When Sirius and Regulus returned from the school, a brown-barred owl was waiting for them in the cave, perched on the farthest outcrop from Buckbeak, who was glaring disdainfully at it. The moment the two canines became human, it swooped down on them, hooting indignantly. Sirius laughed and let it perch on his arm. "Buckbeak a bit temperamental?" he asked.
"Looks like it," Regulus muttered, coming closer to the hippogriff. Buckbeak glared at him from one orange eye for a moment and Regulus tensed, ready to draw back if the bird was inclined to snap. After a moment, however, the hippogriff relaxed and let Regulus give him the attention Sirius was giving the frazzled owl.
"It's Harry's reply; the next Hogsmeade weekend's this one," Sirius announced.
"Good," Regulus said as Buckbeak shifted underneath his fingers. "The sooner you talk to the kid, the better you'll feel about it all."
"Yeah. I'm telling him to meet us at the stile at two," Sirius added, scribbling his reply. "And while I'm at it, I'm telling him to bring something to eat."
"That is possibly the best idea you've had all month," his brother informed him.
Hunting hadn't been good lately— all the excitement from the Triwizard Tournament and half a hundred more people up at Hogwarts had driven the game deeper and deeper into the Forbidden Forest, and hunting had become an ever more time-consuming task if one of the two didn't get lucky and pounce on one of the increasingly bright rats. Regulus didn't necessarily count this as a bad thing— what else did they have to do but fret?— but Sirius's only half-joking remark, that on the bright side they could be lunching on Peter, was about to drive him up the wall.
Sirius tied the note to the owl's leg and led it to the cave opening. With one final, angry glance at Buckbeak, the bird sprang off of Sirius's arm and starting winging it towards Hogwarts.
"What did you do to it?" Sirius asked the hippogriff, sounding amused.
Buckbeak squawked in a self-satisfied manner.
"Somehow," Regulus announced dryly, "I'm glad we can't speak hippogriff."
"Hello, Sirius," Harry greeted them in Hogsmeade on Saturday, "Regulus." He was flanked by Ron and Hermione and his smile seemed just a little bit forced. Regulus was reminded of the letter he'd sent to Sirius, telling him not to come back to Britain.
Sirius, however, didn't seem to notice. He sniffed the bag over Harry's shoulder, wagged his tail, and took off for the cave.
Regulus and the kids followed him at a much slower pace, thanks to their two legs and Regulus's stubby ones. It was surprisingly warm for February and Regulus found himself wishing that either Sirius wasn't in such a hurry or he'd begun to shed his winter coat by now. The kids panted just a little behind him, as Sirius practically bounded up the mountain and into the cave.
Once inside, they stopped to bow to Buckbeak, who seemed to consider his options for a moment before bowing back. Hermione raced forward to stroke the feathers on his neck and Harry turned to Sirius, who had just transformed.
"Chicken!" Sirius announced hoarsely.
Regulus, who had just transformed himself, chuckled. Harry opened his bag and handed Sirius a bundle wrapped in a napkin.
"Thanks," Sirius said, opening it up and tossing Regulus a drumstick. "We can't steal too much from the village, we'd draw attention to ourselves. Been living off rats, mostly."
"What are you doing here, Sirius?" Harry demanded.
"Fulfilling my duty as your appointed guardian," Sirius answered, starting on a drumstick himself. "Don't worry, Reg's keeping me out of trouble," he added with a grin.
Harry scowled.
"I want to be on the spot," Sirius told him more seriously. "Things're getting stranger and from the looks of the papers"— he gestured towards a pile of yellowing Daily Prophets— "we're not the only ones worrying."
Ron picked up the papers and started leafing through them. Harry's eyes, however, didn't waver from Sirius's face. "What if somebody catches you?" he asked. "What if you're seen?"
"I told you," Regulus informed him, "that I've got it. Not many people know he's an Animagus and if all else fails I'll obliviate the memory."
Harry still didn't look entirely convinced, but before he could say so Ron nudged his and passed him the paper. Harry scanned it as Regulus read the headline upside down— "Mysterious Illness of Bartemius Crouch."
"They're making it sound as if he's dying," Harry muttered, "but he got up to the school. . . ."
"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron told Sirius and Regulus. "He says it's overwork."
"Well, he did look ill, the last time I saw him up close," Harry added, still scanning the second story Ron had handed him. "The night my name came out of the Goblet of Fire."
"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" Hermione asked savagely. She was still stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching the chicken bones Regulus had just thrown him, but she glared at the cave at large. "I'll bet he regrets it now that she isn't there to look after him!"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione's obsessed with house elves," he explained.
Sirius, however, looked up from a second piece of chicken in surprise. "Crouch sacked his house elf?" he asked, interested.
"Yeah, at the Quidditch world Cup," Harry answered, and launched into an explanation of what the Prophet hadn't published about the Dark Mark. Sometime during the speech, Sirius got to is feet and started pacing.
"So . . . you first saw her at the Top Box, saving Crouch a seat?" he asked when Harry finished. "Just so I can get all the details straight."
"Right," the kids said together.
"But Crouch never turned up for the match?"
"He said he'd been too busy, I think," Harry replied.
Sirius continued pacing. Regulus, Buckbeak, and the kids all watched him in silence. After some time, Sirius asked, "Did you need to use your wand between the Top Box and the woods?"
Harry thought for a few minutes. "No . . . I don't think I checked my pockets until we were going through the woods. Are you saying whoever conjured the Dark Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"
Sirius shrugged. "It's possible."
"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione exclaimed.
"She wasn't the only one sitting behind you in the box," Sirius pointed out, and he started to pace again. "Who else was there?"
"Some Bulgarian ministers, Cornelius Fudge, the Malfoys—"
"The Malfoys!" Ron exclaimed, loudly enough that it echoed around the cave and Regulus made a move towards Buckbeak, who was tossing his head nervously. He relaxed when the hippogriff didn't seem inclined to snap at Hermione. "I'll bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"
"I find it more likely that Lucius was leading the head of the pack back at the camp," Regulus replied lightly. "Anyone else?"
"Ludo Bagman," Hermione supplied.
"I don't know anything about Bagman except he used to be a beater for the Wilbourne Wasps," Sirius admitted. "Reggie?"
Regulus shook his head. "Never exactly kept track of Quidditch player's careers."
"He's all right," Harry supplied. "He keeps offering to help me with the tasks."
Sirius's head snapped around to stare at his godson so quickly Regulus was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. "Does he? Any idea why?"
Harry shrugged. "Says he's taken a liking to me."
"Hmm. . . ." Sirius said thoughtfully, rubbing his neck. "That's interesting."
"We saw Bagman in the woods just before the Dark Mark was cast," Hermione announced, pouncing on this latest possible explanation. "Didn't we?" she added pointedly to Harry and Ron.
"Come off it, Hermione," Ron snapped. "You're not trying to tell us Bagman conjured the Ma—"
"I think it more likely he did it than Winky!"
Ron rolled his eyes and turned back to Sirius and Regulus. "Like I said, she's obsessed with—"
But Sirius held up a hand to stop him. "What did Crouch do after they found her under the Mark with Harry's wand?" he asked.
"Went to look in the bushes," Harry answered, "but no one else was there."
"Of course," Sirius muttered. "He'd want to lay the blame on anyone but his own elf. And then he sacked her?"
"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, bristling with indignance for Winky's sake. "Just because she didn't stay behind and let herself get trampled—"
"Hermione, will you give it a rest with that elf?" Ron asked in exasperation.
"Actually . . . she's got Crouch's measure better than you," Sirius informed him thoughtfully. "If you want to see what a man's like, watch how he treats his inferiors, not his equals. Reggie could have done better to remember that, once upon a time." He glanced over at his brother, who smile sheepishly, and began pacing again. "I don't like these absences of Couch's . . . not showing up at the Top Box when the elf had saved him a seat, working so hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament and then not showing up to it, either. . . . And if Barty Crouch has ever taken off work for illness before, I'll eat Buckbeak."
"You know Crouch, then?" Harry asked.
"Sirius scowled, suddenly looking menacing enough that even Regulus drew back a little. "Oh, I know Crouch all right. He was the one that gave the order to send me to Azkaban— without a trial."
"What?" Ron and Hermione demanded simultaneously.
"You're kidding!" Harry exclaimed.
Regulus's own eyes widened. "Even I didn't know that," he said quietly.
Sirius gave his brother a funny look.
"I thought you really had done Pettigrew in at the time, Sirius," he pointed out. "You were angry enough to do it, certainly, and I don't think you could have wormed your way out of that one."
Sirius nodded and turned to the bewildered-looking kids. "Did you know Barty Crouch used to be the head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement?"
They shook their heads.
"He was set up to be the next Minister of Magic," Sirius explained. "Powerful wizard— and power-hungry."
Harry opened his mouth, but Sirius shook his head. "No, never a Voldemort supporter. Crouch was always very outspoken against the Death Eaters. But a lot of Ministry people in those days. . . ." He shook his head again. "You're too young to understand. . . ."
"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," Ron said irritably. "Try us, why don't you?"
A grin flashed briefly across Sirius's face. "All right, I'll try you. Imagine Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know for sure who his supporters are—"
"—even if you're one of them," Regulus muttered.
"—you don't know who's working for him, and you know he can control people and make them do terrible things against their will. You're scared for yourself, your family, and your friends, and the Ministry's more or less useless . . . putting so much energy into trying to keep it all from coming to the Muggles' attention while meanwhile, Muggles are dying, too. Every week there are more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing . . . terror, confusion, panic everywhere. . . . That's how it used to be."
He shook his head and glanced over at Regulus again, as if expecting his brother to add something, but Regulus just shook his head and waved him on.
"Well, things like that can bring out the best in some people and the worst out of others. Crouch's intentions may have been good in the beginning, I wouldn't know. He rose through the Ministry quickly and started ordering harsher measures against the Death Eaters— giving Aurors powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. I wasn't the only one handed straight to the dementors. I'd call him a lot worse that Reggie probably ever was, but a lot of people thought he had the right handle on things at the time. After Voldemort fell, it seemed like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then"— he smile grimly— "Crouch's son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd wormed their way out of Azkaban."
Hermione's eyes widened. "His son was caught?" she asked with a kind of fascinated horror.
"Yep." Sirius threw himself back down where he'd been sitting. He pulled a loaf of bread out of the bundle, ripped it in two, and tossed half to Regulus. "Bit of a nasty shock for Barty, I'd imagine. Should've taken off early from the office once in awhile, spent time with his family. Gotten to know his own son."
"Was his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked.
"No idea," Sirius answered as he started to wolf down bread. "Ask Reggie."
"I don't know the name of every Death Eater, Sirius," Regulus informed him irritably. "Voldemort didn't like the liability."
"Well, then, I guess neither of us knows. I'd bet my life the people he were caught with were Death Eaters, but he could have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, like the elf."
"Did Crouch try to get his son off?" Hermione asked quietly.
Sirius laughed bitterly. "Crouch? Let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione. No, his fatherly affection extended just far enough to actually give his son a trial, and from what I've heard, it wasn't much more than an excuse to show how much he hated the boy. Then he sent him to Azkaban."
"Crouch handed his son to the dementors?" Hermione asked, horrified.
"That's right," Sirius answered, and there was no trace of even bitter amusement left in his voice. "I was in Azkaban myself by the time they brought him in, watched them through the bars. He was, what, nineteen? A year younger than you were, Reggie?" Before Regulus could answer, he shook his head and continued, "They took him to a cell near mine. He was crying for his mother by nightfall, but he went quiet after a few weeks. They all did in the end, except when they shrieked in their sleep. . . ."
Regulus reached compulsively for his brother's shoulder, but Sirius clearly didn't want it and pulled out of his reach.
"Is he still in Azkaban?" Harry asked quietly.
"No . . . no," Sirius said in a dead voice. "He died about a year after they brought him in."
"He died?" Harry repeated.
Sirius shrugged. "Most go mad in there, and a lot of them stop eating in the end," he pointed out bitterly. "You loose your will to live. Crouch and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit since he was an important Ministry official. That's the last time I saw Barty Crouch, I think, half-carrying his wife past my cell. He never did pick up his son's body; they buried it outside. His wife died soon after, I think. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy."
He tossed the scant remainder of the bread to Buckbeak, who caught it in his beak with a snap. "So Crouch lost it all just when he thought he had it made. His son dead, his wife dead, and from the sound of it, a big drop in popularity. After the boy died people started to feel a little more sympathetic towards the son and asked themselves why a kid from a good family had been led so far astray. The consensus was that his father had never cared for him. So when the top job at the Ministry was up for grabs, Fudge got it and Crouch was shunted into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
Author's Note: I'm back, and with a longer chapter than usual. This scene was originally going to be only one chapter, but it wound up ridiculously long when one considers my usual chapter length, and part of it worked better with the next chapter, anyway. Go figure. Anyway, now that I have recovered from the shock of recieving over a hundred reviews (thanks guys!), I shall reply to a few of them: Several people have asked by now if Regulus had any friends in school. The answer is yes, but since he's always been a bit of a paranoid loner (takes after his dad in that sense), close ones were few and far between, and to a man they're dead or in Azkaban now. As far as the second task goes, he's always, without exception, put his family first, which depending on the situation can be one of his greatest strengths or his greatest weakness. Anyway, thank you to everyone who took the time to review, as always I really apreciate it! Cheers! —Loki