A few minutes later, they arrived at the office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Dumbledore's expression was cautious. He first stopped Jon, signaling him to wait. Then he raised his wand and entered the room... Only after confirming it was safe did he gesture for Jon to follow.
Jon stepped inside and found the office cluttered with all sorts of strange contraptions.
"A Dark Detector, a Probity Probe, a foe glass..." Dumbledore murmured, deep in thought. "Where would he hide it?"
Jon's eyes quickly landed on the large suitcase with seven keyholes in a row... but he saw no need to point it out.
Before long, Dumbledore's attention shifted to the suitcase as well.
"I imagine this must be it," he said quietly.
With a tap of the Elder Wand, the first lock sprang open. Inside was a jumble of spellbooks.
Dumbledore closed the case, then opened the second lock with his wand.
This time, it revealed a pile of broken Sneakoscopes, quills, and parchment.
Closing it again, he opened the third lock.
A silver Invisibility Cloak lay inside.
...
With each lock opened, the space and contents within the suitcase changed entirely.
Patiently, Dumbledore continued testing them... until finally, he opened the seventh lock.
This time, the inside was pitch black, showing nothing at all.
"It seems we'll have to go down, Jon," Dumbledore said.
With that, he jumped into the suitcase and vanished.
Jon followed without hesitation.
Inside, the suitcase revealed a small room—more precisely, a dungeon-like cellar.
An iron cage held a man inside. He lay unconscious within.
The sight of the cage immediately gave Jon an unpleasant feeling... But discovering that the prisoner—hidden away for an entire year—was a mutilated, gray-haired old man made it even worse.
The real Alastor Moody lay inside. He looked skeletal, as if in a deep sleep. His wooden leg was gone, the socket beneath his magical eye was empty, and tufts of his graying hair were missing.
"Poor Alastor," Dumbledore sighed.
...
Together, they lifted the real Mad-Eye Moody out of the cage and laid him on the bed in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
"He's under both the Imperius Curse and a Stunning Spell. He's very weak," Dumbledore said softly. "But he's alive—his life isn't in danger."
That ugly, fist-sized gray fledgling suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
"Fawkes, go tell Poppy..." Dumbledore instructed. "Tell her we have another patient, and ask her to prepare a discreet ward. He'll be sent there in ten minutes."
Fawkes nodded, beat her wings, and vanished in a flash of fire.
Dumbledore drew a cloak over Moody, making sure he was covered, then raised his wand to begin lifting the Stunning Spell and Imperius Curse from him.
Jon thought for a moment, then rummaged through his pocket until he found a small vial filled with bright red potion. He also remembered to take out his notebook.
Moody's eyelids twitched faintly.
The spells binding him faded away.
"Rennervate," Dumbledore intoned in a low voice.
A warm red light struck Mad-Eye's chest.
Alastor Moody's eyes fluttered open, dull and unfocused. He looked terribly weak.
"Oh—a Healing Potion!" Dumbledore exclaimed, spotting the vial Jon had placed on the bedside. "Well done!"
He quickly uncorked the vial and held it to Moody's lips.
The weakened Mad-Eye drank greedily, like a parched traveler in the desert, even licking the rim afterward.
At last, he regained full consciousness, though his body remained frail.
"Albus..." he croaked weakly.
Jon wisely stepped back, not wanting the veteran Auror to notice him.
...
"Are you all right, my old friend?" Dumbledore asked with concern.
"Worse than I've ever been," Alastor Moody muttered, struggling to sit up as his eyes scanned the room. "Where's that impostor?"
"Don't worry." Dumbledore sat at the bedside and patted his shoulder. "Tell me what happened."
Strictly speaking, Moody remembered little of the past year.
Still, he described everything he could, slowly and steadily. How Crouch, Barty Crouch Jr., and Peter had tricked him into opening the door, then overpowered him.
How Barty Crouch Jr. had imprisoned him afterward—in the portable cell Moody normally used for Death Eaters. Each day, Crouch came by, using the Imperius Curse to force details out of him while plucking strands of his hair...
When he finished recounting, Moody looked back at Dumbledore.
"Albus, what about that impostor?"
"He's dead," Dumbledore said evenly. "Voldemort killed him."
"Voldemort? Impossible..." Moody looked stunned.
"Nothing is impossible," Dumbledore replied, briefly telling him of Barty Crouch Jr.'s death—though he made no mention of Jon.
"So... he's dead..." Moody murmured. "And Voldemort has returned?"
Moody didn't look particularly shocked at the news. At least, compared to Fudge earlier, he handled it far better.
"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed, handing him a notebook. "It's worth noting that Barty Crouch Jr. had very little contact with Voldemort. Loyal though he was, he hardly qualifies as a proper Death Eater. He didn't even bear the Dark Mark."
A spark lit Moody's weary eyes. He asked urgently, "Albus, besides you and me... who else knows Barty Crouch Jr. is dead?"
"One young friend. But he can be trusted."
"Good." Mad-Eye nodded, a faint smile crossing his gaunt face.
"That impostor spent a year pretending to be me at Hogwarts... Now it's my turn to pretend to be him!"