Vincent checked the Marauder's Map as soon as he got back to the dorm room.
He spent a few minutes scanning the map, his eyes darting back and forth, trying to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. When he was finally certain there were two separate instances of the name Bartemius Crouch, something clicked—and suddenly, things began to make sense.
The man parading around as Mad-Eye was an imposter, and it was someone with the same name as Mr. Crouch. His son, if Vincent had to guess.
The fact that Mad-Eye's name, Alastor Moody, was still on the map must mean that the imposter had kept the original close, either to better understand his target, or for the more obvious reason, to take his DNA. That lined up perfectly with Snape's missing ingredients. Ingredients that make up for none other than the Polyjuice potion.
There was still the matter of why he, or they (Vincent wasn't sure if Mr. Crouch himself was in on this) would do this. There were also other bits and pieces that Vincent was still unsure off, information that could only be answered by the man in question. This, of course, included the Death Mark incident at the Quidditch Cup.
So, Vincent hurried, ("I need to see Dumbledore!" He told the startled Harry, who witnessed his sudden action), to none other than Dumbledore to relay this information. However, a problem once again arose the moment he did so.
"I still don't know the damned password!" Vincent felt like slamming his head against the wall at how stupid he was. The gargoyle that sat there seemed to almost leer at him, as if laughing at his mistake. "I should've asked for it the last time I came around!"
Vincent was so very tempted to just blast through the gargoyle but decided to hold back as he turned to his pixie companion. "Find a way to reach Dumbledore, can you do that Nyx?"
Nyx gave a salute as she flew off in record speed. Vincent didn't waste any time waiting as he took out the Marauders Map and scanned it for the imposter.
"Looks like Mr. Crouch and Bagman are still talking with Dumbledore," Vincent muttered, staring at the Crouch name. "Since Bagman is there, that should be Mr. Crouch with him and not the imposter. We'll see after tonight whether he's in on this or not."
A plan had already formed in Vincent's head, have Dumbledore gather the teachers and isolate the imposter so that he doesn't eat or drink anything for an hour, letting the potion wear off naturally would hopefully save him the trouble of explaining how he found out, something Dumbledore could take the credit for. Someone could also search the office for the original while this was happening. Regardless of how it goes about, there shouldn't be any issues in capturing the man. Vincent didn't want to give any time for the imposter to plan or further achieve his goal, so the sooner they can capture him the better in his opinion.
Any further thought for plans were halted the moment he set eyes on the other Crouch name, the one he considered to be the false Mad-Eye.
"Where's he going?" Vincent furrowed his brows. "He's not going towards the dungeons this time."
Having observed the man's movements over the past week, Vincent found this sudden change in behavior distinctly strange. The man rarely left his room. But now, with everything he had pieced together, Vincent suspected that the few times he had ventured out were likely to scout the potion cabinet Snape kept locked.
After all, Polyjuice Potion only lasted an hour at a time—but a single batch could keep him going for at least a couple of weeks. If Vincent's theory was right, the man had been impersonating Mad-Eye since the start of the term, which meant his supply should be running low by now.
Under normal circumstances, heading out to gather ingredients wouldn't seem out of place at this point in time. But Vincent already knew that the ingredients had already been stolen. That made this particular outing suspicious. There was no need for the man to go out again, at least not until he needs to resupply again.
"Judging by the direction he's going, the Great Hall?" Vincent felt confused about the man's objective. "The only thing of worth there is...the Goblet of Fire."
Vincent had zero clue as to what the man's intentions were, and while there were no indicators that the Goblet was the goal, Vincent still couldn't sit around and do nothing.
"I should be able to make it if I rush now," Vincent muttered as he stretched. He leapt up to the railing on the great staircase, and, with no hesitation, jumped down.
Now, Vincent had never jumped from such a height before, the closest thing he had to compare was leaping off of Big Ben (Not from full height of course, but that was a story for another time), and while he had complete confidence in his ability to survive the fall, he still wanted to make the landing as soft as he could.
Vincent felt the air rush past him as he kept his eyes locked on his target—a moving stairwell he had marked from the beginning. At the perfect moment, he pulled out one of his iron rods, gripping both ends tightly. As the middle of the rod struck the edge of the platform, the impact swung him forward with force. To avoid slamming into the underside of the stairwell, he released the rod mid-swing.
Driven by momentum, Vincent shot into the corridor ahead. Midair, he flipped, his feet striking the ceiling as he skidded along it upside down. The friction slowed him just enough. Then he dropped back to the floor, flipping upright as he landed into a forward roll.
"I wonder what score the Weasley twins would give for that shortcut?" Vincent thought with some amusement as he recovered the lost iron rod by summoning it from afar.
With time to spare, Vincent was able to make his way into the Great Hall, finding a nice vantage point on the ceiling to wait it out until the man arrived. Uncapping a potion, Vincent wasted no time in downing it, soon his body started to become metal, encasing him whole and rendering his movement mute.
The Metalmorph potion, one of his earlier inventions. Using it allowed the user to turn any part of their body into metal at will and back, and its defensive capabilities were outstanding. The only downside came from how difficult it was to use, and its lack of movement during the activation process. Not only that, but Vincent could only use it for barely a minute before the effect forcibly wears off.
Right now, though, that time limit now became something vital as Vincent turned his whole body into metal. He knew that the man had Mad-Eye's eye, something that can see through walls and all sorts of objects. It was naive to think that the man would overlook his position, being as careful as he was until now, but with situation as is, Vincent had no choice but to rely on a theory. A theory that Mad-Eye's eye separates living beings from inanimate objects based on heat and magic.
If it was the former, then his cold hard body of steel should escape his notice, if it was the latter or both, then Vincent reckoned the ceiling of the Great Hall, with all the floating candles and the illusionary sky would act as a smokescreen for the small bit of magic the Metalmorph potion would take to use. But all of this is still just a theory and a gamble. A gamble that the man would only scan the properly once or twice over, that he wouldn't notice the slight change in architecture.
Even in the chance that he did discover someone there, Vincent reasoned that it should put a halt in whatever plans he had, giving Vincent himself actual time to plan the man's capture.
"I should have timed it right," Vincent thought as he felt the metal start to encase his face, soon it would be his eyes, and then finally his brain. "One minute. Time for the shortest nap in my life. Really hope I don't get a heart attack or go braindead...Madam Promfrey could probably fix that if that happens...hopefully."
And then, all was still.
'Mad-Eye' entered the Great Hall and approached the Goblet without knowing Vincent was there. Only once did the man scan the room, carefully at that, and from then on, he kept it trained on the doorway in case someone approached.
Vincent had no way in knowing that he vastly overestimated how powerful Mad-Eye's eye was, at least with the person now in possession of it.
What Vincent failed to take into account was the Eye's compatibility with the users. While the original Mad-Eye was able to use it efficiently, the current user had no basic training in regard to it, only having a couple months to get used to it. Add on the fact that the Eye wasn't made for him in particular, what he was left with was a rather clunky to use eye.
Putting a statistic to it, if the original Moody was able to grasp 90% of what the eye saw, the current user could only grasp less then 40%, and even that was asking a lot. Distance was an issue, moving it around was vomit inducing, and worst of all, he had to keep track of what his real eye was seeing.
Walking was already difficult enough with his current fake leg, but with the eye?
He could not count the number of times he nearly tripped, or the many times he took a step, only to realize that he was looking backwards the whole time. Sometimes the eye would get stuck in a single direction, and he'd have to live with that for the rest of the day until he got back in his room to fix it.
The only times he could use it effectively was in a classroom, while standing still, or keeping it in one direction, which, admittedly, did allow him to watch his own back. Something that he currently put to use in this instant.
Something that became the cause of his undoing as the moment Vincent woke from his slumber, he grasped the somewhat barely visible figure near the Goblet.
And it was in that moment; the Trespasser made his move.
...
Vincent ducked under a table before making a mad dash to where 'Mad-Eye', now known as Bartemius Crouch was currently readying another bench to toss.
Crouch clicked his tongue as the bench morphed into thousands of knives, launching them all towards Vincent who, holding one iron rod in his mouth, used his free hand to create a wall of ice that chipped, but didn't break under the assault.
"Magic?!" Crouch was stunned at the sight, only barely dodging the rod of iron that stabbed deep into the wall behind him at the last second.
With a flick of his wand the ground beneath him moved, blasting himself skyward towards the wall and avoiding several knives made of ice aimed at the spot he previously was. Now standing on the wall as if he were on ground, he aimed his wand at Vincent.
"Petrificus totalus!"
Vincent avoided the invisible spell, the result of which crushed a table behind him.
He remembered what Professor Snape once said: "Remember this, all spells start at point A, the caster, before making it to point B, the target. There's no such thing as a spell directly affects point B without going through point A. Even the ones that look immediate are just extremely fast."
Snape explained that spells with no visible effect tend to be quicker but are usually weaker. On the other hand, more powerful spells often have noticeable visual effects but take slightly longer to reach their target.
That isn't to say that spells can't be fast and powerful, but it's more about the mentality of the Witch and Wizard who uses it.
If that's the case, why bother learning this?
According to Snape, a witch or wizard reveals more about themselves through the spells they choose to use, as their magic reflects their character, intentions, and inner nature.
For Vincent whose greatest weapon was his analytical mind, it was the perfect lesson towards fighting a wizard.
Vincent watched closely as Crouch aimed his wand. Within those golden eyes, he saw it all, the slight tense in his arm, the short breath of the man, the way the man's one good eye glared at him. It was within that moment that Vincent knew a spell would be coming his way.
"Avada Kevadra!"
As if on cue, Vincent leapt forward in an explosion of speed, the ground rupturing where he once stood. This was his chance, the moment a witch or wizard casts a spell is usually their most vulnerable, it was an opportunity he couldn't miss. He landed above Crouch, feet cracking the very stone wall, and was just about to strike him down when he realized he made a critical error.
Crouch didn't launch his spell.
Vincent, for one, had never seen a spell go in the wrong direction, nor had he ever seen a spell been put on hold. Yet that very phenomenon occurred right in front of him.
The spell Crouch had cast shot toward Vincent at an upward angle, completely ignoring the direction the wand was pointed. It was strange—almost like watching a gun fire backward while still aiming forward.
Vincent, to his credit, managed to barely bring his iron rod to block, leaving him wide open as Crouch slammed his staff on the wall, creating a shockwave that blasted Vincent across the room crashing hard into one of the tables.
"To think, the boy managed to block even that," Crouch furrowed his brows in frustration. "That might have been my last chance to take him by surprise, a boy that smart won't fall for the same trick."
Vincent dusted himself off and looked right back. He rubbed his rib slightly. "A bit of a bruise here and there, but nothing too serious. This man knows how to fight."
"Those rods... they're strange," Crouch thought, eyes narrowing. "They even disrupted the Killing Curse. I should assume they likely counter any defensive spell I have left. And that glove he's using—that must be what summoned the ice earlier."
Vincent shifted his stance; eyes locked on the staff. "That staff makes it nearly impossible to approach normally. I might be able to approach with the rods though if I play my cards right. At least he doesn't realize how much more the gloves can do."
Crouch's expression hardened. Without hesitation, he ripped the magical eye from his socket and let it fall to the ground with a dull clink, after all, it was more a hindrance now than anything.
"He has the advantage now," Crouch muttered under his breath as he leapt off the wall, floating calmly to the ground. "He's got something I don't."
The magical eye hit the cold stone floor with a quiet clatter.
Vincent watched it fall, his breath steady.
"The advantage is mine now," he thought. "Because I still have something he doesn't."
In that charged, breathless moment, both men reached the same conclusion—though for different reasons.
"Time!"
That's right, time was on Vincent's side here. All he needs to do is simply stall the man. Nyx was in the process of alerting Dumbledore, even if Crouch had set a silencing charm around the hall, someone would be bound to notice the commotion sooner or later.
That fact didn't comfort Vincent though; it simply made him more guarded. After all, he had no way of predicting what Crouch would do out of desperation. After all, even a cornered rat would show its fangs.
And Crouch was more than simply a cornered rat.
Tapping his cane on the ground, and waving his wand throughout the air, the carpet beneath them all turned into a pit of snakes, all aiming to bite Vincent, who leapt away only to come face to face with a large fireball.
"Two spells at once?!" Vincent switched to using the pulse gem, shooting a blast that sent him flying to the side. The resulting explosion from the spell incinerated the vast majority of snakes, and some shrapnel that flew out cut into Vincent, albeit very minor injuries.
Throwing his hands out, the rod embedded in the wall next to Crouch shot out, colliding with Crouch's arm hard with a clear resounding crack. Crouch, managed to endure the pain with gritted teeth, barely using what little strength he had left in that arm to hold his staff as he aimed both staff and wand at Vincent.
"Aguamenti! Glacius!"
A large torrent of water was expelled from the wand, quickly surrounding Vincent as his face hardened in response.
Vincent quickly blasted himself to the wall, using the momentum to run along it, only to drop slightly as shards of ice shot out from the waves beneath him, embedding itself deep into the walls.
Letting go of one his rods, he grabbed onto one of the shards and swung high into the air, knocking aside a few more shards of ice with the rod in his other hand before tossing it hard towards Crouch, whom he noticed was standing in the only dry spot that could be seen.
Not expecting Vincent to be able to strike back from that position, and having no place to retreat to, Crouch tried to parry with his staff, only for him to misjudge the strength and weight behind Vincent's throw.
The clash was heavy, and Crouch's already injured arm was jolted badly from the impact. He was forced to let go of his staff, as it was sent flying from his grasp, lost within the water that he himself created. In a fit of rage, he aimed to strike back, only to balk at the jet stream of flames being sent his way.
Using his wand, he manipulated the water into taking the flames dead on. Steam erupted from the impact, shrouding the entire Great Hall in a veil of heavy fog.
Crouch was weary about clearing the fog. Doing so would leave an opening that he was certain the boy would take. Without the eye, seeing through this fog with his natural one would be near impossible.
Not without a spell at least.
"Show me my enemy, show me his face, Monstra Mi," Crouch tapped his forehead with his wand.
The charm soon took effect, showing Vincent through the fog, clear as day...
...and in the process of throwing something in his direction.
Crouch didn't have time to react before a fork-like object made of ice pinned him to the wall, knocking the breath out of him in doing so. He willed his body to turn into a dark mist, hoping to rematerialize a distance away, only for an iron rod to embed itself within his arm, causing him to yell in pain.
"Yeah, I'm not letting you do that."
Vincent's voice, along with the sound of his footsteps, made Crouch forget his pain for a moment. As the boy emerged through the mist, Crouch was reminded of the image he'd seen in his mind—sweat beading on his skin, from both the steam and the sense of impending doom closing in.
Lightning sparked within the boy's hand as he brought it up to Crouch's head.
"Enjoy the nap. When you wake up, things won't be so pleasant."
Then there was darkness.
...
Vincent collapsed in relief as soon as he knocked Crouch out.
"So that's what fighting a proper wizard is like," Vincent muttered. "Seem's like I still got a long way to go."
He didn't even want to imagine what might've happened if he'd faced Crouch in his original form—the man had been fighting on a crippled leg—or if he'd kept the Magic Eye active (Vincent still overestimated its power). Right now, he just felt lucky to have gotten off as lightly as he did.
Vincent turned his head as the doors to the Great Hall opened with a slam.
"Better late than never, I suppose," Vincent muttered dryly as he lay down on the cold, damp ground. Panic and shouting echoed around him, but in that moment, he couldn't have cared less. "You guys take it from here. I'm getting some shut-eye."