AN: Just got back from TorontoTrek day before yesterday, where I went with a friend who used to live in the area, and was completely STUNNED at all the reviews! Thank you all for your friendly interest; I intend to repay it in kind, but it will take a while, esp. since I will be leaving again soon for a rustic family church camp experience. Yes, I know that Voldemort is conspicuous by his absence, but you see this started out as a short story many moons ago and spun completely out of control.
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Chapter 18. Biscuits at Bungo's
As soon as Lucretia Longbottom and the five Hogwarts students had left the room (Lucretia had kissed her son and daughter-in-law in an emotional farewell), Ivy said, "Mrs. Longbottom, would you mind meeting us downstairs at the front entrance? There's one thing we still need to do." Neville's Gran agreed to this, although somewhat suspiciously, and after she had left Ivy continued in a lower voice, "Father and Uncle Severus are up to something, I can tell. I have an idea what it is, and I want to see if I'm right. Let's go down to Madam Nightingale's lounge."
Harry and Neville hid themselves under the cloak once more, and with the help of the floor plan they found the quiet lounge on the first floor where Madam Nightingale had surprised them. A closet was conveniently located across the corridor, and the five of them (six if you counted Salazara) stepped in and closed the door.
"Why don't you just ask Salazara if you're right?" asked Ron.
"No, I never ask her to help me find out Father's secrets," said Ivy. "I assume that if I can figure them out for myself, I'm meant to know them. Otherwise not."
Ron shook his head, not for the first time, at her peculiar Slytherin code of ethics.
"So, Ron, what else have you been putting in your pockets lately besides leeches?" Ivy asked him casually. Ron sheepishly produced not one, not two, but three pocket-sized occultoscopic crystals, pilfered from the examining room. "Thought they might come in handy," he muttered.
"Just what we need," said Ivy delightedly. She placed one against the closet door and began adjusting the dial at the side. Soon all of them were peering through the door and the wall next to it, two to a crystal. It wasn't long before they saw the door to the quiet lounge open and Octavius emerge into the empty corridor with a large roll of canvas under his arm. Standing before a blank area of wall to the left of the door, he unrolled the canvas and held it against the wall so that the bottom of it just touched the floor. It was the same size and shape as a door, and in fact was painted to look like one. Octavius touched each of the four corners of the canvas with his wand, muttering the word "Affixum!" each time. Then he took something from his robes and screwed it into one side of the canvas at a height of about three feet. It was a doorknob. The canvas now looked exactly like a real door in the wall. Lastly he pointed his wand at the real door to the lounge and said, "Obliviate," making it disappear.
Then he knocked quietly on the closet door and said, "I will see you shortly, Ivy."
"Yes, Father," said Ivy.
"Occultoscopic crystal leaves a visible trace when it's in use, you know," Octavius told her through the door. "Easy to miss if you're not looking for it."
"Yes, Father," said Ivy again. She removed the crystal she and Hermione had been using from the door and handed it back to Ron. He pocketed all three of them and said, "Not easy to fool, is he?"
Ivy shrugged. "Oh, we're on a pretty even footing these days. We know each other so well. Besides, wasn't it pretty obvious that he wanted someone to notice something?"
"It was, actually," said Harry.
"What did Mr. Snape do that for?" asked Neville.
"I think we're going to find out quite soon," said Hermione.
The closet where Ivy, Ron, and Hermione had assumed their disguises soon had its full complement of uniforms back in place. However, nobody remarked on the fact that Ron and Hermione forgot to return their other borrowings to the examining rooms they had come from. As far as Harry knew, Ron still carried a pocketful of leeches, minus only the one he had handed to Crouch. They presented themselves to Neville's Gran at the front entrance, looking innocent.
At the door of Bungo's, Lucretia banged the parrot-headed knocker until it woke up, yawned, ruffled its feathers, and let them in, grumbling, "It's the middle of the blooming night, but seeing as it's you, Mrs. Longbottom, and seeing you're willing to pay extra for the privilege."
"Don't worry about that," said Lucretia. "I've got my son back and I feel rich." She rummaged in her large red handbag and offered the parrot a silver Sickle, which it took eagerly in its beak.
A minute later, Lucretia, Neville, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ivy had seated themselves around one of the round tables. The owner of the shop appeared, rubbing his eyes and carrying a candle, and said, "Bungo let you in, did he, Mrs. L? What's up, then? And who's this lot? I knows your grandson, but not the rest."
"Bob, I'll wager you've never met Harry Potter before," said Lucretia triumphantly, and Bob's eyes widened in surprise.
"No more I have. You must be him," he said, looking at Harry.
"Got it on the first try," said Harry. He introduced his schoolmates.
"These young people," explained Lucretia, "have been helping my son Frank and his wife Aurelle get their sanity back, and tonight they have completed their mission. We're here to celebrate. Tea and biscuits for everyone."
"Not really? Mr. Frank's better, after all this time? And Mrs. Frank too? Well, I'm that glad to hear it. Tea's on the house." Bob put down his candle, tied on his apron and hurried behind the counter.
"But that parrot on the door said we had to pay extra," said Ron.
"Don't listen to him," scoffed Bob. "He just likes to fleece the customers every chance he gets. You've certainly given me enough business, Mrs. L, to let me have the pleasure of doing you a favour." He stopped in the middle of filling the teakettle. "Say, young Weasley, I think I remember hearing your voice earlier today. Are you the one who said 'Nobody' when I asked who was there?"
Ron turned red. "It was him all right," said Hermione. "We came through your shop by Floo powder so we could sneak into the hospital. I hope we didn't put you out."
"Just warn me first next time. Send an owl."
"Octavius Snape will be joining us in a few minutes," said Lucretia.
"Any friend of yours is welcome, Mrs. L," said Bob, reaching down some biscuit tins and putting them on the counter. He started arranging an assortment on a plate, but Ron said, "Don't fuss with them, I'm too hungry to wait." He stood up, brought two of the tins to the table, and started helping himself from them. He held out one to Hermione and said, "Here, want some? Try the chocolate ones."
"Ron," said Hermione, "there's no need to be rude and uncivilized."
"But I'm starving," said Ron with his mouth full. "You try keeping Wormtail from turning into a rat for hours on end and see if it doesn't give you an appetite."
In a few minutes they heard Octavius Snape at the door, saying something to the parrot. "Don't let him take your money," called Bob. "Come right in. Bungo, that's enough."
Octavius came in and joined them at the table, sitting down next to his daughter. "Father, you look done up. What have you been doing?" Ivy asked him solicitously.
"Surely you can guess, Ivy," he said.
"Well," said Bob, putting a plate of buttered toast on the table, alongside the teapot and an apple pie, "You most likely have things to talk about, so I'll leave you to it. If you need anything I'll be in the back."
"Thank you, Bob," said Lucretia. "You're very kind." She picked up the teapot and poured a cup for Octavius. "I suppose everything's tidied up for now?" she asked him. "You left Lucius, Peter, and Barty with Madam Nightingale, and she'll keep them …?"
Ivy began to giggle, which set Hermione off too.
"I expect they're quite safe," said Harry, and took a bite of toast. He had felt rather empty himself, though almost too tired to eat, but the food was beginning to revive him.
"Quite safe," Octavius assured them all with the mocking, secretive smile often seen on Ivy's face. He added a wedge of lemon to his tea and sipped it, leaning back in his chair. "A most eventful evening. A most fascinating process, which I feel fortunate to have witnessed."
"I don't know what we would have done without you there, Father," sighed Ivy, leaning against him.
"You were all doing quite well when Severus and I arrived," said her father.
"You should have seen Neville hitting Lucius Malfoy with the Tickling Charm," said Ron. "Absolutely ripping."
"Dumbledore has kept me up to date on what you've been doing these past months, and Severus has just been filling me in on your tutoring sessions," Octavius went on. "I must congratulate all of you on a remarkable accomplishment. You succeeded against all odds."
"Salazara too," said Ivy, stroking the Runespoor through her robes.
"Salazara too," agreed Octavius.
"I'm glad you let me bring her to Hogwarts, Father."
"So am I, Ivy," said Octavius. "Mr. Potter, I was quite interested to observe for myself how effectively you used the Trempath." Harry felt himself blushing, but Octavius added, "Your wand's unusual powers may have helped you fight the Curser from the beginning."
Harry took out his wand and looked at it. "I had no idea that the scar made any difference in what I could do with it until today." He wondered if that might explain, on some level, why he had felt so devastated at the thought that it was broken.
"The scar on your head makes a difference," said Ron. "Isn't that why you can speak Parseltongue?"
"I hope it is," said Harry.
"I didn't know what I was risking," Ivy exclaimed.
"You did the right thing, Ivy," Neville assured her.
"Mr. Snape, have you ever been a Trempath partner?" asked Hermione.
"I have, with other patients who were not as ill as Frank Longbottom," replied Octavius.
"But never with Frank himself?" she pursued.
Octavius was silent for a moment, looking down at his teacup with a closed face. One of his hands clenched suddenly, then relaxed. "I offered my services," he said, "but they were refused." He looked up again, his expression very Snape-like. "After Severus made his attempt, which was considered a failure, and almost died, I went to see Frank. I begged him to let me take the Trempath, but he would not give it to me. He was adamant, though I was quite pressing. I was sure I could succeed where others had failed, if only I were allowed to make the trial. I believed that I sincerely wanted to help him. I stopped just short of trying to take the Trempath from him by force."
"Professor Dumbledore told me that Frank refused to let anyone take it for a long time. Years and years," said Harry.
Octavius nodded. "Yes, after what happened to Severus," he said. "Frank has always been a man of great—" he broke off. "He was right, of course, not to give it to me."
Nobody ventured to question him further on that subject. During the pause that followed, Harry became aware of a muffled voice shouting (or trying to shout), "Octavius! Octavius, I insist on speaking to you this instant." It seemed to be coming from somewhere on Octavius' person. He raised his eyebrows, reached into his robes, and drew out a rolled canvas, much smaller than the one he had stuck to the wall at St. Mungo's. "One moment, Lucius," he said to the canvas. He unrolled it and spread it flat on the table, arranging cups and plates to hold down the corners. "What can I do for you?" he asked. Leaning forward to look, the rest of them could see that Lucius Malfoy was looking out at them from a painting of a rustic footbridge over a stream on the edge of a wood, and he looked absolutely furious.
"You know very well what you must do for me, Octavius," he fumed. "You've tricked me and trapped me here with those unspeakable scum and that smarmy woman." Looking carefully through the trees, Harry made out a building in the background of the painting that must be Madam Nightingale's clinic.
"Yes, Alice Nightingale can be a bit hard to take in large doses," Octavius sympathized.
"Lucius, how on earth did you get in there?" asked Lucretia.
"Sheer underhanded duplicity, Madam," he huffed. "Octavius shoved me and the others through an ordinary-looking door and neglected to mention that it was a painted one. He took Severus back out with him and left me in this … this group meeting!"
Lucius paused to glare at Octavius. Ivy started giggling again and Ron gave a snort. "When I attempted to step outside for a moment, I found that the door had vanished and I couldn't leave. Barty can talk now and he won't stop whining about how ill-used he is. I'm sick of listening to him. And when Pettigrew tried to turn himself into a rat and realized he couldn't do it, he went to pieces. Nightingale told him he wasn't allowed to, anyway. Something about 'ground rules.' She stepped out of her frame—apparently it was a fake—and informed us, if you please, that we were all in her painting and we would stay there until we admitted that our lives were unmanageable. What claptrap! I told her I had to speak to Octavius immediately, and she directed me here."
He turned his attention back to the object of his ire. "You may think you've been terribly clever, Octavius. But if you refuse to release me from this appalling situation I will find my way to a painting at the Ministry and bring your misconduct to the attention of the proper officials."
"You may think you can paint me into submission," muttered Ron, and Harry covered his own mouth to keep from spraying biscuit crumbs everywhere.
"You may think you can paint me into a corner," he whispered back as soon as he had swallowed his mouthful.
"Good luck with that plan, Lucius," said Octavius, "but as far as I know I haven't done anything illegal."
"When I'm finished with you, it will be," said Lucius waspishly. "You've duped me and taken unfair advantage of me and I won't stand for it. And you still haven't returned my wand!"
"All in good time. You did hear me say that I could escort people in and out of paintings, did you not, Lucius?"
"Of course, but I had no idea you were about to escort me into one and not of it!"
"Ivy caught on quickly enough," Octavius pointed out.
"That proves nothing. She's your spawn and she thinks in the same twisted way you do."
"Why, thank you, Mr. Malfoy," murmured Ivy, looking at him through her lashes.
"If it makes you feel any better, Lucius, I've never tried the one-way ticket approach before. We'll see how it works out. Consider yourself part of a ground-breaking experiment."
"I'm a busy man. I don't have time for this, and you'll end up regretting it, mark my words." Lucius turned around and started walking back to the clinic, his figure growing smaller in the picture as they watched. The rickety bridge swayed and shook as he stormed over it, and Ron mouthed, "Fall in! Fall in!" But the bridge held up and Lucius made it across the stream without mishap. Octavius rolled up the canvas again and tucked it back in his robes.
"That's right, you did mention the part about helping people in and out of paintings," recalled Hermione.
"Father doesn't spring things on people without dropping a few hints first," said Ivy.
"Like the short errand he had to do," put in Harry.
"Exactly," said Octavius. "I try to give them a sporting chance."
"And so does Ivy," added Neville loyally.
"Funny that Lucius Malfoy of all people should accuse you and Ivy of twisted thinking, Mr. Snape," said Ron.
"He's just jealous," Hermione declared. "He wishes he could do it half as well."
"He said that Barty Crouch could talk again," remembered Harry. "I suppose that's because he's in the painted world now."
"I rather suspected that possibility," said Octavius. "In a painting, as in his reflection and in the Marauder's Map, his mirror-soul becomes operative again. Assuming he didn't die first, which was another thing that might have happened."
"Mr. Snape," said Hermione, "would you mind telling us about your research on the Dementor's Kiss? And how you knew about Barty Crouch?"
"Since the cat is already out of the bag, as you might say, Miss Granger?" Octavius asked her wryly. Ivy looked down and stirred her tea very carefully, her cheeks pinker than usual.
"Yes," said Hermione. "I think Neville has the right to know."
"Well, I don't really—" started Neville.
"Very well," said Octavius. "You've all earned the right to hear the whole story. Ever since I was a student at Hogwarts, when I first found out what the Dementor's Kiss was, it seemed the ultimate horror to me, and I refused to believe that it was irreversible. I used to have nightmares about soulless people chasing me."
Octavius drew a long breath and his jaw hardened. He went on, "Not long after Severus left my home to teach at Hogwarts, our mother, Iris Lefay, ran afoul of the law. Her home was raided by the Ministry, and she was found in possession of certain deadly potions. She was accused of being an agent for the Dark Lord."
"But she didn't do what they said she did," Ivy asserted.
"At her trial, even though the evidence was entirely circumstantial, she received a life sentence in Azkaban," Octavius continued, his eyes flashing angrily. "Barty Crouch Senior was determined to see her punished. He had always hated her and suspected her. I tried to have a mistrial declared, but it was no use.
"I visited her in prison quite often. While I was there I saw witches and wizards who had been Kissed, and their fate seemed just as horrible as I had imagined. I had always been told that nothing could be done for them, but I couldn't find a detailed explanation of the Kiss anywhere. I don't think anyone had ever studied it in depth.
"Many of the other inmates went mad, as you know, and some of them died. Mother was a tough-minded witch and she held on, hoping that her name would be cleared and her sentence revoked. But one day when I came to see her, I was told that she had suddenly gone wild and tried to break out," he said with a tremor of suppressed rage. "And the dementors had acted according to their despicable nature. As if they couldn't have stopped a little thing like her with one hand."
Ivy's eyes grew enormous and she dropped her spoon on the floor. "Father, I thought Granny Lefay had died in Azkaban! You stopped going to see her, you never talk about her anymore—"
"Would that she had, Ivy. I'll never forget the way she looked when they showed her to me afterwards. I resolved that I would learn as much as I could about the dementors and their victims, and if possible find a way to reverse the Kiss. I applied for a permit to study in Azkaban, and when it was finally granted I started to make observations." Neville picked up Ivy's spoon and handed it back to her. She took it without noticing.
"You must have one heck of a Patronus, sir," said Harry. The Patronus charm was the most effective defense against a dementor, and a very advanced piece of magic.
"And a good supply of chocolate for afterwards," added Ron, who knew that chocolate was recommended for anyone who had faced a dementor.
Octavius smiled and looked a little less tense. "I certainly had many chances to bring my Patronus up to scratch, Mr. Potter. It took me many trials to master the technique: splendid discipline for my state of mind. At the time I felt I had very little to work with in the way of happy memories. At first, whenever a dementor came near me all I could see were Mother's empty eyes." Octavius brooded for a moment, gazing unseeing across the table. "I don't know how I would have managed if it hadn't been for Ivy."
"Me, Father?"
"You, my dear. Ivy, do you remember the Christmas when you were five? And you gave me the quill you had made yourself? The one that wrote the song you composed for me? As I recall, you didn't spell very well yet …"
Ron snickered into his teacup. Ivy was frankly blushing now. "Father, if you wouldn't mind …"
"Very well then, Ivy, I won't go into any more details. But I've had many occasions to be glad to have you for my spawn, as Lucius so gracefully expressed it; and never more than when rolling up my sleeves to conjure up a thumping good Patronus."
"Happy to be of service," mumbled Ivy in confusion, still clutching the spoon Neville had handed her. She looked at it and started wiping it with her napkin.
Octavius resumed his story. "For a long time I felt that I was learning very little. It was almost by chance that I discovered that dementors have no mirror reflection. There are no mirrors and no paintings in Azkaban. I sometimes carry a pocket mirror with me, and one day I had taken it out so I could watch my back. A dementor came up behind me and I never saw it until I turned around …"
Harry shivered. He remembered the first time he had seen a dementor, aboard the Hogwarts Express at the start of his third year: the faceless hooded figure, the glistening-grey, scabbed and skeletal hand reaching out, the rattling inhalation from inside the hood, the feeling of deadly cold and despair that had gripped him.
"After that, I checked every dementor I saw for a mirror reflection, and not one of them had one. And when I went again to observe the Kissed, I looked in my mirror and saw their mirror-souls looking back at me."
"Granny's too?" Ivy questioned eagerly.
"Yes indeed, Ivy. She knew who I was, and winked at me as if to say that everything would come right in the end."
Ivy caught her breath. "But if you help Granny get her soul back, you'll—Father, please don't—"
"Ivy, let me explain something else. My studies have led me to conclude that for each victim whose soul is taken, there is a particular person appointed to redeem that soul. It can't be just anyone, even when the volunteer is a willing one."
"Do you know if—"
"I don't know yet, Ivy," said Octavius gently.
Ivy sat there looking stunned for a full minute. Finally she said, "I think I'll be having a private chat with Salazara one of these days. And with you, too, Father."
None of them knew quite what to say. The party atmosphere had completely evaporated. After long thought Lucretia Longbottom came up with, "Octavius, I certainly hope you know what you're doing."
"You think me young, reckless, and arrogant, don't you, Lucretia," Octavius divined her meaning, "meddling in things that are none of my business and far more dangerous than I realize; but you also think I should be old enough to know better." She smiled a bit reluctantly, her eyes still worried. Octavius went on, "The same thought has crossed my mind more than once, but it's too late for me to turn back now."
"It's just that when Frank decided to be an Auror—" Lucretia started, and couldn't go on. She got out her lace handkerchief and dabbed at her tears.
Another muffled voice issued from inside Octavius' robes. "Octavius? Is everything quite all right?"
Octavius closed his eyes in annoyance. Without removing the canvas he said, "Alice, this isn't your affair. Go back to your group meeting." Evidently Madam Nightingale had come down to the footbridge.
"Well, if you say so, Octavius," she answered, sounding a bit put out by his brusqueness, though actually it was a bit hard to tell. "They're taking a break right now. Lucius has been most obstructive. Are you sure you wouldn't like to—"
"Share our feelings?" Neville took the words out of her mouth. "Why not?" he shrugged, and started to giggle. He ended up laughing so hard he got the hiccups, and Ivy thumped him on the back. "Sorry," he gurgled. "I don't know what got into me."
"Perfectly understandable," said Madam Nightingale's rolled-up voice from somewhere under Octavius' chin.
"Goodbye, Alice," he told her firmly. "I'll be in touch."
"Just as you say, then," she answered faintly
Octavius was knitting his brows, thinking. "This could be very awkward. I can't be at their disposal every minute of the day."
"Maybe they could leave messages for you by the bridge when you're not available," Hermione proposed.
"You'd better tell us about young Barty Crouch," suggested Ron.
"Ah yes, Barty," said Octavius, getting back to his tale.
"Let me guess," said Harry. "You looked in the mirror and saw Mad-Eye Moody."
"Quite so," confirmed Octavius. "I then inquired closely into the circumstances of the final year before Barty's Kiss. Most interesting. And when Professor Dumbledore told me that Barty had been falsely accused of torturing the Longbottoms, I passed the word to his mirror-soul, and to the version of Moody inhabiting his body."
"You told young Crouch?" Lucretia demanded.
"He had the right to know, Lucretia. And he was also entitled to know that Pettigrew had been implicated. Soon after that, I learned that Barty had escaped from Azkaban. This was a highly unusual event. The dementors no longer have any interest in those they've Kissed, but the soulless generally don't have enough initiative even to attempt a breakout."
"Not exactly self-starters, are they?" Ron remarked.
"Not as a rule," said Octavius, "but Barty had Moody to help him. There's certainly no love lost between those two, but they shared the common purpose of finding Pettigrew and bringing him to justice."
"Did they actually tell you this?" asked Harry.
"Not in so many words," admitted Octavius, "because neither of them could talk. But I knew them both, particularly Moody, and I could guess what was driving them. I decided to see if I could find young Crouch and keep an eye on him."
"But not take him back into custody?" asked Lucretia with a hint of disapproval.
"No. Do you think I should have?"
Lucretia shook her head, saying, "You take a lot on yourself, Octavius, but I can't quarrel with the way it turned out in this case."
"For a week or two my investigations turned up nothing. But then a clue came to me from an unexpected source."
They all waited for him to go on. Harry was too sleepy to take a stab at it, but Hermione said, "Lucius Malfoy."
"Correct, Miss Granger. As you know, Lucius was most disturbed when he returned from his holiday in the south of France with his wife."
"Disturbed is not the word," said Lucretia. "He was livid."
"I saw him at a meeting of the St. Mungo's advisory board, and his behaviour was so odd—tense and jumpy—that I decided to keep an eye on him."
"Lots of paintings to choose from, I reckon," said Harry.
"Indeed," said Octavius. "I spent a good deal of time secretly watching him at home, in his office at the Ministry of Magic, and of course at St. Mungo's."
"Is that legal, sir?" asked Hermione.
"Well, not strictly," admitted Octavius.
"Father's ability to go in and out of paintings is so rare that it hasn't been regulated much," said Ivy. "He's good at finding loopholes and blending into the background." She shrugged. "People shouldn't hang paintings in places where they want to be really private, anyway."
Harry remembered his session in the prefect's bathroom last year, when he had worked out the clue in the golden egg for the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Neither the painted mermaid on the bathroom wall, nor Moaning Myrtle, the resident ghost of the second-floor girls' toilet, had shown any scruples about spying on him.
"He's generally kept quiet about what he can do," Ivy went on. "But somehow Rita Skeeter got wind of it. One day she came to our house and offered him pots and pots of money to dig up some dirt for her. Naturally he refused. But he let her think she might have better luck next time, so it's in her interest to keep quiet about it too."
"Did you listen through the keyhole to find that out?" Ron needled her.
"No, he told us about it afterward," said Ivy, kicking him under the table.
"It turned out that Barty had gone to see Lucius," recounted Octavius. "He would show up when no one else was around. No one else but me, that is. And of course he wouldn't say anything, but Lucius seemed to know why he was there, and made no move to hand Barty over to the authorities. Just the fact that Barty had tracked him down, soulless as he was, gave Lucius the creeps. He didn't understand how it was possible. He may have guessed that someone else was behind it."
"Young Crouch had probably sworn vengeance on Malfoy for framing him," Ron speculated. "We know Crouch Senior did. We heard it in Malfoy's appointment book."
"Speaking of the appointment book," said Octavius, "you'll be glad to know that I picked it up before I left Aurelle's room. I left it at home and I plan to look at it later."
"That was the book Crouch brought in, wasn't it?" said Harry, stifling a yawn.
"I hope you'll let me have another go at it, Mr. Snape," said Hermione. "It's quite fascinating."
"I might be able to use your help with it, Miss Granger," he told her. "It's an important piece of evidence."
"Me too," Ron chimed in.
"One day I found Lucius in a secret meeting with Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew had evidently been on Voldemort's business and was reporting to Lucius about it. I helped Crouch crash their little party. When Pettigrew saw Crouch, he panicked, turned into a rat, and tried to escape. But Barty managed to get his foot on Wormtail's tail, picked him up and stuffed him in his pocket."
"And Malfoy still didn't stop him?" asked Ron in amazement.
"He couldn't," said Octavius. "He tried, that time. He didn't yet know a very important thing that I had learned in Azkaban. Crouch himself may not have realized it, but Moody apparently knew; he was a seasoned Auror and might well have picked it up on the job. Something of the power of the dementors clings to anyone who has received the Kiss. A touch from the bare hand of such a one is as cold as ice, and its grip causes a bone-chilling stupor. Ordinary stunning spells have no effect on the Kissed. Lucius learned the hard way, and Crouch got away with Wormtail."
"I felt it," said Ron. "When he gave Wormtail to me. And now that I think of it, Wormtail was cold when I first took him, too. Crouch could have kept him quiet with one finger in his pocket."
Harry found that his nose was touching his plate, and realized that he had nodded off. "Did I miss something?" he asked groggily.
"Tons," said Ron, "but we'll fill you in later."
"No, you didn't, Harry," Hermione assured him. "You were out of it for only a couple of seconds."
"Neville, on the other hand, is dead to the world," Ivy observed, nudging Neville's limp elbow.
"It's late," said Lucretia. "I'll take Neville back to St. Mungo's with me, and the rest of you ought to be in your beds at Hogwarts."
"There isn't much left to tell, except that I summoned Crouch to Aurelle's room this evening," said Octavius. "But before you go, Mr. Potter, there is one thing I would like to say to you. The fact that you spared Pettigrew's life two years ago may well have tipped the balance tonight at the moment of crisis. His fate is closely woven with Frank Longbottom's and with yours, because of the path he took years ago."
Harry decided to tackle that thought another day. He and his schoolmates submitted to being kissed by Lucretia Longbottom, and Ivy and Octavius shared an equally soppy goodbye. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ivy took Floo powder back to school. Thanks to Harry's cloak, the three Gryffindors arrived at their tower without being caught. Ivy had refused his offer of escort to the Slytherin dungeon, saying she could manage by herself.
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AN: Just one more chapter and the epilogue to post. I know the last few chapters need tightening up, but I have spent way more time on this than I meant to, though I consider it well spent. I could take another six months, do intensive fine-tuning and add more of those quirky details, but after all it is only a fanfic … Thanks again for the great response!