her to panic. But he had known earlier that morning that their safest option when Winky appeared was to incapacitate her until their reinforcements arrived, and instead, he had succumbed to his desire to figure out what Crouch was up to, allowing her to poison his mind with a false story and nearly losing one of the students for it.
Being an Auror was one thing. Letting this irrational urge rule him was entirely something else. And letting it compel him to do something that he knew was a bad idea, something that put others in danger… that was a step too far.
"You is sort of like a House-elf," Winky had said to him earlier that day. Perhaps, if she could start taking responsibility for her happiness, then so could he.
Resolved to not dwell on it, to move on from this apparent mystery, to let sleeping dogs lie and find something else to divert him, Harry confidently strode towards the exit to the office, intent upon meeting Neville back in the Great Hall as he had agreed earlier.
He hadn't made it past the fifth floor before it happened. A very unwelcomingly familiar sensation came over him.
The itch was back.
He hated it, in that moment more than ever, but the itch was back, and childish as it was, he wanted to know where Winky was. He wanted to solve every little piece. He wanted to put the whole puzzle together.
He paused on the staircase and grimaced. In some ways, he knew, he was very strong, yet in others, he knew everyone was very weak.
To give up now would be a shameful display of how little discipline he possessed, and he shook off the moment's hesitation and continued on his way for no reason other than that.
But…
He hoped. And he didn't. He would try, but he secretly felt certain that he would fail.
When he reached the Entrance Hall, he found the large double doors to the Great Hall ajar and unguarded.
Well, he supposed, Crouch was definitely defeated so there wasn't really anything to worry about. But still… perhaps he was just paranoid these days, but he might have thought McGonagall would've been a little more cautious.
Within the Great Hall, the majority of the students were still sleeping—after all, he noted with a glance at his watch, on a normal day, classes wouldn't be starting for almost three more hours—but two small groups spoke amongst one another in hushed voices. The first group consisted of McGonagall, Hagrid, and some of the other teachers. The second group was Neville, Uriah, Justin, and a gaggle of around a dozen onlookers from many different years who were apparently the early risers of the student body.
Harry sent a confident nod to McGonagall and her group as he entered, assuring them of the resolution of the crisis, and had taken about two steps towards them before hesitating, and then uncharacteristically turning to join the other group, which was sure to be filled with admirers. Normally, he would avoid the attention, but he supposed that it might distract him from his earlier pessimism for a few minutes.
"Harry!" Neville said with quiet enthusiasm as the man came within earshot.
"Professor," Harry replied, with a slightly teasing smirk. "Alright there, Uriah?"
"I—!" was about as far as Uriah got before he seemed to remember who he was talking to. Perhaps some things would never change.
"Did you beat the Dark Wizard?" someone asked excitedly.
Harry nodded carefully. "The danger has passed," he replied neutrally.
"DID YOU KILL HIM?!" Justin blurted out, and immediately half a dozen other students shushed him as several of their still-sleeping peers seemed to stir. Harry took advantage of the brief eruption of chaos to avoid that particular question.
"What about my wand?" Uriah somehow managed to get out. He was staring pointedly at his fingernails as he said it—maybe that was how.
Harry hesitated. "That—" he sighed. "That could be a little tricky."
"Are you worried that giving him back his wand after a Dark Wizard used it will turn him evil?" A girl who looked to be about Uriah and Justin's age asked with the dead-seriousness only an eleven-year-old could muster.
Harry laughed in genuine surprise and amusement. "I don't think that'll be a problem."
An echo of laughter rippled out from him as the other students followed his cue, but the girl still looked suspicious, and after a moment, Neville edged over and muttered in his ear, "What do you mean, 'you don't think'?"
Harry hesitated. "It's fine—I'd watch him? Maybe?"
Neville sent another exceedingly unimpressed look his way. Right. Another thing to worry about.
"Mr. Potter?" Another girl, this one slightly older asked slowly. "I don't think it'll turn him evil or anything like that, but… are you worried about his wand's allegiance?"
Harry looked at her with pleasant surprise. "You know about Wand Loyalty? What was your name?"
The girl blushed. "Oh—I, I mean, my name is Melissa Summerby."
"Well, Ms. Summerby, that's very insightful of you. Does anyone else know anything about Wand Loyalty?" Harry asked, looking around the group of students.
There was a pause.
Harry smiled indulgently. "Let me make this a little easier. Who knows what my signature move is?"
"Expelliarmus!" Another younger-looking boy cried immediately. The girl next to him jumped and dropped her hat, though it was hard for Harry to tell if that was from surprise or a bit of accidental magic on the boy's part.
Harry's smile widened a bit. "That's right. And as I'm sure you all know, that spell is for Disarming other Wizards, and it's especially useful for taking away their wands. Now, who can tell me what Mr. Ollivander always says about wands?"
Again, he didn't have to wait long before a student spoke up. It was the first year-looking girl with the stern disposition. "Well, he says that the wand chooses the wizard, but most likely what he means is that it chooses the witch or wizard, whatever the case may be."
"Right you are, Ms…?"
"Tremmlet-Davis. Evangeline Tremmlet-Davis."
"Ms. Tremmlet—er—Davis, indeed, they ought to change it to that. So, on the one hand, we've got the spell you can use to Disarm someone, and on the other, we've got the wand choosing the wiz—ahem, witch or wizard. Can anyone see where I'm going here? Ms. Summerby, I have a feeling you already had an idea."
Melissa hesitated. "If you Disarm someone… you can make their wand choose to be loyal to you instead of them?"
"You can?" Evangeline asked in alarm, clutching her hip where her own wand was likely concealed within her robe.
"At your age, I'd say no," Harry interjected quickly. "Really, there's got to be these sorts of special circumstances—nothing hard and fast, though. In general, you do have to take the other person's wand against their will—to disarm them, whether by magic means or otherwise—and even then, it's a little ambiguous. For example, I've never heard of a wand changing allegiance in a training setting. It helps to have power and experience with it, like I do. But most important of all, I'd say, is it has to matter, I think, though your life doesn't necessarily have to be on the line for that to be true. Take Uriah's wand, for example…"
Harry reached into his pocket where he had placed Uriah's wand earlier and then paused in confusion. It was empty. "Wha—?"
He looked around to see Uriah standing nearby, holding his wand carefully. He stiffened when he felt Harry's gaze on him and looked up sort of guiltily.
But now, Harry laughed incredulously. "Well, look at this! It seems that Uriah is ahead of me! Why did you pick my pocket, then, Uriah? Go on, don't be shy! You haven't done anything wrong!"
Uriah swallowed once, and then nervously replied, "Well, I mean—erm—sir, it's just, everything that's been said so far. Someone took my wand against my will, so I lost its allegiance. And then, you took it back from them, and you won its allegiance. And, so… you k now… I figured I'd take it back from you, and win it's allegiance back… for myself…?" He seemed confident enough in his explanation until the very end there.
"Yes, exactly!" Harry said excitedly. "You've got it all right! Now, do some magic for us and let's see if it works alright for you!"
Harry watched proudly as Uriah conjured some colorful sparks and the other students oohed and aahed. It wasn't any fancy wandwork or anything, but it wasn't bad for having been put on the spot like that.
Neville sidled up next to him. "Beginner's luck, I'd say," he said brusquely.
"How's that?" Harry asked in confusion.
"You see that right there?" Neville nodded at Uriah. "That boy learned something. You taught him. The whole process usually takes months, believe you me, but you managed to eke it out of him in less than five minutes."
"Well, Professor, I'm not entirely without experience, you know," Harry replied dryly. "I seem to remember teaching you and a load of other students a great deal a few years back."
"Yeah, okay," Neville admitted. "You were good at that, weren't you?"
"You think so?" Harry asked noncommittally.
"Maybe you could get back into that," Neville suggested. "I mean, I'm not saying you have to give up the Auror work or anything, but it'll be good for the students if you want to come and give some talks every now and then. Good for you too, maybe. You seem to enjoy it."
Harry smiled. "You know Neville, I actually think that's a great idea."
And in that moment, he did not even realize it, but he felt no itch.
Perhaps it would come back to him later. But for now, all was well.
I feel good. I actually finished this. It took me over two years. I honestly can't believe it. It feels really weird to be done with it. Obviously this thing sat abandoned for most of that time, but it was definitely bouncing around in my brain for the entire hiatus (I can call it a hiatus because it actually ended!). And now it's done. I'm proud. I'm happy. I don't know. It's weird.
But that's just me! Thank you so much to anyone who reads this. I don't know how to express my gratitude. Please favorite my story and/or leave a review to tell me what you thought! I definitely wouldn't say that it's perfect, but I think I spun a satisfactory tale at the end of the day.
I plan to post another oneshot on the Saturday after I post this. That's already done, so it should be up by Saturday (unless I reread it and find I hate it). The Saturday after that, I hope to post the first chapter of another multi-chapter fic, but I'm still working out the particulars of that, so we'll see what happens. I'm thinking about giving comedy a try.
Thanks again!