A Promise Kept - Chapter 37 - The Crouch’s

The Crouch’s

“I nominate Elphias Doge!” Lord Boot declared. “He is the longest serving member on the Wizengamot and has always comported himself with poise and dignity.”

He’d beaten Sirius to it, but that could well work in their favour. There were those within the room that would vote against any of his nominations simply on principle.

“Your nomination is noted, Lord Boot,” Fudge confirmed.

“I nominate Pius Thicknesse,” Lucius called.

Sirius had been waiting to see just who would be put forward by the man, but what did leave him taken aback, was just how much support was shown for Thicknesse.

He was an unpleasant man at best, caustic, brash, but no fool.

It had been rumoured during the first war that he was a silent supporter of Voldemort, and to Sirius, this all but confirmed it.

What he wasn’t certain of, however, was which way the vote would swing. It would be nothing short of a disaster. For the most part, the position of the Chief Warlock was merely ceremonial, but during the times of a political tie within the chambers, the deciding vote was given by them, making it much more important than it appeared to be on the surface.

It was a position that could well serve the Dark Lord and be the difference he needed in here.

Still, that was not what troubled Sirius so.

No.

Given the support shown for Thicknesses’ Lucius had been up to his old tricks, and it would not be so easy to mitigate.

At Hogwarts, it had been easy enough to be rid of him, but here, there would be no such luck.

Seemingly, the game was now afoot, and with the ICW wisely not accepting a representative from Britain until they had nominated a new Supreme Mugwump amongst themselves, all eyes were on what would happen when it came to the position of Chief Warlock.

The first round of voting had been a dead heat between Doge and Thicknesse, and with no Chief Warlock to cast a deciding vote, the meeting had ended without an election.

Fudge had decided to wait until after summer to hold the next, which would only play into Lucius’s hands. It would give the man time to bribe, blackmail, or intimidate the others into voting his way.

It was concerning to say the least, but for now, Sirius had another matter on his mind.

The letter he’d received from Amelia Bones had been rather vague, little more than a courteous invitation to join her for dinner, though Sirius knew there was much more to it than her wishing to reconnect with him.

The last time he had spoken with her outside the Wizengamot chambers had been when he was nineteen, and she’d arrested him for lewd behaviour in Diagon Alley.

“Good times,” he snorted, sobering as he stepped through the flames from Grimmauld Place into another large home.

He’d never been here before.

He knew that his grandfather had dined with the former Lord Bones, Amelia’s father, but much like his own family, they kept their social circle small.

“If you would have told me fifteen years ago that I would be opening my home to you, I would say you’d taken leave of your senses,” Amelia greeted him.

Her words were stern, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

She was not the easiest of people to read, and even here in her domain, she was rather tightly wound. It didn’t surprise Sirius that she was such a way.

Her parents had been murdered when she was a child, and her brother by Voldemort during the first war.

Unless her niece were to marry someone willing to give a son the name, the Bones would be gone in the next generation.

Not that Sirius’s position was any different, but he still had the ability to change that with a child or two of his own. If not, he did not doubt that Harry would see that the Blacks continue on.

“Oh, I do not disagree,” he chuckled. “Now, before we start, in what capacity am I here? Is it Lord Black you need, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, or just me?”

“All three, I suspect,” Amelia sighed. “Come, dinner will be served shortly.”

She led him through to a large dining room, but the table in the centre was much smaller than he suspected it once was.

“I need your assurance that anything we discuss will go no further, Sirius.”

“You have it.”

She eyed him for a moment before nodding, taking a seat and gesturing for him to follow suit.

“Good, because I would rather our conversation was frank, without the politicking and other bullshit that comes with it.”

“Those are the conversations I prefer. They seem to be rather thin on the ground these days.”

“They are,” Amelia agreed. “What do you know about Dumbledore’s murder?”

“Officially, or off the record?”

“Humour me with both.”

“Well, officially, it is clear that Fudge wants to work the angle that Barty lost his mind, that he’d gone mad and killed Dumbledore.”

“He does, but the evidence certainly does not support that, but we can address that soon enough.”

Sirius nodded and pondered his next words carefully and quickly realised that no matter how much he tried to sugarcoat them, it would not lessen the sting or disbelief.

“Unofficially, Albus was killed by Voldemort.”

Amelia scoffed, but when she realised that there was no jest in his tone, she frowned.

“Go on,” she said, unable to hide the worry in her own.

“Voldemort is not dead, Amelia, and now, he is strong enough that he managed to kill Albus. I do not know how he got to Crouch, but Barty was not a weak man. It would take someone with considerable skill and power to get the better of him.”

“My thoughts exactly, but Voldemort…”

“Was possessing Quirinus Quirrell a few years ago, and Albus discovered it. Since then, nothing has been heard, but I would bet my life on it that he is responsible for everything that happened.”

“Then it is worse than I thought,” Bones murmured. “If what you’re saying is right, it makes more sense than Barty losing his mind and doing it. The problem we have, is proving it, and even if we manage that, Cornelius will never believe he is back.”

“No, not with Lucius whispering in his ear.”

Amelia’s expression darkened as she nodded her agreement.

“We have another problem. Barty emptied his coffers the day before he killed Albus, but there is no trace of the gold in his home.”

“I bet that was quite the sum, but I don’t see why Voldemort would take such a risk, not when he is bankrolled by Lucius. I’d bet he even has a significant stash of gold left over from the last war. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Many things are not adding up, Sirius,” Amelia sighed. “We have searched Barty’s house from top to bottom, and the curse breakers are certain there is something they are missing, but they cannot find anything to support what you are saying.”

“You found nothing?”

“Not a single piece of gold, or anything to explain what happened. It is all far too neat for my liking. Worse still, Cornelius has personally taken over the case.”

“He’s not a bloody auror. He can barely tell his arse from his elbow.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips.

“Exactly, so, it seems as though it will remain unresolved, precisely as Cornelius hopes for. Soon enough, it will all blow over, but the same cannot be said for everything else. I have it on good authority that he will name Thicknesse as Barty’s replacement by the end of the week.”

“That’s not good,” Sirius murmured. “It will only add credence for his nomination as Chief Warlock.”

“You remember the rumours about him as well as I do.”

Sirius nodded.

“It’s already starting, but I may have a solution to the problem you’re having with Barty’s home.”

“You do.”

“Harry.”

“Potter?”

“He’s brilliant, Amelia. He is able to feel magic that most others can’t. If there is anyone that can find anything amiss in Barty’s home, it’s him.”

Amelia quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

Amelia frowned and shook her head.

“If Cornelius was to find out…”

“He won’t. Harry has his ways of getting into places without being detected. I wouldn’t usually encourage him to behave in such a way, of course, but it has to be worth a try.”

“Well, we have nothing to lose. Cornelius is already pressuring us to leave the house be. He intends to seize it as a Ministry of Magic asset. There are no Crouch’s left, so, the property officially belongs to the Ministry now.”

“Then there is no time to waste. I will fetch Harry after we have eaten.”

Perhaps what he was doing would prove to be a mistake, but he had not lied when he’d spoken of Harry’s abilities, and it would serve to make the boy feel included.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to satisfy him for a while and make him feel like he was doing his bit for the war effort.

Sirius doubted it, but, at least, it was something for Harry to be a part of in the fight against Voldemort.

(Break)

“It is so very good to see you, Harry,” Sebastien greeted him, pulling him into a hug. “Before the others come rushing in, I just wanted to say thank you for what you did. I didn’t get the chance to after, well…”

“It’s become a bit of a theme between me and your family,” Harry chuckled. “I did what was right, just as…”

He broke off as Apolline Delacour entered the room, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence even without her presence.

Sebastien appeared to be a little too amused for his liking, and Apolline did not help as she closed the distance between them and all but crushed Harry in her arms.

“Mama, you might need to let him up for air,” Fleur’s muffled voice urged.

She too sounded amused, and Harry gasped as he was released. He was certain his cheeks were bright red, just how Apolline’s were.

“I am sorry, Harry, for, you know…”

He waved the woman off.

“I think it is best that we never mention it again. I was as mortified as I was grateful.”

Sebastien laughed heartily and capped him on the shoulder.

“I know the feeling, Harry. Let us sit down before your legs can no longer carry you. Gabrielle will join us soon. She is still getting ready, non?” he asked Fleur.

The other girl nodded, and threaded her arm through Harry’s, leading him into the dining room.

She did not take the seat next to him, but placed a kiss on his cheek, offering a wink as took the one next to her mother with Sebastien sitting at the head of the table.

“How has she been?” he asked.

Sebastien released a deep breath.

“It has been a difficult recovery for her, Harry. Her magic was out of sorts for weeks and then came the changes. There were days that she slept, and others that she couldn’t, but she is doing well now.”

Harry saw it for himself only a moment later when another blonde entered the room.

There was something familiar about the way she smiled at him, but Gabrielle was a far cry from the girl he’d pulled out of the lake.

She was taller now, much more of a woman than child, and something of a mix between her mother and older sister, though her hair was a little more silver than either Fleur or Apolline, and her eyes a paler blue.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, her smile widening after she’d kissed him on the cheek and taken the seat next to him.

“Better?” he asked, taken aback by just how different she looked.

“Much better,” she almost purred, and Harry almost jumped out of his chair as he felt her hand come to rest on his leg, her magic much stronger than he remembered it being.

He’d always known Sabine was trouble, but Gabrielle had always had an air of innocence about her.

That was no longer so.

Throughout the meal, he had felt her gaze burning into him. It wasn’t unpleasant nor unwelcome, but it was difficult to ignore whilst he was trying to partake in conversation.

It had been much the same when she’d arrived at the ranch with the others the previous evening.

She had been more attentive than he was used to, more purposeful in how she spoke to him, and not as reserved in her ways, or perhaps it was just that her magic was more prominent now.

Harry wasn’t certain, but there was something of an intensity there that had been absent before.

With a shake of his head, he finished his length of the pond and stepped out onto the bank to dry himself off. The sun had barely been up a couple of hours, and he expected those that had come over from Europe would still be in bed for a while yet as they adjusted to the change of time.

Wendell, however, had always been an early riser, and was drinking a cup of the coffee he had a liking for.

He too had grown since Harry had seen him on the last day of the school year. He was a couple of inches taller, and broader than he had been, but that went with the territory of what he did away from school.

Harry still wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

He’d asked several times, and Wendell had explained how he and his father worked their land, but he still didn’t quite understand.

“You look as though you’ve been injecting growth potions,” Wendell commented.

“Me?”

The other boy nodded as he grinned.

“You look stronger.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I have an excuse. I do physical work. What’s yours?”

“I exercise.”

Wendell hummed and took another sip of his coffee.

“Watch out, here comes trouble,” he snorted.

The girls offered them a wave as they laid down their towels, bags, and everything else they had brought along before getting into the water.

“They’re different now,” Wendell pointed out.

Harry nodded his agreement.

It wasn’t as though he’d not noticed each of them growing these past four years that he’d known them, but they acted older now, even wearing bikinis instead of the swimsuits they’d worn during their first visit.

“Just noticed that?”

“Hard to miss when they look like that now.”

Harry chuckled as he sat down.

“We’re not the same either.”

“No, I suppose we’re not,” Wendell said with a frown. “You’re still a jackass.”

“True,” Harry conceded.

“But Sabine seems to like it.”

“Don’t even go there.”

“I didn’t say anything. Have you seen her over the summer.”

“Maybe.”

Wendell smirked knowingly.

“I don’t think most of that lot would like that, especially Gabrielle. Not that they don’t know already.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing, it’s just a woman’s intuition, as my Pa would say. They know things without really knowing them.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“But it’s true. I’m telling you now, Harry, you might not have said anything, and I haven’t, but they know more than you think. Women know things.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Wendell almost spilled his coffee from surprise as Sirius spoke, and the man grinned at him.

“Jesus, you damn near made me lose it,” he cursed.

Sirius laughed as Wendell checked to make sure he’d not spilled any of his precious brew.

“I need to borrow you for a little while,” the man said, sobering immediately. “Something has come up I need your help with.”

Harry nodded as he stood.

“What is it?”

“Not here. Get dressed. Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon,” he added to Wendell.”

Harry did as he was bid and followed Sirius back towards the house. His godfather remained silent, even when offering his arm to portkey them away, not a word passed his lips.

(Break)

“You have your cloak.”

It wasn’t a question, but Harry nodded.

“Where are we?”

They’d arrived at the edge of a woodland, and Sirius had begun leading him through the trees around ten minutes prior.

“Alright, stop,” the man instructed before casting a series of privacy charms around them. “I’m taking you to Barty Crouch’s home. It has been investigated, but the curse breakers have been unable to find anything, even though they’re convinced there’s something they’re missing.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, I told Amelia you would take a look around to see if anything felt off to you.”

“I don’t see how I can do a better job than the professionals.”

“You have a way with magic, Harry. It’s not like anything I have seen from anyone else. Even Albus… he thought highly of you and your skills. He told me that himself.”

Harry nodded.

“I’ll take a look.”

“Discreetly,” Sirius urged. “Fudge won’t like it if he knew we were here.”

“Could I get arrested?”

“He’d give it a go.”

“Then I’m in.”

“Of course, you are,” Sirius snorted. “Go on, the house is just through the clearing. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

With another nod, Harry removed his cloak and placed it over himself before making his way through the last of the trees, pausing to take in the stately home.

The Crouch family certainly had not been short on gold, but already, something did not feel right to Harry. He couldn’t quite decipher what it was, a feeling perhaps, or ambient magic.

What he did know however, was something did not belong here, and the feeling only grew stronger the closer he got to the house. By the time he crossed the threshold, it was impossible to ignore it, yet at the same time, it was trying to go unnoticed.

Harry followed it, and the magic only became more elusive, as though it was hiding, shrinking as he approached, and outright vanishing from some of the rooms entirely.

By the time he’d finished to laps of the inside of the house, he was confused as to where he’d begun, and where he was.

He knew it was by design.

It was a subtle protection, for the most part, but it worked better than anything else Harry had read about or encountered.

“Calm,” he murmured, pausing and taking a deep breath to adjust to the magic around him.

It was when he felt a little more comfortable that he realised that he’d been so focused on that one piece of magic, he’d missed everything else around him.

For the most part, everything was as he’d expect within a magical home. The fireplace had been used liberally for travel purposes, and much of the furniture and lighting was enchanted.

What he did notice, however, was beyond all of it was something else, different from what he’d initially been distracted by, but purposely hidden. It was subtler than the first, almost a whisper in a surrounding storm, but Harry could hear it.

Cautiously, and with his wand drawn, he navigated his way through other enchantments, spells, and protections, until he found himself standing in front of a bookcase in what appeared to be Barty Crouch’s study.

Harry frowned as he took in the many volumes, some on languages, others on law from Barty’s time as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and most on foreign magical customs.

One book, however, did not seem to belong, and it was from that tome he could feel the presence of the magic he’d been seeking.

It wasn’t dangerous, nor was it so strong that it couldn’t be broken, but Harry got the impression that if he did, what it concealed would be lost to him.

Gently, he probed at it with his wand and jumped backwards as the bookshelf sunk into the floor, revealing a room behind it.

The room itself wasn’t much of a surprise. Many magical homes employed them for various purpose, but Harry doubted in the same way this had been.

Ignoring the dead house elf laying near the threshold, he took in the rest of what was inside; books, a single bed that had not been made since it was slept in last, and newspapers, stacks of them dating back more than a decade.

There was one small chest that contained some clothes, and one photo on the bedside table of Barty, a woman, and a boy that resembled the man quite closely.

Why this was hidden so well, Harry did not know, but Barty Crouch did not want this room to be found.

It was a confusing series of clues he could not make sense of.

It almost seemed as if the room was a prison cell of sorts. The door could not be opened from within. Even with magic, it would’ve been difficult, unless…

Harry felt the hairs on the back of the neck stand up as he detected the first piece of truly familiar magic he’d encountered since arriving, the very same that had plagued his dreams all these years.

Voldemort had been here, not so recently, but within the last months.

Still, it did not make sense, and Harry quickly summoned Sirius, who arrived only a moment later with his wand drawn, pausing at the sight of the dead elf.

“Oh dear,” he murmured.

“I know, but that isn’t what is bothering me about all of this.”

“You found something.”

“This room was hidden,” Harry murmured. “I can’t quite make sense of why, but Voldemort has been here.”

Sirius looked around worriedly.

“He’s not here now. What do you make of all this?”

His godfather frowned as he began picking up the copies of The Daily Prophet, inspecting the clothes, and then the photo.

“Barty Crouch Jr,” he sighed. “He was convicted as a Death Eater and sent to Azkaban. He died within the year, as did his mother. It was a rough time for Crouch Sr. He left his post as Head of the Department of Magical law Enforcement and had to be talked into remaining at the Ministry.”

“He sent his own son to Azkaban?”

“Barty was nothing if not a stickler for the rules. He despised Dark Magic, and even his own son had not been spared. It was the last trial he presided over before handing in his resignation.”

“That still doesn’t explain this room,” Harry pointed out. “Why would Voldemort come here of all places, and if you look at the earliest dates of the newspapers…”

Sirius did so, and a deep frown marred his features.

“This is all men’s clothing,” he mused aloud, “and the dates coincide with when Barty Jr died…”

“What did his wife die of?”

“I don’t know. I think she got sick…”

He fell silent as he pondered what all of this could mean, as did Harry, who pieced everything together to paint a rather troubling picture. Still, it did not make sense, but there was only one possible conclusion he could think of.

“How common is it for people to die within a year of being put into Azkaban?”

“Rare,” Sirius sighed. “It usually takes years for someone to suffer anything permanent.”

Harry nodded and looked towards the clothes, the photo, and the newspaper before his eyes came to rest on the dead elf.

“Bloody hell, he switched them out.”

“What?”

“Crouch! If what you’re saying about him is true, no one would ever think he’d do it, but he switched his wife with his son. If she knew that she was dying, she’d want her son freed. Not even Barty would be able to deny her, but, he would never let him be free, not really free. He used the elf to care for his son and keep him here. That is the only thing that makes sense, even if it doesn’t in some ways.”

Sirius shook his head.

“Maybe,” he said uncertainly. “Regardless, Amelia needs to see this.”

“She’s just about the only person who can verify it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I bet you one hundred galleons that if we dug up Barty Jr’s grave, it won’t be him we find in it.”

“At this point, I’m not willing to take that bet,” Sirius said gravely. “As much as I do not want to believe it, something tells me you’re right, Harry, and if you are, this isn’t good. Barty Jr was quite mad by all accounts. He was one of the Death Eaters who tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom, among other things. If he is with Voldemort…”

“Then there will be no Azkaban for him next time,” Harry broke in. “As far as I’m concerned, Azkaban is too good for all of them. Best send for Amelia Bones. We need to know what happened here.”

Sirius nodded and took his leave of the room to do so, and Harry released a deep breath.

Although the war was currently being conducted in a clandestine manner on both sides for now, he could feel it slowly building, and one day, sooner than any would be ready for, it would undoubtedly erupt in a spectacular, violent fashion, where there would be no further need of such subtlety.

(Break)

It had been a harrowing journey to simply make it near to the summit of Mt Greylock. Peter’s hands were bleeding, his feet were swollen, and every muscle in his body sore from his efforts.

He’d been unable to apparate to where he wished to be, portkeys had not worked, and worse yet, having finally reached the summit, there was no way he could make it past the protections of the hidden school, even in his Animagus form.

It was simply beyond his skillset, and the only other option he had was to wait until the students returned and hitch a ride on one of the carriages he’d read about.

He and Barty had been here for weeks now, travelling from state to state, almost aimlessly for any word or sign of Harry Potter.

There was nothing.

Save for a few articles in some newspapers they’d managed to uncover about his Quodpot prowess, there was nothing to tell them where they might find the boy, not until September, at least, when he would return to Ilvermorny.

The United States of America was an enormous country, dozens upon dozens of times bigger than home, which only meant that finding Potter would be all but impossible, even without him being undoubtedly hidden behind considerable, and knowing Sirius, likely lethal protections.

Still, roaming the states was much more preferable than being at the beck and call of the Dark Lord, whose temper could flare at any given moment if something displeased him.

Not that Barty agreed with the sentiment.

Since they’d arrived, he spent much of the time fretting about not being at his master’s side, out of communication with him, and had returned to Britain several times during the past weeks to check in with the man, with little to nothing to report.

Even so, despite being unable to achieve what they’d come here for, for now, at least, Peter was glad for the trip, though that would change quickly if Black became aware of their presence.

Sirius would not hesitate to kill them, and Peter did not know enough about Harry to understand his mindset.

Not that it mattered so much.

He was just a boy, after all, and soon enough, the Dark Lord would inevitably get what he wanted, and Harry potter would be no more.

All Peter had to do was survive his part in it, just as he had a little more than a decade ago, and every day since.

(Break)

“I don’t care what you say, it isn’t like riding a horse,” Sabine protested as Harry helped onto the back of his broom. “Horses do not go as fast as this thing.”

“Trust me.”

She did.

Oddly, even after seeing his antics during his Quodpot matches, she trusted him to keep her safe, and as they took off from the ground it didn’t waver, although she was terrified.

He’d not taken her too high that it made her uncomfortable, nor too fast. It felt fast to her, but to Harry, it was likely nothing more than a leisurely ride through the Grand Canyon.

She remembered every moment of it so vividly; how tight she held onto him through the twists and turns he performed, her hair blowing behind her, and just how safe she felt despite knowing she would fall to her death if she were to slip.

She had not come close to that, and when they’d landed, she felt a pang of disappointment that it was over.

“There are lots of other places I can take you.”

“Will you?”

“Wherever you like.”

He’d said it with such sincerity, and a genuine smile that warmed her heart. It was such a simple gesture, and yet, it meant so much.

“I know that smile.”

“What smile?”

Her mother shot her a pointed look.

“How was it?”

“Amazing. We flew through the Grand Canyon on his broom.”

“Is he as good as they say?”

“Better. It’s like he was born on the thing.”

Her mother laughed amusedly and gave her shoulder a squeeze before her expression shifted.

“The Winthrops will be arriving soon.”

Sabine nodded.

Although the prospect of having dinner with her soon-to-be fiancé filled her with dread, not even that could ruin her mood. She could endure it well enough. She’d have to learn how to do that on a permanent basis one day, and that was without the prospect of knowing there would be better times with Harry to look forward to.

Instead, much like her mother seemed to have done all these years, she would need to be able to reflect on the times they’d had to get her through the inevitable miserable days.

If she was fortunate, her husband would remain as dim and uninterested as he was now, would leave her alone for the most part, and Sabine would be little more than a trophy wife to be paraded around at social gatherings.

That was the very best she could hope for.

(Break)

“If what you are saying is true…”

She did not finish the sentence.

None would ever believe Barty Crouch would be capable of such a ting as to switch his dying wife with his imprisoned son, and to Sirius, that was what made it almost a perfect crime.

If no one would suspect him, none would notice him acting out of sorts. Albus hadn’t, and it had cost him his life, but had Barty somewhat lost his way long before the end?

Sirius did not know, but they would find out soon enough.

“Azkaban. We must go there.”

The moment they had stepped into the small boat that would take them to the forsaken island in the North Sea, they’d been gripped by an unpleasantness coldness that seemed to seep into the very soul of the visitors.

Sirius had never experienced such a sensation, and his mood dropped, his thoughts becoming more maudlin, and even a sense of despair began to plague him.

Amelia seemed to be less effected than him, but she’d been here countless times over the years.

Harry remained silent, but his eyes had dulled, become less vibrant the closer they got to Azkaban.

“Expecto Patronum.”

Sirius’s eyes slammed shut from the sudden invasion of bright light but widened as he opened them to see the ethereal falcon flying circles around the boat, and he immediately felt better for its presence.

Had he not heard Harry cast the charm, he would’ve believed it had come courtesy of Amelia Bones, but the woman was staring at his godson dumbly.

“You can cast a corporeal patronus.”

Harry simply nodded in response, the colour visibly returning to his cheeks.

“Impressive,” Amelia praised speculatively. “Most of my aurors cannot even manage that.”

“Then they’d better learn,” Harry urged. “The dementors sided with him last time.”

They had, and Sirius remembered the many incidents that the vile creatures had been involved in.

“I will ensure they can,” the woman promised, stepping off the boat as they arrived at the island.

“How many of them are in there?”

“Dozens,” Amelia answered. “Ten of them are in the high security part of the prison. Only the dementors ever go in and out of there, and they are given a health check once a year, and to remove any that have died.”

“Have any of them died?”

Amelia shook her head.

“No, they are in varying states of mental and physical anguish, but they are all alive.”

“Shame,” Harry snorted, disappearing within the folds of his cloak.

Sirius nodded his agreement, but he was at least grateful they were suffering, especially the Lestranges. They had been the worst of them, except for those that had escaped justice.

Their days would come.

He followed as Amelia led them towards the front gates where they were greeted by a pair of aurors, neither of whom appearing pleased to be here.

“Madam Bones, we were not informed of your visit.”

“And it is to stay that way. Roberts. Officially, I am not here.”

“Of course,” the man replied. “Who is it…?”

“The cemetery,” Amelia cut in.

Roberts frowned at her, but with a shrug, handed her a large, rusty key.

“Remember, we were never here.”

Roberts nodded, and Amelia led them around the side of the main building of the prison to a large, iron gate. Fortunately, there were no dementors here, but the effects of them could still be felt strongly.

“It’s so bloody cold,” Sirius muttered.

“It never gets an warmer, even on the hottest days,” Amelia replied, unlocking gate with a screeching turn of the key before pushing it open. “The worst of the very worst prisoners of the last eight centuries are buried here.”

There were hundreds of graves, some so old that the names that had once been carved into the stones had been worn down by the salty air. Most were just that, names etched into roughly hewn rocks likely taken from the coast here.

Not many among them were grand, but there were a few, even some with the name Black among them.

“Here it is,” Amelia whispered. “Bartemius Crouch Junior.”

“Less than a year after he was imprisoned. Either he was weak…”

“Or Harry is right,” Sirius said darkly. “There’s only one way to find out.”

It was Harry who began removing the dirt from the burial, having stepped out of his cloak, and did so efficiently until they came upon a pine coffin. With a frown and a flick of his wand, the lid was lifted.

Sirius grimaced at the sight of the decomposed corpse within.

“Well, shit,” he grumbled.

Although there was almost no flesh left on the bones, it was clear to any that would see this that the body was of what had been a frail woman, and not a healthy, young man.

“Bloody hell, Potter, you were right,” Amelia whispered in disbelief.

Harry nodded grimly.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“The question is, what do we do with the information?” Amelia asked. “He is now a wanted criminal.”

“It’s not as though he is going to turn himself in,” Sirius pointed out. “Especially if he is with him.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Harry interjected, “we were never here, and to the world, Barty Crouch is already dead. No one will miss him when he is.”

He turned and walked away, back towards the gate, his ominous words hanging over both Sirius and Amelia, who could not find fault in anything he’d said.

Crouch was a very dangerous man, one that should not be taken lightly, and one that had found himself at his master’s side.

The one advantage they did have was that no other knew that they were now aware of this.

Not that it mattered, but Sirius could not help but think back over the past year.

Barty Crouch had been in and out of Hogwarts, and he’d seen him coming and going on the map.

What was to say that it wasn’t the man’s son on more than one of those occasions?

It was a troubling thought, but given that Crouch was now dead, it was not something that could happened again. Even so, it was a lesson learned, and there would only be more to come.

Voldemort would not linger in the shadows forever and would be eager to pick up where he left off sooner rather than later.