Answers

Harry drew in a measured breath, eyes settling on the unconscious form of Barty Crouch Jr.

"We need answers," he repeated, voice low and urgent. "And for that, we'll need Veritaserum."

Hermione's brow pinched in concern. "Are you sure, Harry? The only stash of Veritaserum I know about is in Snape's private stores. And if we're caught—"

Her words hung in the air, unspoken repercussions prickling everyone's thoughts.

Harry nodded. "If we want the truth, there's no other choice."

Fleur's gaze flicked over to the bound Death Eater, then back to Harry. "So, how do we get it?"

Harry took another moment, tamping down the turbulence of anger churning within him. "Snape is watching me like a hawk. He'll come after me the instant I make a move. I can use that."

Hermione exchanged a cautious glance with Neville, but Fleur simply tilted her head.

"Draw him out?" she prompted.

Harry's lips curved in a tight, humourless smile. "Yes. I'll make him think I'm up to something—out in the open—so he'll have to follow me. You three will head to the dungeons and break into his storage while he's occupied."

Neville swallowed hard.

"Will we leave Crouch here alone?" he asked, prompting Harry to smirk. "Of course not."

"Ash. I know you've been spying on us. Do you mind acting as a guard for a bit?" he suddenly hissed, surprising the others.

A soft hiss echoed from the shadows, followed by the serpentine form of Ash slithering into view.

The snake dipped its head in acknowledgment. "Of course, master. After all, I don't dare disobey your commands," he said with palpable mockery.

Harry simply thanked his familiar, not in the mood for word games.

"Let's not waste time. I'll slip into the Great Hall. That's where he'll expect me. Then I'll leave suddenly, make sure it looks suspicious."

He drew in a calming breath. "Give me a few minutes, and be ready."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to voice a hundred anxieties, but settled for pressing her lips into a thin line. "All right," she said finally, voice taut. "We'll do it."

Neville shot a nervous glance at Barty Crouch Jr., bound and still slumped against the chamber's wall. "We— we should hurry."

Harry fired a stunner at the downed Death Eater.

"What?" he asked, meeting their raised eyebrows. "Just being thorough."

Fleur placed a gentle hand on Neville's shoulder. "Alright, alright. Let's go."

Without another word, Harry vanished with a flash of phoenix fire, leaving the others with Fawkes.

.

The Great Hall bustled with the lively drone of midday chatter.

Harry entered, ignoring the low hum of voices that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He slipped onto a bench at the Gryffindor table, pretending to focus on the half-eaten roast potatoes on his plate.

Despite the swirl of conversations, his senses were razor-sharp, poised for Snape's presence.

The Potions Master was seated at the staff table, face as unreadable as ever, but Harry knew the man was watching him.

He held himself still, counted a silent ten. Then, with a sudden push, Harry rose to his feet.

The scrape of his chair against the stone floor cut through the noise. He made a show of wiping his mouth on a napkin and cast a worried glance around, as if alarmed by some urgent thought.

Then he strode out, tension coiled in every step. Even without looking back, he sensed Snape's attention lock onto him.

'Perfect,' he thought darkly. 'Take the bait.'

He quickened his pace and left the hall, rounding a corner.

A few seconds later, he heard footsteps echoing behind him.

Of course, Harry had detected Snape's magical signature even before hearing his footsteps, and fought back a smirk.

Harry took another turn, making his way past classrooms and old suits of armour until he reached the entrance hall.

He slowed at the doors leading out to the Black Lake, feigning casualness.

After confirming that the Potions Master was still following him, he sent a Patronus to his friends.

'Everything's going according to plan,' he thought once outside in the open air.

Harry walked along the lakeshore, the sunlight glancing off the water in bright flecks.

A minute later, a swirl of black robes emerged behind him.

Snape.

Harry pretended not to notice, lowering himself onto a low stone ledge near the water's edge. He tilted his head to the sky, as if he had all the time in the world.

"You seem very… relaxed, Potter," Snape drawled, coming to a halt a few metres away.

Harry gave him a slow look over his shoulder. "Afternoon, Professor." He let a maddening smile stretch across his face. "Fancy a stroll?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. His lips pulled taut in a sneer. "You have been acting suspiciously all term. And now you loiter here—"

"What can I say?" Harry shrugged, forcing a lazy tone. "Exams coming up. Needed some fresh air."

"Do not mock me. I know you won't sit the exams," Snape snapped, black eyes gleaming with contempt.

They stared at each other, the breeze rippling through Snape's robes. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. 'Just keep him busy a bit longer.'

He angled his head, feigning curiosity. "If you're so concerned, why not return to the Great Hall? You're the one following me, sir."

Snape's nostrils flared. "I will discover what you're plotting, Potter."

Harry met his glare with deliberate insolence. "And I'm sure, Professor, that you'll be greatly disappointed."

For a few more tense moments, neither moved nor spoke.

Then, seemingly deciding Harry was merely wasting his time, Snape let out a scornful huff and whirled away. His black robes flapped behind him as he headed back towards the castle, leaving Harry by the lake.

Harry watched him retreat, lips curving into a triumphant smirk.

'That's it. Go on. I'm done with you anyway.'

Satisfied, he cast one quick glance around to ensure no one else was near. Then, in a pulse of phoenix fire, he flashed straight to the Chamber.

.

He appeared to find Hermione, Neville, and Fleur already waiting. The tension in the chamber's hidden room was nearly palpable.

Fleur threw him a small crystal vial, and she said in a light, almost mocking tone, though relief softened her expression: "Snape had wards, but they were not strong enough."

Hermione stood with arms folded, still catching her breath. "Fleur just… obliterated them," she said in a hushed voice.

Neville silently handed Harry a second vial. "We brought this too. Just in case."

Harry nodded his thanks, throat tight with gratitude.

He turned, focusing on the Death Eater. Barty Crouch Jr. remained bound, eyes shut, body slack against the cold stone floor.

"Let's get on with it," he said hoarsely, uncorking the first vial.

His heart pounded as he tipped the Veritaserum into Crouch Jr.'s mouth.

The man stirred, choking softly, but had no chance to spit out the potion. Within moments, a glazed calm settled over his features.

Harry crouched, wand at the ready.

Fleur hovered at his side while Neville and Hermione stood behind them, silent witnesses.

"What were you doing at Hogwarts?" Harry demanded, voice tense.

For a moment, it seemed the man wouldn't respond. Then, in a dull, monotone voice, Barty Crouch Jr. whispered, "Following orders."

Harry exchanged a quick look with Hermione. "Whose orders?"

"The Dark Lord's."

Neville inhaled sharply, his breath hitching. Hermione's expression hardened.

Harry's own heart hammered. "How long have you been posing as Moody?"

"Since the summer."

Hermione's eyes flickered with alarm. "A whole year… Merlin," she whispered.

Neville shifted, his voice trembling. "I—I saw pictures of you. You were to have died in Azkaban."

Crouch Jr.'s slackened gaze turned on Neville as if noticing him for the first time. "I was broken out," he answered in the same vacant tone. "My father took me from the prison. My mother replaced me."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Barty Crouch Senior…?"

"Yes." The corners of Crouch Jr.'s lips twitched, though it was hard to tell if it was amusement or some remnant of cruelty. "He hid me. I was later freed to serve the Dark Lord. Wormtail brought me to him."

Harry's mind raced, recalling Pettigrew's betrayal, the traitor who had delivered his parents to their deaths. "Then you came here, on Voldemort's orders," he muttered. "To do what?"

"To make you win the Triwizard Tournament," Crouch Jr. replied, still in that disconcertingly soft voice. "To guide you to the graveyard."

Harry felt ice creeping into his veins. "What graveyard? What does he want from me?"

"Little Hangleton's Graveyard. My master… wants your blood."

Silence slammed down in the chamber.

Fleur's fingers dug into Harry's shoulder.

Neville stood stock-still, anger and fear warring on his face.

Harry swallowed hard, a seething storm of emotions burning in his chest. He forced himself to remain outwardly calm. "Why?"

"To restore himself," Crouch Jr. replied mechanically. "The Dark Lord requires the blood of his enemy—forcibly taken—to regain his full power."

The revelation hung heavy in the air, confirming his worst suspicions about Voldemort's plans.

Hermione's face had gone pale, while Neville's jaw clenched with barely contained anger.

Having heard all he needed to know, Harry cast a silencing spell at the man.

"What do we do with him?" Fleur asked, glancing at the still Death Eater.

Harry stared at Crouch Jr.'s prone form, the man who had tried to torture him, the man who had once tormented Neville's parents.

Every instinct screamed for justice, for retribution, for answers.

"We let him be," Harry said finally. "We obliviate this whole ordeal from his mind, and let the Dark Lord's plans be."

Hermione looked uneasy, but her expression paled in comparison to the rage etched on Neville's face. "Harry... are you sure?"

He met their eyes. "Do you trust the Headmaster to do what's right? Do you trust the Ministry to handle him properly? They couldn't even keep him in Azkaban."

Both teens hesitated, and Harry pressed on them. "I didn't think so. Listen, we'll ask him whether he plans on harming anyone else, and if he says no, then we let him be. Okay?"

After receiving their reluctant nods, Harry turned back to Crouch Jr. He ignored the faint tremor in his own hands as he dispelled the silencing dome. "Do you have any other plans to harm anyone at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"No," Crouch Jr. replied dully. "My only task is to remain as inconspicuous as possible and ensure you reach the graveyard."

Harry's grip tightened on his wand as he exchanged meaningful looks with his friends.

"Good," he said and paused, bringing back the memory of staying after class and all that followed. "Obliviate."

.

.

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Chapter 99: Dumbledore Knows

Chapter 100: Air

...

Chapter 107: Cooking