Chapter Sixteen: In Which Situations Are Improvised

"Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you from winning the tournament? I did. Who —"

"Royally messed up by making a big and elaborate plan when you could have taken my blood any old time? You did," Harry said. "I mean, there were loads of times when I was alone in the castle like in the loo —"

He shuddered.

"— or when I'm practicing spells with my two friends —"

That was scary to think about. Hogwarts really needed a security update.

"— why didn't you just Stun us and take my blood? Since I would be too unconscious to give my blood willingly, that would be a nice ingredient for the resurrection!"

Silence greeted this statement.

"That's a very good question, Potter. Now, why don't I kill you right now and remove a great obstacle from my Lord's path?" said Not-Moody shrewdly.

"Because — uh — well — I can't think of a reason right now. Wait!"

Not-Moody stopped advancing upon him. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to get to his wand in time, so his best bet was to —

"If you kill me, you will never know about the Death Eaters' Extra Privileges Package!"

Hook.

"I mean, the things I have learned in that graveyard today . . ."

Line.

"What things?" growled Not-Moody.

Sinker.

Harry just hoped Dumbledore or someone would get to him before he died of infection or something. He didn't really think Wormtail had sterilised that knife.

He invented wildly, "For starters, Lucius Malfoy claimed the Imperius during his trial and went about his cosy life, never bothering to even look for his Lord. I mean, Voldemort should have punished him for that!"

Not-Moody's eyes flashed.

"I suppose that's because Malfoy's got the special DEEP package. Not to sound like an advertisement or anything, but —" Harry adopted a boring montonous voice "— we present the DEEP package! A complete set for all your Death Eater needs!"

He imitated opening a box. He pumped his hand up dramatically and said, "This is the Get-Away-With-Betrayal card! Although it can only be used once, it is very useful when you want to switch back to the bad guys after you betrayed them!"

Not-Moody stared at him, raising an eyebrow.

"And look at this! This is the Fake Wand! Just tap your real wand with this and it will take up its shape and size perfectly! Let the Fake Wand get Disarmed and the enemy will let their guard down. Then, when they least suspect it? MURDER THEM IN COLD BLOOD!"

Not-Moody looked like Christmas had come early. Behind him, Harry could see the three figures sharpening in the Foe-Glass. Now, if they could just hurry a bit, that would be great.

"Now, why don't we talk about the Commander Badge? You'll notice that . . ."

Not-Moody greedily absorbed the information.

". . . but there's a catch," said Harry abruptly.

"What?" Not-Moody growled.

"Your power level, of course!" said Harry, frowning.

"My power level?"

"Yes! The DEEP package is only available to those above seventy. Yours is a measly thirty right now, but with all the murdering you will surely —"

Dumbledore had arrived, along with Snape and Professor McGonagall.

"— be unable to do in the future due to a minor altercation between you and the greatest wizard of all time, you'll remain at thirty forever, you wimp."

Unfortunately, Not-Moody was in no shape to retort, because Dumbledore had knocked him unconscious.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, lowered his wand and said, "Power level?"

"Er — I learned improvising from the best, sir," said Harry, shrugging.

His eyes twinkled merrily. "Hmmm. I need to do some improvising myself. Minister Fudge is denying Lord Voldemort's return, and will most probably be quite — shall we say — stubborn about it. I'm afraid the only way out is through, Harry."

"Not really, Professor."

Harry told him his plan.

"That would be highly unethical, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously. "Indeed, I would never dare to engage in such practices, would I?"

Snape sneered at Harry. Professor McGonagall looked scandalised.

"Of course not," said Harry, winking. He really needed a nap and some butterbeer. Not necessarily in that order, of course.

"Hey look! Fudge resigned and Dumbledore's running for Minister!" exclaimed Ron, looking at the Daily Prophet. It had been two days since the incident with Barty Crouch Junior, and they were in the Great Hall. Mail had just arrived, along with the day's newspaper. The truth about Cedric's death was now public; the atmosphere at Hogwarts was thus slightly muted.

"That's surprising," Harry said. "You'd never peg him for the political type, would you?"

Harry would later be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class for managing to keep a straight face through all that.

AN: Of course not, Dumbledore. You would never do such a thing. *wink, wink*