I loved it when the wind ruffled my hair and caressed my cheeks, silent and gentle at once. A comfort I learned was something akin to a mother's love. Or so I liked to believe.

But I also loved the wind because it made James' head look completely ridiculous.

I barely held back a snort when I caught sight of the stuck up hair walking around the courtyard. It turned more hilarious when I saw the owner's face, meeting James' disgruntled look. He wiggled a finger on my way before I could speak, the retort I'd so carefully planned getting stuck on the tip of my tongue.

He looked like Albert Einstein. Minus the accent or the brilliance.

March was starting. A week had passed from the Second Task and students were still talking about it. The pleasure of knowing I was someone to Harry drummed happily in my blood shortly, for Draco Malfoy had come and disrupted the mood by commenting how I wasn't important to anyone.

I wasn't petty. I didn't talk unless it was necessary or my temper got the best of me. But I badly wanted to shove the fact to his face and make a comment of his daddy issues. I wasn't sure where that would've ended, as my trail of thought had hit a wall at the sight of Harry's expression. Guilt at this point wasn't strange to us. My stomach dropped though when he later approached and told me I shouldn't listen to what the Slytherin said. I ran out of there after I stared at him incredulously.

Harry hadn't thought what the odds were. He didn't make the maths and realize his friends could have been taken. Worse, he had never considered me. Not at all. I didn't regret my choice after that.

The only logical explanation I could find was that Ron deserved to know he was cared for, that he was just as important as us. He was like the glue of the group, the heart, the beginning of the laughter (in the good way) and the wistful smiles that came after.

This is what I told myself over and over. A lie that had a pinch of truth. At this point of my life, I was so good at it I couldn't even remember what was real and what wasn't. I wanted Harry to admit to himself I was someone to him I was a vital part of his life, and as selfish as it sounded, he needed me, just like I need him.

But dismayed at my discovery, I made Ron's fame last short. That same day, he had told Padma Patil another ridiculous tale of how he fought fifty heavily armed Merpeople. Single-handed, of course, as his hands were tied the entire time. "But I had my wand hidden up my sleeve," he assured the girl, "I could've taken those mer-idiots any time I wanted."

I didn't feel any guilt as I stole Hermione's thunder. She was the only other person to get annoyed with the tales but I guessed it had to do more with the teasing she received for being Viktor Krum's treasure.

"What did you do? Snore at them until they got bored?"

Turning red, Ron reverted to telling back the original story, where he and the captives were asleep and lost most of the action.

The same owl that happened to deliver Harry's message to Sirius turned up with half its feathers sticking up on Friday's breakfast. Like the last one, the note was short and straight to the point, only giving a set of directions to meet him at the Hogsmeade trip.

Because I had found him outside, I failed to notice it was Caleb until Hermione pointed out I was holding him like a rubber dock. Shrugging – because I wasn't still fond of the little midget, I let him go. We all watched as he indignantly flew to Marie, shooting me a look that told me I would've a permanent alarm clock for the rest of my school days.

"He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?" Ron said incredulously.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" Hermione said.

"I can't believe him," Harry complained, "if he's caught..."

"He won't," I promised. "I swear he won't." Besides, he'd already come before for the First Task. His stealth was nearly impressive, because no one else knew he'd done so, and I trusted he would keep it that way.

"And it's not like the place is swarming with Dementors anymore," said Ron.

The last lesson of that afternoon was double Potions. Outside the classroom, Malfoy and his goons crowded around Pansy Parkinson's usual gang of girls, all which were giggling as they bent over something. I wasn't bothered by Pansy's smirk but Daphne Greengrass was standing next to her, wearing the ghost of a smile. It was disturbing, I decided. Daphne never found anything funny unless it had to so something with gossip. Judging from the way her lips curled, it probably was too ridiculous she didn't even believe it.

It was worrying because I was the subject of said gossip.

"Hey, Barton! Look's whose on the news again!" said Pansy, throwing something at me. I caught it, and saw that it was a copy of Witch Weekly. The dungeon's door opened and Snape beckoned us all inside. I sat on the table on the back, followed by Neville and the trio.

Neville looked over my shoulder as I searched for the article Parkinson was keen I read. When I finally found it, I wasn't surprised to see Rita Skeeter's name under the title.

"Harry Potter's Secret Heartache."

There was no difference from the last article she wrote about us. She still mentioned Harry's life without his parents. Hermione and I were still fighting over his affections, but I was apparently left brokenhearted as Harry had chosen her.

Rita did not forget to add the usual Slytherin commentary, with Parkinson and Malfoy as the stars. Both of them ignited the fire of what I thought would be the gossip and start of angry letters that had yet to come. Hermione was painted as an ambitious woman and I as a out-of-mind behavior, so dangerous it was recommended to take the matter in hands. The paragraph was practically screaming for me to hand over my wand and face immediate expulsion.

The only nicest thing Skeeter wrote was that she hoped Harry knew when to bestow his heart on to worthier candidates, preferably one that weren't the devious Miss Granger or the emotionally deprived Miss Barton, whose biography could be found on page forty-one.

Skeeter had no right. Not only she was tarnishing our reputations but she also used my own words to investigate me. My mouth hung open as I realized she practically was giving me a piece of what I longed for.

I surprised everyone by letting out a chuckle, more so when I smile in satisfaction. Waving my fingers at Parkinson, I handed the magazine to Hermione, watching as her eyebrows rose until she too started to smile.

Ron didn't find it funny though.

"I told you! I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of- of scarlet woman!"

My thoughts immediately went for Natasha but the meaning of them did not fail on me.

"Scarlet woman?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. His ears turned red.

"That's what my Mum calls them," Ron muttered.

"Come on, Ron! This is just rubbish." I snatched the magazine and tucked it inside my bag.

As we started unpacking our ingredients for the Wit-Sharpening potion, Hermione stared thoughtfully at the wall.

"There's something funny, though. How could Rita have known...?"

"What? You're not mixing Love Potions, are you?" Ron asked sharply. I kicked his leg.

"Blimey, Anne!"

"I'm pretty sure you would know if she was," I hissed. It was my turn to wince at the kick Hermione delivered at my knee. I rubbed it, glaring at her.

"Shut up," she snapped. "Of course I'm not mixing any Love Potions," she sent me a glare, her cheeks reddening. Scowling, I started to pound my beetles. "No, what I mean is... how could she have known Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?"

"He what?"

"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake. After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer,would I like to -"

"And what did you say?" I watched, weary, as Ron crushed his beetle outside his bowl, close to Neville's hand.

"And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else, but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there… or was she? Maybe she has an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task…"

"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, sounding a little more desperate.

"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to-"

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger," said a voice behind me. I jumped at the sight of Snape's nose peering over my shoulder. "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."

As Malfoy flashed his stupid badge from across the room, I was suddenly grateful to have hidden the magazine out of Snape's reach for I feared he would embarrass us in the worst way possible.

"But as I believe you will not refrain from doing so, I will have to separate you all so you can keep your minds in your potions rather than your tangled love lives," he sneered, looking down at us as we all turned away from each other in discomfort. "You two," he pointed at Neville and Ron, "will stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson." I saw Hermione wrinkle her nose. "Miss Barton, with Mr. Zabini." I relaxed but refrained from sighing out loud. "Potter,"Snape's voice turned sharper, "that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

I packed my things and moved to sit at Blaise's table. From all the Slytherins, he was the only male one to not turn his nose at me. The dark-skinned boy nodded in greeting and I did the same, not at all surprised when he rose and dragged the chair so I could sit. The first time he'd done this I had been very taken aback and I had stared at him the entire class, ruining a very simple potion in the process and managed to make it blow - somehow.

The entire class was silent. As we worked, I realized that I could actually hear the faint sound of a voice - Snape's. When I looked at the front, I saw he was leaning over Harry, who was determined to ignore him. Only when Snape's voice rose did he look up at him, irritated and surprised.

My eyes narrowed when I saw the teacher reach inside his robe and draw a small bottle with pale yellowish liquid inside. He was speaking and just as I was about to try to remember any potion that met the bottle's descriptions, there was a knock on the door.

Snape straightened.

"Enter," he sneered.

I watched in complete surprise as Igor Karkaroff walked up to Snape's desk, shaking like a leaf. He had a finger twisted around his goatee, which from this corner, looked nearly purple from the pressure.

"We need to talk."

The whole class watched as they argued between mumbles. Snape was looking angrier the more Karkaroff spoke while the latter seemed extremely worried.

"After the lesson!" I heard Snape snap.

Karkaroff lingered around for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent to talk to Snape, which was a vast contrast from the last time I saw him deal with another teacher.

I kept wondering after we were thrown out two minutes before the bell rang, even more when Harry told us all Karkaroff wanted was to show Snape his left arm. What could it possibly have been, to make Snape all but ran from the Durmstrang Headmaster?

Marie had overreacted when she confronted us about Sirius' return. Angry because she wasn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade and disappointed because she wouldn't get to see Snuffles, she had packed everything she could. The food was wrapped up carefully in aluminum foil, no doubt a job from the house-elves, something I didn't dare tell Hermione as I clutched the bag to my side.

Unlike the last days, the weather was pleasantly warm today, with the sun shining weakly and casting a silvery lightning upon the grounds. By the time we arrived, we all had forgone our jackets.

Our first stop was Gladrags Wizardwear, where we bought lots of sock between the four of us as a thank you to Dobby. We fooled around for a bit, throwing socks at each other until a smelly one hit Ron's head and screamed, turning gray as they did so. The one I liked the most was one blue sock with patterned gold and silver stars that glittered in the dark. The colors matched the enchanted ceiling from the Great Hall when it darkened.

I led the trio down the road, to the end of the village and at the foot of the mountain. None of them had ever been this way but Neville and I had been around plenty of times. By now, I knew Hogsmeade the same way I knew the three scratches on my wand.

I smiled as we rounded the corner, grinning at the shaggy black dog at the end of the lane. I quickly reached him and took the newspapers from his mouth, and scratched behind his ears. Ever the vain one, Sirius sniffed the bag with food, excitedly wagging his tail.

"Hello Sirius," Harry muttered, smiling down at his Godfather.

Once he saw we were all there, he turned and trotted to the foot of the mountain. We were out of breath when we finally caught up with him but instead of stopping, Sirius began to climb the mountain. I uneasily fell into line behind Hermione, not wanting to see how higher we were getting. But being in the back of the line meant I had no one to catch me if I fell.

Thankfully, we reached level ground. Sirius disappeared into the mountain and I noticed there was a narrow fissure in the rock. Following my uncle, I soon found myself in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered to a rock was Buckbeak, former pet of Hagrid and a hipogriff. Half-horse, half-bird, he regaled us imperiously, even after we bowed so low our foreheads nearly touched the floor.

As Buckbeak let Hermione rush to him, I turned to the dog, watching as he slowly grew and turned into a man.

My uncle wore the same frock from the last time but it looked worn out and dirty. I didn't know if the pair of jeans were different but his gray t-shirt was old and faded.

"You brought the food?" he asked. Wordlessly, I gave him the bag. When he began to look into it, I finally hit him with the rolls of newspaper. "Oi! What was that for?"

"That was a representation of what we're all feeling about this meeting!"

"Where have you been?" Harry cut in, before I could do anything else. I did notice he looked a bit satisfied though.

Looking at where his stare was directed mostly, Sirius pointed at his clothes. "Oh... around... getting reacquainted, the usual..."

Harry frowned. "And what are you doing here, then?"

Sirius frowned, putting the bag away from Buckbeak. "Fulfilling my duty as your Godfather," he pointed at him, then at me, "and as her uncle. In short words, I'm trying to be a family man."

I snorted. Sirius scowled. "I'm being serious - and no, that's not a joke. I want to be on the spot. Since your last letter, things have got... well, let's just say fishier. I've kept tabs on the papers: people are getting worried."

He gestured at the copy in my hand. I unrolled one. Without looking up, I handed the other to Ron.

"Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch."

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

Sirius, pulling out a chicken leg, said carelessly, "Only you four, Marie and Dumbledore know that I'm an Animagus."

"That's not reassuring," said Harry.

I peered around Ron to see his headline, which said, "Ministry Witch Still Missing-Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved."

Harry, who just read over my shoulder, said slowly, "They are making it sound like he's dying... but, he can't be that ill if he managed to get up there..."

"My brother, Percy, he's Crouch's assistant," Ron told Sirius. "Says he's suffering from overwork."

"A perfectly concealed lie, if you ask me," I muttered. I met Harry's eyes.

"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close."

"When was that again?"

"The night my name came up from the goblet. I thought he was just surprised as everyone at the moment but..."

"Well," Hermione started, her voice going oddly pitched, "he finally must be getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he? I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him each second of the day!"

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elfs," Ron stage-whispered to Sirius.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?" my uncle asked.

"Yeah," said Harry, launching into what happened at the Quidditch World Cup, from the appearance of the Dark Mark, Winky being found with his wand and Bartemius Crouch's fury after practically accusing them of doing it when his house-elf was found probably guilty seconds later. Harry also told him about my incident, at which I glared at him when Sirius started to shot question after question of my whereabouts.

"I got out it fine, all right?" I said, exasperated.

"Still -"

"Focus at what you had thought before."

"Okay - first, you saw the elf in the Top Box, saving a seat for Crouch. Right?"

"Right," we all chorused.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," said Harry. "I think he said he'd been too busy."

Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for

your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm..." Harry thought hard. "No," he said finally. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars."

He stared at Sirius. "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

I shifted uneasily. My mind drifted to the man who had pursued me, the unhinged look in his brown eyes when he saw me.

I shook my head, trying to get on track with the conversation. Already having ran through the names of the guests, Sirius was saying, "When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

"Went to look in the bushes," said Harry, "but there wasn't anyone else there."

I raised a hand. "Actually, I got to admit something..."

I told them about how I saw the man and how he had followed me. Also, I confessed this was the first time I met James, and had it not been for him, something might have happened.

"Really?" said Harry, who did not look impressed at the mention of my Durmstrang friend. I shrugged.

Sirius was running a hand over his hair, looking suddenly tired. "It just got a lot more complicated. Something just doesn't fit - Crouch obviously didn't want the blame but sacked his own elf -"

"That's right," said Hermione heatedly, "just because she didn't stay in her tent to get trampled -"

"Hermione, give it a rest!" said Ron.

"She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a mans like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

She shot the redhead a triumphant look.

"But Barty Crouch is not acting like himself. He goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too..."

"From the way you talk about him, it sounds like Crouch doesn't take a day off work," I commented.

Sirius snorted. "If that ever happened, I'll Buckbeak."

"You know him? Crouch - I mean," Harry said.

The dark chuckle Sirius released made step back from him. There had only been a time he had looked this dangerous, and he had been out for blood then.

"Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial."

My eyes widened. "No way."

"What?" "You're kidding me?"

"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

"And now he's supervising Quidditch games?" I questioned. "How did that happen?"

"Funny, innit? He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. Barty Crouch Sr. is a great wizard - powerfully magical - and power hungry. Curiously, he was not a supporter of Voldemort. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side... well, you wouldn't understand... you're too young..."

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, irritated. "Try us, why don't you?"

Looking at each of us, a grin slowly took over Sirius' face.

"Alright, I'll try you... imagine Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves."

"I can easily relate to that," I said.

His eyes flickered to me but Sirius kept talking, You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing… the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere... panic... confusion... that's how it used to be."

Staring at Sirius, it suddenly hit me he was relieving everything he went through in the first war. The faraway expression was a giveaway but the haunted look in his eyes betrayed him instantly.

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the Dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..."

Sirius craned his neck from side to side, looking at the ceiling at not meeting our eyes.

"Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's son was caught?" Hermione whispered.

"Yes," said Sirius bitterly, throwing his unfinished chicken leg at Buckbeak. "Nasty little shock for old Barty. It was for everyone. Should've spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office once in a while, gotten to know his own son..."

"Was the son a Death Eater?" Harry asked cautiously.

Sirius shrugged, hopelessly. "I've got no idea. I was already in Azkaban when he was brought in."

"You're not saying something."

It was Ron who said this. He was frowning at Sirius, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Dad said something about him once," he said to us. Surprisingly, he turned to face me. "It involved your dad."

I immediately turned to Sirius. "Speak. Now."

Sirius stared at me for a long time until he sighed. "Barty Crouch Junior was a friend of your father's," he admitted grudgingly. "Like I said, I don't know what happened with him but he was definitely caught in the company of Death Eaters. For all we know, he could've just been in the wrong place at the wrong time -"

"Sirius."

"He was caught with the people who killed your father."

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Shaking his head, Sirius said, "Alec's death was the last act from the war. Of course, Crouch couldn't be lenient with his son - not that he was. His reputation was at stake, his future as the Minister was vanishing before his own eyes. The man practically handed him himself to the Dementors."

I took a look around my friends. Hermione, ever the tender, was covering her mouth in horror. Ron looked mildly astonished from what his comment got out from Sirius. But Harry did not pay attention to any of them. He looked at me for a long time until I turned my back on him. As another part of my parents' past was uncovered, I felt myself getting angrier at their blindness when it came to their friends.

But Sirius was right. It had been a war. They were young and didn't know who to trust or who was the enemy. People were getting manipulated, one way or another, by this man who wanted to Lord all over them. There was little choice in the matter.

Not for the first time, I cursed Tom Riddle's existence.

"Crouch's fatherly affections stretched far enough to give his son a trial. By all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for him to show how much he hated the boy. I suppose he only did it for his wife - as far as I can tell, he always had a soft spot for her."

If it had been me on Crouch's shoes, I would've sent Barty Crouch Junior straight to the Dementors and condemned him with the 'Kiss'.

"I saw when the Dementors brought him in. The boy couldn't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though... they all went quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep..."

"Is he still in Azkaban?"

"No. He died a year after they brought him in."

"He died?" Harry repeated.

"They all do in the end. Others just go mad. Plenty loses the will to live: what's the point on it? When you are there, you can tell when death's come to knock on their doorsteps. The Dementors could sense it, they got excited. Barty Junior already looked sick when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The Dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

"He deserved it," I whispered. As much as I tried to reason the boy was probably innocent, I couldn't wipe off my mind the idea of him betraying my father. It was a hollow feeling, because there was no point in wishing his pain when he was already dead.

My friends shared looks but no one contradicted me. Sirius cleared his throat.

"And so, Crouch lost it all, just as he was about to make it. One moment, a hero... next, his son and wife are dead, the family name dishonored, and his popularity dropped. Because of his son, people began to sympathize: how could such a boy gone astray? The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

There was a long silence. Feeling tired, I covered my mouth and paced impatiently around the cave.

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told Sirius.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," Sirius said, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" Ron said triumphantly, looking at Hermione.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," Sirius deadpanned.

"Yeah, it does!"

"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" Harry asked, but Hermione broke in.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape -"

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," Ron said impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him -"

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno - maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out-"

I turned around and said, loudly, "What do you think, Sirius?"

The pair shut up. Meanwhile, Sirius intertwined his fingers and stared thoughtfully at them.

"I think they've both got a point. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," I rolled my eyes. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Despite Sirius' comments, it was pretty obvious to me that maybe Dumbledore wanted intel. Someone who knew the ropes of Voldemort's organization.

"Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery - from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater - not to say that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," Ron said.

"Yeah, you should have seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday," Harry said quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he said that Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried about something. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

Sirius' head snapped at that. "He showed Snape something on his arm?" He ran his fingers distractedly through his hair, then shrugged again. "Well, I've no idea what that's about... but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers..."

Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration.

"There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office, then?" Ron said stubbornly.

"Well," Sirius said slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though... he's a different matter... is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not...what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," Ron said doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," Sirius said, gesturing to his copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," Harry said.

"Yeah, he's quoted in the article," Sirius said, nodding to the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all- she was the opposite actually. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into trouble a lot; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability to the Ministry. Maybe that's why Bagman took so long to start looking for her..."

Sirius gave a huge sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?" he asked.

I looked at my wrist watch.

"It's half past three," I said.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen..." He looked particularly hard at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, but Sirius and I scowled at him.

"I don't care... I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?" He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you, see if I can scrounge another paper."

Before we left, I hugged Sirius. He wrapped his arms around me and patted my back affectionately. The tender moment was cut short when he leaned down and said, "What's this I had heard? Is it true that my lovely niece has this little bit of a crush with a certain 'Mr. Potter'?"

"Oh my god," I groaned. I leaned back to glare at him. "You have talked to Marie?"

"Well, while you keep tabs on Harry, I need someone to look after you," he explained. "Is it true you're being stalked by this Durmstrang boy - James, right?"

"No, he isn't." Not currently. "He's my friend. A little weird... okay, he's really strange. But I bet you'd like him if you met him - not that I'm saying you should - in fact, you will never ever -"

"Yeah yeah, I get the gist."

With his arm wrapped loosely over my shoulders, we joined the others.

"You still have the knife I gave you, right?"