Having sent the letter, Harry, however, didn't go to bed. Instead, he set off to wander around the castle. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't quite figure out what.
"Hi, kitty," he said absentmindedly when he ran into Mrs. Norris. She gave a quiet meow in greeting. "Sorry, didn't bring anything for you today. I'll bring something tomorrow."
Heavy footsteps echoed around the corner, but Harry wasn't the least bit worried and had no intention of running.
"Ah, Potter," said Filch, turning the corner. "Wandering around after curfew again? Just like your father and his gang, always sneaking about until dawn…"
"Yeah, you've mentioned it."
"What I never could figure out," the caretaker went on, "was how they kept slipping past me and Mrs. Norris. It's like they knew where we were going to be… Never once caught them red-handed, and if you don't catch 'em, you can't prove anything. But I could smell it on 'em, I swear!"
"How did they manage that?" Harry struck a mock-hunting pose. Sure, his dad had an Invisibility Cloak, but squeezing four people under it was... less than ideal, especially since both James and Sirius were tall. And you couldn't fool a cat—Mrs. Norris would smell a person right away!
"Ah!" Filch gave a satisfied grunt. "Come on, I'll show you. I reckon it's fine with you… You wander, sure, but you don't cause trouble."
"Oh, let's go!" Harry said, genuinely excited. What could it be? Hidden secret passages? Some kind of clever magical doors?
It turned out to be just a scrap of old parchment, which Filch fished out with much grunting and snorting from a drawer marked "For Particularly Dangerous Items."
"And what's this, Mr. Filch?" Harry asked, puzzled, though he already had a guess.
"A map," Filch grunted. "A map your dad and his pals cooked up. The headmaster gave it to me for safekeeping, said it was dangerous, and I never lose things. But if this got into the wrong hands…"
"What kind of map is this," Harry said, examining the small folded parchment, "when there's nothing on it?"
"Ha! Go on, take your wand out… Go on, I can't do anything with it myself—me, an old Squib! The headmaster explained how it works, but what's the use? Though oh, how useful that map would've been to me! Ready? Repeat after me…"
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry said, tapping the parchment with his wand. "Bloody hell!"
The unimpressive piece of parchment unfolded and expanded several times in size, revealing a message—some kind of signature from the creators, which Harry didn't stop to read—and then a detailed map of Hogwarts and its surroundings. The entire castle and its surroundings were swarming with black dots, written in calligraphic handwriting.
"Just like that," said Filch with such pride, as if he had invented this marvelous thing himself. "Look, here we are, you and me..."
Harry squinted at the inscription.
"Here we go again, Weasley sneaking off to the kitchen, bottomless pit that one," the caretaker went on. "And there's the Headmaster in his office... You get it now?"
"So it shows where everyone is at this very moment?"
"Exactly. Ah, shame I can't use it..."
"Well, I could leave it for you like this," Harry offered. "You could hang it on the wall and keep an eye on things."
"And what if someone sees it?" the old man snorted. "The Headmaster wouldn't be too pleased either. Nah, me and Mrs. Norris will stick to the old ways—patrol the corridors, maybe catch someone, eh?"
"Mrrrow," the cat confirmed.
"Close it," the caretaker ordered, "and off to bed with you. It's late."
"Mischief managed," Harry echoed, and the map instantly folded itself up.
Filch squinted at him. Apparently, Potter's face showed such clear disappointment at not being able to keep the magical item—a legacy from his late father—such sincere frustration at life's unfairness, such quiet resignation to fate, that even the old caretaker couldn't withstand the sadness in those green eyes. (Had he only known how much time Harry spent practicing that expression in front of a mirror and how many people he'd tested the tactic on, he wouldn't have fallen for it—but alas!)
"You're not a... troublemaker, are you?" he asked.
"I don't think so, Mr. Filch," Harry replied with feigned surprise. "I do get into mischief, sure—comes with the age, you know how it is. But hurting someone on purpose? That's not my thing."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh, tell that to the Hospital Wing, what with boys running there every other day!"
"Well, maybe they shouldn't pick fights!" Harry said indignantly. "I'm just defending myself, that's all. Sometimes it's three against one—what am I supposed to do, just take it?"
"And who broke little Weasley's arm?"
"It wasn't broken, it was dislocated—and he did it himself, falling off the stairs."
"And why'd he fall off the stairs?"
"His laces are always untied! He tripped. Happens all the time, he never learns," Harry snorted.
"And who gave Malfoy a black eye in first year?"
"That was an accident! He asked me to show him a move, and then turned the wrong way..."
"The other eye," Filch clarified with a chuckle.
"That one was deserved," Harry said seriously. "No worries, we sorted that out ages ago."
"And who glued Professor Moody to his chair?"
At that moment, Potter couldn't hold back and snorted. He and Moody had been locked in a long, drawn-out positional war, and without much hesitation, Harry decided to resort to Muggle methods. Sure, it wasn't hard to clean the board from soap, especially since it was rarely written on, but the superglue, modified by the Weasley twins, set instantly and held like a vice.
Harry hadn't witnessed it himself—wisely, he carried out the operation on a day his class didn't have Moody's lesson—but he'd been vividly told how the furious Auror had tried to fight off the chair stuck to him, stumbling around the classroom and knocking things over with its legs (all while doubled over, of course), tried to remove the glue (but the twins had done their job—the glue wouldn't budge), and only after five minutes thought to destroy the chair itself.
"Some Defense professor," Malfoy had sneered. "Auror? He couldn't even fend off a chair!"
"No idea," Potter cheerfully told Filch. "I wasn't even there, I only know the story from others!"
"So it was you…" the caretaker drawled. "By the way, you got any of that glue left? I've got a few things that need fixing…"
Harry sighed.
"I'll bring some tomorrow," he replied in the same tone Mrs. Norris would have used.
"Lovely… Here you go," Filch said, glancing around furtively and handing him the map. "But not a single living soul! Or dead one either!"
"Sir, you'll get in trouble! If the Headmaster asks for the map and you don't have it…"
"Then you'll give it back when I say," Filch grumbled. "And you won't need it over the summer anyway."
"Thank you, sir!" Harry said sincerely. Now that was a royal gift! "But still, why give it to me…"
"What's it doing, gathering dust," the caretaker muttered, giving him a sharp look from under his bushy eyebrows. "Told you, it's no use to me. Might be to you, though. And you're not like those four, always sneaking around. What would you have to hide… well, just in case. But no tricks!"
"Wouldn't dream of it!" Harry assured him, thanked him again, wished him good night, and dashed out the door.
"Well, how about that!" he thought. "I wonder… did the Headmaster tell him to pass me the map? But why me? He gave the cloak to Longbottom—it would've made more sense to give him the map too… Or maybe Neville failed the 'hero test'? Or is this Filch's own idea? If only I knew for sure…"
*
«Codling moth!!! I got that map I told you about, remember?! Well, technically, it was 'loaned' to me. Wicked thing!»
*
«Lemon Eater, if you send me another owl at two in the morning, I swear I'll strangle you!
But seriously, this is big. Listen, take a good look around the castle and the grounds. If someone's there who doesn't belong, the map should show it, right? Sure, maybe they've already bolted, but what if not?
If the Dark Lord wants you, he's unlikely to pull out an embedded agent…»
*
"Sir?" Harry knocked on the door out of habit, then realized that at two in the morning Snape might actually be asleep—but he got lucky.
"Ah, it's you, Potter?" came a voice from inside. "Come in, since you're here."
The professor, just like last time, was sitting at his desk, gloomily staring at the Mark. At least he wasn't drinking—that was something.
"Can't sleep, Potter?" he asked.
"No, sir, I found something—it's mind-blowing!"
"You're already mind-blown," Snape remarked. "What did you find? Another Horcrux?"
"Nope," Harry plopped down into a chair. "This!"
It's not like he didn't know the value of keeping things to himself, but… Terry wouldn't blab, that was for sure, and Snape might actually have something useful to say.
Snape frowned.
"I feel like I've seen this before…" he muttered. "I even remember when… Potter, where did you get this?!"
"Where I got it, there isn't any more," Harry replied smugly, not about to rat out Filch.
"Don't tell me you robbed the Headmaster!"
"And why does everything that used to belong to my dad and my godfather somehow stick to the Headmaster's hands?" Harry retorted indignantly.
"So you did rob him?"
"Well… depends how you look at it," Harry said thoughtfully. "Let's just say the Headmaster probably doesn't know. And if he does know, then I bet he wanted me to have it anyway. Want to take a look, sir?"
"No," Snape replied. "It insults me. Your father, your godfather, and the rest put some damn good protection on their little toy. If only they'd used that kind of energy for peaceful purposes, as you lot like to say."
"Yeah, it could've powered all of Hogwarts and even Hogsmeade," Harry snorted. "Alright, I'll open it myself, then you'll see…"
"Massster!" Shen slid onto his lap.
"Hey, girl," he greeted her. "You've grown! Soon I won't even be able to lift you. Still any rats left in the castle?"
"Hard to ssssay…" she hissed.
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, suddenly alert. He really should've asked Shen more questions earlier—she slithered all over the castle and might've noticed something fishy.
"Professor isssn't a professor," the snake replied cryptically.
"Which one?" Harry frowned. Snape was listening intently to the hissing. "And what makes you say that?"
"He sssspilled what he carries in hiss flask," Shen replied. "I know that potion, Massster…"
"Wait, hold on, I don't understand anything," Harry shook his head. "Let's start from the beginning. I assume you were sneaking around the castle, right? Hunting? Uh-huh... And you saw one of the professors pouring something from a flask. And it was a potion you recognized. The question remains — what kind? And who was it? Can't you tell us?"
"No w-w-words," the snake replied guiltily.
"Most likely, Parseltongue doesn't have the right sounds," Snape spoke up. "Ask her to describe both the potion and the professor."
"A p-p-potion to become not y-y-yourself," Shen hissed. "The profess-s-sor... one-eyed..."
Harry let out a curse. Snape was so shocked he didn't even scold him.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Abs-s-solutely! M-m-master made that p-p-potion here, I remember the s-s-smell!"
"Polyjuice," Harry realized. "You taught us how to brew it last year. And the one-eyed man with a flask is..."
"Moody," they said in unison, exchanging glances.
"You're gold, Shen!" Harry told the snake, who hissed proudly.
"Incredible..." Snape muttered.
"Why? It all adds up now!" Harry placed the snake on the floor, jumped up and began pacing the room. "Moody set up the protection on the Cup. That's when he could've enchanted it — or at any point when he was checking it! He could've tampered with my name too…"
"Possibly... But Potter, staying under Polyjuice for that long is no joke!"
"I believe it! No wonder he's so nuts," Harry snorted. "Turning Malfoy into a ferret, throwing the Imperius Curse at me… Hm, I wonder if that was a test? I mean, if the Cup worked and I ended up in that graveyard, could they make me do what they wanted? Or if it didn't work, just control me and... and I'd walk off with this so-called Moody! Or something else, I don't know... Then again, maybe he only replaced Moody recently? No, wait. That doesn't fit. The tournament started a while ago. This guy's been here since at least the start of the year!"
"Seems so," Snape nodded, shaking his head. "So we've had a Death Eater living under our noses for months — and clearly not a low-ranking one. I told you, Potter, how expensive Polyjuice ingredients are. And you've seen yourself how difficult it is to brew..."
"And you blew it, sir," Harry said with a dry chuckle. "All of you. Starting with the Headmaster. I wonder where the real Moody is? Still alive?"
"Most likely alive," the professor shrugged, "unless the impostor is keeping his corpse on a glacier. He needs material from somewhere, after all! And..."
"What, sir?"
"I'm missing something," he replied slowly. "Very recently. Actually, I suspected you, Potter. Who knows what kind of mischief you're up to? Just didn't get the chance to ask. But now…"
"Let me guess, sir — something expensive and rare went missing?"
"Exactly."
"Then it was him snooping around. Which means he's brewing the potion himself, not getting it from the outside. Otherwise, they'd have sent whatever was missing, or the potion itself. So, no other intruders in the castle," Harry said optimistically.
"If only it were that simple... Fine! Now we just have to figure out who it is," Snape said darkly.
"What, just go and ask? He might Avada us the moment he realizes he's been found out!" Harry snorted.
"Potter, are you an idiot? The map is right in front of you!"
"Oh..." Harry slapped his forehead. "I forgot! One sec..."
Two dark heads leaned over the parchment.
"Okay, that's us here..." Harry murmured, tracing lines with his finger. "Luna's hanging out in the tower... Headmaster's office... Aha, here are his rooms! Look at that, Moody's here!"
"Yes, but he's not alone," Snape pointed to another dark dot.
"And who's Barty Crouch?" Harry asked, surprised. "Never heard of—wait, no, that name rings a bell!"
"Of course, he's the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," the professor said tiredly. "Only that's the senior. If you noticed, this one has a 'Jr.'"
"Relative?"
"His son. The father disowned him for obvious reasons — Barty was as loyal to the Dark Lord as your beloved aunt," Snape smirked bitterly, "and he's actually supposed to be in Azkaban right now."
"No way!" Harry whistled. "He escaped? Or someone helped him escape... How did no one notice? Don't they count the prisoners?"
"That can be figured out later." The professor rubbed the bridge of his nose hard. "Right now, what matters is neutralizing him. And we should keep in mind that the Dark Lord still has a fair number of loyal followers. At large, I mean — and with money. But the Dark Lord himself isn't very powerful right now..."
"Why's that?"
"Think it through. He couldn't complete the resurrection ritual, and I don't even want to imagine what form he's in now. And judging by this..." He lifted his sleeve and fell silent.
"What is it, sir?"
"The Mark's gone completely black, but there's been no summons — you feel it when it happens," Snape sighed. "I spoke with Lucius — same thing with him. So the Dark Lord is here, but he can't call his people... fortunately."
"Got it."
"Speaking of money… Mrs. Lestrange couldn't have been involved in this, could she, Potter? You said she has influence over her cousin, and thanks to your efforts, he's far from poor..."
"Sir!" he said, offended. "Now that's too much! Why would she go to all the trouble of teaching me… all sorts of things, only to then send an assassin after me? And in such a convoluted way, with that Cup? If they needed my blood, they could've gotten it back at Grimmauld: I busted my nose a couple of times there when I fell badly from her spells. Or she could've just stunned me and cut my arm—simple as that!"
"Hm. Logical," Snape admitted reluctantly.
"And anyway," Harry added in a petulant tone, "she thinks the Dark Lo—ugh, the lord is supposed to be reborn in me. So there."
"What?!"
"Well, I blurted it out like an idiot," he said awkwardly. "I said that until he was resurrected, I was like, standing in for him. You remember, when we went to see her in the hospital? Shen was there too, and my aunt believed it—she was a bit out of it at the time. Let her keep believing it—at least she won't try to kill me then..."
"I'll say the obvious once again," the professor replied wearily. "You are monstrous. I wouldn't be surprised if you really are the next Dark Lord, Potter."
"So what?" he smirked. "I am a lord anyway, and I can pick a color scheme later in my free time!" Harry turned serious. "So what are we going to do about Crouch, sir?"
"You are going to do nothing," Snape snapped.
"Going to the Headmaster?" Harry asked acidly. "Then you'll have to turn in the Map, and Shen, and our… hmm… intimate nightly meetings…"
"I once swore never to strike children," said the professor. "But I feel my self-control is starting to waver."
"It's fine, I'm not a child anymore… Sir, I think we should act like we did with Pettigrew. Get the Aurors here, let them handle it. But first, we need to come up with how you heroically exposed Crouch!"
"Go ahead," Snape permitted, folding his arms across his chest in his usual gesture.
"— Well…" Harry scratched the back of his head, thinking better with the motion. "The real Moody is an Auror. Based on what I've heard about them in general, and Moody in particular… Sirius recalled quite a lot, by the way… In general, he could've told us about unforgivable curses and even shown us on… well, on those spiders, but not on us. And he wouldn't have demonstrated Crucio in front of Longbottom, I heard that from Malfoy. That's one. He wouldn't have turned a student into an animal either." — He scratched the back of his head again. "He's acting weird, well, you said all that time under the potion doesn't go to waste. That's two. Three—your ingredients are missing, the ones needed for the potion. Four—this is unprovable, but as an episode it works, he could've done something with the Cup. Also, you or the Headmaster, but that's just nonsense! Five—we need to hold him without the potion for an hour and see what he turns into… And then turn him in with all the details. Like these findings."
"Well, how do you plan to keep him?" Snape sneered.
"Shen, darling…" Harry said sweetly. "You'll be able to sneak into that professor's place again, won't you?"
"Of course!"
"Wait, hold on," Harry paused, thinking. "I wonder in which form he sleeps—Moody's or Crouch's? If it's the first, I wouldn't be surprised why he's so crazy, having to wake up every hour and swallow that poison—it'd drive anyone mad!"
"Yes, but if there's a chance someone might come to him at night, we'll have to either take the risk or suffer," Snape sighed.
"Shen, are you strong?"
Without answering, the snake coiled around her master and tightened her rings. Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"I believe you, I believe you! You're strong!" he wheezed. "And poisonous! Let go! Phew… Sir, what do you think someone will do if they wake up from being slightly strangled and see a huge, definitely poisonous snake looming over them?"
"They'll try not to move, I'd imagine."
"Exactly. So that's what we'll do," Harry said with satisfaction.
"Potter, do you realize that a person who has to wake up every hour sleeps very lightly?"
"Yes. That's why we need to time it right, wait for him to barely wake up and reach for his flask. And then grab him. Shen, we'll need to observe him a bit first, and only then act. Can you handle it?"
"I'll try, master," she responded.
"And make sure he doesn't grab anything to hit you with!" Harry warned. "Don't let him get his wand! If anything happens, bite him immediately. That way, it'll be clear he's not Moody."
"Potter, have you lost your mind?!" Snape finally reacted.
"Not at all!" Harry reported. Shen slipped off his lap and disappeared into the darkness. (The professor couldn't quite figure it out: were there holes in the walls, big enough ones, or did the snake somehow bypass the walls? He was in trouble for his curiosity!) "Let's watch, sir! Look, the animal map shows, too! Here's Mrs. Norris, and here's someone's cat, don't know it… And Shen's not here, by the way. Maybe it's because she's magical?"
"I have no idea," he admitted. "Potter, you're going to nod off into your map any second now!"
"No-no, I'm not sleeping," he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "I have to wait for the finale!"
He took a lemon from his pocket and bit into it. Snape instinctively winced.
...The point marked with Barty Crouch Jr.'s signature hadn't moved for an hour and a half. Harry briefly fell asleep, woke up, and continued hypnotizing the map with his gaze.
"Do you think, sir, it's time?" he asked.
"Probably. Just stay here!" Snape snapped, then added: "We don't need him to see you."
"It's always the most interesting part without me! Alright... Good luck, sir!"
"Damn you, Potter, damn you..."
*
«Hello, Apple Codling Moth!
Our fun continues. First of all, we figured out who the bastard was that put my name in the Cup and cursed the damn thing! My little snake helped! And it was so easy to verify her words with the map.
Can you imagine, all year we were taught by a very cool Death Eater under the polyjuice potion! (Yes, the Auror he replaced was found. He's resting in the hospital, no wonder – after lying there for so long as a log.)
When we figured that out, we came up with a plausible investigation version for the Auror, and then sent my little snake to hold off the client (you know, a living rope two and a half meters long and as thick as my cousin's arm – that's a very persuasive argument, especially if that rope is also deadly poisonous). I told you, the potion wears off in an hour.
The one-you-know-who didn't take me on the job, but I was in such pain that he showed me the memories afterward. It was amazing! Almost like a video, but you're kind of there.
So, he bursts into the fake professor's bedroom, and does it like our special forces, skillfully so that he doesn't get hit by a bullet… oops, I mean, a spell, and then bam, he freezes the body with a disabling charm, and not just one! Though the guy wouldn't have been able to raise his arm anyway, like I said, my little snake is a gem! Then, the one-you-know-who let the snake go and adjusted the memories of the imposter, because nobody should know about her. Then he properly handled the client, made sure he couldn't move a finger, took his wand, and then everything went by the familiar script – crowd of Aurors, noise, running around…
The Headmaster, of course, was offended again: we didn't tell him first! How would I know, maybe he would have let the guy go out of kindness? Or maybe not… No way! So now there's an investigation: how the imposter managed to escape from Azkaban, what happened to him afterward, how he caught the real professor, and so on. There's such a list, he'll be back in prison for sure, if not something worse. Especially since Lucius got involved (of course, turning the only son into who knows what!) and Longbottom's grandmother (the boy already has psychological trauma, and now there's this bastard… the rest is unspeakable), and even the Minister won't stand against this assault. In general, even if the imposter somehow commits suicide, the fuss is already so big that you can't silence it.
P.S. Greetings from Luna!
P.P.S. Hey, did you and Hannah have a fight or something? Why is she walking around so gloomy? I wanted to ask, but she yelled at me...»
*
«Hi, Lemon Eater!
You have adventures every year! I wouldn't want to study like that, honestly... (And by the way, here's the physics homework, although I don't know when you'll have time for it.)
But at least we figured out this jerk, otherwise, what if he decided to finish you off himself? Or if they ordered him to... Brr! Just thinking about it gives me chills! Hurry back for the holidays, I miss you terribly!
P.S. And Luna sends her regards! Ask her if she needs crystal pendants from a chandelier? I found some in the attic, they ring so nicely...
P.P.S. Never mind. We've had irreconcilable differences in our views on the equality of wizards, Muggle-borns, and just Muggles. She understands my reasoning, but can't accept it. Not yet, ha-ha! It's okay, she'll sulk a little and start thinking clearly again. Hopefully, she'll cool down over the summer.»
*
«Codling Moth, I'm so tired of these adventures, I can't stand it! (I've sent the homework. Don't worry, you'll find time. I'm not really doing much here anyway.)
By the way, I was right. The imposter – gone. As in, supposedly committed suicide. The investigation is still ongoing, but they've managed to dig up quite a bit.
I'll be coming soon, wait for me! And you should ask for a couple of weeks off to Grimmauld Place, I'm definitely going to see my godfather, and he promised a surprise, so...
P.S. We definitely need them!
P.P.S. Got it. I won't interfere. Hmm, if you manage to convince her, that will be very interesting! Then we'll apply the experience to others. I've been pecking at Malfoy's brain a little, at least he stopped calling Muggle-borns bad names. Because he knows: if I hear it, he'll get a smack. And for some reason, after my smacks, he either falls flat on his face or onto my knee, which hurts. So there!»