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Part Six

"Barty Crouch, Jr."

Father's voice was low and cold, and Theo wouldn't have wanted to be the one he was speaking that way to. It didn't look as if Mr. Crouch—Senior—did, either. He pulled at the collar of his robe, sweat pouring down his face.

"There has to be a reasonable explanation for this," Minister Fudge said, but not as if he believed it.

They were all in the Headmaster's office, and Crouch Jr. was tied to a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. The Headmaster sat behind the desk and studied the Death Eater with an expression that had no humor in it. The Minister stood near the Floo, and Theo and Harry were sitting in conjured chairs off to the side, with Father and Black behind them.

Crouch stood beside the Minister and looked as if he wanted to die.

"How did he survive?" Father asked, his voice a low purr that Theo thought he could feel as ice on his skin. "You'll forgive me if I'm curious, since his death and funeral was widely publicized."

"How did he escape Azkaban?" Black asked. Theo had the distinct impression that he was enjoying this. "I don't suppose that he can Apparate through wards? Or turn into a Dementor himself and just stroll out?"

"Obviously not, or he wouldn't be here!" Fudge snapped.

Theo closed his eyes for a long moment. It was honestly painful to have a Minister who didn't recognize a joke when he heard one.

Crouch the Death Eater struggled in his ropes and tried to say something, but they'd gagged him after listening to a minute or so of his raving about how the Dark Lord would be returning. Fudge had issued spluttering denials of that, but it wasn't the most important thing right now.

"I just meant that you might want to launch an investigation into how he escaped Azkaban," Black said, and his eye and voice both sparked. "Since that's a crime that he indisputably committed."

"He had a flask of Veela blood, too."

Theo glanced at Harry. Harry caught his eye and nodded a little. He was as wary as Theo about telling them everything, then. There would be exclamations about how Theo and Harry should have come to an adult—well, a different adult—the moment they'd thought "Moody" was using Polyjuice, and criticisms of them.

Because everyone criticizes everything Harry does, no matter whether he actually did it or not.

"How do you know that?"

"He held it out to me, pretending that it was a potion that would help me in the Tournament." Harry's expression was saying exactly what he thought of that, and Theo hid a smile. "I wasn't going to take it from him, of course, not with two Champions dead already. I used a Severing Charm on it, and the blood that came out was tinted with blue. That's from a Veela, from what I've read."

"Why would you be reading up on that?" Crouch Sr. snapped, sounding like he was desperate to blame anyone else.

Harry's expression of cool incredulity was a marvel to behold. "Because some of the Beauxbatons students, who mostly sat at our table in the Great Hall, were part-Veela? Why wouldn't I want to know more about them?"

Theo hoped that he was better at keeping his face blank right now than Black, who was utterly and openly grinning at Harry's comment. Crouch Sr. glared at Harry for another minute, and then switched over to glaring at Father.

"You let your ward run into such dangerous situations?"

"You let your son escape your custody?"

The room seethed with silent lightning. Dumbledore sat up behind his desk, and the Minister coughed, "What?' Both Crouches went still enough that Theo began to put the pieces together by himself.

"What?" Crouch Sr. whispered.

"It is perfectly obvious to me what must have happened," Father said. He had a cool, drawling tone of the kind that he had used when he was speaking during Black's trial, but it was obvious to Theo that he was enjoying himself immensely. "Your wife died at nearly the same time as your son. You brought her to visit this…professor immediately before that, as I recall. It would not have been such a hardship to switch their places and keep your son under control. How did you manage it? The Imperius Curse?"

Crouch Sr. made a strangled, bleating noise. The junior one, on the other hand, appeared to be laughing behind his gag.

"Do you have any basis for this accusation, Eustace?" Dumbledore asked. His hands had tightened to the point that Theo wouldn't have been surprised to hear his knuckles creaking.

"Nothing except that it is the hypothesis that makes the most sense. And I don't notice Bartemius denying it, do you?"

"O-of course I deny it! I never would have—I wanted my son to go to Azkaban! Everyone knows that!"

"But why is he not dead?" Father faced Crouch Sr., and his fingers flexed once, as if they were the talons of an eagle to reaching out to rip prey. "I wonder who made that determination, if you did not. Was someone else willing to lie and keep him prisoner in Azkaban, alive? Who was buried, then? When did your wife—"

Crouch Sr. drew his wand.

It was a fast, fluid motion, but three other people drew their wands at the same time: Father, Black, and Dumbledore. Fudge stood there sweating and being useless as usual. Funnily enough, it was Black's curse that struck Crouch first, and made him bob and dance in place, his hand shaking so much he dropped his wand. Then Father hit him with a Sleeping Charm and slung him into the chair beside his son, binding him.

"Was that necessary, Eustace?"

"Very much so, Headmaster," Father said blandly as he stepped back, resting a hand on Theo's shoulder again. "At the very least, you saw how he reacted to the accusation. That means that he must be investigated. Again." He tilted half a smile at Fudge. "One does wonder, given how many investigations he has undergone in the course of the last two years, when the Ministry will decide he is no longer worth keeping around."

Fudge brightened. Theo thought it was because he was seeing someone who could be safely blamed. "Yes, of course! We should sack him! I should have thought of that myself! Thank you, Eustace."

"Sacking Bartemius does not solve the problem of his son's escape," Dumbledore said in a heavy voice, as if the sensible people in the room would have forgotten that. "Or why he placed Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire."

"Oh, but I thought that was obvious, Headmaster."

Theo shot Harry a sideways glance. Harry squeezed his hand down between their chairs, out of sight. Trust me.

Well, Theo would. Not that he had much choice now that Harry had spoken up. He relaxed back against his seat as Dumbledore turned the full force of his gaze on them. "Why is that, Harry?"

"Well, he was a Death Eater. He still has the Dark Mark." Harry nodded at Crouch Jr.'s arm. Crouch giggled behind the gag. "He wanted revenge on me for what I did to You-Know-Who. He was mental, and he probably assumed either I would die in the Tournament, or he would get the chance to off me without it looking like it was murder." He snorted. "Maybe that's what the Veela blood was all about. It can cause a pretty horrific death if someone drinks it."

He's not going to tell them about our suspicions of Crouch working with Voldemort?

But no, Theo saw from the relaxed way Harry sat and the sad headshake he was giving Crouch Jr., he wouldn't. Maybe he knew, as Theo thought, that Fudge would be useless in that situation. Maybe it was because of the diary that Father had, and the likelihood that Crouch would be going back to Azkaban now.

Maybe it was for another reason entirely.

But Theo would trust Harry.

"Of course, of course!" Fudge was bright-eyed at the notion of his world becoming predictable once again. "Should have thought of that myself. And I'm truly sorry that you were put through all this inconvenience, Mr. Potter. A shame."

Theo could see from the tight line of Harry's jaw what he thought about being nearly murdered and distrusted and gossiped about called an "inconvenience." But Harry said only, "Thank you, Minister. That means a lot, coming from you."

The insult flew right over Fudge's head. He simply puffed out his chest and said, "You're welcome, my dear boy, most welcome! Now, I'll make sure that we can take this fanatic back to his cell—and I'll recommend most strongly to Amelia that we really do sack Bartemius this time…"

Theo tuned out the man's words, watching Harry. He was staring at the Crouches, but leaned against Theo when Theo reached for his hand.

"As you will, Cornelius," Dumbledore said quietly. "I think we should take care to make sure that Mr. Crouch the younger's magic is suppressed so that he doesn't escape again, of course."

Fudge loudly gave in to Dumbledore's demands. Harry and Theo waited, cool and watching, as the Minister finally took the Crouches through the Floo. The younger one glared at Harry for as long as he could, turning his head to look over his shoulder, until green flames swallowed him.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, bowed his head. "Is there a reason you lied to the Minister and implied that young Crouch was working by himself?" he asked.

"He wouldn't have believed that Voldemort was still around," Harry said. "And he'd just be a distraction if we tried to make him believe it. This way, we get him to take us seriously, and we can ease him into accepting the evidence of Voldemort's survival once we have it."

"People deserve to be warned."

Harry shrugged. "We have no idea where Voldemort is right now, sir. We have no idea how Crouch the Death Eater escaped his father's custody, for that matter. Maybe Voldemort possessed him, maybe some other Death Eater is working with them, or maybe Voldemort will wait for Crouch to come back and never realize what happened. We don't have much information at the moment, and I think it would be worse to try and warn people when what we do have might be inaccurate."

"Calculating," Dumbledore said, in a tone so neutral that Theo could make out the condemnation.

"A trait that many abused children have, sir. From what I understand."

Dumbledore stared at his desk then. Theo didn't know exactly what it meant, but on the other hand, he didn't think he had to. Dumbledore wasn't actively opposed to them, and that was the biggest gain they had at the moment.

Other than having found out who was targeting Harry and actually put his name in the Goblet, of course.

"I was going to speak to you about the Runic and Arithmantic trap you used, boys."

"Yes, sir?" It was Theo's turn to speak politely and coldly. "The one that we put together with the supervision of Professor Vector and Professor Babbling?"

Dumbledore stared at them. "You did?"

"Who else would oversee our work, sir?"

Dumbledore drummed his fingers on the desk. He'd expected to find two misbehaving boys, Theo thought. He'd expected to be able to speak to them about the risks of combining Runes and Arithmancy. But once again, they were one step ahead of him.

It's a good thing that we're also working on the Voldemort problem, since his greatest nemesis appears to be incapable of working out the twists and turns that the Dark Lord's game is taking.

Dumbledore sighed out finally and said, "Is there anything I can do to make up for hiring a Death Eater as your Defense professor this year, Harry?"

"There is, actually," said Harry, leaning forwards with an expression on his face that made Theo have to cover his mouth so he wouldn't laugh out loud. "We might not be able to tell everyone all the details of who Crouch is and why he was here, but we can do one thing, at least."

"I therefore wanted to make it clear that it was the man impersonating Alastor Moody who placed Harry Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire. He was able to easily cross the Age Line due to being an adult. He also killed Fleur Delacour as part of a plot to use Veela blood against Mr. Potter, and ensured that Mr. Diggory was not forewarned of the dragons. Mr. Potter is therefore cleared of all accusations of cheating."

Harry sipped his goblet of water at the Ravenclaw table, and noted the people who turned flushed faces towards him—like Ron and Terry Boot—and the ones who looked stubborn—like Seamus Finnigan. He toasted Ron with his goblet and glanced up when Dumbledore extended a hand towards him.

"Did you want to say anything, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stood and looked around the Great Hall. People stared back at him, and not all of them were stubborn. A lot were just pale and silent and obviously didn't know what to say next.

"I didn't cheat, as the Headmaster told you," Harry said as pleasantly as he could. "I haven't talked to most of you about this, because frankly, if you believed that I was a cheater even when I said I wasn't, I didn't want to bother with you. But for those of you who whispered that I was a murderer and I should be arrested, or shunned me in classes, or thought I should be expelled, or whatever was in your heads, I am expecting an apology."

"And if we don't give you that apology?" called someone in Hufflepuff whom Harry frankly didn't remember.

Harry shrugged. "Then I'll know what kind of person you are. Namely, the sort who lets gossip make up their minds for them and would rather believe that gossip than the truth no matter what happens. I suppose because your lives aren't exciting enough."

Dumbledore drew breath for what sounded like a reprimand, but in the end, he said nothing. Harry sat down and picked up his goblet again.

"But you could have got out of exams, mate! Because you're a Champion and they said the Champions didn't have to take them."

"I was never a Champion, Ron. So I had to take them."

Theo halted outside the compartment and rolled his eyes. Harry had asked for a few minutes to speak alone with Weasley, and Theo didn't mind letting him have them. If Harry wanted to keep Weasley as a friend, that was his business.

A decision that Theo didn't understand Harry making, but still, Harry's business.

"But I wouldn't have."

"We're very different people, I think."

Theo muffled his snicker against his sleeve in the awkward silence that followed. He was glad that he had returned in time to hear that comeback.

The door of the compartment burst open, and Weasley shouldered his way out, his face a brilliant red. He stopped when he saw Theo, scowled at him, and then glanced back, maybe realizing that Harry was likely to hear him if he said something stupid to Theo.

Theo just shook his head and walked past Weasley. He and Weasley were also very different people.

Granger had been in the compartment earlier, along with Padma, but both of them were gone now. Theo shut the door and lifted his eyebrows at Harry. "You sent them away too when you wanted to speak with Weasley?"

"Yeah."

Harry was slumped in his seat, staring out the window. Theo sat down next to him and waited in silence. He could always wait when there was a chance that Harry would share secrets with him.

After a long moment, Harry did shudder and whisper, "Voldemort is out there, somewhere, and he's going to try something else. We might know more when we know how Crouch escaped, but what if we don't? What if he manages to catch us by surprise next time?"

"We'll continue working with our friends and allies. With Father and Black. We'll find him before he finds us."

"Was there anything with…" Harry made a quick motion with his hand as if flipping a book open. Theo appreciated his level of caution. The diary wasn't something you wanted to talk about on the Hogwarts Express, or really anywhere outside the deep shade of sound-blocking wards.

"Father would have told you if there was. Just the way he would have told me."

Harry blinked as if awakening from a dream, and then blushed a little. "Right. Of course. I suppose that I was thinking too much about what an adult like Dumbledore might do, and not—what the ones we actually know would do."

Theo laughed a little. "I can give you a better reason to blush."

Harry turned to face him, eyes lighting up with that deep brilliance that Theo knew and loved. "Why don't you?"

"Harry? The Minister wants to see you."

Eustace's voice from the doorway of the library was calm. Harry nodded and shut the Runes tome he'd been trying to mine for new secrets. Unlikely that he would find something surprising in a book he had read a dozen times, but he was unsettled enough that he wouldn't be able to give his full attention to a new one, either.

"I will be there with you."

Harry smiled at Eustace as he stood. "I know that. And thank you."

"Then why did you look so nervous?"

"Wondering what the Minister has to say. Wondering if any of it will make any difference." Harry had had to admit, after a few days of being home, that he might be pinning too much hope on figuring out how Crouch Jr. had escaped from his father. It might not actually tell them anything about where Voldemort was now.

"I will ensure that it does."

Harry nodded his gratitude, and walked beside Eustace in silence down the stairs. Sirius had also offered to be with him when they spoke with Minister Fudge, but honestly, he wouldn't have been able to resist antagonizing Fudge, and that would have been a disaster.

Harry had to work with the Ministry, and it was easier with them on the backfoot like this, since Crouch Sr. was undergoing yet another investigation. They didn't need to drive Fudge into irritation or arrogance.

The Floo room was done in deep blues and silvers, which were apparently colors the Notts used when they wanted to be formal. Fudge stood in front of the fireplace, clutching his bowler hat in his hands.

Harry braced himself for bad news, like Crouch Jr. escaping, but Fudge just gave him a desperate smile and said, "This is a very nice house, Eustace! Such a pleasure to see you, Harry. If we could sit down?"

Eustace nodded and led them to a table that resembled a smaller version of the one in the formal dining room. "I trust these chairs are acceptable, Minister?"

"Eh? Oh, of course! Perfectly acceptable!"

Fudge scooted into a chair and spent some time smoothing down his pinstriped robes. Then he took a deep breath and looked at Harry. His voice trembled a bit as he said, "Crouch—I mean, the younger one—is absolutely convinced that You-Know-Who is alive and was communicating with him as recently as this past summer."

Oh. That's why he was acting like a rabbit that didn't know which way to run. He thought he was going to frighten me, and he didn't want to deal with some childish tantrum.

Harry just sighed and nodded. "Thank you for telling me that, Minister. I admit it's not something that's pleasant to hear, but, well, he's mental, isn't he? Crouch, I mean. Of course he would think You-Know-Who is still around."

Fudge brightened and sat up. "Yes, yes, it's all rather mysterious how he managed to escape his father's custody, but he claimed it was You-Know-Who's spirit possessing his father long enough to make him agree to go to the Quidditch World Cup! Crouch the younger was under the Imperius, as you surmised, Eustace, and watched over by the house-elf. He was the one who cast the Dark Mark and killed the poor elf to escape. And then he claims that You-Know-Who stopped possessing Bartemius and gave Crouch—the younger—instructions in spirit form to create a homunculus for the spirit to inhabit. Of course, these stories all wild, and we found nothing when we went to the house he told us about."

"House, Minister?"

"Oh, yes, this old manor house above a Muggle village. As if You-Know-Who would actually hide so near a Muggle village! I mean, not that he's back. Of course not. Things would be much worse if he was, ha!"

"Of course," Eustace murmured. "We have to assume it was some other disguised Death Eater giving Crouch his orders. But out of curiosity, Cornelius, where is the house? I wish to make sure that there is no active danger to my ward."

"Above a village called Little Hangleton. The Riddle family apparently lived there years ago—" Harry hoped he did a good job of concealing his cough in his sleeve. "And the Muggles believe they were all murdered and left ghosts behind. As if Muggles leave ghosts!" Fudge dug into his robe pockets and pulled out a scrap of parchment. "I had my assistant, young fellow named Weatherby, write down the Apparition coordinates for you."

"Thank you very much, Minister," Harry said earnestly. Fudge puffed out his chest. "I'm so glad that we have you looking out for us. I know that Crouch is mad, but it would be good to find out who he was working with, you understand?"

"Of course, of course! And on that note…"

Fudge was visibly hesitating again. Harry smiled. "Yes, sir?"

"There are some people who are rather—unhappy with the Ministry, given Bartemius and the investigations and Black and, well, the rest. I suppose that you wouldn't want to make a public statement of your trust in the Ministry? It might help…"

"Minister, I would be honored."

Fudge sat up straight again. "You would?"

"Of course. You've been very helpful, sir, and you brought me what you thought would be bad news even though you thought I wouldn't want to hear it. Not everyone would have your courage or your commitment to keeping a vulnerable young person informed."

Not everyone would be as susceptible to manipulation as you would be, either, but that's all to the good right now.

"My dear boy!" Harry had to work to hold his face still as Fudge visibly choked up. "You don't know how much this means to me. In a time when so many people are losing trust in the Ministry, that you would work to shore it up—that means the world." He held out a trembling hand for Harry to shake.

Harry grabbed it and pumped it enthusiastically. "Just facing wayward Death Eaters and untrustworthy officials is a problem, sir, no matter what people believe about You-Know-Who. We need them to believe in you so that you can guide us through this crisis."

Only about half of that was a lie. Harry sincerely doubted they would have a much better Minster if they did manage to oust Fudge somehow, and they needed someone in place to keep people from panicking.

"You are incredibly right, Harry. You have restored my faith in myself." Fudge stood straight and pounded a fist on his chest. Harry had to hold his breath this time to avoid bursting into laughter. "Let me go and put this plan into operation!"

Harry maintained a respectful silence until Fudge had gone through the Floo. Then he doubled over, although he managed to laugh quietly into his hands, because Eustace would probably scold him for doing it aloud.

A guffaw betrayed that Eustace wouldn't, because he was doing it himself. Harry grinned at Eustace and leaned back. "It's so much easier to get people to do what you want when you can pretend you respect them."

"A lesson that almost no one at Hogwarts has learned. Or from other countries."

Harry snorted lightly. Karkaroff had been very stiff about the fact that Harry had just walked a few meters into the hedge maze, then sat down, leaned his back against the nearest hedge wall, and went to sleep. Krum had won by default.

He ought to count himself lucky he's alive.

"I'm glad you taught it to me."

Eustace smiled at him. "I think you might have learned it even without me. You are an apt student."

Harry took that as the deep compliment it was.

"The Aurors have already searched the manor house. I suggest we concentrate our search in other places."

Theo nodded. He could feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders as he and his father walked down the path that led away from the Muggle village and down towards what Father said was a very faint, muted source of magic. He kept consulting a parchment on which he had inscribed a compass with his wand and frowning.

Black had been left at home; Theo didn't even want to think about how the man's antics could mess up a search for one of the Dark Lord's artifacts. And although Harry had argued, in the end, he had also agreed to stay at home, in case his curse scar reacted badly to any magic the Dark Lord might have left behind.

Theo hadn't forgotten how the diary had managed to enchant Harry when he wrote in it.

"Here."

Theo jerked his head up. The leaves around them were thick, and so were the songs of birds and insects, but the path ran out in front of them over bare dirt and up to a shack that looked as if it had been built by a storm piling pieces of wood on top of each other. There was a door, but only by courtesy. The skeleton of a snake was nailed to it.

Theo swallowed.

Father cast several intricate charms at the door, but in the end, he shook his head and swung it open with the tip of his wand. "No magic to protect it," he murmured. "He must have relied on its obscurity to defend the artifact. Who would think to look for the Dark Lord here?"

Theo held his nose as they walked in, although the main smell was dust and must. The floorboards were smeared with dirt, and in some cases rotted away. The windows were open, one with rotted rags of curtain hanging on it.

"Here."

Father stooped and tapped his wand on what seemed to be the one intact patch of floorboards. Theo knelt down and watched in fascination as Father traced a long pattern that seemed to include the snake and skull of the Dark Mark. An illusion shimmered and vanished, and left a golden casket visible beneath it.

Father used another charm to flip the lid of the casket open, and—

There was a ring inside.

The instant Theo saw it, he wanted it, wanted to touch it, wanted to put it on. The black stone that shimmered on it was bisected with a stange pattern, but that didn't matter. He wanted to rub his finger over the stone; he just knew that something special would happen.

He darted his hand towards it.

"Theo!"

Father's hand swept in front of his, knocking Theo's hand away. Theo sat back, blinking. The moment the sight of the ring was cut off, what must have been a Compulsion Charm faded, and he felt foolish.

Then he looked down, and saw Father bowing his head, the visible edges of his face contorted in an agonized grimace. And he saw the line of black racing up Father's arm from where his hand was clenched around the ring.

Guilt and self-loathing as black struck Theo, and he reached out and gripped Father's arm, not sure what he should do, when he didn't know how to Apparate, whether he should take Father to a Healer, what he should do—

"I will do it, Theo."

Theo's eyes sprang open. Father was standing, despite what had to be incredible pain, and using his foot to sweep dirt and leaves over the golden casket.

"Someone will have to come back later to restore the illusion, so he does not realize it is gone," Father murmured. Sweat was pouring down his cheeks, but his voice was perfectly calm. "Come, Theo."

They left, and Father did manage to Apparate them to the outside of the house. And then he fell, and Theo ran for the house, screaming for the elves, for Black, for Harry.

For someone to save his father's life.