In the weeks that followed the second task, Harry felt a distinct loss of excitement in his life.
The third task was ages away.
Classes were so pointless now that he'd even taken up skipping History of Magic altogether.
His brain felt as if it had a steady low thrum of heaviness to it.
Everything was just dull. Dim. Dreadful.
Except Not-Moody.
Not-Moody was still the most interesting thing within the castle, and Harry was determined to break the man's secret wide open.
When Percy had shown up as a judge at the second task, instead of Mister Crouch, Harry had worried that he had it wrong and that Not-Moody was really Crouch Senior. So, he did what anyone in his position with his connections would do, and contacted Rita Skeeter to look in to it.
And she had. Except she'd taken her bloody sweet time.
Three weeks after he'd paid her to look in to Crouch Senior, he finally received a letter from her.
Harry,
I've watched Crouch very closely the last couple of weeks. He hasn't been showing up for work, which his coworkers state is absolutely unlike him. Apparently the man's a raging workaholic. I thought he was just hiding out at home, hiding from his bosses who aren't happy with him, but his coworkers say he's 'been ill'. He's been letting one of the Weasley boys, Pucey, carry on in his absence. Pucey told someone that Crouch was sending daily instructions from his home. So that's where I went next. And oh my Merlin, you won't believe it! Crouch is home, and he looks terrible, AND he has someone living with him! I didn't get a real good eyeful of him, but it's definitely a him! So- I think Old Crouch is sick and having his secret lover nurse him to health while he recovers! OR the secret lover is the one making him sick!
As we discussed, I'll keep this to myself for now. Instead I'll do a charming little drama piece to generate readers. Let me know if you'd prefer that I say you're in a scandalous love triangle with your hostage from the second task or the French champion.
Kisses,
Rita
Harry had smiled with grim satisfaction when he received and read Rita's letter. His theory had to be right. There was no way that Crouch Senior could be at home, sick, and Polyjuiced as Moody at Hogwarts as a teacher. He didn't even mind the 'love triangle' article bit that Rita dreamed up, he had said she could write a scandalous article about him if she found anything good about Crouch and kept it between the two of them. It was an acceptable arrangement- Skeeter would still get a good article, and he could get solid information on Crouch Senior.
He did add the stipulation that her article not have any slander about him in it, he didn't want to muck up his chances at becoming Minister one day because of something she wrote when he was fourteen. He wrote her back immediately and said that she could use the love triangle bit with whoever she preferred, as long as she didn't make it sound like he was cheating on Fred.
And she didn't.
"The Boy Who Loves?" Hermione laughed when his friends read the next days paper. Harry barely glanced up long enough to see a candid photo of Fleur and him after the second task. It looked like they were hugging, but Harry knew that it was when she had actually been crying on his shoulder.
He shuddered at the uncomfortable memory.
"'Harry Potter is a boy like none other. A powerful wizard, a brilliant student, and the would-be-suitor to many hopeful students'," Theo read the article out loud over Hermione's shoulder. "'Despite his long-term relationship with Frederick Weasley, see page 3 for a timeline of their love story, it seems as if someone else has set their sights on Britain's beloved hero. This person is none other than the powerful Veela daughter of the French Ambassador for Magic, Flower Delacour, the Triwizard champion for Beauxbatons School of Magic'."
"Oh she's going to be furious," Fred chuckled, interrupting Theo's reading. "Imagine her not winning your heart and having her name mispronounced in the paper again!"
Harry shrugged and drank his coffee.
"Doesn't say I'm cheating on Fred though, right?" he checked.
"Nope, just says that you've got people desperately falling in love with you left and right," Theo said with a small grin. "Poor, adorable, lovable Harry."
"Pains of fame," Harry quipped, quite liking the phrase Ron had once used to describe his life.
"Fleur might not like this Harry," Blaise said with his dark brows raised high. "Makes her sound a bit petty and jealous."
"You know, like Fred," Draco smirked.
Harry and Fred both threw toast at him for that.
Surprisingly, it took until dinner that evening for Fleur to catch up to him.
"'Arry," she smiled warmly when she walked up to their group at the Slytherin table. "'Ave you read ze gossip?"
"I have," Harry shrugged with a casual 'what can you do' kind of look on his face. "Sorry about that."
He wasn't really sorry. It was better if it was Fleur than Luna. Plus, Fleur owed him anyway. And this way, she wasn't even aware that Harry had set it up.
"I regret to eenform you zat I will no longer be compeeting for your love," Fleur smiled, politely ignoring the gobsmacked looks on Ron, Neville, and Draco's faces. "I 'ave decided zat Meester Weasley eez a perfectly suitable partner for you, oui?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "If you change your mind though, I bet you could beat him in a duel."
"Oi!" Fred cried. "That's not fair!"
"I will keep zat in mind," Fleur winked and tossed her hair back. "I also wanted to ask you if you would like to train together for ze next task. We could work on deefensive magic until we know what ze task eez. Perhaps zair eez somezing I can teach you?"
"Perhaps," Harry said thoughtfully. "Yeah, okay. Wanna do it next weekend?"
"Perfect," Fleur beamed. "And feel free to bring Meester Weasley, he may be incroyablement jealous if not, oui?"
"Oui," Harry winked charmingly. "We'll meet you in the entrance hall next Saturday morning then, thanks Fleur."
Fleur strode away, the eyes of multiple wizards, and a handful of witches, following her until Harry hissed loudly and glared at them all.
She wasn't a fucking treacle tart. Harry hated the way people's eyes lingered on her. Fleur was a champion, she was chosen. She was more than just a pretty girl, she was a powerful witch. She might have failed the second task, but Harry would like to see one of these prats face a dragon.
"Well, I can't win against that," Fred said with a teasing grin. "If this is the end of us, just know that I'll go down fighting for you Darlin'."
"Nah," Harry shrugged and grinned across the table to Fred. "I suppose I'll keep you around a bit longer."
"Such a gentleman," Fred sighed with a hand over his heart.
Harry chuckled a bit and considered what Fleur thought she would have to teach him.
No offense to her or anything, but she hadn't even gotten past the grindylows in the lake. He doubted that Fleur could teach him anything, but it would be a good time to try and officially add her to his gang.
To Harry's never ending surprise; Fleur actually did have something brilliant to teach him.
"We can duel in 'ere?" she asked next Saturday morning when Harry led her Fred, and Viktor, who found them during breakfast and asked if he could join as well, to Snape's empty classroom.
"Probably," Harry said. "Snape let me before."
He hadn't asked him; but he doubted if he would mind either.
"Vairy well," Fleur smiled at him and tied her long hair back in a low bun. "What do you know of dueling?"
"Quite a bit," Harry smirked. "Wanna see?"
"Oui," Fleur said. "You and Meester Weasley. I can see better eef I am watching."
"'Kay," Harry turned an innocent smile to Fred.
"I should have just let Fleur have you," Fred sighed.
"You are scared of Harry?" Viktor asked, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Brave lion."
Harry laughed, both at Viktor finally understanding the Hogwarts house traits and at him mocking Fred when he'd never even seen him duel before.
"Fred's a genius, I'm just better," Harry said, clearing the desks away with a small flick of his hand. "Ready daaaaarling?" he drawled to Fred.
"As I'll ever be Sugar," Fred said with an easy smile as he took his place across from Harry. "Try not to mess up my pretty face this time."
"Oh, was that you I cut in second year?" Harry asked. "Whoops."
Fred shook his head, but pulled his wand out and took a loose dueling stance.
"Bow," Fleur said as she erected a shield around herself and Viktor.
Fred did some dramatic loopy bow, but Harry just ticked his head in an imitation of one. He knew this was just for sport, but he'd never bow to anyone.
"Beegin!"
Fred immediately went on the defensive as Harry lazily tossed spells towards him.
"Protego!" Fred cried, putting a shield between them. "No Unforgiveables Harry!"
"We'll see," Harry laughed. He wouldn't hurt Fred like that, not if he didn't need to.
And he didn't need to.
Harry kept up a stream of spells steadily enough to keep Fred from firing back, but not so quick to end the duel. He could finally feel himself waking up from the dull haze he'd been in as he tracked Fred's constant movements.
After a few minutes though, he was bored.
Levitate him, upside down, he ordered his magic with a hard enough tug to send Fred ten feet in the air. And his wand please.
Fleur and Viktor both clapped when Harry caught Fred's wand.
"Brava!" Fleur cried. "You are a natural 'Arry!"
"Ta," Harry murmured, walking slowly up to Fred with a small grin on his face.
"What are you doin?" he called up to him.
"Hanging around," Fred called back down, his voice warm and good natured considering his position.
Harry let out a laugh and then released him.
"You could have caught me," Fred grumbled as he rubbed his head from where it struck the floor.
"Could have," Harry agreed, offering Fred a hand up from the floor.
"You use spells, you are quick and powerful, but you use no elements?" Fleur asked Harry after Fred got to his feet.
"Elements?" Harry cocked his head to the side and thought carefully what she meant. "Like wind and stuff? I've used lightning before, does that count?"
"Oui," Fleur nodded. "But zair eez one element zat eez most powerful in a fight: fire."
Harry's eyes must have lit up with the reminder of the beauty of Nott Manor burning from the fiendfyre because Fleur suddenly smiled sharply.
"Oui, 'Arry. We will duel now."
Harry moved back to his position and watched Fleur carefully as Viktor put up a shield around himself and Fred.
"Bow to each other," Viktor grunted.
Fleur ticked her head proudly in the same manner Harry did. Which he could respect. Fleur was stronger than people gave her credit for.
"If I win, I want us to be official allies," Harry offered.
"We shall see," Fleur said, her smile suddenly mischievous. "You are vairy confeedent."
"Oui," Harry smiled. "It's well-earned."
"We shall see," Fleur repeated, taking a graceful dueling pose.
"Begin," Viktor said.
And, fuck.
Fleur was fast.
Harry was suddenly put in the awkward position of having to immediately take a defensive position. Fleur was throwing spells at him quickly, moving fast enough that it was now obvious that she had Veela heritage.
But Harry was fast too.
He used one hand to dispel and block the incoming, silently spoken, curses and hexes coming from Fleur's wand, and used his other to begin sending his own spells at her.
He couldn't be charming right now, he needed to win. So he threw everything he could think of.
Bone breaking curses towards her legs, cutting curses at her arms, even a skin boiling hex that wasn't quite legal, according to the book Snape gave him and Theo over the summer, towards her face.
And Fleur was dodging them.
"Brill," Harry laughed, not pausing in his dual offensive and defensive spells. "You're quick."
"Veela are more zan simply pretty faces 'Arry," Fleur said, keeping up her steady stream of spells while she let her movements block Harry's curses. "We are warriors as well."
"Be in my gang," Harry said, ducking an incoming spell that shattered a shelf behind him. "I need more warriors."
"You are fighting a war, 'Arry?" Fleur asked, spinning around away from another bone breaking curse Harry threw towards her chest.
"I will be," Harry said, laughing outright at the easy and graceful way Fleur moved away from the spells. He wished he was part Veela. "And you'd have a chance to be a part of it."
"What eef I do not wish to be a part of a war in a country I have no place in?" Fleur asked, increasing her spell fire.
"Who says that when the Dark Lord comes back he won't try and invade France?" Harry asked. "Then you, your family, everyone you love will be in danger."
Fleur narrowed her blue eyes at him and Harry had only a split second sense that she was going to change her attack before she did.
"I would kill anyone who tries to 'urt my family," she said before throwing fireballs at Harry.
Fucking fireballs.
That she just pulled up from her hands.
The first one caught Harry by surprise and burnt his leg clear through his trousers.
The second pissed him off.
"Fred's mum made me this jumper," he snarled, forgetting entirely his charming persona he meant to keep up. "Bleed."
Harry wasn't going to let her dodge this one. He hoped Fred and Viktor weren't in the way, because he sent seven spells towards Fleur, one was guaranteed to hit her, even if the other six destroyed more of Snape's classroom.
"You cut me!" Fleur gasped, one of Harry's spells indeed landing on her left hip. Harry took her slight stumble from the impact and immediately pulled on his magic, throwing her wand to the side of the room.
"Give up?" he asked her.
"Never," Fleur smiled, and it wasn't her normal and pretty smile. This one was sharp and mean and every bit a warriors smile.
He liked this one better. It was more real.
Harry smiled back just as sharply as Fleur continued throwing fireballs and dodging spells.
He wanted Fleur in his gang bad. Almost as bad as he wanted Not-Moody.
"Water beats fire," Harry laughed, swiping one hand down to cause a heavy pouring of water right on Fleur's body, sizzling out the fireball she had in her hand.
Bind her.
Fleur shrieked when she was suddenly tied up and immobilized.
"I do not give up, but you win," Fleur said. "You are quite intéressant 'Arry Potter."
"I get that a lot," Harry said, snapping his fingers to release Fleur. "So, allies?"
Fleur studied Harry just as hard as Harry sometimes studied people before she extended her small hand to him.
"Allies," she said with a bright smile. Harry nodded and shook her hand once before quickly letting go.
"Vat about me?" Viktor grunted from his spot alongside Fred. "Can I not join?"
"Do you want to?" Harry blinked at him. "Your Headmaster is literally a Death Eater."
"He vill not be my Headmaster after this year," Viktor said. "And yes. I vish to join you."
"Brill," Harry nodded at him. "Two rules if you both want in: I don't owe favors to anyone, ever. And if you betray the gang then I'll kill you."
Viktor looked slightly discomforted by that, but Fleur laughed brightly again.
"Veecious," she said.
"Is it a deal?" he asked them both.
"Deal," Fleur agreed immediately.
"Yes," Viktor grunted about twenty seconds later.
"Go again?" Fleur asked Harry. "You can try ze flames yourself now, oui?"
"Alright then," Harry got in position and was getting ready to order his magic to draw up little fireballs when the classroom door banged open and Snape stormed in.
The four students froze as they took in Snape's furious face.
"What have you done?" he hissed at Harry. Harry wasn't sure what he meant, until he looked around the classroom.
"Er... I'll fix it," he immediately offered, not realizing the extent of the damage the dodged spells had been causing. In his defense, usually someone put up a full dome to shield when Harry dueled before. "We were practicing for the third task."
"Was the task to see who could break the most of my belongings?!" Snape asked.
"Well it hasn't been announced yet," Fred said seriously. "So they need to be prepared for every possibility."
"Go." Snape pointed towards the opened door. "All of you- go. Immediately."
Harry followed the other three quickly moving students, but paused in the doorway.
"Fix it," he ordered his magic harshly, waving his hand over the room.
He smiled cheekily at Snape once the room was repaired.
"Done," he said. "See ya."
Harry ran off quickly before Snape had a chance to retort.
The next couple of weeks, Harry decided that now that he'd recruited two powerful allies, it was time to move ahead with his next plot.
Recruit Not-Moody.
Harry reread Skeeter's letter multiple times as he drew conclusions in his head and planned on the best way to approach the man.
If Crouch Senior was at home sick, then it had to be Crouch Junior at Hogwarts. And he was the one who, on Halloween night, said someone probably put Harry's name in the goblet to try and kill him. And it wasn't like 2 out of the last 3 defense teachers hadn't tried to kill him. So-
Did Barty put his name in the goblet to try and have the tournament kill him off as a favor for Timmy? Or did Barty know Harry wanted in the tournament and was doing it as a way to get in his good graces?
If he was trying to kill him, why tell him to fly and send him gillyweed (because Lue said she didn't send it, so Barty was really the only option left for that)? But if he did it to earn a place within Harry's gang, why not tell Harry he did it? Why the secrets?
The secrets didn't matter anymore though. Harry was sick of the games and the dancing around each other. Not-Moody kept avoiding him, but he couldn't forever. And Harry was ready for some answers.
"Professor, could I talk to you?" Harry asked politely at the end of his next defense class, surprised that 'Moody' didn't just dart away like he had been doing recently.
'Moody' stared at him for a long moment before he nodded his head curtly, his dark hair flipping with the movement.
"My office then," he grunted. "Come on lad."
Harry smirked as he followed 'Moody' from the classroom through another door to his office- apparently something was going to be decided one way or another today.
"Have a seat," 'Moody' pointed to a chair, but Harry shook his head. If it was going to be a fight, he wouldn't start from a seated position.
"I'd rather stand," Harry said. "Feel free though."
'Moody's' magic eye seemed to scan Harry from top to bottom, probably checking to see what weapons Harry had on him.
Except...
"Ugh," he blurted with his nose crinkled. "Can you see through people's clothes with that thing?"
"What?" 'Moody's' mouth popped open and he stared at Harry, Harry's face thankfully, with both eyes. "It's a magic eye Potter, it sees what I want it to see."
"That's not an answer," Harry said with a disgusted look towards him. "There are children in this castle."
'Moody' sat down heavily in his chair and gaped at him for another moment before suddenly letting out a loud and barking laugh.
"You don't make a damn bit of sense, do you lad? No, I'm not using my eye to see through children's clothes. Is that what you wanted to talk about?"
"No," Harry readjusted his bag on his shoulder and made sure his right hand was free to catch the blade he would have to release from its holster if it came down to it.
"I want to know how you escaped Azkaban and faked your death."
'Moody's' wand hand twitched before the man let out another chuckle. This one sounded rather forced though, and Harry was pleased to know that he had been right about who he was talking to.
"Someone put a confundus charm on you, eh? Constant vigilance Potter. Run off to Madame Pomfrey, she'll sort you out."
"Quit lying," Harry said softly but coolly. "We both know who's hiding under Alastor Moody's identity, don't we Barty?"
'Moody' immediately jumped to his feet and brandished his wand, he had it at Harry's throat really before Harry could even blink.
I'm either recruiting him, or killing him, Harry decided. He was too quick, too smart, to let Timmy keep him.
"Who told you that?" 'Moody' growled. "I could kill you now and disappear forever Potter."
"Or we could be allies," Harry offered, raising the tone of his voice just loud enough to cover the light snick of his dagger dropping in to his hand. "You think Timmy Riddle has power? You're wrong," he murmured. "I have power the Dark Lord knows not, I am the one destined to beat him. Wouldn't you rather be on my side?"
When 'Moody' didn't say anything for a second, Harry took the opportunity to make a deep, and lasting, gash in the man's side.
"Don't ever touch me again though," Harry said, pushing the surprised man away. "Constant vigilance there Barty, yeah?"
"What do you want?" 'Moony' snarled, his free hand pressing down on his bleeding side and his tongue flicking out to wet his lips in what seemed to be a nervous gesture.
A nervous gesture that Harry had never seen before.
Which was interesting.
"To be allies, but if we can't be allies, then I'm going to have to kill you," Harry said flatly. "You're clearly a genius, just like Snape said, but if you're not with me, you're against me." Harry twirled the dagger as he sent a silent locking spell to the office door and windows. "Decide now."
"What could a little boy with a lucky streak and a small talent for magic have to offer me?" Barty, for it was definitely Barty Crouch Junior, sneered. Harry was relieved he'd dropped Moody's low growls, the masks were finally being dropped. Though he was quite insulted by the 'small talent' remark. Nobody could use magic like Harry could. Nobody.
"The Dark Lord is rising again, back to his full power," Barty said, "and when he does- I'll be his most favored, his most cherished-"
"You'll be the first one I kill," Harry said calmly as he continued to twirl the dagger. "If you join him, even knowing what all I can do and I can offer you, then you'll be the first one I kill."
"HA!" Barty let out a loud laugh, but Harry didn't miss the way his tongue flicked out to his top lip again. Harry was glad he was nervous, he should be. "You think you could kill me?"
"Full disclosure?" Harry asked, using a phrase he'd heard Theo use before. He leaned forward to the wall Barty had his back to and smiled sharply. "I've already killed two of Timmy's followers, and I promise you'll be next." He resumed twirling his dagger as he returned to his casual position. "Unless you join me."
"Join or die?" Barty asked. "That's an interesting move from the boy hero of the light side. I wonder if Albus knows what his hero is really like?"
"I wonder if Albus considers me a hero at all," Harry said lightly. "I dunno about 'hero of the light side' either. Dark, light, pureblood, muggleborn, we're all magic. We're all special. We all have power. Who cares about that other stuff?"
Barty reached down, and Harry immediately raised his knife in a defensive gesture, but Barty just lifted his hip flask and took a long swig, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. Harry wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he saw a spark of interest in his normal eye.
"Power is what's important to you?" Barty asked. "Join me on the Dark Lords side. He'll see the power in you, the potential. He could teach you things you can't imagine."
"He offered that before," Harry shrugged, his stance irritatingly casual, but his muscles tensed and ready for a fight. "But he killed my parents and ruined my life. He has to die. And I'm going to do it, aren't I?"
"You won't," Barty hissed. "You can't kill him Potter. You can't imagine the lengths he's gone to on his quest to stay immortal. Join him. Join us."
Harry lifted his hand and let out a fissure of Magic hard enough to shatter a mirror on the wall behind Barty.
"I said no," he said coolly. "What's he ever done for you Barty? Huh? Let you go to prison? Let your dad hurt you? He doesn't care about you. He used you. He's using you now, isn't he? I wouldn't. If you were one of mine, you'd matter. You'd be free Barty."
Barty didn't say anything, he just licked his lips again while his magical eye spun to the door.
"Your friend is waiting in the corridor," he said hoarsely. "Go."
"I'll give you a week," Harry said. "I won't tell anyone who you are, but you only have a week to decide. Then I'll kill you. Acceptable?"
Barty's normal eye flashed with something that was definitely amusement.
"Snape's kid through and through then, aren't you?"
Harry lifted one shoulder in a light shrug, seeing another hopeful selling point.
"I don't belong to anyone, but Snape, your friend, is one of mine," he said. "You guys could be on the same side again. The right side, the winning side, the free side. Something to think about Professor."
Harry backed towards the doorway, keeping his face clear of expression, but his eyes trained on Barty's hands.
Right before he stepped out of the doorway he flicked his wrist and healed the wound on Barty's side. He didn't have his magic remove the scar though, it would stay as a reminder of what he could do.
"One week," he called. "See ya then."
Harry stepped out in the hall and grinned at Blaise.
Sometimes it was annoying when his friends wouldn't leave him alone, but he appreciated Blaise's inherent distrust of defense professors alone with Harry.
"Heard something break in there," Blaise said lightly as he fell in to step beside Harry.
"Broke a mirror," Harry said. "Moody's a tough man to recruit."
"Library?"
"Sure, let's do it."
While his friends studied for the exams in June ("Exams are only six weeks away! This is our last year before OWLS! We need to study now!" Hermione declared shrilly), Harry watched Neville.
Neville who was one of the first people to join his gang.
Neville who he shared a birthday party with.
Neville whose parents were in a hospital for the rest of their lives because of the man Harry wanted to recruit.
"Nev, can we talk?" Harry asked, startling his friends with his abrupt question.
"Sure Harry." Neville looked a little too relieved to close his potions textbook. "Where to?"
"Suppose you don't wanna see the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked with a smirk. Last time he took someone down there, Theo in his third year, he'd been convinced Harry was going to kill him.
"Er..." Neville looked nervously towards Ron, who shook his head quickly. "I'd rather not," he finally said diplomatically.
"Fine," Harry sighed. "My dorm then."
Neville gathered his things and quietly followed Harry down to the dungeons, and up to the boys dorm. Harry warded the door against eavesdroppers before sitting on his trunk and watching Neville.
"Do you believe in second chances?" Harry asked him after Neville sat on Ron's trunk and faced him.
Harry didn't, but Neville was a nice person, so he might.
"Depends," Neville said thoughtfully. "Depends on what the person did with their first chance, if they regret it or not, and how they're going to be different the second time."
Harry nodded, that was a logical thought process.
"If someone hurt you, badly, but they did it because someone else was making them- would you forgive them?"
Neville furrowed his brows down while he seemed to think about the answer.
"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "Are you talking about someone following You-Know-Who?"
"Timmy," Harry corrected his perceptive friend. "And yeah, kinda. Do you think any of them deserve a second chance? A chance to be on the right side? Our side?"
"Some of them, maybe," Neville said. "But some magic changes people Harry. I know you don't believe in dark or light magic, and I understand it, but Gran says there are some things that are so dark they change the core of who a person is."
"Like what?"
"Like... Like Bellatrix Lestrange," Neville said, all but spitting the name of Cissa's sister. "Shes killed and tortured so much that her soul is twisted, dark and disgusting, just like her. She's exactly where she belongs."
Harry tilted his head and studied him curiously.
"Would you kill her?" he asked. "If she was here right now, would you kill her for what she did?"
"Yes," Neville said with no hesitation. "If I ever saw her- I'd kill her."
"And her husband? And Crouch Junior? Would you kill them too?"
"I-" Neville hesitated. "Yeah, probably."
"Because they tortured your parents?" Harry prodded.
"Exactly."
Harry hummed thoughtfully while he tried to think. He didn't want to lose Neville, but he didn't want to lose the chance to steal a bloody genius away from Timmy either.
"How do you know who did it though?" Harry asked. "Did they all three confess? Are you sure about who cast what?"
"Why does it matter?!" Neville cried. "Crouch is dead, and the Lestrange's are in Azkaban. My parents- my parents won't ever leave the hospital Harry! Why does it matter?"
"Because Timmy's coming back," Harry said bluntly. "And lines have to be drawn, don't they? So I need to know, because you're mine and I'll stand back so you can get revenge, which matters more to you- killing the people who tortured your parents, or killing Timmy?"
"Killing Timmy," Neville said immediately. "But if I can kill a few Death Eaters along the way, then I'll do that too."
"Death Eaters," Harry repeated, finally seeing a loophole in Neville's airtight logic. "What if they weren't Death Eaters anymore?"
"I won't work with Bellatrix," Neville said, his eyes hard and his jaw firm. "Don't ask me to Harry."
"I won't," Harry assured him. "We can kill Bellatrix the second we get a chance. Her and Pettigrew both, yeah? But- but say Crouch Junior wasn't dead, and didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore, would you work with him?"
"Not if he's the one who cursed my parents," Neville said obstinately. "Bellatrix confessed, she bragged about it in court Harry. I'll probably never know for sure who cast what, but if he cursed my parents then I would kill him too if I could."
Harry sighed as he stared in Neville's damn stubborn eyes.
He solved one mystery, only for another to fall in his lap.
He was starting to wonder how Dumbledore and Timmy did this for so long- recruiting people was a pain in the arse.
"Alright," he conceded. "I'll try and find out for sure who did what. Er, for your peace of mind," he added hastily.
"How?" Neville asked him.
Harry just shrugged but got to his feet.
Seemed like it was time to go talk to Snape.