The Crouch Mystery
The cave Sirius Black--or, ‘Snuffles’ as Harry had been told to call him--was stuck living in for the time being in Hogsmeade was filled with awkward silence as the Quartet watched him scarf down the food they had brought for the visit, partly because watching him eat was of course rightfully weird, and because there was also a Malfoy present, which, for reasons of its own, was awkward.
"If we get caught, I'm Imperiused." The blonde had said when they had stumbled down the grounds to Hogsmeade under the cloak, to which the others had all rolled their eyes. "I can not get detention. I have a test in Ancient Runes. I repeat, I can--AH!"
Something they had neglected to tell him at the time was that a certain lost Hippogriff was now in Sirius' possession, so, naturally, they had lost quite a bit of time calming both Buckbeak and Malfoy down and getting them as far away from each other as possible, which ended up being putting the two on opposite sides of the cave.
Now Draco stood in a dark corner, pointedly avoiding his second cousins eyes, and the Animagus doing the same, while Hermione and Ron restrained Buckbeak in an opposite corner by brushing through his feathers with their hands.
As Sirius continued to scarf down the chicken they had brought for him, Harry sat on a rock just a few feet away, reading over a Daily Prophet issue entitled, ‘Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch.’ He really was just skimming it, seeing only useful information like, “hasn’t been seen since November” and “house appears deserted” and “St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment” and “Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness.” Overall, it didn’t look that great, though if he was being honest, Harry hadn’t put much thought into Crouch’s disappearance, focused only on the changes around school, the Tournament, and the mystery of who put his and Draco’s names in the Goblet. Now that he sat there reading this thing, he realized just how unusual Crouch disappearing was.
“They’re making it sound like he’s dying,” Harry said slowly, at last breaking the tension in the cave while Draco shrugged and muttered, “He could be…” Harry ignored him, saying, “But he can’t be that ill if he managed to get up here…”
Ron paused from petting Buckbeak to jog over to Harry and lean over to take a peek at the newspaper, saying to Sirius, “My brother’s Crouch’s personal assistant. He says Crouch is suffering from overwork.” Harry nodded to him, but continued with what he said before with, “Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close,” He turned and nodded to Draco now, “We saw him. The night our names came out of the Goblet.”
Draco nodded slowly, coming forward to sit beside Harry and read the article too. “Quite ill. Quite frightening really.” He confessed, shivering a little.
“Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn’t he?” Hermione exclaimed, whipping her head around from smoothing Buckbeak’s feathers, looking quite angry at just the thought of Winky, as usual. “I bet he wishes he hadn’t done it now--bet he feels the difference now she’s not there to look after him. How did you manage to get along after Dobby left, Draco?”
The blonde only sent her a testy glare, not willing to admit that they had gotten along pretty badly that summer--his mother’s cooking was famously abysmal, and Lucius refused to even step inside a kitchen.
“Hermione’s obsessed with House-Elves,” Ron told Sirius, glaring at her as well, she only scoffed and turned back to petting Buckbeak, while Sirius, instead of being annoyed along with the boys, looked quite interested.
“Crouch sacked his House-Elf?” Harry nodded, explaining the whole story of the events of the World Cup--the Dark Mark’s appearance, and Winky being found with Harry’s wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch’s fury. As soon as the story ended, Sirius sprang up from his place on the floor, tossed the rest of the chicken they had brought which he had been practically devouring to Buckbeak, and began to pace back and forth, hands pressed together to his lips.
“Let me get this straight; You first saw the Elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?” All four of them nodded together, “Right.” “But Crouch didn’t turn up for the match?” All four of them shook their heads together. “No. I think he said he was… too busy?”
Sirius turned and continued to pace in a circle around the cave for a few seconds, before finally stopping at the mouth and turning to point at Harry, “Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you’d left the Top Box?” Harry blinked once, thinking, then said, “No. I didn’t need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars.” He stared at Sirius. “Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?”
Sirius was nodding. “It’s possible.” Hermione spun around from Buckbeak, fists clenched in anger. “Winky didn’t steal that wand!” Sirius ignored her and continued to pace, brow furrowed. “The Elf wasn’t the only one in that box. Who else was sitting behind you?”
“Loads of people…” Harry said. “Bulgarian ministers… Cornelius Fudge…” He paled, then slowly turned his head to Draco, who had crossed his arms and slunk back into the darkness of the cave, brow furrowed in deep thought just as Sirius was. “The Malfoys…” Everyone whipped their heads around to the blonde, who pointedly looked off to the side.
“It could’ve been your Dad.” Ron muttered.
Draco kept his mouth shut.
“It’s possible,” Sirius shrugged, looking over to Harry. “Anyone else?” Harry shook his head. “No one.” “Yes there was, there was Ludo Bagman,” Hermione reminded him, to which Ron turned and gave her a very doubtful look. “Ludo Bagman over the Malfoys?” Hermione pursed her lips, glancing over at her friend, who had shuffled his feet together and now shrunk somehow even further back into the cave wall.
“I don’t know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. What’s he like?” Sirius asked, still pacing. “He’s okay,” Harry responded. “He keeps asking how I’m doing in the Tournament. Offering me help and all…” Sirius stopped short, frowning more deeply.
“I wonder why he’d do that?” Harry shrugged. “Says he’s taken a liking to me.” “Hmm…” Sirius hummed, looking thoughtful. “We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared.” Hermione told him, “Remember?” She asked Harry and Ron, to which the redhead muttered, “But we saw Malfoy too…” and she slapped his arm.
“What? He didn’t stay in the forest, Hermione. The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite. He,” He turned and pointed at the blonde in the corner. “Threatened us and we didn’t see him again.” Hermione glared hard at him while Harry stood up from the ground and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ron, stop. We aren’t placing blame on any of our friends here.”
“Well there’s no way Ludo Bagman would have conjured the Dark Mark.” Ron said darkly, while Hermione folded her arms tight across her chest and declared, “It’s more likely he did it than Winky.”
“When the Dark Mark had been conjured,” They all turned to Sirius, who had finally spoken up and broken their argument. “And the Elf had been discovered holding Harry’s wand, what did Crouch do?”
“Went to look in the bushes,” Said Harry, “But there wasn’t anyone else there.” Sirius nodded, off on his pacing again. “Of course, of course! He’d want to pin it on anyone but his own Elf… and then he sacked her?” Hermione nodded, face going red and just the thought of the sacking. “Yes. He sacked her, just because she hadn’t stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled--”
“Hermione, will you give it a rest with the Elf!”
“When you give Draco a rest!”
Sirius shook his head. “She’s got a measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” He ran a hand over his messy, uncleanly beard, evidently thinking hard. “All these absences of Barty Crouch’s… he goes to the trouble of making sure his House-Elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn’t bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too… It’s not like Crouch. If he’s ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I’ll eat Buckbeak.”
“D’you know Crouch, then?” Harry asked, to which Sirius turned and gave a look that was shockingly and frighteningly reminiscent of how menacing he looked the night Harry first met him, when he still believed him to be a murderer.
“Oh I know Crouch all right,” he said quietly. “He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban--without a trial.”
“What?!” Ron, Hermione, and Draco all exclaimed, voices echoing around the cave walls and startling Buckbeak, whom Hermione hurriedly turned and hushed. “You’re kidding!” Harry exclaimed, and Sirius sadly shook his head, started to sit back down on the ground, as if suddenly exhausted, and Harry couldn’t blame him--that had been quite a bit of pacing.
“No, I’m not.” He said. “Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn’t you know?” The Gryffindor’s shook their heads, while Draco slowly nodded from where he stood in the corner.
“He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He’s a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical--and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter, no… Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people were against the Dark Side… well you wouldn’t understand… you’re too young…”
All four of them started to protest at once. “That’s what my Dad said at the World Cup,” “Try us, why don’t you?” “I already probably know.” “Sirius, we deserve to know.”
A grin flashed across Sirius’s face, and he nodded slowly. “All right, I’ll try you…” He looked down, thinking for a minute, swallowing, then looked at them all in turn--even Draco--and started to explain, “Imagine that Voldemort’s powerful now. You don’t know who his supporters are, you don’t know who’s working for him and who isn’t; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You’re scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing… the Ministry of Magic’s in disarray, they don’t know what to do, they’re trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere… panic… confusion… That’s how it used to be. Crouch’s principles might’ve been good in the beginning--I wouldn’t know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort’s supporters. The Aurors were given new powers--powers to kill rather than capture, for instance.”
“It was a nightmare.” Draco suddenly interrupted, speaking in a small, quiet voice. “That’s what my mother told me. She’d be terrified every day that the news would either report her Death Eater family members dead…” He looked up, eyes on Sirius. “Or the good one's gone.” A hint of a smile crossed Sirius’s face for a moment as he nodded.
“Now that… That sounds like Cissy. Ever the worrier. Even as one of the younger ones she acted as mother. But,” He locked eyes with the Malfoy boy, looking confused and suspicious slightly. “She was happy to see Andromeda go. They all were--” Draco only shook his head slowly, and Sirius somehow went even paler than he was before.
“Well… Clearly, it was chaos on both sides of the War, thanks to Crouch. He began to fight violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless as many on the Dark Side, and must’ve sent almost every Death Eater he caught straight to the dementors without trial. He had his supporters, mind you--plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of Witches and Wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened…” Sirius smiled grimly, eyes flicking to Draco. “And you should know what.”
The boy gulped, but nodded slowly. “His son…” He said, squeezing his eyes shut, as if trying to recall the scraps of information he knew about the event. “Barty Crouch Jr he… he was caught with my Aunt. They tortured--”
Sirius, thankfully, cut him off before he could drop a ball the Gryffindor’s probably weren’t ready for and said, “They were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power.”
Hermione gasped while the other two boys blanched in shock. “Crouch’s son was caught?” Sirius and Draco nodded slowly.
“Yep,” Sirius leaned over and grabbed a loaf of bread out of the bag the kids had brought, tearing it in half. “Nasty little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while… gotten to know his own son.” He began to eat the two pieces of bread while Harry asked, “Was his son a Death Eater?”
“No idea.” He said at the same time Draco frowned and said, “Yes.” darkly. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I’ve found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I’d bet my life were Death Eaters--” “They were.” “--but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the House-Elf.”
“He was with my Aunt, so I doubt it was the wrong place at the wrong time. He was simply a bad seed from the start--that’s what my Father says.” Draco explained, his expanse of Death Eater knowledge and family heritage, it seemed, coming in handy for once, outside of making things awkward quickly.
“Did Crouch ever try and get his son out?” Hermione whispered. Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark, while Draco began to snicker in the corner. “Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted House-Elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again--doesn’t that tell you what he’s like? Crouch’s fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn’t much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy… then he sent him straight to Azkaban.”
“He gave his own son to the dementors?” Asked Harry quietly, and Draco nodded, muttering, “And my Aunt.” But not loud enough for anyone to hear.
“That’s right,” said Sirius, and he didn’t look remotely amused now. “I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can’t have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though… they all went quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep…”
Sirius hung his head, a very deadened look in them now, as if he was retreating in on himself, not even looking at anything anymore.
“So he’s still in Azkaban?” Harry asked, and the man looked up, blinking, and attempting to bring some light back to his face. “No.” He said dully. “No, he’s not there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in.”
“He died?” Draco exclaimed, for once having missed a part of the story, clearly, and Sirius nodded.
“I couldn't find any information about it; clearly the Ministry didn’t want anyone knowing. Barty probably didn’t want anyone knowing. But yes, he died. He wasn’t the only one, too. Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it. So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made. One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic… next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I’ve heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”
A long silence settled among the group as they thought over the many revelations. Of Crouch in the forest, and of his actions sense then. Of everything they had heard about him since then, from Percy, from Moody…
“Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizard,” Harry said, mostly to himself, but while looking up at Sirius. “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s become a bit of a mania with him,” Sirius nodded. “If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater.”
“And he might.” They all turned to Draco now in surprise, as he hadn’t spoken much in a while, but the Gryffindor’s nodded their agreement, knowing what he was referring to. Sirius, however, paused while reaching for a Pumpkin juice flask to raise an eyebrow up at the blonde. “What do you mean?” Draco opened his mouth to speak but Harry beat him to it.
“Karkaroff thinks there’s a Death Eater at Hogwarts. His Dark Mark has been burning, apparently, and it’s clear for the first time since… well… Voldemort.” Sirius frowned deeply, jugging down the flask and wiping his mouth with his hand then leaning forward. “Tell me everything.”
So the two boys explained the details of Karkaroff’s conversation with Anya, and then with Snape and, once they were finished, Sirius only looked more grim, a bad look on his already thin and gaunt face.
“So we were right… A Death Eater’s at Hogwarts head set on killing you and Death Eater Jr over there.” He nodded to the blonde. “But why?”
“They’d have to have a thing against traitors.” Hermione piped in. “We’ve determined that much.” “But we don’t have a good list.” Harry added. “Just Peter and Fenrir Greyback.”
Sirius shrugged. “Peter’s a no, he’s too weak and nervous for that but Greyback… No one knows that much about him, other than that he’s terrifying and ruthless. Can’t imagine him trying to sneak in Hogwarts under Dumbledore and succeeding, however.”
“What about Snape?” Harry said quietly, asking the question that had been haunting his thoughts, as usual, out of pure hatred, but the one he wasn’t ready to say out loud to his friend yet. Sirius raised his eyebrows high at that, looking doubtful for only a split second before contemplating.
“Snape… Snape… Yes, I could see it, Harry. I really could.” His Godson started to grin. “He was surrounded by friends who are now Death Eaters back in school, and knew more Dark Arts when he entered Hogwarts than most seven year Slytherins did. Problem is, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater--not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught,” His eyes flicked to Draco for a split second. “And Snape’s certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble.”
“Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet.” Said Ron, to which Harry nodded. “Yeah, he seemed quite eager to ignore him in Potions this afternoon.” He said quickly. “Karkaroff said Snape’s been avoiding him--twice, actually, both with Anya and today. He looked really worried. He showed him his Dark Mark, like we said, and then Snape kicked him out.”
Sirius shook his head, running his fingers distractedly through his hair, then shrugged. “Well, if he’s worried about his Dark Mark, then something bad has to be going on behind the scenes. And if he’s going to Snape for answers…” Sirius paused, a darkness passing over his face once more, and Harry leaned forward, hoping beyond hope that someone would finally agree with his stance on Snape, but then he said, “There’s still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn’t, but I just can’t see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he’d ever worked for Voldemort.”
“Nothing makes sense.” Hermione mumbled quite hopelessly, sending everyone into a long silence, the sounds of Buckbeak sniffing around the cave for more food the only thing to break it. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.
“You say your brother’s Crouch’s personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he’s seen Crouch lately?” Ron shrugged. “I can try. Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch more than his own girlfriend.”
“And you might try and find out whether they’ve got any leads on that Bertha Jorkins I told you about, Harry, while you’re at it.” Sirius gestured to an untouched second Daily Prophet article on the floor. Then he heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes. “Time?” Draco checked his watch. “Nearing Midnight.”
“You four best get to bed.” Sirius said, getting to his feet, and Harry jumped forward with him, like an eager puppy. “Now listen… I don’t want you all sneaking out of school to see me all the time, alright? Only when absolutely necessary. Well,” He glared at Draco. “You’re fine to get caught but you three--”
“We’ll be fine. You’re the one I’m worried about.” Harry said and his Godfather smiled sincerely, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I’m an Animagus, remember? Don’t worry about me. Worry about you. If a Death Eater really is in Hogwarts, eager to find and most likely kill you, then you need to watch your back.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I know… ‘Constant vigilance’ as Moody keeps telling me.” Sirius smiled, patting his back. “That’s right, Harry, constant vigilance.” They smiled sincerely at one another for a few moments more, before Harry finally wrapped his arms around his Godfather’s waist, and they hugged each other tight until Hermione broke them apart, insisting they had to leave now and get to bed.
They soon realized that when Hermione had hurried the boys up the steps back to the castle under the Invisibility Cloak, she hadn’t actually been worried about everyone getting sleep. When Draco was about to slip out of the cloak and head for the Dungeons, she pulled him back, and steered them towards the Kitchens instead.
“Oh no…” Ron groaned while Harry whispered, “Hermione, what are you doing?”
“Going to see the House-Elves, of course.” She whispered back, to which Draco tugged on her robes. “Granger! Have you gone mad? You can't take me to the House-Elves! They'll trample me, or strangle me, or–"
"Dobby certainly will." She said with a shrug, and he tugged her sleeve once more to make her turn towards him and see the look of horror plastered on his face. She simply rolled her eyes. "Oh come on! Stop being so scared, you'll be fine. C'mon, boys…"
And she continued to drag them around the corner and towards the portrait with the fruit bowl. She threw the cloak off here, and all three boys looked around worriedly for any signs of Filch or Mrs. Norris while she strode up to the portrait and stood on her tiptoes, tickling the pear with her fingertips.
“Meow…” The three boys jumped, spinning around to see the cat was currently perched--hidden at first--on a suit of armor. They began to back away, glancing at each other, frightened, then spun around again as a loud creaking came as Hermione pushed open the door to the Kitchen’s. She turned around, gesturing them all inside, and slipped out of sight.
Harry, Ron, and Draco all exchanged worried glances, but shrugged, and bolted for the entrance, deciding the warm comfort of the Kitchens and food was much more preferred over Filch catching them this late.
The Gryffindor’s had already been inside the Kitchens once before, so the sight they were immediately met with was naturally not as jarring, but still grand, and the smell of fresh food was almost blinding, but Draco had never been here, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he had to think it was infinitely more extraordinarily large and welcoming than the kitchen back at the Manor.
That and it certainly had a good hundred more House-Elves running every which way, all turning and bowing at the sight of the four students. Hermione rolled her eyes, instantly scolding at them and telling them to stand up, while the boys nodded and grinned as they were given plates of food as they passed.
“Hermione, why exactly are we here? Mind sharing?” Harry asked her as Ron shoved a biscuit in his mouth and Draco struggled to balance the mounds of food the frightened Elves who’d instantly recognized him as basically royalty in their eyes had given him.
“Isn’t it obvious? Winky was Crouch’s House-Elf, and she had your wand! If she knows anything about him--where he’s been, any details of his son’s involvement with the Death Eaters--we have to get her to tell us!” Harry paused and she turned around after a couple paces, realizing he wasn’t walking beside her, and raised her eyebrows. “What is it now?”
“You thought of that in a couple minutes?” He asked and Hermione rolled her eyes. “No, I thought of it while fighting Ron.” She turned back around, cupping her hands to her mouth and yelling. “Dobby! Dobby, we’re back and we need to see Winky, where is she?”
A pause, then a squeaky voice yelled back, “Oh, Harry Potter and his friends have come back! I’ll be right there, Sirs, and Ma’am!”
Draco finished dropping the plates of food he’d given up on trying to hold on a nearby table and tucked his hands in his pockets as he swaggered up to Hermione, trying his hardest, clearly, to not look nervous at the inevitability that he was about to get beaten by his old slave. “Granger, for someone who advocates for House-Elf rights you really aren’t helping your case with that attitude.” She pointedly ignored him and pranced over to the fireplace, starting to arrange chairs in front of it as the boys followed and Draco leaned in to whisper to Harry, “It’s like I said; doesn’t actually treat the House-Elves fairly--just wants to yell at others to give them rights.”
“Can you blame her, Draco?” Harry shrugged, sitting himself down in a chair and shuffling a bit uncomfortably while Draco sat down beside him, scouting his chair not so slyly closer. “I mean, where do you even begin when trying to get these guys rights?” He gestured to the seemingly endless rows of House-Elves bustling around at stoves and countertops. “They all think this is a good thing. That it’s who they are. Centuries of brainwashing don’t go away overnight.”
Draco frowns, his lips forming a grim line. “I’m not saying it does. Believe me, I know. Remember what Dumbledore said on the Astronomy Tower? But she doesn’t seem to understand tha--”
“Master Draco!”
The boys turned their heads away from each other and Draco went even paler as normal as he spotted Dobby standing not even ten feet away, holding a bottle of Butterbear in one hand, and a female House-Elf’s arm in the other. His tennis-ball-like eyes were widened in a horror of which Harry had never seen before, as the bottle dropped and rolled across the floor, and the little Elf started to take a step back.
“Dobby,” Harry sprang to his feet instantly, hands outstretched between the Elf and the Malfoy as if expecting the former to spring forward at any second. “Dobby… Don’t worry… He’s with us. He’s my friend, Dobby, just like you’re my friend. He’s not a jerk anymore, you see? Or, at least not as much of a jerk as he used to be…”
“Debatable.” Ron commented, licking his fingers after finishing his honey glazed biscuit while Hermione sat down beside him and batted his arm, glaring.
“...But I promise he won’t hurt you. Right, Draco?” Harry turns to the blonde, who seems to snap out of a trance quickly enough to respond with, “Right.” not too suspiciously. “I--er…” Unexpectedly, he stood then, stepping away from Harry’s arms to approach Dobby, who seemed frozen in fear--the only reason he didn’t immediately scamper away. Draco knelt in front of him, trying not to notice the way the poor guy winced, as if expecting to be hurt, as he said, “I’m sorry.” and held out his hand.
“I was a selfish prick and a know-it-all prat, and I also hurt you. Directly or indirectly, I mistreated and misharmed you, and I’m truly sorry. I have a long way to go before I can call myself a good guy, probably, or maybe I never will… But I’m trying. I really am. And… well… I’d like, if you aren’t too uncomfortable with it, to try and be friends. Is that okay? Could we try being friends now, Dobby?”
A moment passed, then the Free Elf tentatively raised his hand to Draco’s, skin meeting skin in a way that wasn’t meant to cause harm for possibly the first time as the little Elf grinned.
“Okay, Master Draco.” He said and Draco immediately shook his head. “Don’t call me that. Call me anything but that!” Dobby nodded his head quickly, ears flapping. “Right, right. Erm--Thank you… Sir.”
Draco frowned, eyebrows creasing, then he shrugged. “Good enough.” He decided, then stood, nodded once to his new friend, then turned on his heel and walked back over to his seat, smiling at Harry in a show of thanks while he gave a thumbs up in a, ‘you did it!’ way.
Once everyone was settled back in their seats, including Winky, swaying back and forth with her bottle of Butterbear, staring at nothing, looking as filthy as weeks old garbage, while Hermione sat across from her, parchment and quill pen in hand, the questions began.
“So, Winky,” Hermione began, and Draco had a sinking suspicion she thought the voice she was using was comforting, but if you asked him, it was as cruel as the poor Elf’s sacking. “Why do you think Mr. Crouch hasn’t been coming to judge the Triwizard Tournament.”
Just like that, Winky's enormous eyes flicked from the nothingness void they’d fallen into and onto the bushy haired girl. “M--Master is stopped--” She hiccuped here, no doubt from the amount of Butterbear it looked like she’d been drinking, from the amount of bottles. “Coming?”
Hermione shook her head, and Winky swayed one way, then the other, shaking her head as well, though much faster. “Master--hic--ill?” Her bottom lip began to tremble, and Hermione opened her mouth to speak but stopped when it was clear the Elf wouldn’t listen. “I knew--hic--I knew it. I knew he couldn’t--hic--Master could never--hic--He needs me.”
“Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. A very dumb move, Draco noted, as the girl’s eyes blinked and then she stared down the Gryffindor with a clear rage. “Winky--hic--is not only--hic--doing housework for Mr. Crouch!” She swayed more heavily after the outburst, causing her to tip the bottle of butterbeer all down her already heavily stained blouse.
“Master is--hic--trusting Winky--hic--the most important--hic--the most secret…” Hermione blinked, stunned, and all four kids blurted out, “What?!” To which Winky now shook her head very hard, and very fast, the butterbeer pouring all over her. “Winky keeps--hic--her master’s secrets.”
She frowned up at Hermione, crossing her arms in what was supposed to be a defiant way but didn’t come on very strong as she almost slipped off the stool. “You is--hic--nosing, you is.” She then glared at everyone, raising a finger and pointing at each of them in turn. “You all is nosing--hic--into my master’s--hic--private and secret--hic--Winky is a good House-Elf--hic--Winky keeps her silence--hic--people trying to--hic--pry and poke--hic--”
She was starting to fall, and everyone would have let her too, if it weren’t for Draco suddenly springing forward, catching her small body as the bottle fell to the floor and shattered. Her drooping eyes immediately shot open and, taking in the blonde hair and pale face, widened as she shook at his tight hold on her violently.
“Let me--hic--go! You evil--hic--Master hates you--hic--let me go! Bad blood--hic--bad blood!” But Draco wasn’t listening. He was setting her back on the stool, in an action that could’ve been gentle if not for the firm hands on her scrawny arms, and his pale eyes staring her down with a cold, hard gaze. Hermione, seated behind him, had sprung from her seat as well and tried to pull him away, screaming, “Draco no--” but Harry had held her back.
For some reason, he had a feeling Draco was doing something good, which is why he nodded to Ron to hold Dobby back too.
“Let me--” “No. I can’t let you go. Not yet… Winky, right? That’s your name?” The small Elf paused in her struggling to blink at him twice with those wide, dark eyes, then nodded a little. He grinned. “Right. Okay. So, your Master, Barty Crouch? He’s gone. Been gone for a while, and we don’t know when, or if, he’s going to come back. He may be ill, he may be insane, or he may be in danger.”
Winky’s eyes got the widest they’d ever been now and she opened her mouth to speak but Draco continued to talk, far from done yet. “If he is indeed in danger, then we need to save him before he can get hurt right?” The Elf vigorously nodded, but still Draco talked over her, knowing he needed to get his peace out before she started to rant through drunken hiccups again. “But for that we need to know what he’s been up to. What’s the big secret, Winky? What is he hiding?”
Winky lowered her head, swallowing hard, then shook it once more. “No… No--hic--Winky--hic--Can’t tell.”
Draco’s face turned the most serious anyone had ever seen. “Winky…” He said, voice so low no one but she could hear now. “If you don’t help us… he’ll die.”
There was no guarantee that was true. It was highly unlikely, actually, as there had been nothing seriously wrong with Crouch to note, and he was a well respected Ministry Official, despite his life dipping downwards after his son’s death. But if this was how he got the truth out of Winky? Then so be it. He was a Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake, so he was not at all far beyond resorting to harsh measures to get her to talk, but he couldn’t do that. Not after making things up with Dobby. Not in front of his friends, especially Harry…
Thankfully, Draco had always been good at persuasion. The Elf gulped, taking in a shaky, hiccup-suppressed breath, then said, in as clear a voice as a drunk could manage, “It’s my Master’s son. He’s alive, and he stole Harry Potter’s wand at the Quidditch World Cup.”
Draco’s grip on the girl loosened naturally from shock, and Winky fell backwards, slipping off the stool and hitting the floor hard, her head banging against the stone of the fireplace hearth with a smack, and she groaned slightly, then was out like a light.
-*-*-*-
If anyone on the face of the Earth would have expected the Quartet of friends to go back to bed after that reveal, they’d be sorely mistaken. Instead, the group, shrouded under the cloak, stumbling tiredly but eyes wide with fresh shock both by how they had quickly been kicked out of the Kitchens after causing Winky to pass out, and the reveal the drunken Elf had given them, made their way up to the Astronomy Tower--suggested by Draco, who wasn’t eager to possibly encounter Myrtle in the bathroom or get detention if he smuggled them into his Common Room or got smuggled into theirs himself.
Now the four kids sat awkwardly in or on top of the desks lining the inside of the tower, staring at nothing as they thought over Winky's reveal.
"So… It makes sense." Hermione, who had been sitting at a desk with her face in her hands for the past five minutes, looked up in horror at Draco's first words since slumping into Professor Sinistra's chair and gaped at him.
"HOW COULD THIS POSSIBLY MAKE SENSE?!" The boys startled at Hermione's abnormally loud voice, while Draco didn't even flinch, instead standing up from his chair, ready to state his case.
"Look, he went to Azkaban. My Father didn't. He's jealous of all the ones who got away because he tried and failed."
"There's also the minor inconvenience that he's DEAD!"
"How do you know?!"
"Because Sirius said so!"
"He never saw the body!"
"Ugh!"
"'UGH!'"
The two flopped back down into their respective chairs, and Harry and Ron gave each other a look, before standing themselves and holding their hands out in a mock surrender motion, but also as a way to calm the two down and keep them apart from each other.
“Okay so we're all confused, maybe me the most. And yeah, Hermione’s right, it doesn’t really make sense…” Ron said and Harry gave him a pointed glare while he shrugged, adding on, “But you clearly do, Draco, so please, explain.”
After a moment, Draco sighed, and stood.
“Look, we’ve been trying to figure this out for a long time now, right? The past week? And nothing. We keep this up, and Harry, I, or even someone else could get hurt. We can’t be pointing fingers at Death Eaters we have no real evidence against--not when we have a guy whose Dad’s former… okay, yeah, slave… says he’s the one who did it. More or less. Bottom line is, we aren’t going to find anyone better than Barty Crouch Jr any time soon. Plus, he fits the part like a glove. He worked with my Aunt who, let’s just say… she’s as Death Eater as you can get, and so he’d have to be pretty loyal for her to even consider working with. And he tried to get out of Azkaban, clearly--Sirius said so--but he failed. My Dad? He didn’t. It’s clear that, if given the opportunity, he’d want some kind of revenge.”
Hermione scrunched her face up in a scowl, lips pursed. “That’s a bit petty, don’t you think?” She asked, to which Ron scoffed and raised an orange eyebrow at her. “Look who you’re talking to, Hermione.” He said, and Draco glared while the trio of Gryffindor’s couldn’t help but laugh.
Draco caught the big grin on Harry’s face and instantly felt himself smiling too, and for a few moments, the kids forgot about the Crouch’s, they forgot about the time, and they forgot about any worries entirely.
Then when the laughter died out too soon, Hermione was the first to remember, and stood to inform the boys they’d better be leaving and try to get even a wink of sleep. So Harry grabbed the cloak, the four were off on their final invisible trek through the school, and silent with the agreement that they’d further discuss this in the morning.
But for now the group was content with collapsing into sleep at roughly three in the morning, agreeing--if reluctantly--that Barty Crouch Jr was indeed the guy they’d been looking for the whole time.