Dumbledore's face carried a tinge of regret. "But Alastor is exceptionally skilled in Defense Against the Dark Arts. In this regard, he surpasses by far." 2
Dumbledore's face carried a tinge of regret. "But Alastor is exceptionally skilled in Defense Against the Dark Arts. In this regard, he surpasses by far."
Hermione and Ron looked skeptical.
"The Death Eaters may be planning sothing," Harry said, tucking away the Marauder's Map. "At the Quidditch World Cup, their target was . Although, apart from their leader, the others didn't seem all that resolute."
Dumbledore's expression turned serious. "Harry, you should have told sooner."
"I thought it was just an act of revenge," Harry waved it off, his tone light. "After all, I drove their master away, forcing them to scurry like stray dogs—just like their master, skulking away to survive." 1
"I thought it was just an act of revenge," Harry waved it off, his tone light. "After all, I drove their master away, forcing them to scurry like stray dogs—just like their master, skulking away to survive."
"But it's clear now that's not the case. They must have a sche in motion, and even Bartemius Crouch has beco their accomplice."
Dumbledore fell into thought. "It seems the Death Eaters have not abandoned their master."
"Voldemort isn't dead, after all," Harry said, finishing his milk.
Dumbledore noticed that, unlike most others, Ron and Hermione didn't flinch at the ntion of Voldemort's na. Instead, they remained calm—a reaction that surprised him.
"Next ti, you can prepare so vodka or whiskey," Harry said, setting his glass down.
Dumbledore chuckled, shaking his head. "Give it a few more years. Otherwise, one day, you'll end up like —scolded for being an incorrigible old fool."
He escorted them out and returned to his desk. Sitting down, he placed his hand on a sheet of parchnt. After a long pause, his finger moved, and a quill floated up, writing a ssage.
"Are you seriously going to inform the Ministry?" Godric Gryffindor's portrait leaned forward, reading the letter with a disapproving tone. "You're the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Hogwarts business should be resolved by Hogwarts."
"But wizards need order," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Mr. Crouch is a Ministry official."
"You're shirking responsibility," Godric retorted bluntly, not hiding his disdain. 1
"You're shirking responsibility," Godric retorted bluntly, not hiding his disdain.
The other portraits watched in silence, so nodding in agreent with Godric.
Dumbledore remained steadfast. "Responsibility corresponds to authority. I'm rely a headmaster. Ministry affairs should be left to the Ministry." 1
Dumbledore remained steadfast. "Responsibility corresponds to authority. I'm rely a headmaster. Ministry affairs should be left to the Ministry."
Godric snorted in disdain.
The other portraits hesitated, and only Armando Dippet cautiously added his support to Godric's plea.
Finally, Fawkes delivered the letter.
In the Auror Office
The room was abuzz with activity. Rufus Scrimgeour looked as though he might tear his hair out in frustration.
The Head of the Departnt of International Magical Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch, accused of imprisoning the forr Auror Alastor Moody, using Polyjuice Potion, and infiltrating Hogwarts.
It sounded absurd.
Scrimgeour gathered his team, preparing a report. As he was about to send it to Fudge, he hesitated, recalling the fallout from the Quidditch World Cup incident involving Winky.
Fudge had chewed him out gleefully for hours, and the incident even took up a page in the Daily Prophet. The damage wasn't catastrophic, but Scrimgeour and Crouch's reputations had taken a hit, while Fudge's approval ratings soared.
Leaving his office, Scrimgeour rode the lift from Level 2 to Level 5.
Stepping out, he spotted Percy Weasley struggling to carry a pile of files.
"You're a Weasley, aren't you?" Scrimgeour asked, recognizing Percy's bright red hair.
"Yes, sir!" Percy replied eagerly.
"Where's Mr. Crouch?"
Percy turned towards the office at the end of the corridor. "He's in his office, sir. You know, with all the preparations for Durmstrang and Beauxbatons—"
Scrimgeour cut him off with a wave. "Are you sure he's in there?"
"Yes, sir," Percy nodded confidently.
Ignoring Percy, Scrimgeour walked briskly to the office and knocked.
A familiar, weary voice called out, "Co in."
Scrimgeour entered. "Mr. Crouch?"
"Since when have we beco so formal, Rufus?" Crouch set aside his paperwork. "What brings you here? Is this about Fudge still suspecting Winky? She's already cooperated with your investigations countless tis."
"No, no. I was just thinking it's been a while since we caught up. How about a drink at the Leaky Cauldron tonight?" Scrimgeour offered.
Crouch's face shifted briefly before his sharp gaze returned. "If you've got sothing to say, Rufus, just say it."
Scrimgeour shook his head and launched into a casual conversation, reminiscing about their past. They talked about Crouch's tenure at the Departnt of Magical Law Enforcent when Scrimgeour was a young Auror and one of Crouch's most trusted subordinates.
Crouch's sharp mind soon picked up on the underlying tension. "You think I'm not myself, don't you?"
"Bartemius, forgive , but soone claid you've imprisoned Alastor Moody, taken his place, and infiltrated Hogwarts—possibly with ties to the Death Eaters."
Crouch's hands trembled, and his breathing grew heavy. After several monts, he steadied himself. "Was it Potter who reported this?"
"No, Dumbledore himself," Scrimgeour replied.
Crouch's face darkened further. "Then has this supposed Crouch already been captured?"
"Not yet," Scrimgeour admitted. "Dumbledore wrote to inform us and requested we handle the arrest. He's being cooperative."
Crouch's jaw tightened. "You're being careless, Rufus. This is Dumbledore we're talking about. If he wrote to you, he has evidence. Even if the culprit isn't , soone may be impersonating ."
Scrimgeour chuckled. "You haven't changed, Bartemius. Well, I'll head to Hogwarts to clear this up. Want to join ?"
"That's Auror business," Crouch declined curtly. "I only manage the Departnt of International Magical Cooperation now."
Scrimgeour left, leaving the door ajar. 1
Scrimgeour left, leaving the door ajar.
Inside his office, Crouch's composure shattered. He slamd his hands on the desk repeatedly until the pain forced him to stop. After a mont, he snapped his fingers, summoning Winky. 2
Inside his office, Crouch's composure shattered. He slamd his hands on the desk repeatedly until the pain forced him to stop. After a mont, he snapped his fingers, summoning Winky.
At Hogwarts
During Astronomy class, the serene stargazing was interrupted by loud explosions and flashes of light from the castle grounds.
The students scrambled to the battlents, peering into the darkness.
"What's happening?" Ron whispered anxiously.
Harry pulled two telescopes from the Sorting Hat, passing one to Ron and another to Hermione.
"Still carrying these around?" Ron asked, surprised.
"You kept yours too," Harry teased.
With the telescopes, they saw Moody being pursued by several Aurors. The commotion continued until late into the night.
When the class ended, Harry received a ssage from Dumbledore via Fawkes, summoning him, Hermione, and Ron to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
Inside, the room was packed. Dumbledore, McGonagall, several Aurors, and a frail, trembling Moody were present.
"Mr. Potter," Moody rasped. "Thank you... I've failed terribly as a professor."
"Where's Bartemius Crouch?" Harry asked, scanning the room.
Scrimgeour, pale and shaken, muttered, "Crouch is dead."
"Dead?" Harry was startled. "Did you kill him?"
Scrimgeour bristled. "We're Aurors, not Death Eaters. He died resisting arrest—his own spell rebounded and killed him." 2
Scrimgeour bristled. "We're Aurors, not Death Eaters. He died resisting arrest—his own spell rebounded and killed him."
"And Winky?"
"Dead too," Scrimgeour sighed. "Killed by Crouch himself. A single Killing Curse—flawlessly executed."
After the eting, Harry checked the Marauder's Map.
No trace of "Bartemius Crouch" or "Winky" remained.
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