Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Except Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 25- The Madness of Mr. Crouch
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and I go up to the Owlery after breakfast on Sunday to send a letter to Percy, asking, as Sirius has suggested, whether he has seen Mr. Crouch lately. We use Hedwig, because it has been so long since she's had a job. Though she looks pretty upset about having to leave Dionysus. When we watch her fly out of sight through the Owlery window, we proceed down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks.
The house-elves give us a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtsying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby is ecstatic about his present.
"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!" he squeaks, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.
"You saved my life with that gillyweed, Dobby, you really did," says Harry.
"No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?" asks Ron, who is looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves.
"You've just had breakfast!" says Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of eclairs is already zooming towards us, supported by four elves. I can't help but take a few for myself as well since these happen to be a weakness of mine.
"We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles," Harry mutters from beside me.
"Good idea," says Ron. "Give Pig something to do. You couldn't give us a bit of extra food, could you?" he asks the surrounding elves, and they bow delightedly and hurry off to get some more.
"Dobby, where's Winky?" asks Hermione, who is looking around. I swear my best friend only has a one-track mind sometimes.
"Winky is over there by the fire, miss," says Dobby quietly, his ears drooping slightly.
"Oh dear," says Hermione as she spots Winky.
I look over at the fireplace too. Winky is sitting on the same stool as last time, but she has allowed herself to become so filthy that she is not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes are ragged and unwashed. She is clutching a bottle of butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring into the fire. As we watch her, she gives an enormous hiccup.
"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," Dobby whispers to Harry and me.
"Well, it's not strong, that stuff," Harry says. I scoff trying to think about all the differences that are between human anatomy and elf anatomy that I had read about one time when I was bored at the Dumbledore estate. She is three sheets to the wind by my guess.
Dobby shakes his head. "'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir," he informs Harry. Winky hiccups again. The elves who have brought the eclairs give her disapproving looks as they return to work.
"Winky is pining, Harry Potter," Dobby whispers sadly. "Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now."
"Hey, Winky," says Harry, struck by a sudden inspiration, walking over to her, and bending down, "you don't know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."
I can't help the grin that forms on my face. Well it looks like Boy Wonder has some tricks up his sleeve after all.
Winky's eyes flicker. Her enormous pupils focus on Harry. She sways slightly again and then says, "M — Master is stopped — hic — coming?"
"Yeah," explains Harry, "we haven't seen him since the first task. The Daily Prophet's saying he's ill." Winky sways some more, staring blurrily at Harry.
"Master — hic — ill?" Her bottom lip begins to tremble.
"But we're not sure if that's true," reassures Hermione quickly.
"Master is needing his — hic — Winky!" whimpers the elf. "Master cannot — hic — manage — hic — all by himself. . . ."
"Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky," Hermione says severely. I let out a soft sigh before grabbing another elcair and efficiently stealing it from Ron, who pouts at me before reaching for another.
"Winky — hic — is not only — hic — doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" Winky squeaks indignantly, swaying worse than ever and slopping butterbeer down her already heavily stained blouse. "Master is — hic — trusting Winky with — hic — the most important — hic — the most secret —"
"What?" prods Harry. But Winky shakes her head very hard, spilling more butterbeer down herself.
"Winky keeps — hic — her master's secrets," she says mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at Harry with her eyes crossed. "You is — hic — nosing, you is."
"Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!" says Dobby angrily. "Harry Potter is brave and noble and Harry Potter is not nosy!"
I glance between the two house elves warily. This wouldn't be the first time that I've seen two of them fight, but I have no idea what it would be like when one of them is so very obviously drunk.
"He is nosing — hic — into my master's — hic — private and secret — hic — Winky is a good house-elf — hic — Winky keeps her silence — hic — people trying to — hic — pry and poke — hic —"
Winky's eyelids droop and suddenly, without warning, she slides off her stool into the hearth, snoring loudly. The empty bottle of butterbeer rolls away across the stone-flagged floor. Half a dozen house-elves come hurrying forward, looking disgusted. One of them picks up the bottle; the others cover Winky with a large checked tablecloth and tuck the ends in neatly, hiding her from view.
"We is sorry you had to see that, sirs and miss!" squeaks a nearby elf, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs and misses!"
"She's unhappy!" cries Hermione, exasperated. "Why don't you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?"
"Begging your pardon, miss," says the house-elf, bowing deeply again, "but house-elves has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served."
"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione yells. "Listen to me, all of you! You've got just as much right as wizards to be unhappy! You've got the right to wages and holidays and proper clothes, you don't have to do everything you're told — look at Dobby!"
"Miss will please keep Dobby out of this," Dobby mumbles, looking scared. The cheery smiles have vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the kitchen. They are suddenly looking at Hermione as though she is mad and dangerous.
"Mione, not every species culture is like ours. You have to learn that and respect it. Not everyone is like Dobby." I tell her urgently giving a the elves a placating smile. They have all known me for a few years now so I don't think that they'll be too mad at me.
"I can't believe that you condone slavery Jamie!" Hermione snaps harshly. I freeze and send a harsh glare my best friends' way.
"You know what Hermione you'd better watch what you say to your friends, or you'll be waking up one day wondering what happened when no one wants to be around you anymore." I snap back. With that I turn sharply on my heel and storm out of the kitchen.
I'm so distracted as I march away that once I'm back in the hall I don't even notice the shock of blond hair or the surprised utterance of my name from the owner of said hair. I manage to make it as far as the Entrance Hall before my arm is caught in a surprisingly strong grip. I'm spun around to face the worried face of Ariana.
"Jamie. Take a breath and tell me what happened." She commands, and for some reason I inhale a large gulp of air not realizing that I hadn't been breathing for a moment. I close my eyes just focusing on breathing for a little bit.
"Mione just started goin' off on the elves. I defended them and she implied that I supported slavery. I-I don't think that's what I meant right?" I ask her slightly unsure of myself now. Ariana let out a relieved breath, and a chuckle.
"Merlin Jamie, you had me worried that someone had died." She exclaims. I give the girl an unimpressed look, and cross my arms over my chest.
"This is serious Ariana! My friend thinks that I condone that sort of stuff! I have to live with her Ari, what am I going to do when we're back in our dorm alone together?" I whine. She shakes her head at me while grabbing my hand to pull me along outside.
"I know Jame. I'm sure that it was something just said in the heat of the moment. Besides, she's a muggle born and nothing against them but they honestly don't understand the wizarding world like the rest of us." Ariana tries to reassure me.
"But Mione's the smartest witch in our year!" I counter. Ariana chuckles, and laces her arm through mine, as we walk along the paths.
"That doesn't mean that she doesn't have stuff to still learn Jamie. Besides she's your best friend. I think that you both just need some time to cool off. I think that come morning you two will be going back to being thick as thieves. Now come on. Lets talk about other things…"
That's how I ended up spending the rest of the afternoon with Ariana and later with some of her friends. The momentary stillness of the moment is so different from the whirlwind of activity that fourth year has been so far at Hogwarts.
By breakfast the next day Ron's and Hermione's bad moods have burnt out (apparently they got in a fight after I left), and to Harry's and my relief, Ron's dark predictions that the house-elves would send substandard food up to the Gryffindor table because Hermione had insulted them is proved false; the bacon, eggs, and kippers are quite as good as usual.
Even Ariana's prediction turned out to be right for later on that night my best friend had apologized for her rash words, and I had given my own apology as well. It was a good thing too as I wasn't quite sure how'd I survive in the dorm with Lavender and Parvati alone.
When the post owls arrive, Hermione looks up eagerly; she seems to be expecting something.
"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," says Ron. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."
"No, it's not that," says Hermione. "I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."
"Good thinking!" I say, also looking up at the owls. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck —"
A gray owl is soaring down towards Hermione. "It hasn't got a newspaper, though," she says, looking disappointed. "It's —"
But to her bewilderment, the gray owl lands in front of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny. What in Merlin's saggy pants is going on here?
"How many subscriptions did you take out?" asks Harry, seizing Hermione's goblet before it is knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom are jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.
"What on earth — ?" Hermione says, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. "Oh really!" she sputters, going rather red.
"What's up?" asks Ron.
"It's — oh how ridiculous —" She thrusts the letter at me, and I see that it is not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seem to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.
You are a WickEd giRL. HarRy PotTER desErves BeTteR. GO back wherE you cAMe from mUGgle.
"They're all like it!" says Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you. . . . ' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn. . . . ' Ouch!"
She has opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushes over her hands, which begins to erupt in large yellow boils.
"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" says Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it. My hands clench in anger but I take a few breaths of air trying to calm myself down. Professor Dumbledore did say after all that unjust actions were going to set me off.
"Ow!" says Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tries to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers are now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looks as though she is wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.
"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," says Harry as the owls around Hermione take flight. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone. . . ."
"I warned her!" says Ron as Hermione hurries out of the Great Hall, cradling her hands. "I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one . . ." He reads out one of the letters Hermione had left behind: "'I read in Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.' Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself."
I shake my head after finally feeling that I am able to control myself. "She doesn't deserve that. I swear the next time I see Skeeter I'm going to zap her so hard, she'll be throwing up slugs for the rest of her life." I growl out standing with the boys so that we can get to Herbology.
That is until we're stopped by a gang of Slytherins in front of us. "Looks like Granger was rather upset this morning Potter. You break up with her? Though I would have thought that Miss Skeeter's new article would have been something of more interest to you." Malfoy sneers brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands.
"I think you'll be especially interested in the article Weasley, Pendragon." He says. I snatch the newspaper out of his hands, and flip to the article that he was mentioning.
Heartfelt Gesture or Gold Digging Choice?
It has recently come to the attention of yours truly that the last two members of the infamous Pendragon family, young Luka and Jamie, are no longer residing with their guardian Kingsley Shacklebolt. Mr. Shacklebolt gave up custody of the pair for mysterious reasons, and this makes readers wonder if it has anything to do with the various escapades committed by Jamie Pendragon and her friends.
On a more interesting note, the guardianship of the Pendragons has been taken up by Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Worker Arthur Weasley's family. It is a well known fact that the Weasley family is known for their abnormally large family, and shockingly red hair. Young Miss Pendragon is friends with Ronald Weasley the youngest son of the Weasleys.
Having nine children to support in one family is nearly a preposterous idea, so this begs the question is the guardianship over the young Pendragons a ploy to get at the vast fortune that is held in the name of the kids?
Multiple sources close to the children and the family report that this is a very probable possibility. My readers and I hope that a formal investigation is put into place to look up these allegations. More on this developing story will be brought to you soon.
By the time I'm done reading the article my hands are shaking in rage. I don't even know what's happening until the newspaper in my hands has been set aflame in fire. Not normal fire either but a bright luminescent blue fire. The flames lick my hands but it doesn't hurt me at all.
"Why that annoying little bi…" Ron starts but is interrupted by the sharp and worried voice of Professor McGonagall.
"Mr. Weasley! That is quite enough from you." She snaps. The professor's eyes are locked on me though. I can't help but stare fascinated by the wisps of blue flame dancing around on the palms of my hands. "Jamie!" She says trying to snap me out of my trance.
My lungs start wheezing trying to keep oxygen in them. "What's wrong with her? Jamie! Jamie!" I can vaguely hear Luka shouting from somewhere near by, and the noise around me seems to triple. All I can focus on is the words that are seared permanently into my mind.
They seriously think that the Weasleys would only take us in for the money that we could provide them? Is that what happened? No that can't be! "Let me though! I need to be there!"
"Ariana you need to stay back! Jamie isn't safe to be by right now."
"I've known the Pendragon twins my whole life. I know them better then you could ever hope to!"
Suddenly there are two warm hands on both of my clammy cheeks, and my fuzzy vision starts to focus on the girl in front of me. It takes me a few seconds before I realize that she's whispering to me.
"That's it. You're doing great. It's not true Jame. That harpy doesn't know what she talking about. I bet she barely managed to graduate from Hogwarts as well. Come on Jamie everything is going to be fine."
The voice is so familiar. I blink a few times and Ariana comes into focus. Her face is creased with worry, and I inhale my first breath of air in a while. Its painful, and I manage to cough more than breathe but it's a start. "That's it. I knew that you were still in there somewhere."
The relieved smile that comes across her face is enough to stave off the initial bout of panic that I feel coming back. "She…said…" I wheeze attempting to relay my anger to her.
"Sh… none of that now. We need to get you up to the hospital wing so that Madam Pomfrey can take a look at your hands." Ariana tells me cupping my cheek for another second before dropping her hand, and turning around to look at Professor McGonagall.
I notice for the first time that we're pretty much alone in the hall. I guess that the professor had managed to scare everyone away with threat of detention. So with another shaky breath, I allow to the two of them to lead me out of the Great Hall and up to the hospital wing. At this rate I seriously should just have a bed there.
Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the following week, and although she follows Hagrid's advice and stops opening it, several of her ill-wishers send Howlers, which explode at the Gryffindor table and shriek insults at her for the whole Hall to hear. Even those people who don't read Witch Weekly know all about the supposed Harry–Krum–Hermione triangle now. Harry is getting sick of telling people that Hermione isn't his girlfriend.
Things are just as bad if not worse for me now as well. There are whispers all over the castle about how the Pendragon twins are being exploited and being taken advantage of. A few nights ago all of the Weasleys in Hogwarts, Luka, and I got together and talked about our plan of action with the stupid paper and the rumors going around.
Everyone was giving me a great berth of space since my whole explosion with the blue fire. No one has tried to bring up the subject with me directly, thank Merlin. I don't think that I would be able to control myself honestly, and that scares me.
"It'll die down, though," Harry tells Hermione, "if we just ignore it. . . . People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time —"
"I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds!" says Hermione angrily.
"If she's brazen enough to make up lies that ruin people's lives, then she's definitely crafty enough to hear things she's not supposed to." I mutter darkly.
"Are you complementing her Jamie?" Hermione practically screeches at me. I turn my mutinous glare at my best friend.
"I'm just pointing out a fact Hermione. The day that I have anything for that vile roach is the day that I'm locked up for good in St. Mungdos." I growl out. Harry and Ron look between the two of us warily unsure whether or not they want to get in the middle of the fight between the two of us.
Hermione hangs back in our next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to ask Professor Moody something. The rest of the class is very eager to leave; Moody has given us such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them are nursing small injuries. Harry has such a bad case of Twitchy Ears, he has to hold his hands clamped over them as he walks away from the class.
Luckily my new found powers seem to have some sort of help in my enhancing my already above average reflexes, so thankfully I don't have anything embarrassing to hide like them. This week has been bloody taxing on me.
"Well, Rita's definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!" Hermione pants five minutes later, catching up with Harry, Ron, and me in the entrance hall and pulling Harry's hand away from one of his wiggling ears so that he can hear her. "Moody says he didn't see her anywhere near the judges' table at the second task, or anywhere near the lake!"
"Hermione, is there any point in telling you to drop this?" says Ron.
"No!" says Hermione stubbornly. "I want to know how she heard me talking to Viktor! And how she found out about Hagrid's mum!"
"Maybe she had you bugged," says Harry.
"Bugged?" says Ron blankly, and I give him a confused look as well. "What . . . put fleas on her or something?"
Harry starts explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment. Ron is fascinated, and I'm enthralled thinking about all the damage that I can do to Malfoy with one of those insect things, but Hermione interrupts us.
"Aren't you three ever going to read Hogwarts: A History?"
"What's the point?" says Ron. "You know it by heart, we can just ask you." I nod my head along with him considering how I had ended up just recycling my old book by giving it to a first year.
"All those substitutes for magic Muggles use — electricity, computers, and radar, and all those things — they all go haywire around Hogwarts, there's too much magic in the air. No, Rita's using magic to eavesdrop, she must be. . . . If I could just find out what it is . . . ooh, if it's illegal, I'll have her . . ."
"Haven't we got enough to worry about?" Ron asks her. "Do we have to start a vendetta against Rita Skeeter as well?"
"I'm not asking you to help!" Hermione snaps. "I'll do it on my own! Jamie you'll help me won't you?"
I shift uncomfortably to my other foot. Though there is a blazing fire inside me that's roaring for Skeeter's blood, but I really shouldn't do anything about it, for I've already proven that I can't control these new powers that I possess so that could be drastically bad. I do not want to be responsible for hurting or worse killing another person, even someone as bad as Rita Skeeter.
"Mione, I'd like nothing more than to make Skeeter pay, but I'm not in a position to be going out and seeking vengeance. I set a newspaper on fire in my anger. I— I can't." I admit ashamedly.
"Fine then I'll do this on my own!" She hisses. Hermione marches back up the marble staircase without a backwards glance our way. I'm quite sure she is going to the library.
"What's the betting she comes back with a box of I Hate Rita Skeeter badges?" says Ron.
"I'll buy one of those buttons if so. I'm afraid that we really ticked her off this time though." I say regretfully.
Hermione, however, does not ask Harry and Ron to help her pursue vengeance against Rita Skeeter, for which they are both grateful, because their workload is mounting ever higher in the days before the Easter holidays. I marvel at the fact that Hermione can research magical methods of eavesdropping as well as everything else we have to do.
Harry is busy trying to communicate with Sirius, while Ron is trying to make sense of all the essays that he has to complete without the help of Hermione. He had really started to rely on her, which is a really bad thing. I on the other hand had been spending more time in secluded corners of the castle with Ariana.
We usually found ourselves sat across from each other practicing breathing techniques to keep my unique brand of magic under control and at bay. I'm not sure whether it will work in a situation where I'm actually faced with the anger, but the exercises are very relaxing and very helpful when working on all the homework that's piling up.
Hedwig doesn't return from Percy until the end of the Easter holidays. Percy's letter is enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley has sent. Harry's, Ron's, and my eggs were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione's, however, is smaller than a chicken egg. Her face falls when she sees it.
"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asks quietly.
"Yeah," says Ron, whose mouth is full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."
Hermione looks sadly at her tiny egg.
"You can share mine Mione. I really don't like toffee all that much anyway. Besides Mrs. Weasley will have to see that she's being really silly soon anyway." I reassure her, giving her some of my toffee. She gives me a small smile while eating some of the toffee.
"Don't you want to see what Percy's written?" Harry asks Hermione hastily.
Percy's letter is short and irritated.
As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumors. Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter.
The start of the summer term would normally have meant that I was training hard with Harry for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it is the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which Harry needs to prepare, but he still doesn't know what he will have to do. Finally, in the last week of May, Professor McGonagall holds him back in Transfiguration.
Hermione, Ron, and I wait for him out in the hallway. "Do you think that he's finally going to get his assignment for the final task?" Ron asks us excitedly. Since Harry's tied for first with Cedric Diggory, Ron's been betting on Harry to win the whole tournament.
"Quite possibly. It would be very irresponsible to not inform them so that they are ill prepared for the last and arguably most dangerous task of the tournament." Hermione tells us factually, but I can tell that Ron has already zoned her out.
"Good. I'll be happy for this whole year to be over. This year has been weird for our standards. Sure Harry is still in danger, but its weird not having to look over my shoulder with him." I murmur. Hermione gives me a scandalized look, but Ron nods his head in agreement to my statement.
"As long as there's not giant spiders I'm in." He nods his head resolutely. Harry comes out of the classroom with an odd look on his face.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asks immediately. I have to roll my eyes at her immediate panicked response. We're all so used to bad news by now that its kind of sad.
"I'm supposed to go down to the Quidditch pitch tonight at nine to be informed with the other champions about the third task. Wait up for me and I'll tell you all about it." He tells us breathlessly. The Quidditch pitch, is a game going to be the last challenge? If so I demand to be a part of Harry's team.
It was around eleven o'clock when Harry finally made it back to the dormitory that night. Ron, Hermione, and I were the only ones left in the common room, and the three of us were dressed in our pajamas. Hermione was wearing a long pink nightgown, Ron in his Chudley Cannon Sleepers, and me with my dragon pajamas. Harry was definitely out of place from the sleepy atmosphere, with his school clothes still on, and his cheeks tinged pink from being outside for so long.
"So come on mate, tell us! Don't leave us hanging!" Ron urges excitedly, attempting to keep his voice down as so not to attract the attention of anyone else who might still be awake in the dorms.
Harry plops down in the armchair across from us, in front of the fire. "You will never believe what I've been through these past few hours." Harry tells us, his expressions bordering on manic enthusiasm.
"What happened? Harry you look like you just solved a mystery!" I say, beginning to get excited myself. Obviously more went on than just the traditional revealing of the third task.
"Well, the third task is a maze. They turned the Quidditch pitch into a maze. I know Jamie I was upset too. There will be booby-traps in the maze, and the first person to get to the Tri-Wizard Cup in the middle, wins the tournament. That's not what's interesting though. Krum wanted to talk to me afterwards, so we went off, and had the beginnings of a discussion about you Hermione."
"Me?" Hermione squeaks, turning red.
"Yep, he wanted to talk about you. We didn't really get the chance to though, for we came across Mr. Crouch!" Harry exclaims. The three of us stare at him in dumbstruck silence.
"Mr. Crouch is on Hogwarts grounds and nobody knows about it?" I cry.
"Well for one thing he's crazy. He kept spouting off about the missing ministry worker, his son, Voldemort, and well… me. I left Krum and Crouch to go get Professor Dumbledore for help. When I got back with him and Snape, Krum was knocked out, and Crouch was gone." Harry says.
Well this is definitely not something that I was expecting to find out tonight. I wonder what's going to happen next now. Things are beginning to heat up now that the fourth year of Hogwarts is beginning to draw to a close.