Veritaserum

John gasped, fighting as hard as he could against the pain, and the pulling on his mind. He could feel Sherlock beginning to lose his grip as well, and he desperately grabbed hold of Sherlock's hand.

'Don't go,' Sherlock whispered weakly.

John whimpered.

There was a torrent of sound all around them; voices and screams, but John paid them no heed. He wasn't sure he could hold on much longer, until he felt something come over him. A soothing, white presence seized him, and helped him ground himself. He felt Sherlock's pain ease as well.

'Cas,' he murmured, 'is that you?'

'It's me,' Cas said, alarm clear in his voice. 'Stay with me, John.'

Minutes passed, with Cas running his wand over John, and Sherlock was strong enough to sit up.

People were still screaming, and Cedric's body was still on the ground… but where had Harry gone? His stomach lurched horribly. The Minister, all of the judges except Karkaroff, and Dumbledore were still standing nearby. He could feel that John had recovered somewhat, but was still reluctant to ask him for anything. Professor Moody's office flashed through him. 'Is he there?' Sherlock asked.

The movement was barely there, but John nodded.

'I don't want to leave you.'

You have to find him.

Sherlock bit his lip, looking in the direction of the castle, John's urgency rushing through him. 'Stay with him,' Sherlock said to Cas, kissing John's hand and getting unsteadily to his feet.

'Where are you going?' Cas demanded, eyes wide.

Sherlock glanced at Dumbledore, still standing by Cedric, but there was no time. 'Stay with him,' he said again, before using the confusion and hysteria to disappear into the crowd, out of the stands, and back up to the castle. He stopped at the bottom of the marble staircase. His connection with John was now tenuous, but he could still feel the instability.

Sherlock forced himself up the stairs and to Moody's office, but the door was locked. 'Let me in,' he shouted, pounding on the door. 'Harry, are you in there?'

There was no answer, but the wave of panic from John told him that Harry was inside. He held out his wand, but his hands still shook, his breathing was heavy, but he shouted, 'Stupefy!' at the door anyway. Nothing happened, and he fell to his knees, slapping his palms against the door. He didn't have the strength to go any further, but he continued his onslaught anyway, if only so he didn't feel entirely useless.

Then someone shoved him roughly aside, and he heard Dumbledore shout, 'Stupefy!', blasting the door apart, and there was a heavy thud on the other side.

Sherlock looked up and saw Dumbledore, Snape, and Professor McGonagall enter the office, and he scrambled after them.

Moody was unconscious on the floor, and Harry was sitting, slumped in a chair.

Dumbledore and Snape stood over Moody, and Sherlock joined McGonagall at Harry's side.

'How can it have been Moody?' Harry mumbled.

Sherlock didn't understand what he was asking, but he felt John's relief that Harry was all right.

'This is not Alastor Moody,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight.'

Dumbledore bent down over Moody's limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody's hip-flask, and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned to Professor McGonagall and Snape.

'Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens, and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here.'

Both left the office, and Sherlock knelt on the floor next to Harry. John was being taken to the hospital wing, with Cas close by.

Dumbledore walked over to Moody's trunk, and put the keys in the locks, opening it to reveal different contents each time, until the seventh lock. He threw open the lid once more, revealing a pit, and lying on the floor, some ten feet down, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was gone, the socket which should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing.

Sherlock looked between the Moody on the floor, and the Moody in the trunk. The hair missing from the real Moody told Sherlock that the imposter had been taking Polyjuice Potion, but who was he really?

Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowered himself and fell lightly to the floor beside the sleeping Moody.

'Stunned - controlled by the Imperius curse - very weak. Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Sherlock, throw down the imposter's cloak, Alastor is freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger.'

Sherlock tried to get up and do as he was told, but his knees trembled and refused to obey him, so Harry did it instead, limping over to the trunk.

Dumbledore covered Moody with the cloak, and clambered out of the trunk. He picked up the hip-flask again, and turned out the contents onto the floor. Thick, gelatinous potion fell out, splattering on the stone.

'You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance,' said Dumbledore. 'For Moody never does drink except from his hip-flask, he's well known for it.' Dumbledore glanced down at the Moody in the trunk. 'I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take his potion as frequently as he should have done… on the hour… every hour… we shall see.'

Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down upon it, eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor.

'It was him,' Sherlock mumbled. 'He cursed John. He must have.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'We shall soon see.'

Minutes passed in silence, then before their eyes, the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole, and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled grey hair was withdrawing into the scalp, and turning the colour of straw. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

Sherlock saw the man lying before them, pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair, and he knew who it was. He had seen pictures in the newspaper, and he was the one that John had not been able to see in his visions.

There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had returned with Winky at his heels. Professor McGonagall was right behind him.

'Crouch!' Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. 'Barty Crouch!'

'Good heavens,' said Professor McGonagall, staring down at the man on the floor.

Winky peered around Snape's legs. Her mouth opened wide and she let out a piercing shriek. 'Master Barty, Mastery Barty, what is you doing here!'

She flung herself onto Crouch's chest. 'You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed master's son!'

'He is simply stunned, Winky,' said Dumbledore. 'Step aside, please. Severus, you have the Potion?'

Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle filled with completely clear Veritaserum. As Dumbledore was pulling Crouch into a sitting position, McGonagall bent down beside Sherlock.

'Perhaps it would be best if you went to the hospital wing,' she whispered to him.

Sherlock shook his head. 'No,' he said hoarsely. 'I need to know what he did to John. They're giving him Veritaserum, so he has to answer my questions.' He glared at the still unconscious Crouch. He wanted more than anything else to join John in the hospital at that moment. Maintaining their connection at such a distance, and with John so weak, was causing them both pain, but Sherlock had to know.

Dumbledore forced Crouch's mouth open and poured three drops exactly of the potion in. Then he pointed his wand at Crouch's chest, and said, 'Rennervate.'

Crouch opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that their faces were level.

'Can you hear me?' Dumbledore said quietly.

'Yes,' he muttered.

'I would like you to tell us,' said Dumbledore softly, 'how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?'

Crouch took a deep, shuddering breath, then began to speak in a flat, emotionless voice. 'My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favour to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draught of Polyjuice Potion, containing one of my mother's hairs. She took a draught of Polyjuice Potion, containing one of my hairs. We took on each other's appearance.'

Winky was shaking her head, trembling. 'Say no more, Master Barty, say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!'

But Crouch took another deep breath and continued in the same flat voice. 'The Dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors.

'My mother died a short while afterwards in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name, and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me.' His eyelids flickered.

'And what did your father do with you when he got you home?' said Dumbledore quietly.

'Staged my mother's death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I had recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master… of returning to his service.'

'How did your father subdue you?' said Dumbledore.

'The Imperius curse,' Crouch said. 'I was under my father's control. I was forced to wear an Invisibilty Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and carer. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behaviour.'

'Master Barty, Master Barty,' sobbed Winky through her hands. 'You isn't ought to tell them, we is getting in trouble…'

'Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?' said Dumbledore. 'Did anyone know except your father, and the house-elf?'

'Yes,' said Crouch, his eyelids flickering again. 'A witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins.'

Sherlock winced. John had been listening, and Sherlock felt the hot pain surge through him. We missed it, he thought. John had seen the part where Bertha told Voldemort about the Triwizard Tournament, but not about Crouch.

'She came to investigate. She had been able to guess who was hiding under the Invisibilty Cloak. My father came home. She confronted him. He put a powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently.'

A sour taste filled Sherlock's mouth.

'Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup,' said Dumbledore.

'Winky talked my father into it. She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house in years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He will be in his Invisibilty Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell fresh air for once. She said my mother would have wanted it. She told my father that my mother had died to give me freedom. She had not saved my life for imprisonment. He agreed in the end.

'It was carefully planned. My father led myself and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know.

'But Winky didn't know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father's Imperius curse. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed outside his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw a wand sticking out of a boy's pocket in front of me. I had not been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. Winky didn't know. Winky is frightened of heights. She had her face hidden.'

'Master Barty, you bad boy!' whispered Winky, tears trickling between her fingers.

'So you took the wand,' said Dumbledore, 'and what did you do with it?'

'We went back to the tent,' said Crouch. 'Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They had turned their backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. They were free to seek him, but they did not. They were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had a wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent, he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.

'Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned.

'When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had been found, and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put me back under the Imperius curse, and took me home. He dismissed Winky. She had failed him. She had let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me escape.'

Winky let out a wail of despair.

'Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then… and then…' Crouch's head rolled on his neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. 'My master came for me.

'He arrived at our house late at night, in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She had told him a great deal. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father placed on her. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant - perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon further information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.'

The smile spread wider over Crouch's face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. Winky's petrified brown eyes were visible through her fingers. She seemed too appalled to speak.

'It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years.'

'And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?' said Dumbledore.

'He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person who touched it to my master. But first-'

'You needed Alastor Moody,' said Dumbledore.

'What did you do to John?' Sherlock forced out, interrupting Crouch's story. 'What did you do?'

'Wormtail told me about the Seer at Hogwarts. Wormtail said the Seer was not well trained, but I knew better. I have experience with Seers.'

'You do?'

'I told John Watson that Moody was assigned to protect Seers.'

'Protect them from who?' Sherlock asked.

'From me, usually. My master wanted a Seer. I tried to get him one. I became familiar with how Seers work. I learned how to block their visions.'

'How?' Sherlock demanded.

'A spell of my own devising. A mixture of the Imperius curse, the Confundus Charm and a few others.'

Sherlock shuddered, and he felt John's body jerk as though it was his own.

'Does the Dark Lord know how to do it?' Sherlock whispered.

'My master is greater than you can imagine, he-'

'Does he know?'

Crouch gave Sherlock a look of intense venom, and his mouth twisted. He spoke, but with the a strain on his voice as though he loathed the words. 'He does not.'

Sherlock went limp, relief filling him.

Crouch told them of how Wormtail had let his father escape, and how he had killed his father, Transfiguring his body into a bone and burying it outside Hagrid's house.

When he was finished, there was complete silence, except for Winky's continued sobs.

Then Dumbledore said, 'and tonight…'

'I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner,' whispered Barty Crouch. 'Turned it into a Portkey. My master's plan worked. He is returned to power, and I will be honoured by him beyond the dreams of wizards.'

The insane smile lit his features once more, and his head drooped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side.

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