Keogh

~***~

A maze. That was what the Bloody Barron told her they were building on the pitch. Tricky business, that. The champions were learning about it even now, and she could just imagine the look on Harry and Cedric’s faces when they saw what had been done to their beloved Quidditch arena. Bagman would be lucky to escape with his life. As for the third task, well, she would talk to Cedric about that when they got back to the castle. Likely he knew of a few good books he could recommend to her in her attempts to prepare Harry, and she was certain that he would have no problem with giving her the titles. He was being quite supportive of her efforts to get her friend through this in one piece.

Cedric’s chivalry was worthy of a Gryffindor and helped her handle Krum a bit better. The Bulgarian champion was not happy and he did not bother to try and pretend to be. He had not liked that she had been the ‘thing’ Cedric would miss the most and had cornered him demanding to know what was between them. She could not believe the gossip mill, of course, because by the time the incident had reached her the boys were reported to have gotten into a vicious duel in the middle of the corridors, ending with both of them having to be rushed to the hospital wing, fighting for their lives. The ghosts, however, were far more reliable and assured her that Cedric had been a gentleman throughout it all, advising Krum that they had been good friends for almost two years now while not denying that he would not be adverse to having something more.

Hermione got the impression that the ghosts had already made up their minds which boy they preferred. They certainly sang Cedric’s praises often enough. Which was a marked improvement over Rita Skeeter and the venom she continued to write about her. She really should not have lost her temper with her like she did. Harry had been correct that the woman would turn her quill on her. Now, instead of the ‘stunningly pretty’ girl who held the heart of Harry Potter (what rubbish) she was a plain, even ugly, harlot who was stringing, not just one, but three triwizard champions along. And her information was spot on. She really wished she knew how the bitch was doing it.

She shut the book in her hands with a snap, eyes narrowing. A whisper of cold brushed her skin, barely noticeable to her any longer. In fact, she even recognized it as easily as if she had seen his face. “Albert?”

The wispy form of Albert Halfcross, a former teacher at the school who had died some one hundred and fifty years before, floated towards her. “Yes, My Dear?”

“I need someone to keep an eye on that Skeeter cow for me. She’s getting onto the school grounds and I want to know how she’s doing it, but between classes trying to keep Harry in one piece, I don’t have time to do it myself. Would you help me?”

The ghost looked positively delighted to be receiving a request from her directly. A stab of discomfort lanced through her at the expression on his face. Just as the files had described it; sycophantic. She could see why Kathryn would have been unsettled by how the dead responded to her. Only a warped, power-hungry madman would enjoy such attentions. Someone like Voldemort. “I would be honored to assist, Hermione. I shall suss out the secret and bring it back to you post haste.”

She summoned a smile. “Thank you, Albert. That would be a great help to me.” The ghost beamed and soared away, eager to start his quest. She waited until he had vanished through a wall before opening the book back up and tried to focus her mind on goblin rebellions. She did not have time to think about boys and jealousies. She had classes to concentrate on, OWLS next year and a best friend who might as well have a target painted on his back.

She had just gotten to the chapter about Yulgoth the Unkind when there was an odd shift in the cold static that was a near constant presence in the back of her mind. She almost discounted it, but it started a sort of chain reaction, which agitated the white noise that represented the voices of the Great Majority. Keeping her eyes on the page but no longer bothering to read the words there she sent her thoughts into the jumble of whispers in hopes of determining the cause of the change.

It was not entirely pleasant. It was rather like hands of ice snagging at her consciousness, begging for a bit of her time and huddling around the warmth that her life force gave off. Not pleasant at all, but she was growing oddly accustomed to the sensations and, at times, even comforted by it. Still, the press of minds was a little difficult to work through as she sifted through them. Finally a strangely familiar ‘voice’ surfaced in the din.

“Should not have taken him out! Should have left him there! My fault! My fault! Got to warn Dumbledore!”

The cold in the back of her mind seemed to shoot down to her stomach. She knew that pinched, highly stressed tone. In her mind she could see the immaculate, pinstriped robes and perfectly groomed mustache of Barty Crouch. “Mr. Crouch? Can you hear me?”

There was a pause. She could almost visualize the rules minded wizard looking around wildly. Still, she could feel the memory of him drifting closer to her, drawn towards her as she had noticed all of the Great Majority were. “Who’s there? Who are you?” Even though he was cautious she could feel him press close to her. About his thoughts she heard the others whispering to him, assuring him that everything was all right.

“I’m Hermione Granger, Mr. Crouch. I’m a student here at Hogwarts.” She had never had to talk to someone who was newly dead, and her instincts told her he was just now gone. Did he even know he was no longer alive? “Mr. Crouch, what happened?”

The impression that was Barty Crouch felt as though it flinched. “I was murdered! Killed! I was trying to warn Dumbledore!”

Hermione frowned, unaware that her hands had tightened on her book. “Who did this to you, Mr. Crouch?”

“He did it! My son! My fault! All my fault!” He became even more agitated and disjointed. He became difficult to understand, his sentences running together in a buzz. Hermione closed her book with a snap and tucked it into her satchel. Getting up from the window ledge where she had been seated to take advantage of the last dregs of sunlight she hurried off at a brisk pace. She needed to get to the headmaster and now.

She hurried through the halls until she came to the gargoyles flanking the way up to Dumbledore’s office. Pausing for a moment she realized that she was missing an important item. Sending her thoughts out through the school, she sent a question. “Does anyone know the password to the Headmaster’s office?” An answer came whispering back to her and she gave an unconscious nod. “Cockroach Cluster.” The gargoyles leapt aside and she hurried forward to take the moving staircase up to the landing. She heard voices inside and hesitated a moment before knocking on the door. The voices stopped and a moment later the headmaster was peeking out at her.

“Miss Granger? Is something the matter?”

She looked past his shoulder to see Professor Moody and the Minister of Magic. Stepping forward a bit she kept her voice low. “I need to talk to you, Sir. It’s important.”

Dumbledore peered into her eyes as if reading her thoughts before nodding. He turned back to his guests. “Minister, Alastor, if you would both excuse me for a moment. I should not be long.” He stepped out of the office and shut the door behind him before motioning Hermione to walk with him to the edge of the landing. Lowering his voice he spoke to her in a tone that was barely audible over the grinding of the moving staircase. “What has happened, Miss Granger?”

Hermione kept her voice just as low. “It’s Mr. Crouch, Headmaster. He’s dead.”

Dumbledore’s brows rose. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “Just recently from the feel of it. He goes on that he was murdered, but he’s very agitated and, well, I’m not entirely certain he’s stable. I can’t make any sense of it all, but from what I felt when it happened I think he was very close to the school at the time. Physically speaking, I mean. Perhaps even on the grounds.”

Dumbledore nodded, one hand worrying his beard. Hermione noticed that he had placed himself between her and the office door, likely so that even Professor Moody would not be able to see her or see their lips moving. “I see. This is disturbing news, Miss Granger. Disturbing news indeed.” He pondered a bit longer. “Do you know… where his body is?”

Hermione blinked and thought a moment before shaking his head. “No, Sir, I don’t. I suppose I could find him, though.”

“Yes, that would be for the best. We will need to have his body before we can tell the others. I will send Fawkes to meet you on the grounds and you can send him back to me when you have located Mr. Crouch. Don’t worry about how to explain matters. I’m certain I can come up with a plausible explanation as to how you came across the body without implicating you or endangering your secrets.” He nodded, but more to himself. “However, you must be careful. I don’t want you going onto the grounds unarmed. The killer may still be somewhere nearby. Be ready to fight if need be, and don’t be afraid to run if it is the wiser course of action. Do I have your word you will be careful?”

She nodded. “Yes, Headmaster, I will be careful.”

“Good. Now, get to it and be alert. Fawkes will be waiting for you when you get outside.”

She turned and made her way down the steps as the Headmaster returned to his office. The other girls might be in the room this late in the day, so she felt it wiser to actually get back the regular way. It took longer, and even with her physical conditioning she was breathing hard once she reached the top of the final staircase. Going through the portrait hole she spared only the slightest greeting for the few who called out to her. Ron was not present, likely waiting for Harry to come back in, so she was not worried about anyone holding her up. She claimed her wands from her trunk, slipping them into the bands of her knee socks under the boot cut of her jeans. Magical grounds meant potentially magical opponents. She needed to be ready to face them.

She was aware of a few odd stares as she headed back out almost as soon as she arrived, but she ignored them. Making her way back through the castle and out of a side door leading to a courtyard garden she found Fawkes waiting for her as promised. The phoenix seemed calm and serene in spite of their task. Now that she had her ‘escort’, she took a breath and reached out once more. “Mr. Crouch, I need to find you. Can you lead me to where you are?”

“I must warn Dumbledore!”

“I know, Mr. Crouch, but we need to find where you are physically. I need you to lead me to your body.”

She thought she felt him sob, but there was a tug off towards the Forbidden Forest. A feeling of sympathy washed over her as she realized that he must be terrified still. He knew he was dead, but he still had not come to grips with it. “My fault. All my fault! All of it!”

She felt the others under the lawn as she walked over the grass, Fawkes gliding peacefully in lazy circles about her. Finally she came to where the edge of Hagrid’s vegetable patch and the border of the forest met. He was here, somewhere. But he was so upset that she doubted he could tell her where he was. Did he even know? She pondered over it for a moment, the sound of Fang’s barking from inside Hagrid’s hut barely registering in her mind. Finally a thought came to her. “Mr. Crouch, I’m right here. Can you come to me? Will you make yourself come to me?” It should work, should it not? Mr. Turner said that Kathryn had been able to do it, so it should work. She kept her eyes open, trying to feel the change.

Something pulled at her from off to her left. In the failing light she thought she saw the soft dirt at the edge of the vegetable patch moving as though something were trying to work its way out. Heart thudding in her chest she made her way over quickly. Fawkes came to rest on a fence post beside her as she kneeled down in the turned up earth. Something dry and white was trying desperately to reach the surface. She watched, torn between wanting to help and wanting to shrink away, until it made its way out and came to rest before her.

Hermione frowned. It was not a full body, or even a full skeleton, but a single bone. “Mr. Crouch?”

“I am here! HERE! This is all there is to find!”

But how could that be? Still, she knew in her gut that this was Barty Crouch. She looked over her shoulder at the phoenix perched a few feet behind her. “Go get Dumbledore.” The bird gave a slow dip of his head before he spread his scarlet wings and soared off towards the castle, leaving her with the bit of Barty. “Did you see who attacked you?”

“It was my son! It was my own son! Should never have smuggled him out! Should have left him there to rot! All my fault! All my fault!” He fell into near incoherent babbling again, enough so that Hermione thought it might make her head spin. She tried to calm him down but was unable to do so before the Headmaster appeared by her side.

Dumbledore peered down his long, crooked nose at the bleached bone. “You are certain that this is him, Miss Granger?” She nodded, her head beginning to throb from Crouch’s incessant ranting. Dumbledore gave a ‘hmm’ and looked from the bone to the door of Hagrid’s hut which was vibrating under the battering of Fang inside, who was still barking quite loudly.

The headmaster lifted his wand and pointed it at the door, which then flew open, letting Fang bound out. The massive dog loped over to where they were and tackled Hermione who was surprised to find herself flattened to the ground and given a tongue bath. “Fang! Cut it out!”

“It’s quite all right, Miss Granger. Fang is going to be your alibi.” Dumbledore raised his wand again and something silver shot out of the tip, sailing towards the castle. She was just managing to get back into a seated position when the Minister of Magic along with professors Moody, McGonagall and Snape arrived. Hermione glanced to the bone and found that the ground was now thoroughly trampled and upturned from Fang’s exuberant affections, the bone tossed around a bit in the chaos. A prickle of guilt gnawed at her for the ill treatment of Mr. Crouch’s body.

Fudge panted, almost out of breath. “What is it, Dumbledore? What has happened? You left in such a hurry!”

“My apologizes, Minister, but Fawkes indicated that there was something of a commotion out here and when I arrived Miss Granger was trying to calm down Hagrid’s dog. He made quite a confusing discovery. Minerva, could you please take a look at this bone? It seems… off to me.”

McGonagall arched a skeptical brow at him, but his expression remained serious. Hermione held Fang by his collar, thankful for the added strength her training had given her or else she was certain he might pull her arms from their sockets. She moved her head away from the dog’s tongue again and caught sight of Moody who seemed to be watching her with a contemplative expression. Noticing her gaze he leaned on his cane to address her. “What were you doing out here alone, Miss Granger?”

She blinked at him, but Dumbledore answered for her. “Miss Granger was looking for Hagrid. She and her friends have been very supportive of our gamekeeper since that unfortunate article in the paper, Alastor. Of course,” he added with a smile that was barely visible beneath his beard, “I do not believe she expected to be attacked by an over affectionate mastiff.”

“I don’t believe this is a bone, Albus. “ McGonagall frowned, her wand hovering over the bit of bone, the tip glowing a faint purple. “It seems to be a transfigured object.” She gave a flick of her wand and the spell was reversed. Suddenly the relatively small bone, barely a foot in length, grew into the larger, a very dead, figure of Barty Crouch. “Good Heavens!”

Fudge dropped his bowler hat, mouth agape. “It’s Crouch! Dumbledore, that’s Barty Crouch!”

“So it would appear, Minister.” The headmaster bent over Crouch’s motionless body as though trying to determine if it was genuine. “A most tragic turn of events, this is.”

“We’ve got you, Mr. Crouch. Everything will be fine.”

“We’ve got to warn Dumbledore!”

“We will, Mr. Crouch, but we can’t until he’s alone. There are too many people here.” Hermione did her best not to look anything less than frightened at finding a dead body. She must have done a decent job of it because Professor McGonagall moved quickly to her side.

“Come away, Miss Granger. Come over here.” Her head of house gently urged her several feet away from the wizards and turned her away from the scene, her arms lightly about her shoulders. “Everything will be fine. The headmaster will take care of everything. Do you want to sit down, or perhaps go to the hospital wing?”

She did not know why she might need to go to the hospital wing. She was not the one who was dead. Still, perhaps it would be best if she were not in the area. She did not like the looks that Moody kept sending her way. As if reading her thoughts the Headmaster spoke up. “I agree, Minerva. Please return Miss Granger to the school. Doubtless this has been a great shock to her.” Severus came forward and took Fang off her hands. The mastiff whined after her as McGonagall walked her up to the castle.

~***~

“This could not have happened at a worse possible time.” Fudge had managed to hold his tongue until after St. Mungos had come to take the body away. “There are already hints and allegations of cheating and attempts to manipulate the outcome of the tournament.”

“I doubt very much that Barty’s killer stopped to consider convenience when he struck him down, Cornelius.” Severus stood apart from the rest of the group, his hands folded as he observed. Sometimes he marveled at Dumbledore’s patience when dealing with Fudge. The man was worthless.

“Now, see here, Albus! Who said anything about murder?”

Moody peered at the Minister. “The man was transfigured into a bone and hidden under a vegetable patch. Why else would that have been done? Clearly the killer was trying to cover his tracks.” The ex-auror looked over at Albus. “That Granger girl is supposed to be top of her class in Transfigurations, isn’t she?”

That got Severus’ attention. He hardly realized he had taken a step forward, his hands fisting at his side. “Just what are you implying, Moody?”

The scarred man turned to glare at him, the magical eye fixed and staring at him as though trying to see into his very soul. “I’m just reminded of an old saying, Snape. One that deals with apples and how far they fall from trees. There’s a lot of shady wizards in your bloodline, yourself included.”

Fudge sputtered as Severus took another step towards Moody, his lips curling into a sneer. “If you are insinuating that Hermione had anything to do…”

“Severus.” It was a single word, spoken with firmness and enough to make him stop. Albus stepped forward to place himself between the two wizards who were still glaring at one another. “Alastor, I do not believe that Miss Granger has it in her to commit murder. The skill, yes, but not the desire nor the lack of conscience it requires. And I have every confidence that she would disclose the identity of Barty’s killer if she knew it. She is simply a young girl who has had a trying evening, and as her Headmaster I must go check on her well-being. Minister, if you would pardon me, but I should have Severus escort you to the gate while I go up to the hospital wing and see how our young lady is coping.”

“Headmaster, I feel I should be there. As her father…”

“You can speak with her later, Severus. Right now I need you to see the Minister safely back to his carriage.” Albus gave him a firm nod, his eyes lacking their usual twinkle as he turned to head out of the office. Severus pulled his robes more tightly about him and gave Moody a scathing look, still fuming over the barely veiled accusations against Hermione, but did as the headmaster requested.

~***~

It was not easy carrying on two conversations at once, especially when one of the people involved was yammering on like a madman. Fortunately Madam Pomfrey seemed to write her lack of attention off to stress from the events of the evening. She was to stay in the hospital wing for the night, under sedation, which was being held off until the Headmaster could come speak with her. So for the time being she lay in the narrow hospital bed with her eyes staring up at the ceiling without actually seeing anything, letting Mr. Crouch twist and turn inside her head.

“It’s all right, Poppy. I’ll call you if we need you.”

She pushed herself up onto her elbows as Dumbledore drew nearer. The mediwitch gave her one last concerned look before hurrying to her office and shutting the door behind her, leaving them alone. “Professor.”

Dumbledore pulled a chair up beside her bed and sat down, his eyes watching her closely as though studying an interesting specimen. “And how is the conversation going?”

She sighed and rubbed at her head. “Not well. He’s quite mad, but I think that may be a hold over from having unforgiveables cast against him. Some cruciatus, but I believe the bulk of his problem is from the imperious curse with a strong helping of self-loathing and guilt.” She dropped her hand on the bed. “He claims his son killed him.”

The headmaster frowned. “His son? Barty Jr. is believed to have died in Azkaban a long time ago.”

Hermione shook her head. “From what I can gather, Mr. Crouch smuggled his son out of prison. He made a couple of references about his wife dying, and I think the two are linked somehow, but every time I try to find out why he starts repeating ‘my fault’ over and over again. And he keeps saying that you need to be warned, but so far all I can piece together is that he wants to warn you that his son is out and free.” She frowned. “Does that make any sense to you, Sir?”

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and nodded. “More than I would like, Miss Granger. You see, Barty Jr. was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort’s inner circle. He was with the LeStranges when they tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom.” She gasped and he nodded. “Mr. Longbottom’s parents. Bellatrix LeStrange tortured them with the cruciatus curse until permanent damage was done. Like Mr. Crouch, they are mentally unbalanced. They reside still in St. Mungos, though I would thank you not to tell anyone else that bit of information. If Neville wishes his parents’ fate to be known to the world in general it should be his choice to disclose it. I trust you with this because I believe you have become rather adept at keeping secrets over these past two years.”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Her fingers curled into the bed sheet. “Professor, if Barty Jr. killed his father, then how did he get on and off the grounds with out us knowing?”

“That, Miss Granger, I cannot be certain of, but I would welcome your assistance in trying to find out why. Would you be so kind as to ask your good friends to help keep an extra close watch on the grounds? Perhaps they will see something mortal eyes do not.” She nodded and he smiled. “Thank you, but you can hold off until morning of course. I believe it is now time for you to allow Madam Pomfrey to do her job and worry over you until you are sufficiently recovered from tonight’s events.”

Hermione made a face and sent up a hope that the potion waiting for her would at least be palatable. Dumbledore gave her hand a gentle pat as he rose from the chair. “And I do thank you for your prompt actions this evening, Miss Granger. You were of greater help than you know. Is there anything I can do for you in return?”

She was going to say no, but then recalled something. “Just one thing, Professor.” Peering at the door to the mediwitch’s office to make certain it was still shut, she bent over to retrieve something from the folds of her uniform where she had placed it under her bed. Turning back to the headmaster she held out her twin double wands. “Could you keep these safe for me, Sir? I don’t want to have to explain them to anyone if they’re seen.”

Dumbledore gave her an understanding smile and a nod before accepting the wands and tucking them into a hidden pocket of his robes. “Pleasant dreams, Miss Granger. I will see you at breakfast in the morning.”

~***~