Hermione watched as the outside door to Professor Moody's office materialised before them. From down the corridor ran Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape.
As soon as they reached the door, Dumbledore shot out his wand and yelled, "Stupify!"
There was a blinding flash of red light and, with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Moody's office was blasted apart. Moody was thrown backwards onto the office floor. Harry was there, unharmed.
Dumbledore stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath Moody's unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back so that his face was visible.
Professor McGonagall went straight to Harry. "Come along, Potter," she said. "Come along - hospital wing."
"No," Dumbledore said sharply.
"Dumbledore, he ought to - look at him - he's been through enough tonight-"
"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand," said Dumbledore. "Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight and why."
"Moody," said Harry. "How can it have been Moody?"
"This is not Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore. "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew, and I followed."
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."
If either Snape or McGonagall found these instructions peculiar, they hid their confusion. Both turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore walked over to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key in the lock, and opened it. It contained a mass of spellbooks. Dumbledore closed the trunk, placed a second key in the second lock, and opened the trunk again. The spellbooks had vanished; this time, it contained an assortment of broken Sneakoscopes, some parchment and quills, and what looked like a silvery Invisibility Cloak. Dumbledore placed the third, fourth, fifth and sixth keys in their respective locks, reopening the trunk and each time revealing different contents. Then he placed the seventh key in the lock and threw open the lid.
Hermione moved forward to peer inside. She was looking down into a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in appearance, 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.
Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowered himself and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He bent over him.
"Stunned – controlled by the Imperius curse – very weak," he said. "Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry, throw down the impostor's cloak. Alastor is freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger."
Harry did as he was told; Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip-flask on the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor.
"Polyjuice Potion, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip-flask. He's well known for it. The impostor needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the Potion. You see his hair,"' Dumbledore looked down at the Moody in the trunk. "The impostor has been cutting it off all year. See where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it 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, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor. Minutes passed in silence…
Then, before their very eyes, the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars disappeared; the skin became 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; the next moment, the magical eyeball 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.
There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had returned with Winky at his heels. Professor McGonagall was right behind them.
"Crouch!" Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. "Barty Crouch!"
"Good heavens," said Professor McGonagall, stopping dead and 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, Master Barty, what is you doing here?"
She flung herself forwards onto the young man'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 of completely clear liquid; Dumbledore forced the man's mouth open, and poured three drops inside it. Then he pointed his wand at the man's chest, and said, "Rennervate."
Crouch's son 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 asked quietly.
The man's eyelids and tongue flickered.
"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, expressionless 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."
"And what did your father do with you when he had 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 Invisibility 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 softly. "Did anyone know except your father and the house-elf?"
"Yes," said Crouch, his eyelids and tongue flickering again. "A witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house, with papers for my father's signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently."
"Why is she coming to nose in my master's private business?" sobbed Winky. "Why isn't she leaving us be?"
"Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup," said Dumbledore.
"Winky talked my father into it," said Crouch, still in the same monotonous voice. "She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He will be in his Invisibility 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 me for a life of 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.
"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 the 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.
"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 one 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 told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me 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 the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.
"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. I was ready. 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 to touch it to my master. But first –"
"You needed Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm.
"Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the Potion. I drank it, I became Moody's double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set the dustbins off. Then I packed up Moody's clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius curse. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole Boomslang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it."
"And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?" said Dumbledore.
"Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father's house, and to keep watch over my father."
"But your father escaped," said Dumbledore.
"Yes. After a while, he began to fight the Imperius curse just as I had done. There were periods where he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban.
"My master sent me word of my father's escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything."
"Map?" said Dumbledore quickly. "What map is this?"
"Potter's map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape's office one night. He thought I was my father as we have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape.
"For a week, I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak, and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the Forest. Then Potter came, and Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter, my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I Stunned Krum. I killed my father."
"Noooo!" wailed Winky. "Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you saying?"
"You killed your father," Dumbledore said in the same soft voice. "What did you do with the body?"
"Carried it into the Forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the Forest, doubled round behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come.
"Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father's body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father's body. He became a bone ... I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin."
There was complete silence now, except for Winky's continued sobs. Hermione could barely believe what she was hearing.
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.
Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then he raised his wand once more, and ropes flew out of it, ropes which twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, binding him tightly.
He turned to Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?"
"Of course," said Professor McGonagall. She looked slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched someone being sick. However, when she drew out her wand and pointed it at Barty Crouch, her hand was quite steady.
"Severus," Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here. We need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me."
Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room.
"Harry?" Dumbledore said gently. "I want you to come up to my office first, Harry. Sirius is waiting for us there."
As Dumbeldore helped a limping Harry out of Moody's office, Hermione and Ron spun back towards Dumbledore's.
"And now you know all I do," the headmaster said softly. "Barty Crouch Jr had been orchestrating all three of the tasks from the very beginning. He knew he had to keep Harry alive for the third task to enact his plan. That's why he tipped Hagrid off on the Dragons and told Cedric about the egg. He gave Dobby the Gillyweed Harry used in the second task.
"And now, with this knowledge, I ask you to be Harry's support system. He will need your help more than ever to survive this trauma. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Professor," Hermione said without thinking.
"Mr Weasley?"
"Yes, sir," Ron whispered.
"But you cannot tell anyone what I showed you tonight. These are Harry's memories and his alone. I have betrayed him by showing them to you, even if I do believe it was for the best. I trust you will maintain confidentiality and allow Harry to tell you in his own time." Dumbledore looked each of them in the eye to ensure they understood. "Now, if you do not have any more questions for me, I must attend to a few things and then find the Minister. Bill, if you could please escort them both back down to the Hospital Ward, I would appreciate it."
"Of course, Professor," Bill said.
Before Hermione could even begin to fathom what she had seen, she was being ushered back down to the Hospital Wing. Her feet felt like lead as she unseeingly walked the familiar corridors. The hallowed halls that had always been a comfort to her seemed cold and unfeeling.
Hermione was beyond feeling numb at that point. She was drained almost entirely of all emotion. She could, however, feel the warmth and security of Ron's hand in hers.
They had not been back in the Hospital Wing for more than a half hour when they heard yelling outside the door.
"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!" Mrs Weasley whispered sharply.
"What are they shouting about?!" whispered Bill. "Nothing else can have happened, can it?"
"That's Fudge's voice," Mrs Weasley whispered after they all strained to listen. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"
The voices were getting closer.
"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva-" Cornelius Fudge was shouting.
"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall, madder than Hermione had ever heard her. "When Dumbledore finds out-"
They heard the hospital doors burst open on the other side of the curtain. They all peered out.
Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.
"Where's Dumbeldore?!" Fudge demanded of Mrs Weasley.
"He's not here," said Mrs Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing, Minister. Don't you think you'd do better to-"
But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.
"What has happened?' said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you – I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch –"
"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. There were angry blotches of colour in her cheeks. Her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury. "The Minister has seen to that!"
. "When we told Mr Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape in a low voice, "he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a Dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch –"
"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" stormed Professor McGonagall. "I told him you would never allow Dementors to set foot inside the castle, but –"
"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous –"
But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.
"The moment that – that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and – and –"
Hermione didn't need Professor McGonagall to complete her sentence. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. It was worse than death.
"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"
"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."
"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" said Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"
"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."
Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard.
He began to splutter, still goggling at Dumbledore. "You-Know-Who returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore."
"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," said Dumbledore, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort – learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins – went to free him from his father, and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."
"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge. "You – you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who – back? Come now, come now ... certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders – but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…"
"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office. I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."
Fudge looked at Dumbledore. "You are – er – prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"
There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.
"Certainly I believe Harry," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense. They explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."
Hermione didn't understand why Dumbledore wouldn't offer Fudge the chance to view everything in the Pensieve like he had for her and Ron, but decided to stay quiet.
Fudge had a strange smile on his face. "You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who… well…"
"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr Fudge," came Harry's voice quietly from behind them. Hermione, Ron, Mrs Weasley, and Bill all jumped. None of them had realised Harry was awake. It was all Hermione could do to keep from rushing over to him and hugging him.
"And if I have?" Fudge said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place-"
"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.
"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly hallucinations?"
"Listen to me, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, taking a step towards Fudge. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."
Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn. "You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before."
"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs Weasley forced him back. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy –"
"Malfoy was cleared!" said Fudge, visibly affronted. "A very old family – donations to excellent causes –"
"Macnair!" Harry continued.
"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"
"Avery – Nott – Crabbe – Goyle –"
"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore – the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year, too – his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them – the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"
"You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"
"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilise everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"
"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore repeated. "If you accept that fact straight away, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the Dementors –"
"Preposterous!" shouted Fudge again. "Remove the Dementors! I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the Dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"
"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" said Dumbledore. "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the Dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"
Fudge opened and closed his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.
"The second step you must take – and at once," Dumbledore pressed on, "is to send envoys to the giants."
"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. "What madness is this?"
"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late," said Dumbledore, "or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"
"You – you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head, and retreating further from Dumbledore. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants – people hate them, Dumbledore – end of my career –"
"You are blinded," said Dumbledore, his voice rising now, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognise that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your Dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any – and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now – take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers for Magic we have ever known. Fail to act – and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"
"Insane," whispered Fudge, still backing away. "Mad…"
And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry's bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs Weasley was standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder. Hermione, Ron, and Bill were staring at Fudge.
"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. "We have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I – I shall act as I see fit."
Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore was advancing upon him with a wand.
"Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a threatening finger."I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students, without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me –"
"The only one against whom I intend to work," said Dumbledore, "is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."
It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backwards and forwards on his small feet for a moment, and spun his bowler hat in his hands.
Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be."
Snape strode forwards, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm, and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.
"There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was, an hour or so ago, when it burnt black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burnt into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing each other, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's, too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."
Fudge stepped back from Snape, too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled, at the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."
He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.
"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket, and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but in the circumstances…"
He crammed his bowler hat onto his head, and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. When he disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry's bed.
"There is work to be done," he said. "Molly, am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"
"Of course you can," said Mrs Weasley. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. "He knows what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."
"Then I need to send a message to him," said Dumbledore. "All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and Arthur is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as short-sighted as Cornelius."
"I'll go to Dad," said Bill, standing up. "I'll go now."
"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry –"
"Leave it to me," said Bill.
He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room.
"Minerva," said Dumbledore, turning to Professor McGonagall, "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also – if she will consent to come – Madame Maxime."
Professor McGonagall nodded, and left without a word.
"Poppy," Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."
"Very – very well," said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she, too, left.
Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam Pomfrey's footsteps had died away, before he spoke again.
"And now," he said, "it is time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they are. Sirius ... if you could resume your usual form."
The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.
Mrs Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.
"Sirius Black!" she shrieked, pointing at him.
"Mum, shut up!" Ron yelled. "It's OK!"
Snape had not yelled or jumped backwards, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.
"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. "What is he doing here?"
"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between them, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences, and trust each other. I will settle, in the short term," said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth stand united, there is no hope for any of us."
Very slowly, Sirius and Snape moved towards each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.
"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. "Now, I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher - the old crowd. Lie low at Lupins for a while, I will contact you there."
"But-" Harry said.
"You'll see me very soon, Harry," said Sirius, turning to him. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, of course I do."
Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.
"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape. "You know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared…"
"I am," said Snape.
"Then, good luck," said Dumbledore. Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.
It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again.
"I must go downstairs," he said finally. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry – take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."
Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore disappeared. Hermione, Ron and Mrs Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time.
"You've got to take the rest of your potion, Harry," Mrs Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while. Think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"
"I don't want that gold," said Harry in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's."
Hermione could tell Harry was trying to fight back the tears. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling.
"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Mrs Weasley whispered.
"I told him to take the Cup with me," said Harry.
Mrs Weasley set the potion on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. Hermione turned away. It was a very private moment, and she wanted to give them time. However, as she looked out the window, movement caught her eye.
It was a bug.
More specifically, a beetle.
It was Rita Skeeter!
Without thinking, she dove for the window, capturing the bug in her hands with a loud bang. Mrs Weasley and Harry broke apart, startled. "Sorry," she whispered.
"Your potion, Harry," said Mrs Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.
Harry drank it in one gulp and, within seconds, was fast asleep.