Author's Note: I was out with that virus which has been going around, but I'm back now.

Next will be Weathered by the Storm, and then The Focus of a Healer again.

Special Thanks to doenerkint who beta'd this chapter, saving you all from my terrible grammar and writing disasters.

For more Fleur goodness, check out the Harry/Fleur discord server, at discord dot gg / flowerpot

Note: I made a mistake with Harry's name twice, thanks for pointing it out. I've corrected it.

SIXTEEN - Outings and "Outed"

Harry sat at his usual spot in the library, several books scattered and strewn open in front of him as he scratched his head. With how intense everything had been, he'd neglected his Arithmancy studies, which is why he had migrated to the marvel of information that was the Hogwarts library.

Even so, he hadn't been able to resist the urge to do some research of his own, unrelated to his assignments. His procrastination had resulted in his now harried appearance.

Fleur approached from one of the nearby rows, her Beauxbatons uniform a welcome touch of colour in the dark wooden rustic setting.

"Is zis what you were looking for?" she asked, holding out a tome, the cover reading 'Unlocking Numerology, the Power in Numbers'.

"That's it, thanks," said Harry, eagerly accepting the worn book before eyeing her again. "Where did you find it? I looked all over the last time I was here."

"In ze divination section I believe it was called. Somebody must have left it zhere by mistake," explained Fleur, pulling a chair out and taking her seat beside him almost silently.

While he continued solving the problems, Fleur slipped out a book of her own. They worked in comfortable silence, with Fleur pitching in on occasion, whenever one of the theories or models had him stumped.

"What are you reading?" asked Harry, as he tried to peek at her book.

His question didn't seem to distract her in the least, but she made to reply all the same. "A book on enchantments. Why?"

"Nothing, really. Merely curious," he shrugged despite her not giving him a look.

"Stop trying to procrastinate." She reminded him evenly.

He huffed with a knowing look. "I know. This is just so… boring," he groaned.

"Spending time with me is boring?" noted Fleur, finally eyeing him with a side glance, a glint in her eyes.

Harry gently poked her in the side. "You know what I mean."

She ignored his attempt to relativize his studies and swiftly grabbed on to the offending finger that had dared to poke fun at her, "Oui, Doudou, I know. Bernat's work is… dry. But it's your own fault for leaving it until now."

"Doudou?" repeated Harry curiously while trying and failing to pull his finger out from her strong grip, "I don't know this one? What does it mean?"

"Hmm, it doesn't really 'ave an English meaning? It is like… sweetie?" Answered Fleur with amusement and finally let go of his digit.

Harry blinked owlishly and studied the free member. Satisfied that she didn't in fact damage it, he returned his attention to her. "Thank you, I guess?"

Fleur shrugged, returning her attention back to the book. "It sounds cuter in French. Doesn't 'ave to make sense."

"Doudou…? Eh…" he tested the word. To him it sounded like the name of a rare bird from the Southern Continents. Something exotic.

"Oui, now back to work," she reminded him cheekily. "No leaving ze boring stuff to ze last minute anymore."

He nodded at her like a parrot would, agreeing to her serious instructions. He, however, still struggled to put his agreeing into practice. "We could do that. Or we could do something else, you know."

She rolled her eyes behind her closed eyelids, albeit letting a smile grace her lips in response to his unspoken ideas. "Quoi? And what is zat?"

Harry slowly lowered his hand and grabbed the underside of her chair and pulled her closer. Her shoulder softly bumped into his and before she could stop him, she felt his breath tickle her nape as he whispered in her ear.

He loved the hitch in her breath and little blush which spread from her neck to her cheeks.

"You again!?" The shrill voice of Madam Pince snapped them out of their little moment.

The pair separated in an instant and turned, both finding the library's human panopticon glaring at them. "My library is not a place for you to partake in such activities! First with Miss Granger and now the French Champion! Out!" She began to wave the clipboard in her hand at Harry.

"Woah!" Exclaimed Harry, dodging the board. "Sorry, we'll leave!" He added, trying to keep his amusement out of his voice, in case it angered the woman more. Fleur quickly packed their books with a skillful application of magic.

Madam Pince scolded them all the way to the entrance as they fled under the eyes of every other student present, all of which clearly finding their predicament incredibly amusing. Hushed laughter and snickering were the backdrop to their hasty departure.

"-irty points from Gryffindor!" was the last thing they heard.

Out of the library and out of Madam Pince's range, Harry and Fleur met each other's eyes before both bursting out into laughter.

"So, zis is what you and 'Ermione do in ze library when you are supposed to be working," teased Fleur, her voice out of breath and filled with humor.

"Not always, but–" Harry pushed Fleur up against a broom closet door that was behind her. "I think we were just getting to the good part." He kissed her, his hand grabbing the door handle.

Harry wondered why Madam Pomfrey had called for him as suddenly as she did, especially on a Monday. Even though he did not have to attend classes, his teacher still tried to respect his usual hours. So, when Maisy had popped up with a note for him, instructing him to meet her at the hospital wing, it was definitely unusual. Even more unusual was that her note added that he should get changed into something casual, but neat and warm.

The hospital wing was as quiet as it ever got, the only bed with an occupant was the cordoned off one which housed the simulacrum. Harry neared Madam Pomfrey's office, right as she stepped out. She wasn't dressed in her usual healer's robes, but a rather nice set of short navy robes with a coat thrown over. It honestly barely qualified as a robe at all.

"Good morning, Ma'am," greeted Harry, his usual friendliness incapable of hiding his curious glances.

"Good morning, Harry," returned Madam Pomphrey, noting his travelling gaze. "I take it, you're wondering what I called you in for?"

He nodded appreciatively.

She gestured toward the exit out of the wing. "I'll explain as we walk," she offered and waved her wand to lock her office door.

Harry followed beside her as she went over the reason for his presence.

"I have a few errands to run, and I would like for you to join me for those."

"I'd love to but are you sure it's alright?" asked Harry with a pointed thumb to the headmaster's tower.

"I've already cleared it with him, you have permission to leave the school grounds."

"Brilliant, Ma'am," enthused Harry as they left the hospital wing through the large double doors. "Uhm, would it not be easier to use the Floo?" He added as a suggestion.

"No," she shook her head from side to side, "our first stop is in Hogsmeade. It's a little bit nippy outside but I think it's lovely enough for a walk. Besides, we haven't had many opportunities to really talk recently. Outside of lessons, that is."

"Mhm," he nodded. "It's been a bit intense recently."

"That it has."

The pair strolled through the Hogwarts corridors on their way to the entrance hall and out onto the expansive grounds, occasionally they would pass by a student who threw them an odd glance. Harry opened up to his teacher, delving into his stresses, the difficulties he's been facing.

"I'm just… afraid I guess."

Madam Poppy remained silent as she waited for him to continue.

"It's just," Harry breathed out slowly, gathering himself before continuing. "I'm really happy this year… I've found something amazing with Fleur and Hermione, I figured out what I want to do in life, it's all been brilliant. But– With the tournament, with whoever put my name in the cup… It's dangerous Ma'am…"

Harry paused, "What if things go poorly in the third task? Not only for me, Fleur's a contestant too… Or, what if the one behind it all tries something–" He stopped walking, bringing his teacher to a stop as well.

"I've never had so much to lose…" said Harry, his gaze on the ground in front of him.

Madam Pomfrey inspected his face with a softness in her eyes. She lifted a hand and placed it on his shoulder. Harry looked up and met her eyes.

"If I may say something," began Madam Pomfrey, "You're very strong, Harry, and so are the girls. If there's anybody who can get through it all, it's the three of you." She smiled, "And remember, you can speak to me. I may not always have the answers, Merlin knows, I often do not, but at the very least, I can listen."

Harry smiled softly and gave her an appreciative nod.

The pair then continued walking. "I do know one thing that you are desperately in need of."

"What's that?" asked Harry as they reached their destination.

"I think… You need a break," said Madam Pomfrey as they entered Pippin's Potions.

Harry blinked; the mix of scents stung his eyes. "I don't really have the time for one, if I didn't have the tournament to deal with, perhaps."

"Your health is important, mental health as well. Besides, you'll find better results with a rested mind."

Madam Pomfrey stopped to speak with a tidy looking man who wore a thick apron over his robes.

"Ah, right on time, I have your order right here," he said before reaching underneath the counter to remove a wrapped parcel.

"Thank you, Edward," Madam Pomfrey handed him a small pouch of coins in exchange. The transaction completed; she bade the store owner farewell.

Harry took a deep breath once they stepped out of the Pippin's Potions, it was definitely not his favourite place, too many clashing odour's. It was enough to drive anybody to a headache after a while.

"I want you to take it easy for the rest of the week. You're excused from our lessons until Friday."

"Bu–"

"-No buts, I don't want to see you in the hospital until the weekend, unless it's a social visit. That's an order."

Harry paused, he wanted to argue, but the warning in his teacher's eyes was clear. He sighed, before smiling. "Saturday, then"

Madam Pomfrey grinned. "Good, now, that's all for Hogsmeade, two more stops, Diagon Alley, and I think the last one ought to excite you," said Madam Pomfrey. "We can use the Floo at the Three Broomsticks."

An hour or so later, as they entered The Leaky Cauldron, finished with everything they needed in the Alley, Harry could barely hold in his curiosity. Madam Pomfrey had refused to provide any hints as to their next stop.

"Done for the day, are ya?" asked Tom, the bartender, from behind his counter, having noticed their entrance.

"And right on time," said Madam Pomfrey, patting her mokeskin bag.

"I still can't believe it," commented Tom, his eyes on Harry. "A healer, eh, Ol' James would be right on proud."

Harry perked up; he loved the thought of doing his parents proud. "I like to think so," he said, with a smile for the kind bartender. Harry had struck up an odd friendship with the man the year prior, what with him having spent weeks staying at The Leaky Cauldron.

"If you ask me, we never have enough healers. Plenty of people want to be aurors 'n Quidditch players, but not enough healers. We could use some more witches and wizards who know how to put people back together."

"I agree completely," said Madam Pomfrey. "I'd love to stay and chat, Tom, but we must be on our way."

Tom nodded, "It was nice seeing you. You too, lad," he added, before returning his attention to his patrons.

"Will we be using the Floo again?" asked Harry.

His teacher shook her head. "No, we'll take a stroll," she answered, leading him out on to the muggle side of London.

Now he was really curious, but he knew not to ask, she'd clearly proved she was not going to tell him. So, instead, he followed along quietly, thankfully Madam Pomfrey's ensemble didn't look too out of place.

They came to an old red-brick rundown London department store that looked forsaken. Some leftover mannequins with faded and filthy old-fashioned clothing stood on display. Harry read the name on the dusty glass windows, probably the only bit that wasn't in disarray.

"Purge and Dowse?" He read aloud with little enthusiasm.

Madam Pomfrey smirked, otherwise ignoring his question. She approached the glass and looked right at one of the mannequins. Harry watched in confusion as she spoke to the hat wearing figure.

"I have an appointment with Sandra Bode, second floor."

To Harry's surprise, the mannequin nodded.

"Is this what I think it is?" asked Harry, excitedly.

"Come," said Madam Pomfrey, amused, before grabbing a hold of his arm and walking forwards, directly into the glass, which allowed them entry in the same manner as the entrance to Platform 9¾."

Inside, Harry found a reception area lined with old wooden chairs, small side tables with old magazines. It was quite packed, most of those looked pretty comfortable, reading whichever wizarding magazine had found their fancy. The only difference really from your regular waiting area was that the pictures on the magazine covers moved. That, and muggle hospital waiting areas didn't usually have someone with the head of a bird patiently waiting his turn… Or someone who appeared to be partially invisible quickly being rushed out of the room by Healers wearing their lime green robes."

"St. Mungo's," whispered Harry with an excited gleam in his eyes.

"Don't just stand there gawking," teased Madam Pomfrey as she walked right past a reception desk, being manned by a tired looking woman. A sign on the counter read, 'Our Welcome Witch will be happy to assist you'.

The woman noticed them walk by, nodding a greeting to Madam Pomfrey who returned it. She caught sight of him, but merely shrugged off his presence. The man coughing up flies clearly demanded more of her attention.

The corridor was surprisingly narrow for a hospital, with rooms on both sides. The only lighting was provided by small crystal bubbles with candles in them, which floated up near the ceiling, a lot like the floating candles in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. A few healers were moving about, some looking quite harried, while others were as calm as could be.

"This floor deals mostly with accidents and emergencies, cauldron explosions, quidditch injuries and so forth," explained Madam Pomfrey to her student.

"Was this where I was kept?" asked Harry, noting the many doors in the corridor. He recalled them mentioning he'd been under St. Mungo's care for a few days after his injuries at the first task.

"No, you were on the first floor. Creature-Induced Injuries."

"Is each floor a dedicated department?" asked Harry as they climbed a flight of stairs.

"That's right, there's five, six if you count the ground floor, but the only thing on the fifth floor is a tea room and the hospital shop."

"You mentioned the second floor outside?" he asked, right as Madam Pomfrey stopped. She pointed to a board on the wall beside a door.

Second Floor - Magical Bugs

"Magical Bugs? Is this the disease treatment ward, Dragon Pox, Scrofungulus?"

"Among other ailments, yes," answered his teacher as they stepped into another corridor reminiscent of the one they had previously walked through. Though this floor seemed to lack the bustle of the other, everything was quiet, relatively calm. Even the portraits which lined the walls had that hospital air of quiet respect.

"Why exactly are we here?"

"Miss Greengrass has another healer, Sandra Bode. I received a letter from her with some adjustments to Astoria's potion regiment, one of which is only available through St. Mungo's, and is rather restricted. Healer Bode will be providing the supply for the school year. I need to discuss it with her, as well as collect the first batch."

Madam Pomfrey stopped at a plain brown door, a small plaque read, Sandra Bode, Persistent Illnesses. She knocked twice, and after hearing a 'come in' through the dense wood, opened the door.

The office was small, with a few cabinets and shelves littered with books and other bits and pieces. A tidy desk in the middle with two chairs on the visitor's side and Healer Bode on the other took most of the space.

"Poppy, please come in, have a seat," greeted the woman cheerfully.

She was old, older than Madam Pomfrey, with brown hair fastened into a tight bun, Harry observed. Her face had a tiredness to it, one that came with a lifetime of long hours and stress, but her eyes had a hint of kindness in them, the grandmotherly sort.

"Sandra," said Madam Pomfrey with a smile. "Meet my apprentice, Harry Potter."

"It's nice to meet you, Ma'am," greeted Harry politely.

"It's a pleasure," she shook his hand, "I'd heard Poppy had taken you on as an apprentice. I must add, it's good to see you well, it caused quite a stir when you landed in one of our wards."

"I'll try to prevent a repeat," joked Harry.

"You better," added Madam Pomfrey with a hint of sternness in her voice, softened by the teasing in her eyes.

"I take it Mr. Potter will be privy to our discussion?" asked Healer Bode.

Poppy nodded, "Legally he is cleared, also, there are times where he provides Miss Greengrass her potions, it's best he be present."

"Very well, straight to business then"

Classes had finally come to an end, freeing Hermione to spend time with her two loves. She packed her bags and was about to leave the classroom when she noticed she'd been slow and was the last one left.

She quickly removed the Marauders map from her bag, just to make sure the path was safe.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The ink swirled and ghosted its way across the thick parchment, the familiar corridors and rooms of Hogwarts Castle appeared, filled with the little footprints and labels of its inhabitants.

While searching for the classroom she was in, something caught her attention. A name, which shouldn't be on the map, in the defence classroom.

"Bartemius Crouch?" she mumbled out loud to herself. "How is this possible?"

Maybe the map was mistaken, she thought for a moment, when Sirius's voice from the year prior filled her mind.

"The map never lies."

Worry set in; something was very wrong here. She tried to locate Harry and Fleur, with varying success. Fleur was on her way out of the Castle, likely returning to the carriage to freshen up before dinner, but Harry was nowhere to be found. It made no sense; he should be there. Her failure in finding him only served to exacerbate her worry.

Hermione folded the map, if she rushed, she could reach Fleur before she left the building.

Madam Pomfrey and Harry left Healer Bode's office, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Is something the matter?" enquired his teacher, noting the expression of her student.

"This change in Astoria's course," he paused. "Is it really for the better?"

"Hmm, not in the sense of treating her condition per se, but it will be an improvement on her quality of life, less side effects."

"It's very expensive, isn't it?"

His teacher sighed, "Yes… It's a small grace that the Greengrass's are at least wealthy enough to afford it."

The pair reached the door leading to the staircase. "Back to school?" asked Harry, a tad morosely, Astoria on his mind.

His teacher checked her watch, "We have some time left before dinner, there's a lovely tea shop on the fifth floor," she said. "If you don't mind, I'm quite partial to their cinnamon pastries. The Hogwarts elves just can't seem to get it right."

"I'm in no rush," said Harry, holding the door open before following his teacher.

"Fleur!" Hermione's voice sounded through the entrance hall, catching the attention of a few students.

The older Veela stopped and turned. "Ermione?" said Fleur as she caught sight of the younger girl, noticing the urgency in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Hermione stopped right in front of Fleur, she took a brief moment to catch her breath, suddenly very thankful of all the running she'd been doing.

"I can't find Harry on the map, and I saw a name which shouldn't be on there, Mr. Crouch's."

"Arry got a letter from Madame Pomfrey to meet 'er."

"It's possible…" Hermione checked the map again, this time in search of the resident healer. "I can't find Madam Pomfrey either, they've likely left the Castle then," reasoned Hermione, relief washing over her.

"That doesn't explain the part about Mr. Crouch," she continued. "We have to inform somebody, Professor Dumbledore, if he's here."

The pair were about to leave when Ron reached the entrance hall. The redhead was laughing at something Seamus said, when he caught sight of them. Recognizing the parchment in Hermione's hands, and the serious air between the two girls. Ron immediately knew something was happening.

Seamus was in the middle of saying something, when Ron cut him off with a quick, "Sorry–," and quickly made his way over to Hermione and Fleur, leaving Seamus in confusion.

"I know that look, what's happened?" asked Ron seriously.

"Well explain on the way," said Hermione to her friend.

Albus Dumbledore was exhausted, he really regretted going along with the Ministry's decision to bring back the Triwizard Tournament, he should have realized Hogwarts was next on the list to host the event. Overall, the entire thing was proving to be a bigger headache than he'd ever expected.

Fawkes trilled, the musical notes doing its bit to help raise his spirits. Dumbledore sighed and reached for his glasses. He had paperwork to finish.

Just then, he noticed the little trinket on his desk notifying him that someone was trying to gain entrance to his office, the little glass shifted in colour, until he could see the image of who it was exactly. Their identity certainly surprised him; he could tell that whatever it was that had them seek him out must be important.

A flick of his hand and a mental instruction opened the path to his young visitors.

"Miss's Granger, Delacour, Mr. Weasley. To what do I owe the surprise?" he asked, "Lemon drop?" he added quickly.

Both girls shook their heads while Ron went ahead to grab a few, earning a smile from Professor Dumbledore and a look of exasperation from Hermione.

"We need to show you something," said Hermione, taking out the Marauder's Map. She began unfolding it, and was about to activate it when she whispered, "I hope Harry won't be upset with me."

"Arry will understand," offered Fleur, comforting her.

Hermione nodded, her shoulders tightening in resolve, as Dumbledore watched on.

She opened the parchment and placed it on the headmaster's desk, she touched her wand to it, and said the password.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Ink began to fill the thick parchment, as the map took form. Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise, he recognized the map for what it was in an instant.

"Marvelous," whispered Dumbledore aloud

"May I?" he asked, to which Hermione nodded.

Dumbledore began to inspect the map, "This is a spectacular creation, however did you come to own it? Who created it?"

"It's called The Marauder's Map, sir," said Hermione, leaning forward to fold the front for him to see the names written there.

The old man paused before he let loose a hearty laugh, "Oh, this answers questions. I can see it now, Mr. Lupin was certainly talented enough in charms, and so was Mr. Potter, even if it wasn't his strongest suit, if I might add."

"Though," continued Dumbledore, "As lovely as this map is, I believe you three have a different reason for visiting my office?"

"Yes, uh-", mumbled Ron, before Fleur continued.

"Zhere's a name which shouldn't be on ze map," she glanced to Hermione before turning back to the headmaster. Fleur stood and made for the map.

Dumbledore let her navigate the parchment. "Zhere," she pointed at the small moving banner.

The headmaster's eyes widened in shock, "Bartemius Crouch…"

"How accurate is this map?"

"It's never wrong," answered Hermione.

Frowning, Dumbledore looked at the name again, Bartemius Crouch, right there in the defence professor's quarters, moving around, alongside a stationary Alastor Moody. His eyes narrowed at the little banner, his mind in a frenzy.

The old professor stood suddenly, his chair scraped at the floor. He began pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself, the three students' presence seemingly forgotten.

He suddenly stopped, glanced at his clock before heading to his fireplace and throwing in some Floo powder. The three barely heard the tail of his instruction, "-ia Bones."

"Well, this year is certainly proving even more exciting than most." The grouchy, but smooth voice of the Sorting Hat sounded from above.

The three turned to the voice, the only one not recognizing the hat, being Fleur. "Uhm, ze 'at speaks?"

"Of course, I speak!" repeated the animate object with clear indignation.

"That's the Sorting Hat, it's how we get placed into our Houses," explained Ron.

Fleur faced the hat, a curious expression on her face. "Do you 'ave to be a 'Ogwarts student? Would it be possible to find out which 'ouse I would 'ave been placed in?"

"Why not? Just place me on your head."

"Fleur! We can't!" Hermione tried to stop her.

"It can't hurt, can it?" asked Ron, wondering what the issue would be.

"B– But…" the younger girl eyed the headmaster, who was still occupied with his head in the fireplace. "Fine," relented Hermione. "Go ahead."

Fleur smiled, and placed a quick kiss on her girlfriends cheek. Despite the serious situation, the opportunity to learn which House she was most suited for, felt too big to pass up on. She reached up, retrieved the worn out hat, and placed it on her head, what followed was the strangest sensation as the Sorting Hat's voice sounded in her mind.

"Hmmm, loyalty in spades, plenty 'o that, and Intelligence, you're a smart one, but noo… not a Ravenclaw, ambition, a lot of ambition, you want to succeed. Oh, what's this, oh, Godric would have liked you but no…"

"Slytherin!"

Fleur heard the voice out loud; she opened her eyes and froze. Professor Dumbledore alongside two others, a stern looking woman who had a hint of amusement in her eyes, a large African man who was outright grinning, and another blonde, slightly exhausted looking man who seemed unbothered.

The Veela, blushed, her expression mortified as she hurriedly removed The Sorting Hat from her head and returned it to its spot on the shelf.

"Deso–" She began to apologize but was cut off by Professor Dumbledore.

"Curiosity is not a sin, my dear," said the old man, "But if I might make a suggestion, perhaps a better time."

Fleur rejoined the others, her embarrassment fading from her cheek.

"The hat wanted Harry in Slytherin too," whispered Hermione amusedly from beside her, causing her to blink in surprise.

"This is Madam Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Auror's Shacklebolt, and Dawlish," introduced Dumbledore, cutting off any response from her.

"Uhm, Professor?" started Hermione. "Does this mean it's really him? Mr. Crouch?"

Dumbledore paused before answering. "Not exactly, you see there was another who went by the same name, a Bartemius Crouch junior. We believed him to be deceased, but it seems circumstances were at play. Now, I will be aiding Madam Bones and her aurors in apprehending this man. I would like the three of you to retire to your rooms."

The headmaster picked up The Marauder's Map, "Would you mind if I keep this for the evening, I shall return it in the morning, I'd wager young Harry would be rather upset were I to lose it."

"You've no doubt missed the chance to have dinner in the Great Hall," frowned Madam Pomfrey, having noticed how late it was as she watched the darkened skies through the windows of the hospital wing.

"It's alright, I'm not very hungry after tea. Besides, I'm sure Maisy won't mind bringing me a sandwich or two.

"Maisy," called his teacher, summoning the kind elf, who appeared with a small pop.

"Yous called for Maisy?"

"I did, can you please bring some sandwiches for Harry? Wrap them up to go."

Maisy nodded repeatedly before vanishing, to return moments later with his food.

"Thank you," said Harry as he accepted them.

"I'll be going now, Ma'am. Thank you for bringing me along today, I had a good time."

"You're welcome, don't dally too much on your way back, and remember, I want you to rest."

Harry smiled as he readied to leave. "I'll be sure to. Goodnight. You too Maisy, goodnight."

His elf friend waved at him, as his teacher spoke. "Goodnight."

As Dumbledore's group, which now included both Professor's Snape and McGonagall neared the defence classroom, the headmaster turned to the others. "Are we all in agreement?"

When none voiced otherwise, Dumbledore nodded. He waved his wand over the group, disillusioning all, but McGonagall.

"Provided you don't make any quick movements, the spell will fool Alastor's eye."

"Is this really the best course of action?" asked Snape.

"Perhaps not," answered Dumbledore, "But as I explained, the room is warded, were we to attempt to force our way in, it's likely the real Alastor Moody would be killed. No, we need Barty to open the door himself."

"Let's move in," said Madam Bones in her disembodied voice.

Dumbledore nodded seriously, and proceeded to disillusion himself, leaving only Professor McGonagall visible.

Barty Crouch Jr heard the knock on his door, his enchanted eye whirred as it spun in its socket. He saw through the door, and to his surprise, found Professor McGonagall there with an annoyed expression.

"What does this bint want now…" he grumbled under his breath, as he approached the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," yelled Barty.

He opened the door, "Minerva," greeted Barty in Alastor's gruff voice.

McGonagall couldn't help but feel perturbed by the knowledge that the man in front of her was not the real Alastor Moody.

"...To what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Barty, stepping back into the room to let her in, not noticing the others who had slipped in, hidden from Moody's eye by Dumbledore's spellwork. He had his wand out, which he used to move a chair into place.

"Good evening, Alastor," greeted McGonagall, "May I come in?"

"Hrn," grunted Barty, stepping aside to let her in.

"My apologies for disturbing you, a missive just arrived by owl. It seems several parents are raising concerns regarding some of the content of your lessons."

"Albus signed off on those classes."

"That may be so, but it's you the parents are raising their grievances with."

"Hrn," grunted Barty.

"What are we to do about this?" she asked, with minor irritation in her voice, presumably at his dismissal of the seriousness.

The plan would have gone smoothly, had Barty Crouch Jr. not noticed several faces suddenly becoming clear in his Foe-Glass. He had been attempting to move a chair out with a flick of his wand when movement in the foggy mirror drew his attention.

"Ignore 'em, I am only teachin' for the year, let Albus deal with the complaints, 'sides, when their youngins' need what I taught 'em, they'll be thankin' me."

Unbeknownst to the others, with the angle masking it, his magical eye whizzed about in its socket, searching for the smallest sign of danger, and he found it. The barest shimmer of a disillusionment charm, focusing his eye, the enchantments penetrated the magic hiding his enemy, revealing a brown-haired auror, Dawlish, he recognized.

McGonagall felt a sudden warm sensation touch the back of her head, followed by the headmaster's voice in her mind. "Move to the side."

Attempting to move without raising suspicion, McGonagall casually began to walk towards the window, while keeping up conversation.

"You can't honestly expect the headmaster to deal with it, Albus is stretched enough as is."

When Barty spoke again, there was a hint of sinister in his voice. "He'll deal with it alright–," he raised his wand in an instant, sending a dark curse at McGonagall who was undefended without her wand in hand, and towards Auror Dawlish, who he'd already identified.

The curses crashed into a shield which erupted in the centre of the room, sending a shockwave through the air. Everyone stumbled, their disillusionments failing entirely now. Barty was the fastest to recover, having braced himself for it.

Seizing the opportunity, and moving with a surprising swiftness, Barty, still in the form of Alastor, fled the room. His wand sent curse upon curse back towards the group, who hastily shielded.

Amelia Bones rushed out of the room, shocked at the speed Barty had moved. He must have done something to that leg of Alastor's, she reasoned. Regardless of the how, she needed to catch him.

Her own wand sent a blasting curse down the corridor towards her fleeing target, hoping to knock him off balance. She missed, but it was close if his yelled obscenities were an indication.

She threw caution to the wind and rushed after Barty as fast as she could manage, Snape and her aurors close behind her. Amelia dove against the hard stone of the corridor, dodging a bone breaker. Kingsley cursed as he barely shielded it in time.

"Merlin's beard," swore the man.

The Head of the DMLE frowned, her only comfort was the knowledge that the students had already been sequestered back to their dorms and out of danger.

While she pursued, Dumbledore on the other hand, quickly instructed McGonagall to find the real Alastor Moody. "He is somewhere in this room."

He then utilised one of the perks of his position as headmaster, and directly apparated from the room in an attempt to cut off Barty's escape.

Harry walked down the corridor, on his way to the Gryffindor dorms. He couldn't help but feel uneasy, the Castle was too quiet, he'd yet to see a single student. He checked his watch, it was still far from curfew, there should be students walking about.

As a precautionary measure, Harry pulled his wand out, feeling the warmth of the Holly and Phoenix feather. He continued on his path towards the dorms, but had his eyes and ears peeled for the slightest disturbance.

It was when he neared the stairs that he heard a commotion, a yell, followed by a flash of light at the end of the corridor. Harry rushed to discover what was going on, a few portraits were running from frame to frame in the opposite direction. The smart thing to do, would be to follow their example, but he needed to ensure nobody needed his help.

Harry slowed to a stop at the corner, right as a spell flew past, leaving a searing black hole in one of the portraits. Cautiously, Harry peaked around the corner, his eyes widened in shock at finding Professor Moody desperately trying to fight back against Dumbledore.

The headmaster had his back towards Harry and hadn't seen him peek, and thankfully, Moody seemed too distracted to focus on anything but the powerhouse wearing him down. Harry noticed another group hurriedly rushing to their position from further down the hall. It was led by a woman, with fiery red hair and a furious expression on her face.

Harry saw it first, Professor Moody's eye flicked around, with the pure whites reflecting the light from the braziers which lit the hallway. Moody turned rapidly, his wand moving to face the newcomers. Harry could see they wouldn't respond in time, not at the speed they were moving. Without thought, he stepped out of the corner, into the passage, his wand raised as he held out the incantation for a shield charm, it sprung into place barely in time to deflect Moody's curse from hitting the aurors.

They didn't let the opening slip by, returning his attack in full force, with Snape's curse slipping through Barty's harried defence, forcing the man to scream in pain as his wand was ripped from his now bloodied and mangled hand.

Dumbledore let loose a stunning charm which slammed into his opponent's now exposed side. It was followed immediately by another from the red-haired woman, and the tall African man, along with conjured bindings from Snape.

"Potter!" yelled Snape, having spotted Harry. "You couldn't follow a simple instruction and stay in your room!?"

"What instruction? I only just got back!"

"Harry has been out of the Castle accompanying Madam Pomfrey," explained Dumbledore.

The young man in question looked around, noting the many faces, along with the now unconscious and bound form of his defence professor. "If it's no issue, sir, might I ask, what exactly is going on?"

"I think we can spare a few minor details," came the husky voice of the red-haired woman. "This man–" she pointed at the bound form, "is not Alastor Moody, but an imposter."

Harry turned his attention to her in surprise, she was stern in appearance, her smile though was clear in approval. "Amelia Bones, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she said, introducing herself.

"Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish," she added, gesturing to her coworkers.

"That was quite the shield charm," said Auror Shacklebolt, in a deep, slightly accented voice.

"It certainly was," complimented Madam Bones, "Shield charms aren't covered in fourth year if I recall."

"Thanks, I've been studying ahead. The tournament," he added for clarification.

"Hmm, well keep it up," said the DMLE Head.

Just then, a cat patronus flew through the air, stopping in front of Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall's voice sounded from it. "Alastor is alright, moving him to the hospital wing."

Harry opened his mouth but was cut off by Dumbledore.

"-Poppy will manage perfectly well; I think you've had enough excitement for tonight, Harry."

A groan from below drew their attention to the real reason for their presence.

"I believe you should return to your dorm," said Dumbledore to Harry. "I'm certain your friends are waiting for you. It was Miss Granger who provided us with the information which revealed our imposter, after all, courtesy of The Marauders."

Harry's eyes widened shock, "I– I'll do so, sir"

Dumbledore nodded, dismissing him.

"Wait, before you leave, this belongs to you," added Dumbledore, removing a familiar folded parchment from his pocket.

"Ah, thank you," said Harry, he quickly pocketed it, before saying his goodbye's. "It was nice meeting you all."

"You too, Mr. Potter," replied Madam Bones, "Best of luck with the tournament."

"Thank you, I'll need it," joked Harry.

Ron and Hermione were indeed waiting for him. Though it was getting late, the common room was still pretty full.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, noticing his entry.

"You missed it, mate!"

"Trust me, I don't think I did…"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, wondering what he meant.

Harry pulled them to a corner out of earshot of the rest of the room. He glanced around to make sure nobody was paying them any attention.

"Walked in on Professor Dumbledore along with some aurors taking Moody into custody."

"You weren't hurt, were you?" His girlfriend prodded quickly, checking him over for any injuries.

Harry grabbed her hand. "I'm fine, love," he kissed her palm, before placing another kiss on her lips. "Dumbledore and the aurors got him."

"Who was it, anyway?" asked Harry. "Dumbledore mentioned you gave them the lead. Found something on the map, oh, he returned it to me, but I was in a bit of a rush to get back here."

"It's Crouch's son," explained Ron, surprising Harry.

"Crouch's son?"

"Mhm," nodded Hermione. "I found Mr. Crouch's name, we brought it to Professor Dumbledore, –Fleur was with us," she added. "Seems Mr. Crouch had a son who was also named Barty.

"Dumbledore called the aurors," said Ron, "They sent everyone back to the dorms, had Madame Maxime and Karkaroff take their students back too."

"Think I should send Fleur a letter?"

"Let's wait for the morning, in person would be better."

"Uhm," a voice interrupted from behind.

The three turned, finding Neville, the quiet boy had approached them without their notice and overheard. "D– Did I hear that right? Professor Moody was Barty Crouch Jr?"

"Uh, yeah," answered Ron, hesitantly, he glanced at his two friends for approval.

Neville's expression morphed into one of horror, before he clenched his fists hard enough that his arms trembled. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought to get his breathing under control.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione worriedly.

The timid boy didn't respond, he ignored them and stormed up the stairs towards the rooms.

"Blimey, what was that about?" gaped Ron.

"Beats me, but whatever it is, seems serious," reasoned Harry.

"We should probably head to bed," said Hermione as they watched Neville retreat upstairs. She turned to face her boyfriend and kissed him gently. "Wait for me down here in the morning?"

"Six?"

"Mhm, six."

END CHAPTER SIXTEEN