So, here we are. THE chapter…

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Barty Crouch is in a desperate situation

"I can't!" Severus Snape said for the hundredth time. "I honestly, truly, can't. I wish I could help you, I really do, but I can't. I have to keep my cover."

"Well you could stop poking my cheek with your wand at least," Barty said, somewhat irritably, trying to ignore the sweat on his forehead as he thought about his predicament.

Snape lowered his wand and regarded his captive.

Barty's cover had been rather spectacularly blown, and Snape had been asked to stand guard over him whilst the headmaster sent for… well, whilst the headmaster wasn't there.

"Bartemius Crouch Junior," Snape said slowly. "Thought you were unstoppable."

"So did I," Barty shrugged. "We had some laughs, eh?"

"You had some laughs, yes," Snape sniffed. "We were usually at the receiving end of them."

Barty smirked despite himself and ran a hand through his hair.

"At least I don't look like a half fossilized dinosaur any more," he commented. "Back to my dashing self."

"You always were irrepressibly vain," Snape snorted in disdain.

-

Fred and George rushed through the hallway, and nearly collided with Harry Potter as he turned the corner, looking rather shocked.

"Harry!" They said together.

"Are you all right?" George asked.

"Fine," Harry said, shaking slightly.

"You don't look it, mate," Fred said. "What happened?"

"M-Moody…" Harry said. "He isn't Moody at all."

"Who is he?"

"Barty Crouch Junior," Harry replied, wincing at the cut on his arm.

"Barty Crouch Junior?" George asked. "As in the son of Percy's ex boss?"

Harry only just managed a nod.

"He's been pretending to be our teacher for the entire year?" Fred asked.

Harry nodded again.

"That," George said. "Is the greatest prank of all time."

Sudden, simultaneous revelations are strange things that can occur at any time between yourself and another person, usually a person who you are close to. Once they occur, little, if any words are needed to be exchanged between yourself and the other person to know exactly what they are thinking, and to know that they have reached exactly the same conclusion as you have.

Fred and George had a sudden simultaneous revelation.

They turned to each other, and stared.

"You don't think…" George said.

"I can't be…" Fred breathed.

"But he's the son of-" George began.

"I know!" Fred cried. "But it all makes sense now!"

"What makes sense?" Harry asked irritably. He was aching all over, his scar was hurting something awful, he had had a long day, and the last thing he wanted was the twins talking in code again.

"Moody- I mean Barty Crouch Junior," Fred said. "Was the mystery practical joker!"

"He's a genius!" George proclaimed.

"Genius or not," Harry said. "He's not going to be around for much longer. Dumbledore's sending for a Dementor right now. Crouch is going to get a little kiss."

Fred and George's eyes widened.

"The Dementor's kiss?" Fred asked.

Harry nodded.

"But- but- we can't let them do that!" Fred cried. "He's just like us! A fellow practical joker, a slave to entertainment!"

"A minion of darkness," Harry said grumpily.

"Where is he?" They asked.

"Moody's office," Harry said, too tired to think straight.

Fred and George looked at each other, and dashed off.

-

Barty felt a horribly unfamiliar trickle of sweat make its way down his forehead as Snape closed the door and stepped outside briefly to help Filch deal with a Filibuster Firework that some troublesome student had let off.

"Now now," Barty whispered to himself. "Just remain calm. It's for a good cause. You can do this. Just breathe deeply."

Just as Barty felt his heartbeat beginning to slow down, and just as he felt as though he had calmed himself enough to think straight, he half leapt into the air as there was a huge crash and a parcel came flying through the window, straight onto his lap, sending glass everywhere.

Barty didn't hesitate, he opened the parcel with trembling fingers, and read the note inside. It was written hastily, and in barely legible writing, but Barty's own handwriting was not that neat, and so he was used to it.

To Barty Crouch Junior (the best practical joker we have ever met)

I'm sorry, but we just could not sit around and do nothing whilst you had your soul sucked out of you. Take this and you'd better use it, in the name of everything unlawful and rebellious, use it!

Fred and George Weasley, your biggest fans

PS. When you get round to it, could we have your autograph?

Barty was somewhat taken aback at this, but it boosted his ego no end. He picked up the other object in the parcel, and felt himself nearly begin to cry with happiness at the light, soft, silvery robe that those wonderful twins had sent him.

Acting quickly, Barty scrambled out of the chair, wiped his forehead dry, pulled the cloak around him, and hurried out of the room before any Dementors could arrive.

Just as he was scurrying out of the Hogwarts doors, he stopped, and, as an afterthought, reached into his pocket and, smirking, pulled out a Filibuster Firework, before throwing it with a delighted grin above the heads of a group of nearby second years, who rewarded him with a chorus of terrified screams.

Sniggering to himself, Barty slipped out of the doors into the falling night.

-

Cornelius Fudge strode into the room, Dementor in tow, where he had been informed by Albus Dumbledore that a highly dangerous Death Eater was being held captive.

However there was nothing.

Fudge looked around the small room, but there was no Death Eater in sight. He glanced at the Dementor, who, although it was hard to tell, was looking rather cheesed off that there was certainly no soul here to devour at all.

Fudge was constantly desperately trying to keep relations between the Ministry and Dementors strong and close, as he knew himself the danger they would be if they turned to the dark side. So he used every method he could to try and keep that bond as strong and close as was mentioned beforehand. One of these methods was to give Dementors names.

The Minister coughed.

"Terribly sorry Mike," he said to his spectral companion. "May I call you Mike?" The Dementor turned to him, and would probably be giving him a look that would tell Fudge quite plainly what he thought of being referred to as 'Mike', but considering that Dementors have no faces, and considering that even if they did then they would be hidden behind the black folds of their hoods, and also considering that the Minister was hardly prone to picking up the feelings of others terribly well, Fudge merely carried on talking.

"But how about we play a little game, eh?" He continued. "Let's just say that Crouch was here, and you did suck out his soul, and all's fine and dandy, yes?"

'Mike' said nothing.

Fudge turned away, it would be horribly bad publicity if it was discovered that one of Voldemort's most devoted followers had escaped whilst under the responsibility of the Ministry, and Merlin knows Fudge had had quite enough bad publicity as it was. So, he turned around and walked out of the room, a rather disgruntled 'Mike' gliding behind.

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Well, there you go! Hope you liked how it turned out, I wouldn't get rid of Barty really! I knew that as much, but I went through several ideas of how he would escape before that one popped into my head at the last minute. Why not have Fred and George save him after all?

Red Gnome