Seeing Sirius was... nice.
As nice as the conditions allowed the meeting to be. However, it also made Harry feel extremely guilty for everything. When he saw his godfather in his most tattered state, all bony, unkempt, and starving, his intestines twisted like wet laundry, stubbornly draining any and all leftover joy he felt at the idea of finally seeing Sirius again.
It had all been his fault. Harry felt it in his bones alongside the lingering February chill. Even more so when he could not do much about Sirius's situation. He just caused it, but he couldn't fix it. And despite what Harry told himself, how he tried to persuade himself that he did not share the weight of the guilt alone on his shoulders, he still felt pretty miserable about the whole ordeal.
If only Pettigrew did not escape that cursed night last year. If only Remus had taken his potion. If only Harry did not stop Sirius from having a go at the rat man. If only Snape did not come and meddle... If, if, if.
Harry's entire life had been haunted by numerous 'ifs' that left behind crushed hopes. If Sirius hadn't been a falsely convicted criminal. If Harry could live with him. If only they did not have to secretly meet in that cold cave nearby Hogsmeade like it was somehow wrong for Harry to see the only family that gave two flying sickles about him.
As the golden trio watched Sirius practically inhale the food they brought him, Harry's heart ached.
He knew his godfather briefly, through letters more than through face-to-face encounters, but seeing how much the man was willing to do for Harry, how much he was doing already... it was a blow. It was also a wake-up call of sorts.
Sirius did not have it easy, yet Harry regarded him as his support system. Broken, not always reliable, and sometimes immature, but a support system nonetheless.
It was wrong to take from the man because Sirius had hardly anything to give. Harry wasn't greedy by nature, Dursleys made sure of that, but he accepted what Sirius offered anyway. Care and love. It was cracked, scattered, and sometimes distant, but it was there.
It was there in a way Sirius worried about Harry, how he inquired and chastised in that tone of his. It was nowhere near parental, it did not have the tune of Mrs. Weasley, but it did not matter as it was there. For the first time in Harry's life.
Even if he couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't deserve it, he longed for it with every fibre of his being. It was a conflicting mix of emotions that left him lost and uncertain. Nevertheless, Harry couldn't suppress what he was; a love-starved orphan. So he took it, he took everything Sirius handed him.
And the guilt persisted.
It did not take long before Sirius presented Harry with the conversation. The conversation.
Tournament, first and second tasks, Harry's drowning, Harry's sleepwalking, and even Harry's love life (Hermione was blushing profusely during that part.) Sirius talked and talked; he scolded, and then he talked some more.
Snippets of valuable information were intertwined between his lines, but the patronizing did not stop until Ron managed to spin the topic to Crouch, Moody, and Snape. Several conspiracies from Ron's side and valuable information from Sirius later, they were suddenly parting with a hug.
It was awkward and hesitant, but it was also warm.
Harry did not even bat an eye at the filthy clothes Sirius wore, nor the smell that originated from him. He simply squeezed his godfather with the strength of all the embraces he'd ever missed in his life, and Sirius reciprocated with just as many feelings.
But despite the heat of Sirius's hug, Harry couldn't escape the chill of guilt that clung to him like a shadow. He knew he had to find a way to make things right, to repay Sirius for all he had done. But the task seemed daunting, and Harry couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the weight of his responsibilities.
On their way back to Hogwarts, the trio was mostly quiet. Ron did speculate about some of his previous theories regarding the Tournament, he badmouthed Snape, but Harry paid him little mind.
He couldn't shake the image of the black dog in the cave or wandering Hogsmeade, hunting rats to survive. All for Harry.
The images felt like torture, leaving him in a state of despair. He never knew that receiving love could be so painful. The absence of it and the hurt that accompanied it were familiar, the yearning and emptiness in his chest being Harry's childhood companions.
He knew how to deal with it, with the lack of a loving family. But this? This was new. New and strangely scary. What was he to do with his heart full and warm, yet burning so intensely it scorched his soul? Harry didn't know.
As they reached the familiar corridors of Hogwarts, Harry's thoughts were consumed by the events of the day. He knew he couldn't ignore the truth any longer – he needed to be there for Sirius as well, no matter the cost.
Time passed. Harry enjoyed the flashes of normalcy between classes, homework, investigating Crouch, and sending Sirius food. The third task was at the end of June, which gave months' worth of tournament-free moments, and he treasured all of them.
Nothing was amiss, not more than usual. No nightmares, no sleepwalking, no necessary rule-breaking. The fresh spring breeze brought not only sunlight and warm temperatures but also peace.
Then the Easter Holidays came, and with them, also Percy's letter. Harry decided to inquire about Crouch after the meeting with Sirius to conduct his investigation.
Naturally, Percy did not say anything useful, just the same old tune about Crouch's sickness. Harry conceded after that, focusing on the mundane aspects of his life rather than a conspiracy theory.
Yet, before he knew it, he was on his way down to the Quidditch pitch alongside Cedric, suffering from their unsuccessful attempts at small talk.
Despite the evening hours, the sun had just set behind the horizon, illuminating the sky in warm, pastel colours. May's wind tickled Harry's skin, and the scent of fresh pine cones and grass filled his senses. Harry adored the season between spring and summer at Hogwarts. The weather was always just right.
Once they reached the pitch, Bagman informed them about the third task. Harry felt indescribable delight at the fact that it did not involve water in any shape or form. Labyrinth with traps sounded straightforward enough, requiring logic, riddle-solving skills, and combat abilities rather than swimming.
It reminded Harry of his first-year feat with Fluffy and Devil's Snare. Unless a literal Black Lake was lurking somewhere between the wild bushes (which Harry highly doubted), it was bound to be a doable task. He was almost looking forward to it. Almost.
On his way back, Harry was stopped by Krum, so instead of heading towards the castle with the rest of the group, the pair ended at the edge of the Forbidden Forest as the darkness began to settle around them.
Being questioned by Krum about his love life with Hermione was one of the top ten things Harry had never expected to experience. It was even more awkward than what it sounded like.
Everything got even weirder when their conversation was interrupted by Crouch. Harry would sooner expect a centaur to ambush them from the forest, not a frail old man whose expression was laced with madness. But it wasn't only Crouch's facial features that were tainted by craziness; his speech was likewise just incoherent babbling. His appearance was a mess.
"Warn... Dumbledore... Tell him I made a mistake..." was about the only thing Harry puzzled out, exchanging several confused gazes with startled Krum.
"I will, I'm gonna bring Dumbledore here," Harry promised him, but as he was going to carry out his words, Crouch suddenly pounced on his legs, knocking Harry off his feet. Harry's nose made a harsh impact with the solid ground, and he grunted in pain despite his hands lessening the collision.
Crouch was once again muttering nonsense in an urgent tone, but Harry was just as urgently asking Krum for help. With great difficulty, Harry managed to break free from Crouch's steel grip. Krum was seizing the older man, who despite his mad appearance held a surprising amount of strength.
"What am I to do with him?" Krum huffed, struggling against Crouch's fit.
"I'll get Dumbledore, try to hold him down for now. I'll be right back," Harry said and began to run towards the castle without waiting for an answer.
"Hurry!" Krum shouted after him, but Harry was already rushing uphill.
Ignoring the ache in his limbs from the previous fall, he ran as fast as his body allowed him to. Lungs burning, mouth dry, skin prickling with sweat, Harry managed to reach the gargoyle in record time, not encountering anyone on his way who would slow him down.
Beads of moisture slid down his forehead and the area above his upper lip grew damp. The Quidditch was canceled that year due to the Tournament and it was starting to show on Harry's lack of stamina.
"Sher-Sherbet lemon!" he shouted at the gargoyle between his ragged breathing. It was the last password he remembered - from two years ago anyway - but it had evidently changed for the stone statue didn't even bulge.
"Come on, move! It's urgent!" he raised his voice as if yelling at the gargoyle would change its mind. Which, it didn't. Nothing at Hogwarts worked the way Harry wanted just because he shouted at things.
Against sane judgment, he launched at the piece of stone in an attempt to move it by force. It was futile and childish, but Harry's desperate mind knew no better. Maybe Dumbledore will be alerted that someone is trying to break into his office by force, he hoped idly.
His mouth fell open as, to his utter astonishment, the gargoyle suddenly jumped to the side, revealing the passage. But Harry's surprise at the unexpected inhuman strength he demonstrated was short-lived when a set of black robes greeted him in the next instance.
"Potter! What in Merlin's name are you doing here?!"
It wasn't my strength, then, Harry thought sullenly.
Snape stepped out of the narrow hallway, forcing Harry to retreat instead of advance if he didn't want the man to be in his personal space – and Harry scarcely wanted something less; even Crouch was not worth it. Still panting, Harry quickly spilled his request, watching regretfully as the passage behind Snape closed.
"I need to see Professor Dumbledore! It's Mr Crouch, he's at the forest with Krum and he's demanding-"
"What is this rubbish? What are you talking about?" Snape interrupted him. Then, just as the familiarly analytical gaze swept from Harry's head to toes and stopped back at his face, Snape's black eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously. "And why is your appearance like this?"
Harry was so taken aback by the question it made him pause in his tracks. He frowned slightly, trying to understand what Snape meant, but then he decided there were more pressing matters at hand.
"You don't understand, I need the Headmaster, Mr Crouch is there and he's mad-"
"The Headmaster is busy, Potter. He has no time for your made-up tales," Snape interrupted him again, his voice more icy this time.
But he has time for foul gits like you, huh? Harry thought bitterly.
"And from this moment onwards, you're busy too. I'm sure you were informed that fighting is strictly prohibited at Hogwarts. Not that you ever abided by rules. You'll be serving detention with me immediately," the professor sneered maliciously. It appeared he was enjoying himself greatly as Harry's expression crumbled under sudden anger.
"What?! What fighting? Aren't you listening? Mr Crouch is by the forest, he was the one who attacked me! I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" Harry raised his voice, his eyes blazing with rage.
It was simply incredulous. He couldn't believe this was the man who saved his life. But it was also the same man who insulted him when Harry thanked him for it, a fact that certainly was believable.
"Watch that tone if you don't want it to be a month's worth of detention!" Snape snapped back as he took Harry's anger and made it his own. "If you didn't fight with anyone as you claim, what's your explanation for this?" He gestured at Harry's clothing and then his face. "Your clothes look like you rolled around the whole Hogwarts and your nose is bleeding!"
Harry inhaled deeply; his lungs filled with ire he was about to bestow upon the greasy man when the last remark made him pause.
My nose is bleeding? What is he talking about?
His hand crept up to his face, lightly touching the wet skin. As it turned out, it wasn't sweat that gathered over his upper lip.
"Well?" Snape pressed impatiently when Harry simply stared at his fingertips, which were now stained with dried blood.
Before Harry could repeat himself for the fourth time about the Crouch situation, the passage behind Snape's back opened again, and Dumbledore stepped out.
A wave of relief washed over Harry. He hastily wiped his nose into his sleeve, ignoring the disgusted glare Snape gave him.
"Professor, Mr Crouch is by the forest, demanding to see you," he caught Dumbledore's attention before Snape could interject.
Dumbledore looked at Harry, and for a moment, Harry feared he was going to ask questions. But no such thing happened; the Headmaster simply broke into a run. "Lead me!" he ordered.
Harry gladly did, sprinting to catch up with the older man. Despite Dumbledore's appearance, he was moving fast.
"Severus, get Alastor!" the Headmaster yelled after dumbfounded Snape, who was left behind with a sour grimace. Harry couldn't help but smirk to himself as they rushed down the Hogwarts hallways.
They were too late. Apart from the unconscious Krum, there were no signs of Crouch. After Dumbledore revived Viktor, who then confirmed he was attacked by Crouch as well, chaos ensued.
Karkaroff appeared suddenly like a mosquito scenting fresh blood and demanded justice for Krum. Hagrid arrived next, just in time to witness Karkaroff insulting Dumbledore. Harry had never seen the half-giant so livid.
Moody joined them last, limping down the hill with determination. Snape glided after him, still wearing that sour grimace from earlier.
Before long, everybody was shouting at each other, save for Harry and Dumbledore. Threads and insults flew left and right until the Headmaster put a stern halt to it, right after Karkaroff claimed that Hogwarts was a circus, not a school.
Moody rushed to pursue Crouch into the forest while Dumbledore tried to dismiss the rest of the assembly, namely Karkaroff. But the man was surprisingly persistent. Only after he spoke his heart out regarding the Tournament and the disadvantage for Durmstrang was he persuaded to go. Harry thought that Snape glaring daggers at Karkaroff was a contributing factor to this outcome.
Dumbledore sent Hagrid to escort Krum and Karkaroff to the hospital wing, leaving only Snape and Harry at the scene.
"Harry, what exactly did Barty say to you?" Dumbledore turned to him at last.
Harry wasn't expecting any attention. He went unnoticed during the previous chaos and therefore stuttered slightly when he suddenly received the Headmaster's full attention.
"He didn't say much. Well, he said a lot, but most of it was nonsense. I couldn't understand him, but his eyes were unfocused, and he mainly talked to a tree. I think he thought it was Percy Weasley. The tree, I mean..."
"Potter, for goodness' sake, get to the point," Snape interrupted.
"Now, Severus..." Dumbledore chastised mildly, his eyes still on Harry.
"As I already mentioned to Professor Snape," Harry glared at the man angrily, fed up with being interrupted by him so many times in one evening, "Mr Crouch demanded to see you. His precise words were 'Warn Dumbledore, I made a mistake.' He didn't elaborate more. But sir," Harry turned to the Headmaster, "he looked like he'd been travelling for days. There were some wounds on his body, and his clothes were torn..." he trailed off.
"I see," Dumbledore hummed, his expression pensive. "Anything else?"
"I don't think so. He did attack me and became aggressive; that's why I left him with Viktor and rushed to get you," Harry finished his retelling of the event. He included the last part mainly because Snape was there. Harry wanted to get justice for the false accusation the man made about him getting into a fight.
"I understand. Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry realized it was the first sensible question he heard that evening. He just nodded mutely.
"Very well. I believe it's imperative we find Barty. I have a bad feeling about this. Alastor is already searching the forest, but we should split up and join him. Severus, I'll leave Harry in your hands," Dumbledore concluded briskly and was already headed toward the woods.
Snape was the first one to process the last piece of information and began to object. Harry was still collecting his wits. "Headmaster, I believe Mr Potter is most useful to us back in his dorm," he argued, raising his voice to reach the retreating Dumbledore.
"You assigned Harry a detention, take this as an opportunity to carry it out!"
It was the last thing Dumbledore said before he disappeared in between the thick trees.
Harry couldn't believe his ears. He explained the situation, yet he was still being punished? He was the victim! Dumbledore should've had his back, not enforcing the detention! And how did he know about it in the first place? Harry was becoming infuriated.
He didn't mind searching for Crouch - were the circumstances different - but venturing into the forest with Snape? No thanks.
"I told you I wasn't in a fight, sir," Harry turned to the Potions Master with an accusatory gaze, his voice measured. "This detention is baseless and unfair," he added, hoping he wasn't sounding too much like a whining child. But it really was unfair. More unfair than usual. More unfair than Snape's standard was, and Snape's standard was pretty damn high. Hell, it was more unfair than Dursley's standard!
The professor quirked his brow, appearing to be in thought. Harry wondered what was going through his head. For once, they were in agreement - a miracle of a lifetime. Harry wanted to return to his dorm, to meet Ron and Hermione and relay everything to them. But that would mean Snape going back on his word and withdrawing the punishment.
Harry crossed his fingers, held his breath, and waited for the verdict.
"Come, Potter," Snape commanded sternly at last and advanced into the forest without another word.
Harry swore under his breath. Prideful bastard, he thought to himself spitefully.
He followed after Snape regardless, deciding he needed to preserve his energy for the evening walk in a dangerous woods full of magical creatures and not waste it on mindless arguing. An argument with Snape was always an argument lost when no one in sight would back Harry up. And since Dumbledore had thrown him under the road as well this time, the bitter taste in Harry's mouth was not entirely just Snape's fault.
He was still fuming when he took out his wand and cast Lumos, mimicking Snape's movements.
"Stay close," the professor said to him noncommittally. Harry decided to obey wordlessly, watching the black cloak fluttering in the air as he walked three steps behind.
It then occurred to him that he should look around rather than at the ground. The forest was dark and eerie. Harry was familiar with it; his history with the place colourful, but that did not make him any more comfortable. He wasn't scared per se; he was currently walking with the scariest creature in the woods, but he wasn't in a cheerful mood either.
"Shouldn't we call out his name, sir?" Harry wondered, directing the question at the dark shadow ahead of him. The man almost blended into the darkness with his black attire.
"What an exceptional idea, Potter," Snape snarled, and Harry knew he was about to be reprimanded. It was as if the man was waiting for Harry to open his mouth. "Tell me, how many creatures are living in this forest? How many of them are active during nighttime, in search of food? And tell me, how many would rush right towards us if they heard we're here?"
With each word, Snape's voice lowered until it was just a quiet growl.
Serves me right for talking to him, Harry cursed himself silently. It was clear Snape was just as thrilled to have him there as Harry was.
But not thrilled enough to go back on his word, git.
"I don't know," Harry said through gritted teeth, holding a rather unkind response that formed on his tongue with a sheer grudge. He didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction.
"Precisely. You don't know. Critical thinking is one of many life skills you don't possess, Potter. I've had the displeasure of witnessing it on numerous occasions in and out of my classroom, but it never ceases to baffle me how you continue to speak your mind so confidently when you have nothing even remotely intelligent to say."
Oh, Snape was having a go at him. Not only did he sink his claws into Harry's tender flesh, but he was adamant about tearing everything he could reach.
Harry stifled a tired sigh. The insults were hardly having any effect on him, anger evaporating from his body with each breath he exhaled. Snape wasn't worth it, he never was. Harry's temper was always quick to flare when he was near the man, hatred pouring fuel into the blazing flame in his chest. However, Harry was sensible enough to know when to extinguish it, and this was one of those times.
He was tired; it was past nine after all, and the evening was proving to be long. Did he have to serve an unjust detention and search for Crouch in the Forbidden Forest? Yes. Did he want to make it as unpleasant as humanly possible for himself by provoking Snape further? Also yes, but those were Harry's self-destructive tendencies speaking. Harry chose not to listen to them this time.
He simply proceeded to stomp behind the cursed man in silence, lengthening the distance between them.
"Don't dawdle," Snape barked at him the next moment without turning around as if he had eyes on the back. "I won't have you sneaking away, so don't even think about it."
It was almost comical; wandering away didn't cross Harry's mind until Snape mentioned it.
No worries, I don't possess enough critical thinking for that, Professor, Harry wished to throw at him but opted not to.
"Walk in front of me," Snape added as an afterthought. Harry begrudgingly complied.
They carried on with their search quietly. Occasionally, Harry heard a distant howling; other times, he stumbled on tree roots that stuck out from the ground. After it happened the fourth time, a snide comment followed.
"Are you incapable of walking on a solid surface?" Snape jabbed.
"Yes, another life skill I wasn't taught properly," Harry mumbled under his breath, momentarily forgetting his resolve to ignore the man.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, sir," Harry redeemed himself quickly.
They went on, but Harry's eyes kept shifting between his surroundings and the ground, watching carefully where he stepped. He didn't know how much time passed, but the more they walked, the more futile their search proved to be. No Crouch in sight, nor Dumbledore or Moody for that matter.
Harry assumed they ventured into the deeper parts of the forest, but the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. At last, he steeled his nerves and spoke up again, arming himself with patience as he knew he would be scolded again.
"We're too far. Mr Crouch couldn't have gone this far; his condition was severe," he shared his conclusion with Snape.
We will sooner find Aragog's lair than the madman.
"Oh, really? Where do you suppose he went, then?" A response came back with a biting edge to it.
Harry waited a few seconds for the sarcastic comment to follow. He wasn't disappointed.
"You could have shared your wisdom half an hour ago, saving us the journey, but I don't suppose that crossed your simple mind, did it, Potter?"
Now, that called for defense means; even Harry's self-control had limits, and it lost all restraints if faced with lies.
"But I told you! I told both you and Dumbledore that Mr Crouch didn't look well—"
"Professor Dumbledore," a hiss interrupted him for an umpteen time that evening.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry corrected himself quickly, hoping he made his point across. "I don't think we will find him this way," he added and then muttered "sir" for good measure.
"Yes, we've already established how much your thinking is of value," Snape sneered.
He then pulled out a silver pocket watch Harry had never seen him use before, checking the time momentarily.
"It's getting late," he announced as he shoved the clock back into his pocket.
Without further ado, Snape spun on his heel, heading back in the direction they just came from. Harry groaned internally; the man was acting as if it was his idea to return all along. The relief that they were finally getting out of the forest was a consolation though.
"Potter, do keep up!"
It was a sign for Harry to walk in front of Snape again, so Harry jogged those few feet forward, taking the lead. If it were anyone else, he'd feel like a small child being pestered and monitored for every step he made. With Snape? He felt like a prisoner.
Their way back was tedious. Harry wasn't feeling like searching for Crouch anymore; curse the madman for ruining his evening. He just wanted to be back at the castle already, but every time his walking pace increased, Snape opened his mouth with words of criticism.
Harry didn't scan the surroundings anymore. His gaze was glued to the grassless soil, staring a few feet ahead, right at the boundary where his Lumos spell reached.
He spotted it at the same time Snape called his name.
"Potter."
A cold hand clasped his shoulder, forcefully turning his body around. Harry felt his skin prickle.
Something was wrong.
The wheels in his brain started turning faster and faster as he processed the image he saw before Snape got his attention. Two bumps on the ground, one like the other, their colour not quite like the rest of the mud, the shape familiar...
...and then it clicked.
Shoes.
"Don't move," the professor said sternly, the hand on Harry's shoulder clenching his flesh harder to keep him still. But Harry wanted to move; he wanted to look around. His breath hitched.
Something was wrong.
"Professor-"
"Look at me," Snape pressed, his hand travelling from Harry's shoulder up to his chin, gripping the tip of it between his fingers as he nudged Harry to look upwards. Harry's eyes were wide, the light from Snape's Lumos blinding him. Nevertheless, his gaze met Snape's, and Harry noticed the clear distress on his professor's face.
"Watch carefully, you'll need this spell for the third task," the Potions Master instructed nasally as he let go of Harry. His voice was serious and low, void of any feelings of malice Harry had grown accustomed to hearing.
Frowning in confusion, Harry watched as Snape recalled his Lumos.
"The wand movement is simple," Snape continued with his explanation, waving his wand in the air in the shape of a small swirl. "And the incantation of the spell is 'periculum.'"
In the next instance, Snape demonstrated the spell. Red sparks shot from the tip of his wand high into the air, exploding into a small firework.
Why is he giving me a lecture all of a sudden? A useful lecture?
With every passing second, Harry's brows furrowed deeper, almost touching the bridge of his nose.
"Why are you telling me all this?" He couldn't help but ask when there was a beat of silence after the firework popped.
"Now, the word 'periculum' means 'danger' or 'risk' in Latin," Snape continued with his teaching window, completely ignoring Harry's question.
"Yes, that's great, but why did you-"
"Do not interrupt me," Snape grumbled, familiar disdain creeping back into his voice.
"The spell will be valuable in the labyrinth shall any of the contestants want to forfeit or they encounter excessive harm. The Headmaster will demonstrate the spell again before the task."
Harry was puzzled. It was helpful information, but none of that explained why Snape cast the spell just then. Unless...
Suddenly, Harry knew what was wrong.
"We found Mr Crouch," he breathed out, his blood running cold.
Those were his shoes I saw...
"We did," Snape confirmed curtly.
"Is he alright?" Harry asked, the naiveness in his voice audible. His throat became dry and heartbeat thumped in his ears.
Snape didn't reply.
"Sir, we have to help him. A spell, maybe a potion? He needs Madam Pomfrey, he might still be..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence and give the situation a finality. His body wanted to turn around and check on the man but something was preventing it from doing so. Snape's hand was again on his shoulder.
"Potter. There's nothing I can do for him anymore," he said in that serious and emotionless tone of his.
"But..." Harry huffed, his shoulders slumping forward under the weight of defeat. He didn't want to turn around anymore, goosebumps running down his spine.
There's a corpse behind me.
"Headmaster and the wretched ex-auror should be here soon. That's why I used the spell," Snape remarked.
Harry nodded, not knowing (or wanting to) say anything else. He didn't need to talk anymore because as if on cue, a loud, limping step could be heard.
"Badmouthing me in front of a student, are you, Snape?" Moody's voice boomed through the air.
"Not really, I didn't say anything I wouldn't say to your face, Moody," Snape snapped back in a form of greeting. His eyes found Harry's again.
"Potter, you stay here and do not turn around," he warned him firmly and the weight of his hand disappeared from Harry's shoulder. His cloak brushed against Harry's leg as the man walked past him.
"Have you examined the body yet?" Moody asked, his voice no longer coming from afar.
"Given I was having my hands full with babysitting teenagers..." Snape hummed with a tinge of defensiveness.
Harry opened his mouth before he could stop himself.
"Babysitting? I was serving my detention you so unjustly assigned!"
There was a movement behind Harry's back and a pair of steps moving before they halted.
"It's all the same to me," Snape replied to him with an audible smirk.
"Yes, that's very nice. You're once again boosting your ego by terrorizing students. How noble of you, Snape," Moody spat. "Good that Potter needs none of your babysitting. He's a formidable adept at becoming one of us wretched Aurors. In fact, I believe it would be beneficial for him to help us with this. He's got a lot to learn."
Harry's heartbeat quickened as he heard Moody's last sentence and the implications of it. He didn't want to see Crouch's limp body, his hollow eyes. He just stood there, muscles turning to stone as he kept his back firmly to the three men, obeying Snape's last order.
"Potter will not be learning anything new this evening. This is classified," Snape barked with heat in his voice.
"How uptight," Moody commented venomously. "Careful there, Snape, any more and I'll start to assume you had something to do with this."
"An astute observation on your part," Snape whipped back. "My nightstand could arrive at a more logical conclusion."
"You'll need more than just insults to prove your innocence," Moody threatened.
Harry desperately wished to leave. He didn't want to listen to the pair arguing, but it was a distraction from the images of dead Crouch that filled his mind.
Mercy arrived in the form of Dumbledore and Hagrid.
"Gentlemen," the Headmaster broke apart the fighting men, his presence strong as ever. "We have a sombre deal to resolve; now's not the time for disagreements."
"Albus," Snape greeted him. "Moody was just humouring me with the tale of how I am responsible for Crouch's demise."
"Ah, ridiculous indeed," Dumbledore commented. "Harry would surely know about such a scenario, wouldn't you?"
It took Harry a few seconds to realize that he was being addressed.
"Yes. I mean, Professor Snape was with me the whole time... besides, I found Mr Crouch," he confessed, feeling stupid to be talking to the men with his back turned to them.
"Very well. Now that we've cleared this up, I think Harry has had quite enough for one evening. Hagrid, would you do me a favour and escort him to his dorm?" Dumbledore finally released him from his suffering.
Harry was so relieved and thankful he wanted to hug the older man, but instead, he awkwardly navigated his way around until he reached Hagrid, keeping his eyes up the whole time.
There was still adrenaline coursing through his system as he climbed the numerous stairs up to the Gryffindor Tower. Harry planned to use his leftover energy to share everything with his friends - an ordeal he wasn't looking forward to.
I hope you liked the chapter! At first, I didn't intend to play around with Crouch's fate - but then I thought to myself, why not use him as a stepping stone for our lovely pair to take an evening stroll in the forest? ;)