Albus Dumbledore was in his office, and while in better days he would have called those gathered with him as allies, he was less and less sure he had any. Even less sure he deserved any. His decisions had all be logical at the time, and every objection he dismissed from his staff he had confidence in dismissing at the time. Now it seems, almost none of those dismissals were warranted, and very few of those decisions were panning out.
Mad Eye Moody, Rufus Scrimgeour, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Argus Filch were all gathered in Dumbledore's office. Only Filch and his Kneazle Mrs Norris looked as nervous as Dumbledore.
"Do you have your Pensive Albus?" Moody asked gruffly. It still disturbed people that since the rituals with the Potter boy, Moody had regrown both eye and leg. Albus was reminded that without both eyes Moody could be ignored as his skill in Legimency rivalling Albus own required two flesh and blood eyes to use beyond the basic level. A restored Moody meant a Legimens in the room able to detect, and reveal any of Dumbledore's little nudges.
Dumbledore called out softly "Tweak, fetch my pensive."
A Hogwarts elf popped in, and placed the Hogwarts pensive on the table. This one pensive was not made by the reclusive African clan that made all modern pensive. This was a work of Rowena Ravenclaw, the greatest mind witch of her age, and the designer of the original Pensive. It had features lesser copies did not, one of which was very convenient.
The wizards and witch put their wands to their heads and withdrew their memories, both of Bartimous Crouch Senior, and the supposedly long dead Barty Crouch Junior.
Dumbledore made a gesture, and the silver glow of the Pensive swelled up to absorb them all. The figures walked together through a nasty piece of ancient history. The trial of Igor Karkarov, Death Eater and now Durmstrang Headmaster.
Igor was in the prisoner box, trapped under truth wards that would not stop him from lying, but would flash for all to see if he did. Karkarov was doing his best to sell out enough Death Eaters to avoid Azkaban, and Bartimous Crouch Senior was enjoying every second of the attempt, while showing no sign of letting it succeed.
They watched as Karkarov gave up Rockwood, Dolohov, and Lucius Malfoy, only to find that they had mysteriously been cleared through claiming the Imperius curse had compelled them. The fake transcript of the trial of Sirius Black laid the blame on that man, since there never was a trial, the right amount of gold made the fake record include Black's confession to everything.
Moody, the current Moody snorted. "Very convenient that, I thought it smelled then, but we were so busy chasing Death Eaters after Voldemorts fall, who had time even to blink, let alone think until it was all over."
Scrimgeour agreed. "I do admire their restraint for not claiming Sirius Imperiused all the other Death Eaters already in Azkaban, and just restricting it for the ones still awaiting trail when the Potters died, and Sirius got taken."
Moody grunted. "Bit hard when they can't get word to the prisoners that they need to change their story once they are in Azkaban. Even if some of the Dementors defected to fight with Voldemort, none of them are any damned good at communicating."
They watched the trial go on, until Karkarov, about to be dragged off cast his final rope, desperate to find his rock of salvation.
"I do know one other name. One of the Dark Lord's inner circle, one of his Black Hand, his very personal elite tasked with operations other Death Eaters were not even permitted to know about." Karkarov shouted, looking at Bartimous Crouch Senior.
Crouch smiled down cruelly. "Very well, name the names of this Black Hand of your Dark Lord."
Karkarov smiled. "Belatrix, Rabastan and Rodolfus Lestrange." Karkarov began.
Crouch slammed the desk. "Who are already caught for the torture of the Auor's Longbottom just days after the attack on the Potters. Names, Karkarov, if you want your freedom, give me names of Death Eaters we don't already have."
Karkarov laughed. "You want names? I will take your veritas serum, I will drink it by the bottle, and still this is the name I will give you. The Dark Lord's most fanatical follower, the last of the Black Hand, is Bartimous Crouch."
Bartimous Crouch senior shifted forward, his face darkening. "YOU LIE!"
Karkarov's eyes looked ecstatic as he spoke the last bit of his secret, the bit that would cost Bartimous Crouch any chance of becoming post war Minister for Magic.
"Junior. Barty Crouch Junior was the Dark Lord's most dedicated, most fanatical follower." Karkarov finished and the runes flashed only truth, as he laughed as the Aurors beat him silent.
In the watching seats, Aurors closed on Barty Crouch Junior who drew his wand.
His father faced him down. "Deny it. Tell that Death Eater it is a lie!" Bartimous Crouch Senior demanded.
In return, Barty Crouch Junior cast "Mortsemorde" and set off the Dark Mark inside the Ministry of Magic. He was screaming his loyalty to the Dark Lord and threatening the destruction of those who betrayed Voldemort until he was stunned unconscious. After every threat, he would lick his lips in a tick that had made him seem disturbed even in school.
Moody muttered "I told you that lip licking thing looked just like Barty Junior."
Scrimgeour however was walking around Bartimous Senior and Junior, looking at their postures, their gestures, their facial expressions. He sat back and steepled his hands, went over their word choices, where they put the inflections on their words.
His eyes shot open. "The man who officiated the second task was Barty Crouch Junior."
Moody looked at him, and nodded slowly. Moody was twice the fighter Scrimgeour would ever be, but Rufus Scrimgeour was a deductive genius, and the expert the Auror's office turned to for personality profiles and behaviour analysis. What Slytherin's did as a social artform, Scrimgeour had fully weaponized. Magic could change your body, change your voice, even change your species, but it could not change your fundamental personality. Like a light inside a lampshade, who you were shone through whatever outer form you wrapped around yourself, so Scrimgeour had learned to ignore the lampshade, and only look at the light.
Albus objected. "Barty Crouch died in Azkaban!"
Severus Snape drawled lazily. "As attested to by the Dementors, and reported by no less a reliable agent of the DMLE as the fifth severed head retrieved by our blood thirsty little goblin."
Dumbledore winced, aware that his awareness of the Death Eater heads brought to the surface in their masks extended only far enough to send Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory back to their rooms and forbid them to come out. He had been so busy lecturing the boys on how killing was always the wrong response and how expected better of them that he had ignored Moody and Scrimgeour taking McGonagall to identify who was under the masks.
"Killing is always wrong. I worry that Young Harry is losing his way." Dumbledore offered sadly.
McGonagall had enough. "Albus, do you not think that a secret Death Eater impersonating our Minister of Magic, being inside Hogwarts itself, and trying to kill our champions inside their tasks right in front of us might be a more serious issue than how our students defend themselves?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "It would be impossible for an illusion or transfiguration to hold up under the Hogwarts wards. He would have been revealed."
Professor Snape sneered. "A simple Polyjuice potion would get past the wards, as magic would accept the outer body is indeed a match for the Minister. A deeper identity test would be of little use, as a son is so closely related to the father that most identification charms would be inconclusive."
Dumbledore snapped finally. "What do you expect me to do? Launch a Legimency attack on the Minister of Magic? Just launching it will trigger his guards, and if it is Barty Crouch Junior, it won't even work. Voldemort's inner circle were trained to the limit of Occulmency, as you should know Severus."
If Snape was bothered by Dumbledore's reference to his former position as both Death Eater and one of two Occulmency instructors (along with Augustus Rockwood) of Voldemorts inner circle, he did not show it.
It was Moody who answered. "I expect you to do nothing Albus, you are so good at that. No, send Minie. That is why I brought Filch in."
Professor McGonagall suddenly stiffened. "You want to use me as a Death Eater sniffing cat?"
Scrimgeour slapped his knee, following Moody's logic. "That would work. A cat could smell the Polyjuice on him, and cat's senses are more attuned to the unreal. You taught Barty Crouch and worked with Bartimous Crouch. Your cat will know which one is in there."
Dumbledore frowned. "You think Barty Crouch is going to let Professor McGonagall just walk up to him and what, offer her a cat treat? He would kill her if she tried to get close. Barty Crouch was one of the most violent of Tom's chosen ones."
Ignored as always, Argus Filch straightened up and thrust his chin forward. Now he knew why he was here.
"Not just her Headmaster. Me." The ancient squib caretaker said bitterly.
Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at the caretaker. "Now Argus, no one is asking you to risk yourself against a trained Death Eater. Even wizards would be in danger…." Dumbledore continued before his caretaker interrupted him for the first time ever.
"And I'm not a wizard, am I?" Filch snarled. "Not a day goes by that at least ten of those little brats don't remind me. Not one of them would think of me any longer than it took to laugh or spit, like I'm something that they scrape off their little shoes. Every muggleborn and halfblood in the school knows they are at least better than me, and the purebloods, they just can't understand why I haven't done myself and the world a favour and killed myself already." Filch said.
Turning to professor McGonagall. "I have to see the Minister about his requirements for the Yule ball. I always carry Mrs Norris with me. She's the only one in this whole school that even sees me, let alone cares. The Minister won't look at me. I'm too far beneath him to look at, and young Barty was worse. If you were in my arms, you could be a bloody dragon, let along just the wrong cat, and nobody would notice."
Everyone in the room looked down, save Professor McGonagall who reached out and gripped Argus Flich's hand.
"Thank you Argus. If you would let me know when it is time. You can leave Mrs Norris in my office, my wards will keep anyone from seeing her accidentally while you are walking around holding me." McGonagall offered softly, treating Filch as an equal for perhaps the first time.
- Crouch Manor
Lord Voldemort looked at the Mirrors set up so that he could enjoy watching the task unfold, mirrors that did indeed show his Death Eaters since while Voldemort shared a bit about how the Death Eater mask enchantments worked, he was the master of those magics, and they would always yield to him.
Voldemort watched as Barty Crouch not only failed to kill four school children before the entire world, but cost him seven Death Eaters. Lord Parkinson had managed to Apparate out before he was caught, but two of the Death Eaters that had been killed and identified had been DMLE. One was an Auror, and one an Azkaban guard. Voldemort's secret hand inside the ministry was losing fingers. Between that ill timed and ill thought nonsense at the World Cup and Barty's amateur hour here, Voldemort was losing key subordinates and more, he was losing his reach into places he needed for his coup.
Voldemort aimed his wand, and Lord Parkinson flinched, expecting a Cruciatus curse to punish him for failure. Instead, the Dark Lord simply dried him off.
"Return to your duties at the Wizagamot. It is imperative you stall any recall of or investigation into Minister Crouch. Take no open action. At the third task, I will use Harry Potter's death to announce my return. Then you can act."
Lord Parkinson collapsed and kissed the homunculus child like clothes and Voldemort resisted the urge to kill him until the fool apparated out. As soon as he was gone, Voldemort spent his rage and his magic on destroying the valuables of Crouch manor he could see and reach.
Lucius No Name offered gently. "Barty Crouch is your most loyal follower, my lord."
Voldemort turned his wand on Malfoy and his voice sounded tired and defeated.
"Barty Crouch is my torturer. Bellatrix is my champion, Rabastan and Rudolfus her thugs, but Barty existed to do the things that needed to be done that were not worth dirtying Bella's hand. Some magics twist the weak minded, and leave them broken tools. Barty is a broken tool. He was the expendable one, and yet, he is the only one I have left." Voldemort hissed.
Nagini, his snake came, and soothed the Dark Lord by rising and letting him stroke the serpent.
"You were to be my hand in the Wizagamot, but due to the games of Potter's little circle of brats, I have to rely on Parkinson. Bella was to be my warlord, but somehow those brats killed her and broke Sirius Black out of Azkaban."
Voldemort snarled. "McNair was my hand in Magical Creatures, he was to reach the Werewolves for me, Fenrir Greyback and his ilk, but the brat killed him. Dulohov was to lead my strike teams, the one I would send to cull the loyal Aurors before the war left the shadows, he was to thin their herd as the ones I corrupted led the honest ones into Dulohov's kill teams until the Ministry was down its best before the even knew the war was on. Black killed him. Sirius Black who should be rotting in Azkaban except somehow the brats broke him out."
Turning to Malfoy Voldemort whispered. "Rockwood was my hand in the Unspeakables. He was going to get us access to the prophesy, to find out the half that Snape didn't hear, but Dumbledore did. Rockwood would have been able to warn me if they learned about my Horcrux, as only the Unspeakables would know how to deal with them. He was going to deliver us whatever faint hope Dumbledore has been clinging to over the Potter brat, but thanks to those idiot children, Sirius Black and even your beloved ex wife, I don't even have my hand in the Unspeakables anymore."
Lucius realized that he was the reason that the Horcrux got discovered, and went pale.
Trying not to show his fear, Lucius asked the question he dreaded the answer to. "What will you do now then?"
Voldemort laughed, and it was a terrifying sound. It reminded Lucius why even as a half alive child this broken remnant of a Dark Lord could terrify the wizarding world.
"What will I do now that I do not have time to bleed the Ministry from within, now that I don't have the time to gather armies of dark creatures to do the dying for us while we do the killing of a weakened and divided DMLE?" Voldemort asked, and laughed again.
"Why Lucius, I am going to tear my life and power from the blood of the Boy Who Lived on live international broadcast, and then I am going to summon all my Death Eaters to my side, and take the Ministry by force."
Lucius winced. It was an almost Gryffindor plan. No subtlety, no deception, no deep and intricate plot.
Nagini struck, and two fangs punctured Lucius forearm where his Dark Mark was. He waited to die, but the snake simply withdrew his fangs, and laughed the disturbing hissing laugh of the serpent. Lucius froze as the lesson became clear. Lucius was used to thinking like a Slytherin, playing games of false appearance and questionable loyalties. Such were part and parcel of the Slytherin teachings, yet there was this also to remember about the ways of the House of Serpents. When the time came to strike, it was the speed and surprise of the attack that killed before the target knew it was in danger.
-The Great Hall, breakfast.
Cedric Diggory ate mechanically, he knew and feared what the day would bring, and when the ghost of a sound signalled the soft wings of postal owls arriving, his shoulders crept up around his ears. He would not flinch, he would not react. He would be strong in the face of what came.
The Diggory family owl darted for the Hufflepuff table, and a red Howler was in its claws. As it released the Howler towards Cedric, ready to shame his son for the terrible crime of loving someone inconvenient for Amos Diggory's great plan for Cedric's life.
As the Howler was released, falling like a social death sentence toward Hufflepuff's golden boy, a clear alto voice cut through the buzz of breakfast from the head table.
"Accio bigotry!" Snapped Professor Sprout, standing in full fury. She should have been a ridiculous image, a short stout, casually dressed witch of late middle years, but magic swirled around her like a storm, causing her to shine with golden light.
As the red howler approached and a mouth formed to begin hurling its curses, Professor Sprout snapped a second spell.
"REDUCTO!" She cast the disintegration curse at the Howler and it was blasted the length of the great hall in a shower of flame and ash, leaving the entire room to stare at her, wand pointed and still blazing to match the Hufflepuff House matron's eyes.
"I trust I will not have to address this again." The witch said with a coldness even the Slytherins could accept, and the most Gryffindor of Gryffindor's would not test. She turned to face Cedric who met his head of House gaze with a smile. She returned the smile and transformed again into the motherly figure Hufflepuff knew and loved. Still, her own Badgers got the message. She may love all of them, but when the mother of badgers said she did not tolerate bigotry in her house, it was not optional to obey.
Ravenclaw House, as always, kept its own secrets, but if no one was outwardly harassing Roger Davis, no one was exactly talking to him either. At least his own owl when it arrived carried only a normal letter that Davis tucked into his robes without reading, and went back to breakfast.
Pansy Parkinson left the Slytherin table and walked to Hufflepuff to stand before Harry Potter and just glare at him until he finally broke and addressed her.
"Is there something I can help you with, Miss Parkinson?" Harry asked, wondering what he had done to offend her.
"Did you ever think about doing something other than killing them, Potter?" Pansy asked, her voice rising.
"I know some of them. I know some of their children. How do you think they feel when they get their parents bodies back in two different boxes because some little goblin freak cut off their heads!" Pansy shrieked at Harry.
Harry glared back, unprepared for the hostility, but he was saved from answering by a voice that rang like a bell, so pure and sweet, filled with power that beat at the hall like thunder as the allure of a Veela compelled every eye upon her, and every ear upon her words.
"The first I knew of these Death Eaters was when they tried to drown me, by cancelling my bubblehead charm. Then it was sending Imperiused Grindylow, killing curses, cutting curses, blasting curses. I lost count of the number of ways they tried to kill me.
I did stun one, who shot at Diggory with a killing curse. The next second, his fellow Death Eater re-enervated him, and the two of them were back to trying to murder Harry, Cedric, Victor and myself.
That was the last time I struck to stun."
Victor Krum pushed his way to face the angry Parkinson.
"You are wrong Parkinson. When they left me frozen in ice, laughing because they told me their intention was to leave me to watch my mother drown while I could do nothing about it, I had time to think about appropriate response. Diggory thawed me, and gave me a chance to get free, and let me tell you, not all of your little friends made it home in either box.
I tore one of them limb from limb, and what I tore off, I ate. So no, Miss Parkinson, not all your little friends father made it back in either box." Victor said colder than the ice used to imprison him.
Parkinson glared at Harry and shouted one last time. "You are all monsters!"
Harry turned to Fleur and Krum. "I'm okay with that, but lets me monsters that live all the way through and go home again."
Krum nodded grimly, Fleur nodded regally, Cedric nodded reluctantly and Noodle looked up at Hermione in wonder.
"$ Speaker said something wise. You put hallucinogens in that last mouse, didn't you? $" Noodle asked in shock, sure his ears were deceiving him.
Hermione and Neville just laughed softly as Noodle looked upon his Speaker with wonder. Parkinson stalked back to the Slytherin table where Milicent Bulstrode and Draco Malfoy were laughing at Pansy Parkinson, while casting cold gazes of naked threat at the rest of the Slytherin table.
The message was clear, those who had Death Eater family who tried to kill Harry Potter and his friends would not get that family back. If the Hufflepuff's were willing to stack bodies in the open over this, their Slytherin allies were more than willing to make problem children who made threats simply disappear.
Dumbledore looked upon the children of his school, the ones that he had done so many terrible things to protect from the war that had once torn apart their world, and threatened to do again, and despaired. Had it all been for nothing? Had all his sacrifices not kept the war from reaching inside his school
Dumbledore sighed softly. "At least last time the war didn't reach into this school"
Rufus Scrimgeour laughed at the Headmaster, a surprised bark of laughter from the usually reserved Slytherin DADA instructor.
"Don't be silly Headmaster." Scrimgeour said simply. " I was in Hogwarts when the last war started. The war began here, and waged for years. Voldemort recruited under your nose, trained his Death Eaters in your halls, and chose and marked the victims in the hallways and classrooms. This is just the first time anyone in this school has fought back."
Dumbledore turned to object to Scrimgeour's claim when he saw Severus Snape nodding along, in complete agreement with his fellow Slytherin.
The Headmaster looked across the faces of his Slytherin professors to see the dancing blue flames over the Goblet of Fire dance happily, the wall behind it covered in ivy that his spells could not keep away. Dumbledore had lost control of his own castle, and through his mistakes, lost the ability to even wield magic if away from it.
How should he object to the war coming to Hogwarts, when thanks to his mistake with the goblet, Dumbledore could only fight the war when and if it came to Hogwarts itself. He set down his fork, suddenly the bacon tasted like ash, and the eggs like regret.
Dumbledore's reflection was shattered when the second wave of post owls straffed the breakfast tables with a special double edition Daily Prophet. Dumbledore didn't bother to wave his wand to defend his food, but it didn't matter. Filius Flitwick was a Charms Master and goblin who took breakfast very seriously. His modified plate and goblet protego protected every food or drink bearing surface of the hall before the papers began to rain down.
While this did cause a greater than average number of students hit in the head by Daily Prophets, most of them dearly wanted to see the headlines of the event.
"Death Eaters strike at Tri-Wizard Tournament-claim by Boy Who Lives." Page 5-12
"Boy Who Murders needs to have his wand snapped claims Minister of Magic Crouch" Page 2-4
"Pardoned Death Eaters beheaded in Black Lake, families deny connection to Dark Lord." Page 13-15
"Two Houses in Hogsmeade turned to Gingerbread, Fairies are blamed." Page 16-17
"Fleur Delacour photo retrospective, pages 18-26"
"Diggory or Potter, who wore it best, who wore it least?" Pages 26-27.
"Victor Krum wet and wicked, all the photos for the discerning witch Pages 28-32"
"Minister's speech called crude and unbefitting a Minister. Petition for Vote of No Confidence called for by Witches for Decency, the Patronus Parent League, and the Hogsmeade Chamber of Commerce." Page 33.
Dumbledore sighed. He had passed along what they suspected and Minerva's report to Amelia Bones, but legally, there was no mechanism for moving against the Minister without a Wizagamot vote. The Wizagamot was not to formally meet again until after the third task. The Prophet just showed the fault lines in Wizarding Britain were wider than ever, and Voldemort was free to move in the shadows.