Chapter 18: Mr. Crouch

March 10, 2002 – Sunday

Kitchens

Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the Owlery after a hearty Sunday breakfast, a sense of purpose guiding their steps. Their mission was to send a letter to Percy, and they were eager to get it done. The anticipation was palpable as they watched Hedwig soar gracefully into the sky, the letter clutched tightly in her talons, until she disappeared from view through the Owlery window.

With their task accomplished, the group made their way down to the kitchen to deliver a much-anticipated gift to Dobby. The house-elves greeted them with effusive cheer, their gratitude evident in their bows and curtsies, and they hurriedly set about preparing tea once more.

Dobby's eyes lit up with pure joy at the sight of his new socks. "Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!" he exclaimed, his high-pitched voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Harry spoke up, his voice laced with sincerity. "You saved mine and Dawn's life with that gillyweed, Dobby, you really did," he said, his gratitude overflowing.

Dawn nodded fervently, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Yeah, Dobby," she added, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on the house elf's cheek. Dobby blushed, his ears turning a shade of pink that matched his tea towel.

Ron, never one to miss an opportunity for some humor, chimed in. "No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?" he asked with a mischievous grin, his appetite always at the forefront of his mind.

"You've just had breakfast!" Hermione exclaimed, her irritation evident in her voice as Ron brought up the idea of more food.

Harry nodded, his thoughts already on their next task. "We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles," he muttered, a sense of responsibility for his godfather urging him forward.

Ron agreed, seeing an opportunity for Pigwidgeon to be useful. "Good idea," he said. "Give Pig something to do. You couldn't give us a bit of extra food, could you?" His appetite always seemed to outweigh his sense of timing.

Hermione, however, had other concerns on her mind. "Dobby, where's Winky?" she inquired, her voice laced with worry.

Dawn, recalling the story Harry and Ron had shared about Winky, understood the gravity of the situation. Mr. Crouch had freed Winky because he suspected her involvement in casting the Dark Mark, and the consequences had clearly taken a toll on the once-proud house-elf.

"Winky is over there by the fire, miss," Dobby replied quietly, a hint of sadness in his tone.

Hermione's and Dawn's expressions mirrored each other as they spotted Winky. The sight of the house-elf, sitting in filth to the point where she blended in with the smoke-blackened brick behind her, filled them with a deep sense of concern and empathy.

"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," Dobby whispered to the group, his voice laden with concern.

Dawn's surprise was evident as she responded, "Six?"

Dobby nodded solemnly, his large ears drooping. "Yes, Miss."

Harry attempted to offer some reassurance. "Well, it's not strong, that stuff," he said, trying to downplay the gravity of the situation.

But Dobby shook his head, his eyes filled with sadness. "'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir," he explained softly. "Winky is pining, Harry Potter." His voice quivered with emotion. "Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby said will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now."

Harry, ever the compassionate soul, tried to address Winky directly. "Hey, Winky," he said gently, "you don't know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."

Winky's eyes flickered, her speech slurred as she clearly appeared to be drunk. "M-Master is stopped—hic—coming?" she inquired, her voice trembling.

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yeah," he confirmed, his expression filled with concern. "We haven't seen him since the first task."

Dawn chimed in, adding more context to the situation. "The Daily Prophet 's saying he's ill," she explained.

Winky swayed, her small frame unsteady as she processed the information. "Master—hic—ill?" Her voice was filled with a mix of worry and sadness, her bottom lip trembling.

Hermione, always quick to provide information, spoke up. "But we're not sure if that's true," she said, attempting to offer a glimmer of hope.

Winky whimpered, her distress evident. "Master is needing his— hic —Winky!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with longing and desperation. "Master cannot— hic —manage— hic —all by himself…"

Hermione couldn't help but express her perspective, trying to offer some perspective to Winky. "Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky," she said, her tone gentle but firm.

But Winky, in her intoxicated state, was indignant. "Winky— hic —is not only— hic —doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" she squeaked, her voice filled with a sense of importance. "Master is— hic —trusting Winky with— hic —the most important— hic —the most secret…"

Harry's curiosity was piqued. "What?" he asked, leaning in closer, eager to know more.

However, Winky shook her head vigorously, causing more butterbeer to spill down her already soiled clothes. "Winky keeps— hic —her master's secrets. You is— hic —nosing, you is."

Dobby, ever loyal and protective of Harry, interjected angrily. "Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!" he scolded. "Harry Potter is brave and noble, and Harry Potter is not nosy!"

Winky, still inebriated, continued to defend herself. "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."

And then, without warning, Winky's eyelids drooped, and she slid off her stool and into the hearth, snoring loudly.

"We is sorry you had to see that, sirs and misses!" squeaked a nearby elf, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs and misses!" His voice quivered with anxiety.

Hermione, her frustration evident, couldn't help but voice her concern. "She's unhappy!" she exclaimed, exasperated. "Why don't you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?"

The house-elf, respectful but deeply entrenched in his beliefs, bowed deeply once more as he responded, "Begging your pardon, miss, but house-elves has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served."

Dawn couldn't contain her frustration any longer. "Oh for heaven's sake!" she cried out, her voice filled with exasperation. She was a newcomer to this world of house-elves, and their apparent acceptance of their plight struck her as deeply troubling.

Hermione, ever the champion of justice, decided to take a stand. "Listen to me, all of you!" she said firmly, addressing the gathered house-elves. "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!" Her voice was passionate, filled with a sense of urgency.

Dobby, though touched by Hermione's words, mumbled modestly, "Miss will please keep Dobby out of this."

"We has your extra food!" squeaked an elf at Harry's elbow, and before he could react, a large ham, a dozen cakes, and some fruit were shoved into his arms. "Good-bye!" The house-elves were efficient, their actions swift and determined.

The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity as the house-elves crowded around Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione, pushing them toward the exit. Many little hands gently but firmly nudged them out of the kitchen, their hospitality extended but their desire for privacy and secrecy evident.

"Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!" Dobby called out gratefully as they were ushered away.

Ron's frustration bubbled over. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione?" he said angrily, a hint of resentment in his voice. "They won't want us visiting them now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!"

Hermione defended herself, not one to back down from her principles. "Oh, as if you care about that!" she retorted, her tone sharp. Dawn nodded in agreement with Hermione's sentiments. "You only like coming down here for the food!"

Hermione then looped her arm around Dawn's, and the twins walked away from Harry and Ron, leaving behind a bit of tension but also a sense of conviction in their beliefs.

March 11, 2002 – Monday

Great Hall

By breakfast the next day, the tension that had hung over Ron and Hermione had finally dissipated. The new day brought a renewed sense of camaraderie among the trio.

As the post owls arrived, Hermione's anticipation was palpable. She seemed to be eagerly expecting something, her curiosity driving her.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," Ron pointed out. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

But Hermione had something else in mind. "No, it's not that," she explained. "I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."

Harry praised her decision. "Good thinking!" he said. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck—" His words were cut short as a gray owl descended heading for Hermione and Dawn.

Hermione expressed her slight disappointment, observing, "It hasn't got a newspaper, though. And it's heading for Dawn."

Indeed, the gray owl landed on Dawn's plate, and she took the letter from it, beginning to read. However, her initial surprise quickly turned into frustration. "Oh really!" she exclaimed, her face flushing with indignation.

"What's up?" Ron asked, his concern growing as he watched Dawn's reaction to the letter.

Dawn handed the letter to Hermione, clearly frustrated. Hermione's eyes widened as she read its contents: "You are a wicked girl. Harry Potter deserves better. Go back where you came from, muggle."

As more owls delivered additional letters to Dawn, her distress increased. She opened one letter after another, and the hateful messages continued: "Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you… You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn…"

Suddenly, Dawn let out a cry of pain as she opened the last envelope. Yellowish-green liquid, reeking of petrol, gushed over her hands, causing her skin to erupt in large, painful boils.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" Ron exclaimed, gingerly picking up the envelope and sniffing it.

Dawn, tears welling up in her eyes, tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but it was too late. Her fingers were now thickly covered in painful sores, making it look as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

Hermione, her concern evident, helped Dawn out of her seat. "Come on, Dawn. We'd better get you up to the hospital wing," she said, her voice filled with worry. "Harry, on your way to Herbology, could you stop and let Buffy know what happened?"

Harry nodded in acknowledgment. "Sure. And we'll tell Professor Sprout where you've both gone…"

With that, Hermione hurried Dawn out of the Great Hall, leaving Ron and Harry to deal with the aftermath of the hateful letters.

Ron shook his head as he read another letter filled with vitriol. "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," he read aloud, his frustration growing. "Blimey, if Dawn doesn't have enough problems with Glory. Now she has to worry about some nutter."

Harry agreed, his expression tense. "I know," he said. "I'll see you in class. I'm going to go see Buffy." With that, he stood up and hurried from the Great Hall, determined to inform Buffy about the distressing incident involving Dawn.

Corridors

Harry found Buffy and Moody in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, in the midst of their first class of the day. He approached them with a polite apology, addressing both professors, "Sorry to interrupt, Professors."

However, his news took precedence as he turned his attention to Buffy. "Professor Summers, Dawn has been taken to the hospital wing," he informed her.

Buffy's eyes widened in concern, and she quickly made an excuse to her class, explaining that she needed to leave. Moody offered to take over for the remainder of the period, allowing Buffy to focus on the situation at hand. Together, she and Harry left the classroom.

As they walked, Buffy couldn't hide her worry. "Why is she in the hospital wing?" she asked, her tone filled with concern.

Harry sighed, recounting the distressing incident. "A lot of people sent Dawn some hate mail about the article in the Daily Prophet. The one that said Dawn was my girlfriend. One of the envelopes had bubotuber pus in it. Her hands swelled up from the boils."

Buffy's anger simmered beneath the surface as she processed the information. "Dawn has more than enough to worry about between the tournament and Glory. She doesn't need this too." Determination filled her voice as they reached the hospital wing. "Go along, Harry. I'll be fine from here."

Harry nodded, his concern evident. "Tell Dawn I hope she's alright."

Buffy smiled gratefully. "I will, Harry. And thanks."

Hospital Wing

Buffy entered the hospital wing, her steps purposeful yet filled with worry, her Slayer instincts alert to any signs of distress. She quickly spotted Hermione, who was sitting beside Dawn, offering her support and comfort. Madam Pomfrey was tending to Dawn's injuries with her usual efficiency and care.

Madam Pomfrey looked up as Buffy approached, her expression a mix of concern and professionalism. "Ah, Professor Summers," she greeted Buffy, acknowledging her presence. "I'm glad you're here. Miss Summers has had a rather unfortunate encounter with undiluted bubotuber pus, and her hands have swollen considerably."

Buffy's concern deepened as she glanced at her sister, who was clearly in pain but still trying to maintain a brave front. "How is she?" she inquired, her voice filled with worry.

Madam Pomfrey offered a reassuring smile. "She's in good hands, Professor Summers," she said. "I've treated her injuries, and with time and proper care, her hands should heal. However, it will take a while for the swelling to subside."

Buffy nodded, grateful for Madam Pomfrey's expertise and care. She approached Dawn's bedside, offering her sister a warm and reassuring smile. "You're going to be okay, Dawn," she said, her voice filled with love and comfort. "Hermione, I'll stay with her, you can head on to class. I'll let you know if there's any change."

Hermione nodded, understanding Buffy's need to stay with Dawn during this challenging time. She gave Dawn's hand a gentle squeeze before rising from her seat. "Of course, Professor Summers," she said, her voice filled with sympathy. "Please keep me updated, and don't hesitate to call on me if you need anything."

Buffy appreciated Hermione's support and nodded in acknowledgment. As Hermione headed toward the exit of the hospital wing, Buffy settled into the chair beside Dawn's bed, determined to provide her sister with the comfort and care she needed to recover.

"And, Dawn," Buffy said. "I think your mail should go through me for awhile."

"Probably a good idea, Buffy," Dawn agreed.

Hagrid's Hut

As Harry and Ron made their way out of the greenhouse and toward their Care of Magical Creatures class, Hermione came running up to them, her expression filled with concern.

"How's Dawn?" Harry asked, his voice reflecting his worry.

Hermione took a moment to catch her breath before responding. "She's okay," she reassured them. "She'll be in there for a while. Buffy is going to stay with her until Madam Pomfrey releases her. Suffice to say, all mail for Dawn will now be sent through Buffy. Buffy's not going to let this happen again. I think she should have done that before now, though. If Glory were to know where Dawn is, she could mail her a portkey that could activate upon her receiving it."

Pansy Parkinson, always eager to stir up trouble, called out from behind them as she descended the stone steps with the rest of Slytherin, "Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?"

Harry chose to ignore her, but Hermione, with a glare that could freeze fire, made it clear that she had no patience for Pansy's taunts. The trio continued on their way to class, their thoughts focused on Dawn's well-being and the need to protect her from any further harm.

"These're nifflers," explained Hagrid as the class gathered around. "Yeh find 'em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff… There yeh go, look."

The nifflers, small and furry creatures, seemed to be living up to their reputation as they curiously eyed the students and the shiny objects around them. Their inquisitive nature was soon on full display when one of the nifflers suddenly leaped up and attempted to bite Pansy Parkinson's watch off her wrist.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the scene, finding it rather amusing.

Hagrid, always enthusiastic about magical creatures, beamed with pride. "Useful little treasure detectors," he said happily. "Thought we'd have some fun with 'em today. See over there?" He pointed at a large patch of freshly turned earth. "I've buried some gold coins. I've got a prize for whoever picks the niffler that digs up the most. Just take off all yer valuables, and choose a niffler, and get ready to set 'em loose."

Hermione glanced at the bracelet she had received for Christmas, a cherished gift from Dawn. "Go ahead. I promised Dawn I would never take the bracelet off. And I intend not to."

Harry, who knew Hermione's fears and concerns well, gave her an understanding nod. She had been through so much in the past eight months since discovering her sisters, and her love for Dawn was both her strength and her vulnerability. "She'll be alright," he assured her, his voice filled with confidence and reassurance.

Hermione's smile at Harry's words conveyed her appreciation for his support and understanding. They shared a bond forged through countless trials, and their mutual care for Dawn had only strengthened that connection.

However, as Hagrid realized that there were two spare nifflers, his concern turned to Dawn's absence. He peered into the crate, searching for the missing student. "There's two spare nifflers here… who's missin? Hermione, come get yeh a niffler. Where's Dawn?"

Ron quickly filled Hagrid in on Dawn's situation. "She had to go to the hospital wing," he explained, not wanting to go into the details in front of the class. "We'll explain later," Harry added quietly.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Hagrid nodded. "Hagrid, I'm going to sit this one out," Hermione said, her concern for Dawn outweighing any desire to participate in the lesson.

Hagrid accepted her decision without hesitation. "Sure, no problem, Hermione," he said with a warm and understanding smile.

"Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?" Ron asked with excitement as his niffler enthusiastically dug into the soil, splattering his robes with dirt.

Hagrid chuckled heartily. "Yer mum wouldn' be happy, Ron," he replied, still grinning. "They wreck houses, nifflers. I reckon they've nearly got the lot, now. I on'y buried a hundred coins. Oh, there y'are, Dawn!"

Dawn and Buffy were making their way across the lawn, heading toward the class. Dawn's hands were heavily bandaged, and she looked visibly miserable.

Hermione couldn't contain her relief and joy at seeing Dawn, and she sprinted toward her sister, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. "You okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Dawn managed a nod, though her discomfort was evident. "I'm fine, 'Mione."

Hermione glanced at Buffy, her worry still apparent. "Is she?" she inquired.

Buffy nodded firmly, her protective instincts kicking into high gear. "She will be," she assured Hermione.

"Well, let's check how yeh've done!" said Hagrid, his enthusiasm undiminished. "Count yer coins! An' there's no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle. It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."

Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. It turned out that Ron's niffler had been the most successful, and Hagrid rewarded him with an enormous slab of Honeyduke's chocolate as a prize.

The lunch bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, and the rest of the class made their way back to the castle. However, Harry, Ron, Dawn, Buffy, and Hermione stayed behind to help Hagrid return the nifflers to their boxes.

Hagrid, always attentive to his students, couldn't help but notice Dawn's bandaged hands. Concern etched across his face, he asked, "What've yeh done to your hands, Dawn?"

Dawn proceeded to explain the hateful letters she had received that morning, along with the envelope filled with bubotuber pus.

Hagrid's expression shifted to one of understanding and empathy. "Aaah, don't worry," he reassured her gently, looking down at Dawn. "I got some o' those letters as well, after Rita Skeeter wrote about me mum. 'Yer a monster, and yeh should be put down. Yer mother killed innocent people, and if you had any decency, you'd jump in a lake.'"

Hermione couldn't hide her shock at the vile words. "No!" she exclaimed, vehemently rejecting the hateful sentiments expressed in those letters.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, his expression showing a mix of empathy and frustration. He heaved the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. "They're jus' nutters, Dawn. Don't open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the fire."

Dawn nodded in agreement. "Won't be a problem. Any future mail I get is going through Buffy before I see a one."

Ron chimed in, handing Buffy a letter Dawn had received earlier. "Oh, before I forget," he said. "It was one I opened after Dawn and Hermione left. It talks about sending a curse in the next post."

Buffy nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, Ron. I intend to see Dumbledore about these so he knows what's going on." She was grateful for the support and vigilance of Ron and Harry, who had was not only Dawn and Hermione's friends but also their protectors.

As they made their way back toward the castle, Harry tried to lift Dawn's spirits. "You missed a really good lesson," he told her with a smile. "They're good, nifflers, aren't they, Ron?"

Ron's frown deepened as he continued to scrutinize the chocolate bar Hagrid had given him. Something clearly bothered him, and Harry couldn't help but inquire, "What's the matter? Wrong flavor?"

Ron's response was short and to the point. "No," he said, his tone slightly irritated. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"

Harry was genuinely puzzled. "What gold?" he asked.

"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup," Ron clarified, frustration evident in his voice. "The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"

Harry took a moment to recall the incident Ron was referring to. "Oh… I dunno," he admitted, realizing that he had never noticed the gold had vanished. "I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"

Great Hall

They ascended the steps into the entrance hall and proceeded into the Great Hall for lunch. Today, Buffy chose to sit with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dawn at the Gryffindor table, rather than at the staff table as she usually did.

Ron, still harboring some frustration from earlier, abruptly spoke up. "Must be nice," he began, his tone tinged with annoyance, "to have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."

Harry, feeling exasperated by the ongoing discussion, retorted, "Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night! We all did, remember?"

Buffy, maintaining her role as a responsible professor, interjected with a stern tone, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley."

Both Harry and Ron looked at Buffy and nodded, deciding to drop the argument.

Ron stabbed a roast potato with his fork, glaring at it for a moment before finally saying, "I hate being poor. It's rubbish. I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler."

Hermione, ever the voice of reason, tried to lift Ron's spirits. "Well, we know what to get you next Christmas," she said brightly. "Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus."

Dawn was clearly struggling to manage her knife and fork, her fingers stiff and swollen from the bubotuber pus. Frustration and anger welled up inside her as she burst out, "I hate that Skeeter woman! I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"

Buffy and Hermione exchanged a knowing glance and both let out a sigh. "Dawn Marie Summers!" Buffy exclaimed, her tone firm. "As much as I hate the woman also, you will do no such thing. I plan on suing that newspaper for all they're worth. Between the security breach by putting your name in the paper and now this…"

Dawn sighed, relenting slightly. "I'd settle if you just got her fired."

Harry, trying to provide some reassurance, chimed in, "It'll die down, though, if we just ignore it. People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time."

Dawn nodded, accepting Harry's words, but deep down, she wasn't entirely convinced that ignoring it would make the problem disappear.

May 27, 2002 – Monday

Quidditch Stadium

Professor McGonagall's stern voice held a note of importance as she addressed Harry and Dawn after class. "You both are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock," she informed them, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

As the clock approached half past eight that night, Dawn and Harry left Ron and Hermione behind in Gryffindor Tower. They were met by Buffy as they passed her suite, who had made it a point to insist on having at least two people accompany Dawn since the incident with the hate mail.

Walking across the entrance hall, they encountered Cedric, who had come up from the Hufflepuff common room. He seemed curious about the upcoming task. "What d'you reckon it's going to be?" Cedric asked. "Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure."

Harry considered the idea for a moment. "That wouldn't be too bad," he mused.

Buffy, however, shook her head with a hint of skepticism. "I doubt it would be that simple with what the first two tasks were," she remarked.

Dawn nodded in agreement. "I'll be happy as long as they don't make me choose between you and 'Mione again."

Buffy placed a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder. "So will I, Dawnie," she said, her protective instincts in full force.

They made their way down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, navigating the dimly lit path. Upon reaching the stadium, they turned through a gap in the stands and walked out onto the field.

Cedric, however, came to a sudden stop, a look of indignation on his face. He pointed to the field in disbelief. "What've they done to it?" he asked incredulously.

The Quidditch field was no longer the smooth and flat expanse they were used to. Instead, it appeared as though someone had erected long, low walls that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"They're hedges!" Dawn and Harry exclaimed simultaneously, recognizing the pattern.

As they approached, a cheery voice called out to them," Hello there!" Ludo Bagman stood in the middle of the field, accompanied by Krum and Fleur. Dawn, Harry, Buffy, and Cedric began to make their way toward them, clambering over the hedges to join the conversation.

"Hello, Professor Summers," Bagman greeted Buffy with a warm smile.

"Evening, Mr. Bagman," Buffy replied in kind.

Bagman, clearly enthusiastic about the task, gestured toward the growing hedges and asked, "Well, what d'you think? Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month, and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry, you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

Dawn and Krum responded almost simultaneously, their expressions showing understanding. "Maze," they both grunted.

Bagman beamed. "That's right! A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks. Since there are five champions, it was decided that a second prize would be offered, so somewhere in the maze, a second cup will be placed as well."

Fleur sought clarification, asking, "We simply 'ave to get through the maze?"

"There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily, a warm and cheerful tone lacing his words. His eyes twinkled with excitement as he spoke, as if he couldn't contain his enthusiasm for the upcoming event. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures… then there will be spells that must be broken… all that sort of thing, you know." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, adding a touch of excitement to his words. "Now, Ms. Summers who is leading on points will get a head start into the maze. Then Mr. Diggory and Mr. Potter will enter next, together as they are tied for second place… then Mr. Krum will enter… then Miss Delacour." Bagman's voice took on a rhythmic cadence, building anticipation for the competition. "But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh? Very well…if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly."

All but Bagman, Buffy, Dawn, and Harry left the scene, leaving a moment of privacy for their conversation. "Mr. Bagman," Buffy said, her voice tinged with a mix of determination and concern.

Bagman nodded, his expression shifting to a more serious and attentive demeanor. "Professor Summers."

"I want to discuss a couple of things with you," Buffy began, her tone now conveying a sense of authority and resolve. "First off, there is the article the Daily Prophet ran," she stated firmly.

"Yes," Bagman said, his face displaying a touch of regret. "We were most displeased with Rita."

Buffy nodded, her eyes locking onto Bagman's with unwavering intensity. "I intend to sue the Daily Prophet, mind you. But the article itself, despite the fact it could have alerted Glory, is not what I wanted to mention." Her words carried the weight of her responsibility as the eldest of her family. "As a result of the article, Dawn had been receiving hate mail."

Dawn held up her hands, revealing the healing scars, her voice trembling with a mix of vulnerability and resilience, "One such letter had undiluted bubotuber pus. My hands were bandaged for some time afterwards."

Bagman's brows furrowed in genuine concern as he processed the gravity of the situation. "Do we need to start screening mail?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.

Buffy let out a weary sigh, her protective instincts still in full force. "I have already been screening Dawn's mail. Most of it gets pitched into the fire after checking to see if it's cursed."

"Good," Bagman said with a reassuring nod. "Good."

Buffy continued, her tone now laced with worry, "On the other thing. I'm worried about this maze. Dawn will literally be alone inside. Is there no way we can't get Harry going in with her?"

Bagman's shoulders slumped, and he shook his head regretfully. "I wish there were. But even Harry and Mr. Diggory won't be going in the same entrance. Profes… Buffy, I share your concerns." He spoke her name with a touch of familiarity, emphasizing their shared worry. "I don't want Glorificus to find Dawn any more than you do. I have spent many a night worrying about your sister."

Buffy sighed deeply, her shoulders relaxing a bit at the possibility of Harry and Dawn teaming up inside the maze. "What about once they enter the maze? Could they team up maybe? Assuming they can find each other?"

Bagman nodded thoughtfully, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope amidst their concerns. "If they can find each other, there is nothing in the rules that forbids it. Just as they did in the second task. It's really just discouraged." His words held a sense of understanding for their desire to protect Dawn.

Then, Bagman turned his attention to Dawn, his voice tinged with regret. "Before we return to the castle, Ms. Summers, I wanted to say how deeply sorry I am for the second task. You were right; you should never have been forced to choose between your sisters. If I had known that they would take both of your sisters for you and Mr. Krum, I would have had them use somebody else for Mr. Krum. That way you would not have had to face that situation."

Dawn's smile was genuine, radiating gratitude and forgiveness. "Thank you, Mr. Bagman."

As Mr. Bagman walked ahead, Dawn, Harry, and Buffy exchanged glances, their concerns still lingering. They took their time returning to the castle, the weight of the upcoming task heavy on their minds.

Suddenly, a man staggered out from behind a tall oak at the edge of the forest. Harry's eyes widened in recognition, and he urgently called out, "Buffy." Buffy turned to follow Harry's gaze. "It's Mr. Crouch."

Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see. Buffy, Harry, and Dawn exchanged puzzled glances before quickly walking over to him.

"…and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve.…" Mr. Crouch's voice was frantic and disjointed as they approached.

"Mr. Crouch?" said Harry cautiously, his concern evident.

"…and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen…do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will…" Mr. Crouch's eyes bulged, and his words trailed off into incoherent mutterings. Then, he staggered sideways and fell to his knees, his condition rapidly deteriorating.

Buffy was beside Mr. Crouch in an instant, her voice filled with worry and urgency. "Mr. Crouch? Are you all right?"

Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head, his distress evident but his ability to respond seemingly lost. Buffy exchanged a concerned glance with Harry and Dawn, who were equally baffled by the sudden change in Mr. Crouch's behavior.

"What's wrong with him?" Dawn asked, her voice trembling with concern, as they tried to make sense of the unsettling scene before them.

"No idea," Harry muttered, his anxiety growing by the second. "Buffy, one of us has to go and get someone—"

But before they could make a decision, Mr. Crouch gasped, his grip on Buffy's robes tightening as he reached out and pulled her closer, his vacant eyes fixed on a point beyond her. "Dumbledore!" he croaked, his voice trembling with desperation. "I need… see… Dumbledore…"

Buffy nodded, her instincts kicking into action. "Okay," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "If you get up, we can go up to the—"

But Mr. Crouch's words interrupted her. "I've done… stupid… thing…" he breathed, his voice filled with regret. "Must… tell… Dumbledore…"

"Get up," said Buffy, her tone firm and commanding. "Get up, we'll take you to Dumbledore!"

Mr. Crouch's eyes shifted forward onto Buffy, and he whispered in a confused, raspy voice, "Who… you?"

"I'm Professor Summers. You're at Hogwarts," said Buffy, her voice soothing and reassuring as she tried to calm Mr. Crouch's evident distress.

"You're not… his?" whispered Crouch, his mouth sagging.

"No," said Buffy, her response clear and concise.

"Dumbledore's?" Crouch said, seeking confirmation.

"That's right," said Harry, his presence offering support to the bewildered man.

Crouch's grip on Buffy's robes tightened as he pulled her closer, his words a desperate plea. "Warn… Dumbledore…"

I'll have someone get Dumbledore," Buffy said, her tone resolute and comforting.

"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge," Crouch replied, his words meandering into a disconnected stream of consciousness.

Buffy turned to Harry, her voice urgent and commanding, "Harry, take Dawn and go get Dumbledore. Now!" The urgency in her voice left no room for delay, and Harry and Dawn immediately sprinted towards the castle, their mission clear.

Crouch continued to mutter to himself, seemingly lost in a haze of confusion, "Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.s, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response..."

But then, his eyes bulged with fear and desperation, and he whispered frantically, "Don't…leave…me! I…escaped…must warn…must tell…see Dumbledore…my fault…all my fault…Bertha…dead…all my fault…my son…my fault…tell Dumbledore …Harry Potter… Dawn Summers… the Dark Lord… Glorificus… stronger… Harry Potter… Dawn Summers."

"Someone is getting Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch!" said Buffy, her voice unwavering in the face of his distress, as she remained by his side, determined to ensure he received the help he needed.

Dumbledore's Office

In the castle Harry and Dawn were hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an In the castle, Harry and Dawn were hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor. Their breaths came in rapid pants as they raced to reach their destination. "Sher - sherbet lemon!" Harry panted at it.

This was the password to the hidden staircase to Dumbledore's office - or at least, it had been two years ago. The password had evidently changed, however, for the stone gargoyle did not spring to life and jump aside, but stood frozen, glaring at Harry malevolently.

"Move!" Harry shouted at it, frustration and impatience tinging his voice. "C'mon!"

When the statue remained immobile, Harry and Dawn exchanged a glance filled with urgency and dashed off toward the nearby staff room.

But before they could get far, a stern voice echoed through the corridor, freezing them in their tracks. "POTTER! SUMMERS!"

They skidded to a halt and looked around. Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him even as he beckoned Harry and Dawn back toward him.

"What are you two doing here, Potter? Summers?" Snape's tone was as sharp and suspicious as ever, his dark eyes fixed on them with a penetrating gaze.

"We need to see Professor Dumbledore!" said Dawn, her voice filled with urgency and determination.

Harry added quickly, "It's Mr. Crouch… he's just turned up… he's in the forest… he's asking—"

But Snape interrupted, his skepticism evident in his tone and expression. "What is this rubbish?" he snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Crouch!" Harry shouted, his frustration mounting. "From the Ministry! He's ill or something - he's in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to -"

Snape's glare intensified, and his voice grew even colder, "The headmaster is busy, Potter."

"We've got to tell Dumbledore!" Dawn yelled, her sense of urgency overriding any fear of Snape's authority.

But Snape, his patience wearing thin, snapped back, "Didn't you hear me, Summers?"

"Look," said Harry angrily, his words rushed and desperate, "Crouch isn't right - he's - he's out of his mind—he said he wants to warn—"

The stone wall behind Snape slid open, revealing Dumbledore standing there in his long green robes, his expression mildly curious. "Is there a problem?" he said, his gaze shifting between Harry, Dawn, and Snape.

"Professor!" Harry said urgently, taking a step to the side to avoid Snape's potential interference. "Mr. Crouch is here—he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

Harry braced himself for a barrage of questions from Dumbledore, but to his relief, the wise headmaster wasted no time in inquiry.

"Lead the way," Dumbledore said promptly, his tone calm and decisive. "What did Mr. Crouch say, Harry? Dawn?"

"Said he wants to warn you… said he's done something terrible…" Dawn explained quickly. "We ran to get you the moment Buffy ordered us to. She's still down there with him."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, his voice carrying a sense of purpose as he prepared to address the mysterious situation involving Mr. Crouch.

"He's not acting normally," Harry said, his voice filled with concern. "He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and said he needs to see you…"

Dumbledore listened intently, his expression thoughtful as he processed the information. "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. Crouch?" he asked.

"No," said Harry. "Buffy, Dawn, and I were walking alone. Buffy had just finished talking to Mr. Bagman about Rita Skeeter and the hate mail after Mr. Bagman finished telling us about the third task. Buffy, Dawn, and I were taking our time returning to the castle, and then we saw Mr. Crouch coming out of the forest—"

"Where are they?" said Dumbledore as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness.

"Over here," said Dawn, moving in front of Dumbledore, leading the way through the trees. "Buffy?"

There was no immediate response, and a sense of unease settled in the air.

"They were here," Harry said to Dumbledore, his voice tinged with worry. "They were definitely somewhere around here…"

"Lumos," Dumbledore said, his wand casting a narrow beam of light that traveled from black trunk to black trunk, illuminating the dark forest floor. And then, it fell upon a pair of feet.

Harry, Dawn, and Dumbledore hurried forward, their hearts pounding with worry. There, sprawled on the forest floor, was Buffy. She seemed to be unconscious, her form still and unmoving. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch.

Dumbledore bent over Buffy and gently lifted one of her eyelids to assess her condition. Dawn's voice trembled with concern as she asked, "Buffy?"

"Stunned," Dumbledore said softly.

Dawn let out a sigh of relief, her worry giving way to gratitude. "Thank god."

"Should I go and get someone?" said Harry, his voice filled with urgency. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," said Dumbledore swiftly, his voice carrying an air of authority. "Stay here. Dawn won't leave Buffy, and you need to stay with Dawn." He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Then Dumbledore bent over Buffy again, pointed his wand at her, and muttered, "Ennervate."

Buffy's eyes fluttered open, and she looked dazed. When she saw Dumbledore, she tried to sit up, but Dumbledore gently placed a hand on her shoulder, urging her to remain still.

"He attacked me!" Buffy muttered, her hand going to her head in pain. "Crouch attacked me! I was looking around to see if you were coming back, and he attacked from behind!"

"Lie still for a moment," Dumbledore said, his voice calm and reassuring as he assessed Buffy's condition.

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow. "Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry - what the -?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Hermione," said Dumbledore, his instructions clear and urgent. "When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody and Madame Pomfrey—"

"No need, Dumbledore," Moody said with a wheezy growl, his gruff voice carrying a sense of determination. He was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit. "Damn leg," he said furiously. "Would've been here quicker…what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch—"

"Crouch?" said Hagrid blankly, his confusion evident.

"Hermione and Madam Pomfrey, please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply, his urgency cutting through the confusion.

"Oh yeah… right y'are, Professor…" said Hagrid, nodding in understanding, and he turned, heading for the castle with haste.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, his voice steady and resolute, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," growled Moody, his determination unwavering. He pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest, disappearing into the darkness as he began his search for Mr. Crouch.

Dawn pulled Buffy into her arms, a protective and comforting embrace that spoke volumes of their sisterly bond. No one spoke until they saw Hagrid returning with Hermione and Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock when she saw Buffy. "What is this?" she cried. "What's going on?"

"She was attacked, Ms. Summers," Dumbledore told Hermione with a somber tone, providing a brief explanation of the situation before turning his attention to Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, she was stunned."

Madam Pomfrey nodded and began checking Buffy over, her professional demeanor calm and collected.

"Be careful," Dawn said, her voice filled with concern. "Buffy hates hospitals and doctors."

Madam Pomfrey nodded again, acknowledging Dawn's warning.

Hermione looked at Dawn quizzically, clearly puzzled by what Dawn had said.

Dawn decided to share a bit of their family history with Hermione, explaining, "Our cousin Celia died when she and Buffy were 8 years old. Celia was in the hospital, I don't remember for what. Buffy never got over it. It's not something we talk about. I only know because Mom explained it to me when Buffy had to be hospitalized due to the flu."

Hermione's expression softened with understanding, and she nodded in acknowledgment, realizing the depth of her older sister's aversion to medical facilities.

"Hermione, Harry, why don't you escort Dawn back to the castle," Dumbledore suggested. "We'll be along shortly."

Dawn didn't budge, her determination to stay with Buffy unwavering. "No. I'm not leaving Buffy."

Dumbledore sighed, understanding the strength of their bond, and nodded reluctantly as he turned back to Buffy. "Buffy, tell me everything you remember."

Buffy sighed and nodded, her voice shaky but determined. "Crouch was here. He kept talking about someone named Bertha being dead and about his son. He was half-crazy, though he kept thinking he was talking to Ron's brother Percy Weasley."

Dumbledore nodded, absorbing the information. "Thank you, Buffy. Hagrid, why don't you carry Professor Summers to the hospital wing. Poppy, I might suggest you have two beds set aside until you release Professor Summers. As I highly expect neither of her sisters will want to leave her side."

Madam Pomfrey nodded in understanding that the bonds of family were the most important thing to the Summers sisters. "Of course, Professor."