Chapter 189
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"Aren't you being a little too radical, Mr. Moody… or should I say—Mr. Crouch?"
Inside Moody's office, Malfoy leaned forward with both hands resting on the old desk.
His tone was cold.
His grey eyes met Moody's magical eye without the slightest politeness.
The two looked nothing like teacher and student.
"I merely taught the lesson I was supposed to teach," Moody replied calmly as he sat down slowly.
"That's exactly what he would do."
"A man with a sense of justice… but not a fool."
Then he added with a faint grin:
"Don't worry, my dear partner. My disguise is flawless."
---
"Under the Imperius Curse, that old man told me everything," Moody continued proudly.
"I know every detail of his daily behavior."
"His habits. His tone of voice. Even his preference for that curved hip flask."
"I spent a great deal of time imitating him."
"You saw it yourself. Even Dumbledore treated me like his old comrade."
"When he welcomed me back, he hugged me without the slightest suspicion."
Moody chuckled darkly.
"I almost wanted to—"
"If you had done anything reckless," Malfoy interrupted coldly, "I would have been the one collecting your corpse."
"And the Dark Lord's plan would have been ruined."
"You would become a sinner."
---
"Oh, come now," Moody said casually.
"We should think positively."
"Of course the Dark Lord's plan comes first."
"But you must understand how difficult it is to act as a spy inside this school."
He spoke lightly, but his expression revealed something closer to enjoyment than pressure.
In his hand he casually toyed with a small device.
To him, everything here was a trophy.
He had replaced the real Moody.
And inherited everything that belonged to him.
---
"We must keep a low profile," Malfoy said seriously.
"On the contrary."
Moody raised his eyebrows.
"We must be as high-profile as possible."
"We need to attract everyone's attention."
"Only then will our plan succeed."
"We must steal the spotlight from the Boy Who Lived."
"If everyone is watching us, no one will watch him too closely."
---
"Dumbledore is not a fool," Malfoy said sharply.
"But he is still human," Moody replied calmly.
"And humans make mistakes."
His magical eye spun wildly.
"He is far from mediocre."
"Anyone capable of opposing the Dark Lord cannot be mediocre."
"But even he does not know everything."
"He will never imagine that a man long thought dead is suddenly standing beside him as an old friend."
"And if I behaved nervously, that would attract suspicion."
---
Suddenly Moody paused.
"Ah… excuse me."
"I need some medicine."
He limped toward the corner of the room.
Two metal chests stood there.
Moody opened one and took out a brown glass bottle filled with liquid.
His wooden leg accidentally struck the other chest.
It produced a dull metallic sound.
That chest had seven locks.
Inside it was the real Alastor Moody.
---
"The Polyjuice Potion tastes awful," Moody muttered.
"Like drinking worms."
Despite his disgust, he uncorked the bottle and drank the potion.
His throat moved repeatedly as he swallowed.
"How long has it been since that old man washed his hair?"
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and grimaced.
Still, he quickly relaxed.
"The body itself is in decent condition."
"A bit old. A bit worn out."
"Not many healthy parts left."
"But the eye is magnificent."
He tapped his magical eye.
"It can see through almost every illusion."
"Wherever I look, deception disappears."
"A marvelous feeling."
Moody's expression showed genuine pleasure.
---
"How about it?" he asked suddenly.
"Want some?"
He lifted the bottle toward Malfoy.
Malfoy's face remained expressionless.
"I have no desire to indirectly kiss an old man," he replied coldly.
"And I have no intention of becoming blind or crippled."
"What a shame," Moody sighed.
"You've broken your partner's heart."
---
"But in that case," Moody added with a grin, "my sacrifice is quite considerable."
"That is for the greater good," Malfoy said calmly.
Repeating the phrase Moody had mentioned earlier in class.
"Exactly," Moody nodded.
"For the greater good."
"For the Dark Lord's return."
"I will not turn back."
---
"Now," Moody said, changing the topic, "have you figured out how to break through Dumbledore's protection spell?"
"If you want to attract his attention, you'll have to perform brilliantly in the tournament."
"You should worry about something else," Malfoy replied.
"For example—how to ensure that the Boy Who Lived survives long enough to reach the final task."
Moody smiled.
"I have great confidence in you."
"And of course…"
"I will assist you when necessary."
"Ludo Bagman has already been bought," Malfoy said calmly.
Moody's eyebrows rose.
"Interesting."
He snapped his fingers thoughtfully.
---
Meanwhile, throughout Hogwarts, the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament had thrown students into a frenzy.
Especially those under seventeen.
They desperately tried to find ways to bypass Dumbledore's restrictions.
Of course, they did not yet know exactly what spell Dumbledore intended to use.
The Goblet of Fire would not be placed until the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived.
Still, speculation filled the castle.
At breakfast one morning, every table buzzed with discussion.
Ravenclaw students analyzed what spell Dumbledore might cast.
Hufflepuff students debated who would represent their house.
Slytherins discussed ways to bypass the age restriction.
Gryffindors simply focused on brute force.
---
"Oh, naïve children."
A rough voice suddenly interrupted.
The students looked up.
"Hello, Professor Moody!"
They greeted him respectfully.
Moody had quickly earned the respect of most students.
Partly because of his skill as a teacher.
Partly because of his past as a legendary Auror.
His stories made students realize how dangerous the world outside Hogwarts truly was.
---
"I don't wish to interrupt your meal," Moody said.
"We were just joking," the Weasley twins said quickly.
They lowered their voices.
In truth they had been discussing how to make money by selling magical items capable of bypassing Dumbledore's spell.
For example—
A special badge that allowed someone to approach the Goblet unhindered.
Naturally Moody found the idea ridiculous.
"I see," Moody said dryly.
"I've heard the two of you enjoy pranks."
"Professor McGonagall often complains about you."
His magical eye twitched.
"But at least you behave properly in my class."
"Of course!" Fred and George declared proudly.
Nearby, Harry looked at Moody with admiration.
Moody's teaching style differed from Lupin's, but it was just as impressive.
Perhaps even more inspiring.
He awakened a sense of responsibility and courage in his students.
Harry himself had learned a great deal from the lesson on resisting the Imperius Curse.
---
By evening the day's classes were over.
An ordinary day at Hogwarts was drawing to a close.
---
"Isn't this Mr. Malfoy, the generous patron who bought his team the Quidditch Cup last year?"
Fred said sarcastically.
"Did the map we sold you fail?"
"Or do you want something else?"
Malfoy stood in a quiet corridor on the fourth floor.
He had deliberately stopped the twins.
"George, let go of me!" Fred protested, punching the air dramatically.
"Don't you want to achieve our dream?" George whispered.
"Let's hear what he wants first."
---
Fred sighed.
Their previous earnings had been confiscated by their mother.
All the money they had made from betting during the World Cup had disappeared.
Now they were in their sixth year.
Soon they would have to enter the wizarding world.
If they wanted freedom and excitement in life, they needed capital.
The one thousand Galleons prize of the Triwizard Tournament was extremely tempting.
---
"You might regret missing this opportunity," Malfoy said with a faint smile.
"You're a promising partner," George replied approvingly.
"Then I'll speak plainly," Malfoy said.
"I need a large number of invisibility cloaks."
"Not the crude ones sold on the market."
"I also have specific requirements."
"I trust your research ability."
"And I need a magical mask capable of changing my appearance."
---
"What do you need that for?" the twins asked simultaneously.
"You can guess," Malfoy replied.
"The Goblet of Fire," Fred said immediately.
George nodded.
"It must be related to the tournament."
Malfoy did not deny it.
That was precisely the effect he wanted.
---
"Assume whatever you like," Malfoy said calmly.
"But if you accept this commission, you won't have time to compete yourselves."
"I doubt you can produce what I need and enter the tournament simultaneously."
Fred laughed.
"You're trying to eliminate competitors."
"Are you willing," Malfoy asked, "to accept the temptation of gold?"
George shrugged.
"To be honest, I never expected to be chosen anyway."
"Agreed!" Fred said.
The resentment from last year's Quidditch loss vanished instantly.
After all, Slytherin had won fairly.
---
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry sat at a table writing a letter.
> Dear Sirius,
We had a great time at the Quidditch World Cup. I arrived safely at school, so you don't need to worry.
We have two new teachers now. Professor Moody is especially impressive.
What do you think about me becoming an Auror someday? I think it might suit me.
Also, our Quidditch Cup is cancelled this year. Instead we'll be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.
I really want to participate. Do you support me?
If I enter, you'll come watch, right?
Harry paused.
He hesitated for a moment about mentioning the strange pain in his scar.
Finally he decided against it.
Better to discuss it with Sirius face to face later.