“Bloody, bloody children… Should just dump them in a hedgerow… Oh God! I stink… bloody, puking Gryffindors…”

Suddenly, a great black shape jumped through said hedgerow. The beast- noticing the motley trio- attempted to avoid the collision but it was too late.

“Fucking dogs!!!”

Severus shoved the woolly mutt’s backside off his face and gave the dozy creature a slap on it’s flank. “Bugger off!”

But the dog was keening and licking Harry’s face.

“Oh this just puts the sodding tin lid on it! Potter, wake up! Get your mutt off me!”

There were footsteps and Minerva and Albus rushed into the clearing.

“The children? Are they hurt?” cried Minerva.

“They’re fine” snarled Severus. “Now please get them and this bloody dog off me!”

Harry stirred and opened his eyes “Si…Snuffles”

The dog barked joyfully and, jumping up, began nosing Harry, checking for injuries.

“What happened, Severus?!” asked Albus.

“Some bugger had turned the cup into a portkey. Deposited the boys onto the rain-swept fens. Cedric was knocked out. You’ll need to get him to Poppy.”

“And Harry?”

“Physically and mentally exhausted. The boys were half frozen when I picked them up- they chose to land in a singularly windy spot. I dried them and cast some warming charms.”

Albus had picked Harry up and was holding him in one arm whilst Minerva supported Cedric. Albus extended a hand down to Severus, who batted it ill-temperedly away.

“I’m just a little bruised, not an invalid.” The Potions Master snorted, struggling to his feet. “When did Potter get a dog?”

“Oh, he’s not Harry’s” said McGonagall quickly. “he’s Hagrid’s”

“Typical. Man’s a bloody menace.” Severus muttered as he limped along “Snuffles? Well, I suppose Hagrid needed a replacement for ‘Fluffy’. At least this one didn’t try to rip my leg off. Just break my back…”

“Oh hush, Severus.” Minerva called over her shoulder. “Rosmerta’s got a bottle of that special calvados you like: I’ll owl-order it from her when we get back to the castle.”

“I am not a child to be bribed out of my ill humour, Madam!” scoffed Severus, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Ye are until I tell you different!”

oOoOo

Over the last week of term, Harry often felt as if the night of the Tri-Wizard tournament was a dream. Severus was back to his snarky self- almost. Though, his eyes did seem to fall on Harry a lot. Like he was studying his face. Harry learnt to ignore him: if their eyes did meet, Severus would say something sarcastic about Harry’s attention span.

Dumbledore had changed, slightly, too. He seemed tense, as if waiting for another shoe to drop. Harry, who had woken on the way to the hospital wing, had verified Professor Snape’s story as Dumbledore had helped him across the Hogwarts grounds. If the poor boy had been so tired as to be unable to keep his head from nodding, it was no real surprise, given the strain of the final challenge.

Mad-eye Moody was also marginally different: he seemed rather more chipper and relaxed. Of course, it might have been because Krum and Karkaroff had been shipped back to Durmstrang with a flea in their ears. Karkaroff had, it seemed, been in the maze with Krum whilst one of his polyjuiced students sat in the Judges’ box. Professor Moody had collared Karkaroff in the maze and was strutting around with the words ‘I was right and you were wrong’ writ large on his expression.

On Wednesday, Professor Moody casually asked Harry to come to his office that evening as he had something of Harry’s in his possession. Harry, of course, immediately agreed: he had missed the Marauders’ map, not just because it was useful but because it was a link to his family. Harry had also been trying to reason out why V…Tom hadn’t revived his father as well. Maybe the sword only worked once?

So, at 8 o’clock, Harry knocked on Professor Moody’s office door. When he entered, the room was almost bare- only the foe glass, sneakascopes and some quills remained- and Professor Moody was tipping a handful of books into his trunk.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” said Mad-eye closing and re-opening his trunk. “Come here, lad.” Harry walked over and saw, to his surprise, that the trunk opened to reveal not his map but a stairway.

“Follow me, boy. Want to talk in private.”

OoOoO

“So, Harry, you’ve met Tom, hmm?”

Harry started, turning round green eyes on the grinning auror

“How…”

“Oh Harry, lad. Don’t fret yourself. I’m not going to turn you in to Dumblebore.”

“But…”

The old Auror fished around in his pocket and withdrew a small bottle, from which he took a swig. His features morphed; the grizzled grey hair lightened to honey blond, the wrinkled skin smoothed to milky white and the leg and eye dropped away as living flesh pushed them aside.

“You… You’re Crouch’s son!” Gasped Harry, his stomach still twisting from watching the transformation.

“Yup. The real Mad-eye Moody is currently in the Caribbean, probably drinking banana daiquiris and explaining to nubile young maidens how he lost his leg and eye in a swashbuckling fight against some Indonesian pirates. I modified his memory and put him on a cruise” grinned Barty Jnr. “He thinks his name is Gerald Humperdink.”

“Huh?”

“A little rat told Tom that a certain bumblebee was going to fiddle the Triwizard selection process and get you a place in the tournament. Tom figured you needed a little help.”

“Dumbledore entered me for the tournament?!”

“Yes, golden boy. You were beginning to lose your tarnish in the public eye because, although you certainly have been busy, it was nothing that Fudge would allow in the papers. He wants the wizarding public to think Tom is dead, see?”

“But…”

“Look, you showed how brave, capable and good you were in front of the press, five internationally respected mages and the best part of three schools. Dumbledore knew you were up to it, with a little help from your clever little witch. However, things didn’t go quite as planned, old Dumblebore didn’t count on your noble, stubborn spirit. Good thing I was here to nudge you in the right direction, although you certainly made my job a challenge!”

“I didn’t notice. I mean, you helped me with the dragons but Cedric and Dobby…”

“And who did you think got that information to them? The Gillyweed was a bloody nightmare: if you had just asked Longbottom, he could have told you about it immediately. It was in that book I gave him!”

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts “I thought you were in Azkaban.”

“When the Longbottoms fate was discovered, I went to my father and told him the truth: that Bella, Rudolphus, Rabastian and I had woken up in a ditch half a mile from the Longbottom estate. We couldn’t remember anything that had happened and, I suppose, it would have been wisest to keep quiet. But I was scared and I didn’t know what to do.”

Anger darted in the young man’s eyes

“My father took my wand and cast priori incantartum. It’s a spell which regurgitates the previous spells the wand has cast. My father called the auror department and, before I knew it, I was in a holding spell awaiting trial. Bella was so strange- like in a stupor- and, during the trial she said things which… they were so odd. She had been imperiused, I’m certain of it.”

“Anyway, we were sent to rot in Azkaban for the rest of our natural lives. I lost hope almost completely. Tom was dead, my father had betrayed me. Who else could help? Certainly not my poor, sick mother, who had never stood up to Dad in her life.”

Barty swallowed

“But, as it turns out, I was wrong. My mother, you see, had believed me and she didn’t give my father a moment’s peace until he agreed. She was dying and she wanted him to swap her for me. One living and one dying person entered Azkaban, one living and one dying person left. When I had recovered my senses, I begged my father to return me to Azkaban, to save my mother but it was too late. She was dead.”

“I spent the next decade or so under house arrest, with only Winky to be my companion. She tried her best to help me, even got me out to see the Bulgaria against Ireland match. Of course, when someone cast that fucking mark Dad blamed me. I had nothing to do with it, however. I didn’t even know how to cast it. Hell! Tom doesn’t know how to cast it.”

“The dark mark!” exclaimed Harry “I was told that Death-Eaters cast that whenever they, you know, killed.”

“The Death-Eaters were a group of pureblood supremacists who lived around Birmingham in the eighteen hundreds- before Tom was even born. They were a small group of fascists and their insignia was a skull. However, the group opposed Grindlewald and were somewhat… outclassed.”

Barty sighed and rubbed his chin.

“Someone started using the Death-Eater mark again, when things started coming to a head between Dumbledore and Tom. Aurors were the least of our worries at that time; The Order of the Phoenix- a group of young idealists under the governance of Dumbledore- were continually attacking us and they fought to kill. Somehow or other, though, the Order tended to attack when Tom and Abraxus were absent from our meetings. The poor buggers were always in groups of two or four. We tried to disarm them but… well, when one of your own has been murdered in front of your eyes, tempers get rather stretched. We were often rougher than we meant to be and there were a few fatalities.”

“But, why would they attack when Tom wasn’t there?”

“Tom can group-apparate and Abraxus… well, he was good at large-scale barriers. However, once we had left, the skull-mark always appeared above the battle field. We thought it was the Order’s mark, they thought it was ours.”

“Anyway, one day, when I was sitting at home letting my brain rot, Tom turned up. Apparently, Pettigrew had known about me and told Tom. He took the imperius off me and, after I’d told him what had happened, he thought for a bit, then asked me if I wouldn’t mind doing him a favour, that is, babysitting you throughout this bloody tournament. I immediately agreed and, when my father arrived home, Tom stunned him.”

“Tom cast a memory charm on my father and we left. However, my father- who is a powerful wizard- ground down the barrier and immediately sped off to Hogwarts. Luckily, Tom was keeping an eye on my father and intercepted him before he could spill he beans. My father is now living as a muggle in New York.”

Barty fished the Marauder’s map out of the front of his robes.

“This belongs to you. Try to keep out of trouble, okay? I’m not going to be here next year to help you out.”

“Thanks” replied Harry; he was feeling a little dazed. A thought occurred to him. “How come the cup was a portkey?”

“Ah, that one was me” grinned Barty, taking a swig from his hip flask. His features began to twist back into those of Mad-eye Moody. “Tom wanted a chat and he couldn’t turn up at the gates to invite you for tea and cakes, now, could he? I kept an eye on you in the maze, helped you out here and there. That’s why I needed the map.”

Harry followed ‘Mad-eye’ out of the trunk and into the bright light of the office. “Life’s going to get better, kid. Just keep your gob shut and your eyes open. Constant vigilance!” Moody winked his good eye mischievously.

“Thanks Sir!”

“Oh, and next time you visit the Hogs Head, ask the bar-tender that Gandalf wants you to know about Saruman.”

“Huh?”

“Dumbledore has arranged a celebratory Hogsmeade visit for Friday morning” grinned ‘Moody’. “Now, scram or I’ll give you a detention for being up past curfew!”

Harry ran through the corridors, map clasped in his hand. Life was certainly getting interesting.