Harry,
Thank you for that photo, Sirius has framed it in the middle of our living room. I think that it was incredibly courageous of you to do that. I'm sure it meant a lot to Fred as well.
How are your classes going?
France was beautiful, thank you for asking. Their culture is incredibly complex and diverse, a fresh change from the United Kingdom.
Here's a new phrase you can use when speaking with Fleur:
'Beau temps aujourd'hui', it means 'Beautiful weather today'.
Of course I'd recommend waiting until the weather is actual beautiful before using it. January seems determined to freeze us out. I prefer fall, the crisp leaves and fresh scents are soothing. Which season do you enjoy the most?
Have you worked any on the second task? It's coming up next month isn't it?
I look forward to your next letter,
-Remus
***
"You really do need to open that egg, the clue could take ages to work out!" Draco murmured to Harry as he read Lupin's latest letter over his shoulder.
"Back off," Harry snarled, irritated that his friends were all apparently aware of his new forced correspondence.
"He's right you know," Hermione said as Draco hastily scooted away. "Who knows what the clue will be? I'm sure it'll be a much more difficult task, you should be prepared Harry."
"Fine, fine," Harry grumbled, silently agreeing with the bossy girl that he should be prepared, but refusing to do so out loud. "I'll crack it open tonight."
"We'll open it tonight," Susan smiled. "Team Potter."
"Potter's Gang?" Ron grinned.
"Potter Squad," Neville laughed.
"Fuck offff," Harry rolled his eyes at his friends. "We don't need a weird name, I think the Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix are tasteless enough, aren't they?"
"Besides," Draco sniffed, "it's called the Grey Alliance."
"Call yourselves what you want, but if you wanna hear the clue, meet me in the Slytherin common room tonight. We'll get dinner in there, yeah?"
His friends all agreed and they split up for their separate paths as the bell rang for classes. Harry, Blaise, Ron, Theo, Draco, and Susan headed to Transfiguration. Hermione, Neville, Fred, and Luna headed toward...
Actually, Harry had no bloody idea where they were headed.
He settled in his corner seat in Transfiguration and groaned along with the class when McGonagall flipped her board over and announced that today would be a lecture and that 'they would do well to take notes'.
The classroom was filled with the prim and stern tone of McGonagall while she lectured and the scratching of quills, aside from Harry who was mostly doodling on his parchment, when Susan slid a note across the table they shared.
How are you feeling today?
Harry made a face at her and carefully replied.
Normal.
Ever since their 'talk' a week after the first task, Susan had been asking him at least once every couple of days how he was feeling. And it was fucking annoying...
Mostly.
Mostly annoying.
At least she was subtle about it.
~~~
"Harry I need to talk to you," Susan said as she climbed right in Harry's bed before the sun was even up one morning.
"Now?" Harry asked her, parchments spread across his quilt as he worked on a new project. Snape got mad when Harry tried to transfigure himself, so Harry was putting his extra energy towards joke items for Fred's shop he'd open one day.
"Well you aren't sleeping anyway, are you?" Susan asked. "Put up a privacy shield please."
Harry rolled his eyes and dutifully put up a shield.
"We can't kill Dumbledore yet," he immediately said, having to have this talk with Susan more than once. "I know he's annoying but we need a solid-"
"It's not about that," Susan waved one hand while she pulled a book out of her pajama robe pocket with the other. "It's about this."
Harry felt his stomach clench as he looked down at the book Susan procured.
"Psychology?" he asked quietly. "Why would we need to talk about that?"
"How long have you been sick?" Susan asked, ignoring Harry's attempt to divert the conversation.
"Who said I'm sick?" Harry asked. Because if it was Theo, then Harry would kill him. And Snape would never tell anyone.
... probably.
"This does," Susan tapped the book with her index finger a few times. "Manic-Depressive Illness. Did you already know?"
Harry decided that once he felt calm enough to read, he was going to read that damn book. He wasn't sure he liked that someone read a description and immediately guessed that it was his problem.
Susan was watching Harry carefully and he crossed his arms defensively.
"Dunno what you mean," he said airily. "I've never heard of that before."
"Liar."
Harry hated being called a liar, but when he was actually lying he figured he didn't have much of a leg to stand on. He just shrugged instead.
"Hey," Susan's voice was soft and Harry glanced at her face out of the corner of his eye. "You're my best friend Harry James. My soulmate. You and I are going to be friends for our entire lives. Why are you keeping a secret like this from me?"
Harry kept his eyes now firmly on the hanging bed curtains and shrugged again. He didn't want her to know he was sick, because then she'd know he was weak. People who were truly strong and not just faking it, people like Snape, didn't need pills to fix their broken brains.
"You're not weak," Susan said firmly. "I know that's what you're thinking and you're wrong. You could never be weak Harry."
"Just broken then?" Harry snarled. "Poor Harry and his broken brain. He's sick. It's pathetic," he spat. "And if you tell anyone I'll kill you."
Probably.
He wasn't sure anymore that he could kill Susan.
But if she betrayed him then he'd make an honest go at it.
"Don't be a dick," Susan scoffed. "Did I say you were broken? Or pathetic? No. I said you could never be weak. Arsehole."
Harry's lip twitched at the fond way Susan swore at him.
"How long?" she repeated.
"A year?" Harry guessed. He'd probably had it since the summer before third year, according to Snape anyway, but he'd only started the medicine in February, so a year was a good guess.
"And you didn't tell me?" Susan swatted his arm lightly, still causing Harry to frown at her. "No more secrets Harry."
Harry thought of Lockhart, Avery, Nott, and his entire colorful past that was filled to the brim with secrets.
"We'll see," he quipped.
Which earned him another swat to the arm of course.
~~~
Not flying?
No.
Harry didn't add that he wished he was. If depression was the punishment part of having Manic-Depression, then flying was the reward.
Are you drowning?
No mum, Harry wrote, earning himself a soft kick in the calf by Susan's trainer.
Prat.
Git.
Has SS finished the potion?
Harry rolled his eyes at the desk at that. If anyone was being more annoying than Susan, it was Snape. He'd apologized, actually apologized, after their last private group lesson to Harry because he still needed to test the potion before he let Harry take it.
He would "never let Harry consume an untested potion," apparently. Harry figured if Snape made it, then it was safe enough. But he also didn't mind not taking the potion again so he let it go.
Week or so, he wrote, relaying the timeline Snape gave him.
Good. Tell me if you start to drown.
Harry grit his teeth and flipped her off before shoving the parchment in to the bottom of his bag.
He didn't need another person asking about his 'feelings' and 'moods'. Fuck. Between Snape, Theo, and Susan, Harry may never be left alone again.
Which caused him a peculiar warm feeling in his stomach.
Which then caused him to feel unnecessarily annoyed.
Ten year old Harry would kick my arse, he shook his head at himself. One of the top rules of being alone was to stay alone. Don't get attached to anyone or anything. Everyone knew that the more things you owned and were attached to, the more things people could take from you.
And what had he done?
Gained a whole group of people that he would blow the whole damn world up if they were hurt.
Because he was stupid. And he'd gone soft. Which was annoying.
I should let ten year old Harry kick my arse.
Despite his friends incessant worries, Harry wasn't really all that concerned about the egg. The first task was a little hazy in his memory ('a side effect of the physical trauma and manic influence' according to Snape), but it hadn't seemed very hard. And he'd gotten first. So he was sure the second task would be just as simple.
"You guys ready?" he asked his friends once Luna had finally joined them in the common room that night and they'd hastily ate dinner together.
"Ready," they said.
Harry dug his fingers in to the surprisingly malleable center of the egg and yanked it apart and open.
It was hollow and completely empty — but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Harry had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, who had all been playing the musical saw.
"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.
"What was that?" Neville panted, his face pale and his hands shaking. "It- it sounded like someone being tortured Harry."
It did a bit.
"Nah, usually people Harry tortures scream a bit more brokenly," Ron said thoughtfully. "Maybe a Banshee?"
"Orrrrr a mermaid," Draco rolled his eyes. "Merlin, am I the only one who does any research on magical creatures?"
Harry glanced at Hermione and Theo before smirking at Draco.
"Do mermaids sound like bloody fingernails on a chalkboard?" Harry asked him.
"Above water they do," Draco said in a tone that sounded like he barely left off the 'you idiot' addendum.
"So Harry has to fight a mermaid?" Blaise asked with a brow raised. "Seems like they'd have the unfair advantage if it's underwater."
"Yeah but he'd have a brilliant advantage above water," Susan laughed.
"Why am I friends with you people?" Draco sighed theatrically. "The clue is in Mermish. You have to put the egg under water to listen to it."
"Oooh," the rest of Harry's friends nodded and exchanged thoughtful looks.
That did make a bit more sense.
"Reckon I could go stick it in the lake and hear it?" Harry mused out loud.
"No Harry," Hermione sighed. "You are not going to stick your head in the Black Lake in the middle of winter to listen to the clue."
"You could just use a bathtub," Theo smirked. "Probably a bit easier."
Oh.
Yeah that was easier.
"Does Gryffindor bathrooms have a tub then?" Harry asked Fred.
"Are you kidding? We don't even have as nice of showers as you guys!" Fred laughed.
"Mione? Sue?"
Both girls shook their heads regretfully.
"Black Lake it is then," Harry shrugged and picked up the egg.
"You can't go now!" Hermione cried. "It's after curfew!"
Harry ignored her, stupid thing to say really when he owned an invisibility cloak and a magical map of Hogwarts.
"Ron, you wanna come with?"
"Me?" Ron looked surprised, but not displeased. "Why me?"
Harry shrugged again and kept up an impassive look. He wouldn't admit it, but Ron had been hanging out with Draco and Blaise quite a bit, which was fair because Harry spent a lot of time with Fred, Luna, and Susan, but he (stupidly) missed one of the first friends he'd made.
"Figured the guy who followed me to fight a troll would wanna come on another adventure," Harry smirked.
"Oh I'm in," Ron jumped up.
"Can I go?" Draco asked. Luna put a small and consoling hand on his and shook her head with a soft smile.
"Harry misses Ron, he'll do something with just the two of you soon," she said.
Of course Luna would say something embarrassing like that in front of their whole group.
Harry stuck his tongue out at her and summoned his cloak and map.
"Tell us about it in the morning?" Fred asked.
"Maybe," Harry hummed. He wouldn't though. He wasn't going to be the only champion who needed help with the tasks.
How could he prove he was the best if he had help on the tasks?
Harry pulled the map out and activated it, checking to make sure their path to the entrance was clear.
"We're good, let's go," he murmured to Ron, throwing the cloak over them both and keeping the map in his hand.
Harry pulled on his magic and ordered it to silence their steps, and mask their scent, a mistake he'd learned from since Lupin had taught at Hogwarts. Ron stayed close to him as they left the common room and carefully made their way up to the entrance.
"Filch," Harry breathed, spotting the caretakers dot in the corridor ahead of them. The boys quickly turned and took a different path, it was a bit longer, but free of any adults. When they finally made it to the doors, Harry held his breath as he slowly opened them.
You'd think they'd lock the doors, he mused. Of course, that was assuming Dumbledore gave a damn about safety at all.
"Over there you reckon?" Ron whispered, pointing towards a shadowy spot along the coast of the lake. Harry nodded and they headed that way, only mildly less concerned about making noise out here than they were inside the castle.
"You don't think the Skrewts got loose again, do you?" Ron gulped and glanced towards Hagrid's hut as Harry pocketed the cloak and map.
"Hope so," Harry snorted. "They really aren't so bad when you get to know them."
Ron gave him a bewildered look that clearly said what he thought about that statement, but he kept quiet.
"Watch my back?" Harry asked, looking around carefully to make sure nobody was near.
"Of course." Ron stuck his chest out proudly and held out his new wand he'd bought himself before school started when Neville bought his replacement one. He looked much like the guard Harry needed him to be in that moment.
Harry put a warming charm on himself before stepping out to waist level in the dark water. His clothes would be soaked, but it was bad enough he was about to be in a vulnerable position under water, he certainly wasn't going to make it worse by taking his clothes off.
"Here goes," Harry murmured. He lowered the egg under the water before slowly opening it. He and Ron both let out sighs of relief that the screeching noise didn't happen this time, instead it was just air bubbles coming up from the egg.
Harry flicked his eyes around the lawns surrounding them once more before taking a deep breath and ducking beneath the water.
Harry immediately heard a chorus of eerie voices singing to him from the open egg in his hands:
"Come seek us where our voices sound, We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching, ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour — the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
Harry burst up from the water, his lungs tight from staying beneath so long and furrowed his brows down.
"Did it work?" Ron whispered from the bank.
"Yeah," Harry said. "Hold on."
He took another deep breath and went back under to listen again. He did this four more times until he felt confident that he'd memorized the whole thing.
Harry slowly moved up to the bank and immediately dried himself with magic before flopping down on the ground.
"Got any parchment?" Harry asked Ron.
Ron patted down the school robes he was still wearing and triumphantly pulled both a quill and a spare bit of parchment from his pocket.
"Pays to be a mess," he chuckled.
Harry took the parchment and quill with a grateful nod and immediately wrote down the mermaids song.
"Gonna tell me what it says?" Ron asked as Harry tried puzzling it out.
"Nope," Harry said. "Gotta do it alone or I won't really win, will I?"
Harry looked again at the riddle and shook his head. It sounded like the mermaids were going to take something of his back to their home, probably in the lake, and if he didn't get it in an hour then they'd keep it forever.
Which better be a fucking joke because if someone took his sword or his invisibility cloak then they were going to sorely regret it.
"Let's go inside," Harry sighed. "This is going to be a fuckin' nightmare."
Ron gave Harry another puzzled look but accepted the cloak Harry tossed over their heads. Harry opened the map back up and traced the route to their dorm.
"It's clear," he said. "Wait a second..."
Harry's eye was drawn to the moving dot in Snape's private office.
Bartemius Crouch.
Why was Crouch snooping around Snape's office? Especially when he was supposedly too sick to come to the Yule Ball and had sent Fred's annoying prat brother instead?
Harry felt anger boiling in his stomach as he considered Crouch in Snape's office. Was he trying to find another excuse to arrest him?
"Let's go, quick," Harry said curtly as he began moving quickly towards the castle, Ron hustling to keep up with him. Harry kept an eye on the dot in Snape's office and silenced them again to make sure Crouch wouldn't be spooked off before Harry got there.
"I'll be back in a bit," he whispered right in Ron's ear once they made it to the common room entrance. "Tournament stuff," he lied.
Ron nodded, accepting his story easily, and ducked out from beneath the cloak and in to the common room.
Harry kept his eye on Crouch's dot as he made his way towards Snape's office. Crouch left the office, but was luckily heading right towards Harry.
Harry turned the corner that would bring him face to face with Crouch and immediately stopped.
"Moody?" he said, ripping the now useless cloak off and staring at Moody incredulously. "What the fuck?"
"Out for a late night stroll, eh Potter?" Moody chuckled, his magical eye resting on the golden egg Harry had in his arm. "Working on that clue?"
"Why were you in Snape's office?" Harry demanded. He wasn't sure how the map had made such a mistake with the names, but he'd figure that out later.
"Auror's privilege," Moody growled with his creepy lopsided smile.
"What is going on here?" Snape hissed, quietly joining the pair as they stared at each other silently. Harry was still trying to figure out what Moody's game was, and Moody looked as if he were thinking the same thing about Harry.
"Harry- why are you out of bed?" Snape asked. "Were you in my office?"
"Nope," Harry broke his gaze from Moody and fixed it on Snape now instead. "That was Moody, wasn't it? 'Auror's privilege' he says."
Even if Harry wanted to recruit Moody, he wouldn't do it at Snape's expense.
Snape pulled himself up to his full height and sneered down his nose at Moody.
"Interesting that you'd go searching my office, again," Snape said coldly. "Dumbledore's orders once more, I dare say?"
"No, this one was just curiosity," Moody said with his own sneering tone that Harry bristled at.
"Don't talk to him like that," Harry said evenly. "Won't end well."
"Harry," Snape sighed as he turned from Moody to Harry. "Go to bed."
"Once Moody leaves you alone I will," Harry said as he continued to glower at Moody.
"I am not a maiden in need of defending," Snape said. "Bed. Now. Before you receive a detention for being out past curfew. I will escort you."
Harry nodded and kept Moody in his line of sight as he backed towards the corridor that would take him back to the Slytherin common room.
"Why are you out past curfew?" Snape asked him as soon as they were far enough away from Moody to not be overheard.
"Working on the egg," Harry murmured, his mind still whirling with the map's label for Moody. "Hey, wasn't your friend named Bartemius Crouch? What happened to him?"
Snape didn't do anything so obvious as blanch or flinch, but Harry could tell he'd somehow hurt him with his question anyway.
"He died in Azkaban," Snape said stiffly. "After he was imprisoned for torturing Neville's parents alongside Black's cousin Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus Lestrange."
"So he's definitely dead?" Harry asked curiously. "Did you see his body at the funeral?"
"There was no funeral and I would prefer to change the subject," Snape said. "Did you work out the clue for the second task?"
"Oh," Harry looked down at the egg and shrugged. He'd have to go in the lake, find the mermaids, take back whatever they stole from him, probably kill them for taking his stuff, then get back before the hour was up. "Mostly yeah," he admitted. He'd just need to find a way to breathe underwater for the hour time limit he had.
"Would be easier if everyone had let me figure out how to add gills to myself," Harry muttered darkly.
Snape looked down at him when they stopped by the Slytherin entrance and raised a condescending brow.
"You believe it would be simpler to transfigure gills on to yourself than it would be to consume gillyweed and produce the same results?" he asked in a sarcastic tone that Harry didn't quite appreciate.
"Damnit Snape!" Harry cried. "You aren't supposed to help me with the task!"
Snape, inexplicably, began chuckling.
"Harry, do you truly think that the other champions are not utilizing the adults and peers in their lives for assistance with the tasks?"
Harry shrugged, if they wanted to lose even with cheating then that was their problem. But Harry wasn't going to let someone say he wouldn't have won without their help when it came down to it.
"No more helping," he said firmly. "I want to prove I'm the best on my own, yeah?"
Snape shook his head, but smiled down at him.
"I have almost unshakable faith in your abilities," he said before shooing Harry in to the common room.
Harry laid in his bed that night and thought over that statement.
He went to sleep still unsure if it had been a compliment or insult.
***
Lupin,
Write back quick- does the map ever make mistakes? Don't give me any bullshit about how brilliant you lot were because you trusted fuckin Pettigrew, didn't you? Just honestly- can the map be fooled?
-Harry
***
Sirius,
The Marauders Map- can it be tricked? I show up in my cloak, but is there any other reason someone would show up with the wrong name on the map? I don't want to hear about how brilliant you think you are. I need a definite answer and I needed it yesterday.
-Harry
***
Mr Mulpepper's Apothecary Employees,
I would like to order as much gillyweed as you have in stock. I have attached a form that will automatically transfer the cost from my vault to the one for your store.
Sincerely,
Harry James Potter
***
Pup,
The map cannot be fooled. Not by invisibility cloaks, or polyjuice, or even animagi. We aren't just bragging about our brilliance,even though it is bloody brilliant. We spent years testing it- then years using it. Why the sudden questions? Is everything okay?Are you planning something crazy? Because if so I want to know about it. Do not plan anything crazy. Severus would kill us all if you used the map and got injured in some way. Damnit Pup, did you tell Snape about the map? It was supposed to be a secret!Of course he did, idiot. If I die one day, I will be telling your father young man. Let us know if everything's alright.And if you're pulling off another scheme like the Goblet.-Remus and Sirius.***
Harry was distracted through his classes the morning after he read Lupin and Sirius' letter.
The map didn't make mistakes.
And Harry had seen Moody and Crouch together when his name had been drawn from the goblet both at the Head Table that night, and in the private chambers later.
"Draco-" he hissed suddenly in Charms class. "The day of the first task, Crouch was judging, was Moody there too?"
"Yes, why?" Draco whispered.
"Never mind," Harry said.
So Moody and Crouch were together at least three times.
Harry kept checking the map, and all during the day 'Bartemius Crouch' was teaching classes in the defense classroom.
He also checked and saw that Moody was the only dot labeled wrong. And Greg and Vince both show up without the 'Junior' labels that Harry knows are attached to their names. So the map doesn't specify Junior or Senior.
Snape had said that Bartemius Crouch Junior died in Azkaban.
But he also said there was no funeral.
And Snape didn't think Alastor Moody was ever a Death Eater, but Harry was sure that whoever was teaching their classes absolutely was at some point a follower of Timmy.
"Susan," he asked quietly in the library during their free period that day. "Bartemius Crouch Junior, he was a Death Eater, yeah?"
"Yeah," she nodded, glancing over hesitantly towards Neville. "A scumbag too," she added.
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
"Was his Dad ever a Death Eater?"
Surprisingly, it was Theo who laughed at that.
"Mister Crouch? No," he said, with no real mirth in his eyes. "He hated Dark Wizards. He used to be mad about locking up every last one of them. He went completely insane when his own son was caught."
"He sent his son to prison?" Harry asked, surprised. He didn't have much experience with fathers, since his was dead, but Snape was kind of like a Dad he'd guess, and that man took a murder charge for him.
When he thought about it later, he realized that his own father had actually taken a killing curse for Harry as well. Which, as unhelpful as that currently was to Harry, was still a brave thing to do.
"Yup," Neville cut in to their conversation and his typically warm eyes were as hard as Harry had ever seen them. "He sent him straight to Azkaban, where he belonged."
"And where he died... but didn't have a funeral?" Harry prodded.
"Why so interested?" Blaise suddenly asked, his golden eyes sharp as he leaned towards Harry and a sly smirk playing around the edges of his lips. "Are you planning on blackmailing Crouch for some reason?"
"Never hurts to have dirt on an enemy," Harry quipped before falling silent on the subject.
It didn't add up.
Either the map was wrong, which Sirius and Lupin swore it wasn't, or...
Or Harry wasn't sure really.
When magic came in to play, there were just too many possibilities.
His leading theory, based on the fact that he had personally seen Moody and Crouch together at least twice and Draco reported a third time, was that Moody was not Crouch Senior, but Crouch Junior.
The Death Eater who supposedly died in prison, but nobody saw his body at any kind of funeral. The Death Eater son of an arsehole father who sent him to prison, and who would absolutely call Timmy the Dark Lord.
Except... Snape made it sound like him and 'Barty' had been close friends. They studied together, and schemed together, and joined Timmy together. So if Moody was Crouch Junior, why was he always treating Snape so rudely?
It wasn't outside Harry's list of possibilities that Crouch Senior was the person impersonating Moody. Just because Crouch said he hated 'Dark Wizards' didn't mean he wasn't one himself. Harry had seen lots of cops talk about hating drugs and crimes, then see them smoking pot or committing crimes themselves back in London. But the problem with that theory was that if Crouch was impersonating Moody, then who impersonated Crouch on the occasions he had been seen together?
Also- where the Hell was the real Alastor Moody? Had he been here at all this year?
That last question Harry was almost positive he had an answer for- he was certain that whichever Crouch was impersonating Moody was the same person who had done so all year. Harry considered himself to be rather perceptive when it came to people, and he was sure that he would have noticed a behavioral shift if the Moody-Impersonator had swapped out at some point within the term so far.
But really, magic was brilliant. It made life easier, and made its users special, but damn if it didn't complicate a good mystery. And now that Harry had worked out the second task, he had tons of time to consider this newest riddle he'd been handed.
By mid-February, Harry was no closer to solving the Moody Mystery, and was beginning to grow frustrated. He kept a close eye on him during classes, to the point where his friends were growing concerned.
"Feeling alright?" Theo asked him privately after another defense class that Harry spent watching Fake-Moody's every move (and confirming multiple times with the map that the man's dot was still labeled Bartemius Crouch).
"Fine," Harry said absently, still analyzing the behavior and speech pattern of Fake-Moody to try and match it to his previous appearances before Harry found him by Snape's office a couple of weeks ago.
"Hey," Theo snapped his fingers until Harry focused on his worried face. "Snape still hasn't finished that potion?"
"Nope."
"Are you flying again?"
"No?" Harry said curiously, confused why Theo was even bringing that up. "Why?"
"You're acting off," Theo said bluntly. "You haven't been talking much, and you've been obsessed with Moody and Crouch. Are you worried about the second task or something?"
Harry cocked his head to the side as he eyed Theo for a long moment, thinking quickly.
"Which is more likely to you- someone who is supposed to be dead isn't, or Mister Crouch is a former Death Eater pretending to be an Auror?"
"The first one," Theo said immediately. "But I think they're both slim odds Harry."
"Hmm," Harry hummed before pulling out the map and checking it again. He was so distracted by watching the man's dot on the map that he didn't even notice Theo's last frown of concern before the other boy quickly ran off.
The next afternoon, Harry made his way to Snape's classroom for his groups bi-weekly private lesson.
If it's Crouch Senior, can he be recruited? If it's Junior; can he be recruited or should I even try? He tortured Neville's parents... but whoever it is is a fucking genius too. A genius with quick reflexes and who tricked the all-knowing Dumbledore himself...
Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the emptiness of the classroom he'd walked in until he was already in front of Snape's desk.
"Oh." Harry looked around and mentally kicked himself for letting himself get so distracted that he just walked in a room without checking it first.
He probably wouldn't make it five days on the streets anymore at this rate.
"Sorry sir," Harry said to Snape, who was peering up at him from his desk chair. "I could have sworn we were meeting here today."
"We are," Snape said. "Though I cancelled your other misfits from making their usual appearance tonight. I would like to speak with you. Sit please."
Harry slowly sat on the edge of his seat and took his time to look over Snape's classroom carefully. The desks were all in position, which usually Snape cleared them away before their lesson. Nobody else was here... and now that Harry thought about it, nobody had even walked down with him.
"Are you manic?" Snape asked bluntly.
"No!" Harry growled. "Fuck. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Are you depressed? Having intrusive thoughts that are causing you hardship?"
"Nope."
"Explain to me your recent changes in behavior then," Snape said.
"What changes?" Harry asked. "What the fuck is going on?"
"That is what I would like to know."
Harry ran back all his recent behavior and frowned as he tried to find the one Snape was upset about.
"I haven't done anything," he eventually said. "So I dunno what's going on here."
"You have been distracted, withdrawn, and quiet," Snape listed of each apparent sin with a tick of his fingers. "I find myself worrying that you are ill."
"I'm not," Harry grit out. "Jesus. I'm just..." Harry studied Snape carefully while he tried to find a way to word his mystery without giving it away. If anyone found out about the Moody-Impersonator then they'd confront him and scare him off. And Harry wasn't going to lose the opportunity to either recruit away one of Timmy's followers, or have Crouch Senior arrested like he'd done to Snape.
"Do you think Mister Crouch, the one who worked at the Ministry, was ever either a Death Eater or a sympathizer?" he asked.
"No," Snape shook his head. "I do not."
"And you don't think Moody was either?"
"Correct. I find the mere idea outrageous in the extreme."
Harry frowned and tapped his foot in irritation for a moment.
"Well, I guess that's that."
"Will you be explaining to me your sudden obsession with Crouch and Death Eaters?" Snape asked shrewdly.
"No," Harry slumped back in his seat. "Oh wait- I have one more question... were you and Barty friends all the way up until he supposedly died?"
"We were," Snape said slowly. "And I have a great concern for your emphasis on the word supposedly. Harry, there is no bringing people back from the dead. You understand that, right?"
"Course," Harry scoffed. "So there's no reason that if Barty was here today, that he would hate you?"
"I suppose he would feel incredibly betrayed by my public shift in alliances," Snape said in a tense sort of voice. "Harry, I only need another couple of days until your potion is ready. I wanted to ensure it had long-term safety and reacted well when consumed with other potions and spells. Can you promise me to do nothing impulsive for three more days?"
Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape's earnest ones and scowled when he finally put the pieces together.
"I am not manic," he sneered.
In fact, he was a genius. Because Snape just gave him the last piece of the puzzle he was almost 90% confident he'd finally solved.
"It's just..." Harry shrugged and decided to try and tell Snape a bit of the mystery he thought he just solved. Enough so Snape would quit thinking he was having 'an episode', but not so much that Snape would spook off Fake-Moody before Harry could decide what to do with him.
"Someone that everyone thinks is dead, isn't," Harry said. "And I think that someone everyone thinks is a crusader for justice, must have been the reason the dead guy isn't dead. But there's also polyjuice involved. So I wasn't sure until now."
The way Snape watched Harry once he'd finished slowly explaining part of the mystery told him that he didn't sound as sane as he'd hoped.
"Never mind," Harry sighed. "You don't even believe me."
"I believe that you currently believe that," Snape allowed. "But no, apologies Harry, but you sound just as you did when you believed yourself capable of winged flight."
"Piss off," Harry rolled his eyes and hooked his bag over his shoulder. "I'm not manic, or mad. I'm right. You'll see."
"Three days Harry," Snape called as Harry stormed from the office. "Please."
Snape could sit there and question if Harry was sane or not all night if he wanted. Harry would prove himself to be right in the end.
And in the meantime, he was going to go talk to Fake-Moody.
"Professor Moody," Harry called, using Susan's polite tone as he knocked on the closed office door. "It's Harry Potter."
"Come in," Fake-Moody (Harry checked the map just before knocking) had growled.
Harry checked his pockets one last time and felt his dagger from Black, his pocketknife from London, and two of his silver throwing stars in his pockets and a quick touch of his wrist reassured him that his dagger from the Malfoy's was attached securely to his arm.
Harry kept his eyes focused on Fake-Moody as he slowly slid in the office. He refused to be distracted by the gadgets and trinkets surrounding him, almost as much clutter as Dumbledore had in his office. Instead, he kept a wary eye on Moody's hands as he clutched his dagger in his pocket.
"What can I do for you lad?" Moody grunted, both his eyes fixed on Harry.
"Hmm," Harry rolled his shoulders as he tilted his head to study Moody. "What do you know about Mister Crouch?" he asked.
Moody raised both his gnarled brows in surprise at Harry's question.
"Put it this way, Potter," Moody muttered finally, "they say old Mad-Eye's obsessed with catching Dark wizards... but I'm nothing — nothing — compared to Barty Crouch."
"Sent his own son to prison, didn't he?" Harry watched Moody very carefully as he said that, and-
There it is.
Moody's right hand twitched the slightest amount. It was so slight that anyone else may have missed it, but Harry didn't. Harry had a habit of keeping an eye on people's hands his whole life. Your hands were the first and best weapon you had. That level of vigilance had paid off more than once in his life- and it did again today.
"He did," Moody said.
Harry tried to imagine having a parent who would send you to prison, instead of taking a killing curse or a murder charge for you, and his mind unwillingly drew up Vernon Dursley from its depths.
"I'd suppose that any father who sent his son to prison had to be even worse at home," Harry said slowly. "You think he was a good father?"
"Old Crouch?" Moody laughed darkly, with no real humor to be heard. "No Potter. I doubt it. The man worried so much about his career and his image that he probably didn't give a damn about his wife or son."
"Yeah..." Harry looked grimly at Fake-Moody-Who-He-Was-Now-95%-Confident-Was-Crouch-Junior. "Shame nobody stepped in to help his son, yeah?" he said carefully. "If I'd known someone was treating their kid so badly, I would have stopped them."
Moody's magic eye quickly spun around before stopping abruptly and fixing itself on Harry's face. Neither of them said anything for a long and tense minute.
Harry thought this was one of those moments where Blaise would say the tension was so thick Harry could cut it with a knife.
"Pity for the enemy, eh? That'll make you weak," 'Moody' eventually said.
"Not pity," Harry sneered, insulted by the very idea. "But if Barty had been one of mine I never would have let his father get away with treating him like trash."
'Moody' put his elbows on his desk and leaned towards Harry with a curious light in his normal eye.
"What would you have done?" he whispered harshly. "Tortured Old Crouch? Reported him?"
"Killed him," Harry said calmly. "I would have killed him and let Barty be free on my side."
And he still would if it meant he could recruit this man. Because if he was right, and like he'd said, he was 95% certain he was, then this guy was every bit the genius Snape once described him as.
And Harry wanted him on his team.
***
Lupin,
I'm so sick of everything I do being a symptom of some sort.
Harry's quiet? Must be depressed.
Harry's trying to figure out a complicated riddle? He's manic.
It's bullshit.
I haven't done much this week really, I'm working on something but I can't tell you much about it.
I've got the second task all figured out already. It was actually really easy. Kinda makes me wonder what the point of the age restriction was?
Classes are fine. I ignore most of the lectures since I can already do the spells and I don't have to take written finals anyway.
-Harry