A Cynical Voice: Chapter 4

Hi all, 

Here’s the final chapter I owe from last week. Harry deals with the aftermath and learns that someone aided his and Hadrian’s plan without them knowing.  

Chapter 4

The day of the Quidditch World Cup 

Amelia Bones massaged her temples as she reviewed the final case file of the day. The parchment was filled with the usual bureaucratic nonsense that plagued the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As Director, she was responsible for ensuring justice was served, but the mountain of paperwork made that increasingly difficult.

She was known throughout the Ministry for her fair-mindedness and no-nonsense approach. Unlike many of her predecessors, she couldn't be bought or intimidated. Her uncompromising integrity was a rarity in a department that had suffered from heavy corruption during the last war.

Amelia had sacrificed much for her career. Her brother Edgar and his family had been murdered by Death Eaters, leaving her to raise her niece Susan alone. The tragedy had only strengthened her resolve to uphold the law. She demanded the highest standards from her Aurors and herself.

The office clock chimed five, and Amelia closed the file with a sigh of relief. She was looking forward to a quiet evening with a glass of Ogden's Finest and the latest crime novel. Just as she reached for her cloak, a paper aeroplane zoomed through the gap above her door, circled her desk twice, and landed neatly beside her inkwell.

Ministry interdepartmental memos always arrived in this fashion. Any mail delivered by owls to the Ministry was screened before being distributed to the recipient, so she didn't have to worry about curses or other methods of harm.

She checked for curses anyway. Some of Mad-Eye Moody's paranoia had rubbed off on her. Amelia ran her wand over the parchment, muttering three detection spells in succession. Nothing registered—the letter was clean.

She unfolded the plane. The message was brief and to the point:

Death Eaters will attack the Quidditch World Cup camp after midnight tonight. They plan to torture Muggles and cause chaos. Bring a squad of Aurors and position them discreetly throughout the camp. Set up Anti-Apparation Charms beforehand to prevent them from escaping.

Amelia frowned as she considered the strange message. She wouldn’t dismiss it immediately, but the letter could be a prank. It wouldn't be the first false report she'd received, either to embarrass her or the Auror Department. But if there was any chance it was true, she couldn't ignore it.

She drummed her fingers on the desk as she weighed her options. Thousands of magical people were gathered at the campsite, including Susan, attending with Hannah and her parents. If there was an attack and she'd failed to act...

Sighing, she gave in to her sense of responsibility. It would mean another long night, but she had sworn an oath to protect the magical community. At least the timing would allow Susan to attend the match and be taken home before any potential attack.

Amelia stood and opened her office door, sticking her head into the reception area.

"Margaret," she called to her secretary, "please summon Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt to my office immediately. Tell them it's urgent."

"Right away, Madam Bones," Margaret replied.

Amelia returned to her seat, thinking about how she would ensure the Minister was held accountable for this fiasco if the attack turned out to be legitimate. If it wasn't for Fudge cutting back on her department's budget, she would have Aurors posted at the World Cup. 

The Minister had insisted the event was "a celebration of international magical cooperation" and that a heavy Auror presence would "send the wrong message." Security had been left to junior officials from the Department of Magical Games and Sports—most of whom couldn't cast a proper Shield Charm.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Dobby crouched in the shadows outside the Crouch tent, his large ears twitching at every sound. It was well past midnight, and the celebrations had finally died down. Soon, the attack would begin. He wrapped his spindly arms around his knees, rocking slightly as he waited.

The house-elf had been secretly following Harry Potter for weeks, since the end of term. After being freed from the Malfoys over a year ago, Dobby had done something unprecedented—he had initiated a magical bond with Harry Potter without the wizard's knowledge. Dobby had spent the past year trying to work up the courage to tell Harry about it. Each time he came close, fear of rejection held him back.

He'd watched from afar as Harry returned to his horrible Muggle relatives, then later moved to the Weasleys' home. Yesterday, Dobby followed Harry into the Weasley orchard.

At first, Dobby thought Harry was simply restless. But then Harry began speaking—to no one. The house-elf watched, bewildered, as Harry conversed with thin air and practised with his wand.

For a terrible moment, Dobby feared Harry Potter had gone mad. Then, he caught fragments of their one-sided conversation—plans for the Quidditch World Cup, something about Death Eaters attacking, and three objectives. They intended to rescue a girl called Pansy Parkinson, capture Death Eaters, and have Harry capture someone named Barty Crouch Jr for "good publicity." 

Dobby's ears perked up at this last part. He didn't understand why Harry would want publicity, given how much the young wizard seemed to dislike attention.

As Harry continued practising, Dobby learned about the plan to capture Barty during the attack. But they were overlooking something crucial—Winky. Harry Potter didn't understand house-elf loyalty. Winky would never allow her master's son to be captured, not while she had magic to prevent it.

Dobby had devised a plan. He would distract Winky, perhaps even restrain her if necessary, allowing Harry to capture Barty unimpeded. If Dobby could help with this important mission, it would be easier for him to explain their bond and reduce the chance of being rejected.

Screams erupted from the far end of the campsite, breaking Dobby out of his thoughts. The attack had begun. Dobby crouched lower, his eyes fixed on the Crouch tent entrance.

Bartemius Crouch Senior emerged first, his wand drawn. He barked a brief order over his shoulder before striding purposefully toward the commotion.

Moments later, Winky appeared, struggling awkwardly as she moved toward the forest. Her body leaned forward at an unnatural angle, as though dragging an invisible weight.

Dobby narrowed his eyes, understanding immediately. Winky had magically tethered Barty to herself, forcing him to follow while he remained hidden under an invisibility cloak. The wizard had to be fighting both his father's Imperius Curse and Winky's binding magic.

Keeping to the shadows, Dobby followed them deeper into the forest. When they were far enough into the trees, Dobby apparated with a soft pop, reappearing directly beside Winky.

Dobby grinned toothily. "Hello! Dobby is my name." 

The female elf's eyes widened in shock. "What is you—"

Dobby snapped his fingers sharply, sending a pulse of magic that severed Winky's control over Barty.

"What has you done?" Winky shrieked.

Crashing sounds in the undergrowth indicated Barty had fled, but Dobby had no time to worry about that. Winky launched herself at him with surprising speed, her small fists clenched in fury.

"Traitor elf! Bad Dobby!" she howled, tackling him to the ground.

They rolled through the dirt, a tangle of flailing limbs. Winky might have been smaller, but her rage made her formidable. She grabbed Dobby's tea towel and twisted it, nearly choking him.

"Dobby is sorry!" He gasped, prying her fingers loose and scrambling backward. "But Barty Crouch Junior is a bad wizard!"

"Not bad! Master's son!" Winky lunged again, leaping onto Dobby's back and pulling his ears.

Dobby yelped and spun in circles, trying to dislodge her. "Please be stopping! Dobby does not want to hurt Winky!"

"Then Winky will hurt Dobby!"

She bit his ear, causing Dobby to squeal and jump three feet in the air. When they landed, Dobby used the momentum to flip Winky over his shoulder. She sailed through the air, crashing into a bush.

"Dobby is truly sorry," he panted, "but Harry Potter needs to catch the bad wizard."

Winky erupted from the foliage like an enraged garden gnome, twigs and leaves stuck in her pillowcase dress. "Harry Potter is not Winky's master!"

She snapped her fingers, and a fallen branch swung through the air toward Dobby's head. He ducked just in time, hearing it whistle over his ears.

"Winky is fighting dirty!" Dobby exclaimed.

"Winky is fighting for family honour!"

The branch reversed direction, and this time, Dobby caught it. They engaged in a bizarre tug-of-war, spinning around the clearing. Winky's magic was strong, fuelled by her desperate loyalty, but Dobby had his own power, fuelled by his loyalty to Harry Potter.

"Dobby regrets this," he said, releasing the branch suddenly.

Winky tumbled backward with a squeak of surprise. Before she could recover, Dobby waved his hand, causing a shower of stones to rain down upon her. As she batted them away, Dobby circled behind her.

He clapped his hands together, and a pulse of magic knocked Winky off her feet. She collapsed like a rag doll, not unconscious but dazed and weakened.

Dobby approached cautiously. Winky's eyes were unfocused, tears streaming down her face.

"Master will give Winky clothes now," she sobbed. "Winky has failed."

"No, no," Dobby said, helping her sit up. "Dobby will explain to Harry Potter. Winky will be okay."

She shook her head miserably. "Why does Dobby help Harry Potter?"

Dobby hesitated. "Dobby has a bond with Harry Potter. Dobby chose it."

"Chose bond?" Winky looked horrified through her tears. "Elves do not choose!"

"Dobby did," he said simply.

An explosion of shouts and spellfire erupted deeper in the forest. Dobby's head whipped around, his large ears twitching nervously. He needed to get Winky away before she could recover enough to interfere with Harry Potter’s plan.

"Dobby will take care of Winky now," he said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder. 

Before she could protest, Dobby focused his magic, and with a crack, they both disappeared from the forest. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=

Harry led the way back to the main campsite, Barty Crouch Junior's unconscious form floating behind them. Ron and Hermione flanked him on either side, with Pansy keeping close to their group. The forest gradually thinned, giving way to the charred remains of tents and the unmistakable aftermath of panic.

The clearing was packed with witches and wizards in various states of distress. Some were crying, others were calling out names, searching for lost family members. Ministry officials moved through the crowd, attempting to restore order. Aurors patrolled the area, dressed in their distinctive crimson uniforms.

Harry exchanged a discreet glance with Hadrian, who was smirking beside him.

"It worked," Hadrian said. "Amelia took our message seriously."

Harry set Barty's body on the ground and slipped his wand from its holster. He discreetly cancelled the tracking spells on Pansy and Ron. The connections to the two Death Eaters remained, though they were faint—the men had travelled far from the campsite.

"Dad!" Ron shouted, spotting his family across the clearing.

Arthur Weasley, deep in conversation with a square-jawed witch and a tall, bald black wizard, turned sharply at the sound of his son's voice. Relief washed over his features as he spotted them.

"Ron! Harry! Hermione!" Mr Weasley rushed towards them, followed by the rest of the Weasleys and the two Ministry officials. "Thank Merlin you're all right!"

As Mr Weasley fussed over them, the square-jawed witch stepped forward, her monocle covering one eye. Her gaze fell immediately to the unconscious man on the ground.

"Who is this?" she asked sharply.

The tall black Auror beside her inhaled sharply. "Amelia,  that's Barty Crouch Junior."

"Impossible," the witch—evidently Amelia Bones—said, instantly drawing her wand. Thick ropes sprang from her wand tip, binding Barty securely.

"Kingsley, how can this be?" Amelia demanded. "He's supposed to be dead."

Kingsley shook his head, his expression grim. "I have no idea, but there's no mistaking that face."

Amelia turned to Mr Weasley. "Arthur, you and your family don't need to stay for this. Take the children back to your tent. I need to speak to Mr Potter and Miss Parkinson."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Amelia," Mr Weasley said. "Harry is my responsibility while he's staying with our family. If he's involved in this, I'm staying."

Amelia nodded curtly, then turned to the rest of the Weasleys. "The rest of you should get some rest."

"Bill, Charlie," Mr Weasley instructed, "take your siblings and Hermione back to the tent."

"But Dad—" Fred began.

"We want to stay—" George continued.

"Now," Mr Weasley said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Ron looked like he might protest, but Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him away. Hermione cast one worried glance back at Harry before following them.

Once they were gone, Amelia fixed Harry with a penetrating stare. "Explain how you came to capture one of Voldemort's most devoted followers who was supposed to have died in Azkaban years ago."

"We found him in the forest," Harry explained. "We heard someone trying to cast a spell—I think it was for the Dark Mark, based on what Pansy said. When we investigated, we found a rubber chicken beating him over the head."

"A rubber chicken?" Kingsley repeated, his deep voice laced with disbelief.

"It was a trick wand," Harry clarified. "I think he stole it, mistaking it for a real one."

Amelia snorted. "That explains why the Dark Mark wasn't cast." 

"I stunned him before he could try anything else," Harry finished.

Their conversation had drawn attention. Several people with cameras and quick-quotes quills were pushing through the crowd towards them.

"Mr Potter! Is it true you've captured a Death Eater?"

"Harry! Over here! Give us a statement for the Prophet!"

"Back off!" Amelia barked. The reporters hesitated but didn't retreat completely.

"Kingsley, take Crouch Junior into custody," Amelia instructed. She then turned to another Auror nearby. "Proudfoot! Find Crouch Senior and bring him to the Ministry. I suspect he’s involved with his son's miraculous resurrection."

Proudfoot nodded and rushed off.

A commotion from behind drew their attention. A distinguished-looking man with dark hair pushed through the crowd, a blonde woman in expensive robes hurrying alongside him.

"Pansy!" the man called out.

"Father!" Pansy broke away from their group and ran to the couple.

The man crushed his daughter in an embrace, his usual aristocratic composure cracking. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Two Death Eaters cornered me in the forest," Pansy said, her voice muffled against his robes. "If Potter hadn't shown up when he did, they would have..." she trailed off, unable to finish.

The man's face darkened with fury. He released his daughter and approached Harry, his expression now carefully controlled.

"Mr Potter," he said formally, extending his hand. "Cassius Parkinson. You have my deepest gratitude for protecting my daughter."

Harry shook the offered hand. "It was the right thing to do, sir."

"Nonetheless," Cassius continued, "the Parkinson family is in your debt."

Harry hesitated, but Hadrian's voice cut in sharply: "Accept it. Refusing a formal debt would offend his honour."

"I accept the debt, sir," Harry said.

Cassius nodded. “If there is anything you need from the Parkinson family, you need only ask.” 

Amelia cleared her throat. "You've had quite a busy night playing the hero, Mr Potter." 

She turned to Pansy. "Miss Parkinson, did you recognise either of the men who attacked you?"

Pansy shook her head. "They were wearing masks."

"I didn't recognise them either," Harry added. "We duelled briefly, but they disapparated before I could capture them."

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "You duelled two Death Eaters and lived to tell the tale?"

"Potter was amazing," Pansy said. "He used basic spells, but his duelling skills are incredible. Though there was one spell at the end I didn't recognise."

"I have been practising," Harry said modestly. 

Hadrian chuckled beside him. "I deliberately held back and spoke the incantations so she wouldn't get too suspicious about your abilities." 

Harry frowned. Hadrian's comment was a reminder of what the man had done. They were going to have a serious conversation once this night was over. He hadn't agreed to let Hadrian take control of his body like that. 

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Amelia asked. 

Harry nodded. "I placed a tracking charm on the Death Eaters before I engaged them."

Amelia's eyes widened. "Can you still sense them?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed, "but they're far away. I'd need to get closer to pinpoint their exact location."

Amelia straightened. "Mr Potter, you'll need to come with me to locate these Death Eaters. I don’t want to give them a chance of getting away."

"Now wait a minute, Amelia," Mr Weasley protested. "Harry's been through enough tonight."

"It's alright, Mr Weasley," Harry assured him. "I'm too wired to sleep anyway. And if we can catch them..."

"We'll be quick, Arthur," Amelia promised. "And I'll personally ensure Mr Potter's safety."

Mr Weasley reluctantly nodded his agreement.

Cassius Parkinson placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "We should get going, Pansy."

Before leaving, Pansy surprised everyone by giving Harry a quick, fierce hug. 

"Thank you," she whispered before hurrying after her parents.

Amelia led Harry towards the Portkey area. The security wards covering the campsite restricted Portkey transportation to the designated zone, making this the only location where they could safely operate without risking accidents. Ministry officials were directing crowds through the checkpoints, verifying identities before allowing them to leave the campsite.

"Why aren’t their Anti-Apparition wards placed around the campsite as a standard feature?" Harry asked.

Amelia glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "An astute question, Mr. Potter. The answer is bureaucracy and budget constraints. The Department of Magical Games and Sports insisted that such extensive restrictions would inconvenience international visitors and create a 'negative atmosphere.' Minister Fudge agreed with them."

“I bet he’s regretting that decision right now,” Harry muttered. "Were you able to capture the other Death Eaters?" 

"Six of them," Amelia replied. "We'd cast Anti-Apparition spells around the campground, but the rest managed to escape.”

“What about the Death Eaters who attacked Pansy? They managed to disapparate from the forest."

Amelia nodded. "We couldn't cover the entire area—the charm has a limited range, and the forest is too large."

"That's probably how the rest escaped," Harry said.

"Likely so. But we scored a victory here tonight, nonetheless. Especially thanks to you." She studied him shrewdly. "Though I must say, Mr Potter, your involvement in all this seems rather fortunate."

"Just lucky, I suppose."

"Indeed," Amelia said, not sounding entirely convinced. "Well, let's see if your luck holds for tracking down these Death Eaters. With any luck, we might add two more to our tally before sunrise."

Since no Dark Mark appeared, the Death Eaters had stuck around longer, allowing the Aurors to capture them. Although they didn't catch all of them, eight—including the two he’d tagged—were better than none. More importantly, Barty Crouch Junior was captured.

The man's arrest would undoubtedly cause a sensation once the news broke. A supposedly dead Death Eater, son of a high-ranking Ministry official, found alive after all these years would generate headlines for weeks. Harry knew the capture represented a significant deviation from Hadrian's timeline, though his future self remained frustratingly tight-lipped about the specifics.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Harry stirred awake as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tent. His eyes opened to find Dobby's face hovering barely an inch from his own, the house-elf's enormous eyes blinking expectantly.

"Bloody hell!" Harry yelped, scrambling backwards until he hit the headboard. "Dobby! What are you doing?"

"Dobby is sorry, sir! Dobby did not mean to frighten Harry Potter!" The house-elf twisted his ears anxiously, bowing so low his nose nearly touched the floor.

Harry glanced over at Ron, sprawled across his bed, snoring loudly. The redhead hadn't stirred despite Harry's outburst.

"It's fine," Harry muttered, waving away Dobby's apologies. "Just don't do that again."

Hadrian materialised beside the bed. "What's all the commotion about?"

Harry rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog of exhaustion. After tracking down the Death Eaters with Amelia Bones—who'd turned out to be brothers from a minor family—he'd returned to the Weasley tent and collapsed onto his bed. Even though he had been exhausted, it had taken him to fall asleep.

"Dobby," Harry said, lowering his voice, "what are you doing here?"

The house-elf straightened, his chest puffing out with pride. "Dobby helped Harry Potter execute his plan."

Harry's head rose sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Dobby was listening when Harry Potter was in the Weezy orchard," the elf explained. "Dobby heard Harry Potter talking about capturing the bad wizard Barty Crouch Junior. But Dobby knew Winky would protect her master's son, so Dobby took care of Winky."

"What do you mean?”

Dobby bounced excitedly. “I kidnapped Winky.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was a better outcome than what he had imagined. After Dobby's exploits in his second year, he was convinced the house-elf was perfectly capable of murder.  

“Were you spying on me?" Harry asked. 

Dobby nodded, his ears drooping. "Dobby follows Harry Potter to make sure he is safe."

"I forgot about Dobby's obsession with you," Hadrian said. His expression softened as he looked at the house-elf. "In my timeline, Dobby saved my life at the cost of his own. He took a knife meant for me."

Harry stared at Hadrian, then back at Dobby, who watched him with those enormous, devoted eyes. "He died for me?"

Hadrian nodded. "Without hesitation. He was braver than most wizards I've known." He crouched down, even though Dobby couldn't see or hear him. "Keep him close, Harry. Having Dobby around could make all the difference."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I even have a choice?”

“There’s always a choice, Harry.”

“That sounds like some bullshit Dumbledore would spout.” Harry paused. “How come we forget about Winky?”

“An oversight. It all worked out in the end.”

“Who is Harry Potter talking to?” Dobby asked.

Harry groaned. "I’ll explain later. Listen, Dobby. You cannot tell anyone about this. No one can know what you heard or what you saw."

Dobby looked indignant, drawing himself up to his full height. "Dobby would never share Master Harry Potter's secrets with anyone!"

"Master?" Harry repeated.

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. "Well, this is certainly different from my timeline."

"Would you care to explain?" 

"Dobby is now your house-elf," Hadrian said, shrugging. "Merlin, Hermione is going to strangle you."

Harry stared at the elf. "So, he bonded with me? How does that happen without me knowing about it?"

"Beats me," Hadrian replied.

Dobby twisted his hands nervously. "Is Master Harry Potter angry with Dobby?"

"Call me Harry," he said automatically. "Dobby, I thought you wanted to be a free elf."

Dobby shook his head vigorously. "Dobby wants to be Harry Potter's elf. Free elf is the second option."

Harry sighed. "I'm too tired to figure this out right now. We'll discuss this later. Where did you take Winky?"

Dobby grinned. "Dobby took her to Hogwarts. She's too scared to return to her master, knowing she would likely get clothes."

"I doubt it matters anyway," Hadrian said. "Barty Senior is likely sharing a cell with his son right now."

Mr Weasley's voice called from outside their room. "Up you get, boys! We're heading back to the Burrow in thirty minutes!"

Harry turned to Dobby. "Keep a low profile for now. I'll sort this out when I've had more sleep."

The elf nodded eagerly and disappeared with a soft pop.

Harry then fixed Hadrian with a hard stare. "And I haven't forgotten about the conversation we need to have. About you taking over my body without permission."

Hadrian winced before fading back into Harry's scar.

Harry sighed and crossed to Ron's bed, shaking his friend's shoulder. "Ron, wake up."

Ron mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, remarkably having slept through the entire exchange.

Harry stared at him, disgruntled. "Why can't I sleep as easily as him?"

An idea dawned on him. He reached into his pocket and retrieved one of the stink bombs he'd purchased from the twins. With a mischievous grin, he tossed it onto the floor beside Ron's bed, then dashed out the door just as the foul-smelling cloud erupted.

"FRED! GEORGE!" Ron roared.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-= 

The group trudged towards the Burrow, tired but relieved to be home after the chaotic night. As they neared the garden gate, Mrs. Weasley burst from the house, her face pale with worry.

"Oh, you're alright!" she cried, rushing toward them.

To Harry's surprise, she bypassed her husband and children, making a beeline straight for him. Before he could react, she enveloped him in a fierce hug that nearly lifted him off his feet.

"Harry, dear! Are you all right? I was beside myself with worry!" Her arms tightened around him until he could barely breathe.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry wheezed, patting her awkwardly on the back. "Really."

Fred cleared his throat loudly. "Nice to know where we stand in the family hierarchy."

"Yes, don't worry about your actual children," George added. "We're perfectly fine; thanks for asking."

"Or your husband," Mr. Weasley said with a good-natured smile.

Mrs. Weasley finally released Harry, her cheeks flushing. "Don't be ridiculous! I was worried sick about all of you." 

She began fussing over Ron and Ginny, checking them for injuries.

"I believe," Mr. Weasley said, nodding toward the crumpled newspaper in his wife's hand, "her particular concern for Harry might have something to do with this." 

He gently took the Daily Prophet from her.

"Well, don't just stand there," Mrs. Weasley said, ushering them toward the house. "Come inside, all of you. I've got breakfast ready."

The kitchen table was laden with a feast that rivaled Hogwarts' offerings—mountains of scrambled eggs, towers of toast, platters of sausages and bacon, and bowls of fresh fruit. Everyone sat down and tucked in eagerly.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said between bites, "what does the Prophet say about last night?"

Mr. Weasley passed the newspaper across the table. "See for yourself."

Harry unfolded the paper and immediately groaned at the headline splashed across the front page:

PANIC AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP: BOY-WHO-LIVED FOILS DEATH EATER PLOT!

Hermione and Ron leaned in on either side of him to read, and Hadrian materialised behind them, peering over Harry's shoulder.

In a shocking turn of events following Ireland's victory at the Quidditch World Cup, what should have been a night of celebration turned to terror as masked wizards identified as Death Eaters attacked the campsite, writes special correspondent Barnaus Cuffe.

However, their plans were thwarted, thanks partly to the heroic actions of one Harry Potter, 14, who single-handedly captured Bartemius Crouch Jr.—a Death Eater long believed dead in Azkaban—as he attempted to cast the Dark Mark.

"Potter's magical prowess was extraordinary," said Pansy Parkinson, 14, daughter of respected businessman Cassius Parkinson. "He saved me from two Death Eaters who had cornered me in the forest, then tracked down Crouch before he could summon You-Know-Who's sign."

Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, confirmed that Potter's actions led to the capture of two more Death Eaters. The Aurors also captured Walden Macnair (a Ministry employee), Thorfinn Rowle, Gilbert Goyle, Bartholomew Goyle, Maximilian Gibbon, and Orion Jugson.

"Thanks to Mr. Potter's quick thinking and remarkable dueling skills, we were able to apprehend the individuals who escaped," said Bones in an official statement.

Most shocking of all was the discovery that Bartemius Crouch Jr., son of high-ranking Ministry official Bartemius Crouch Sr., had somehow escaped Azkaban and been living under his father's protection. Crouch Sr. has been taken into custody pending investigation.

Sources within the Ministry suggest that Potter may receive an Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his heroics—potentially making him the youngest recipient in over a century.

For more on Harry Potter's duel with the Death Eaters, see page 2. For details on Bartemius Crouch's fall from grace, see page 3. For an exclusive interview with Pansy Parkinson on her rescue, see page 4.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said, gaping at him. "Order of Merlin!"

Harry frowned, scanning the article again. "They sure work fast. The attack was only several hours ago, and they've already got quotes and everything. Why did Pansy give them an interview?"

"This is what we wanted," Hadrian said. "The public is less likely to turn against you, the more you show yourself as a hero."

Harry's frown deepened. Although they discussed this strategy, he wasn't sure he was comfortable with deliberately putting himself in the public eye. The plan was to build up a positive reputation now to counteract any smear campaigns later. 

Hermione flipped the section detailing Harry’s duel. "You never mentioned how dangerous the fight was."

"It all happened rather quickly," Harry said evasively. “They were too drunk to put up much of a fight and escaped quickly.” 

"And what's this about 'remarkable dueling skills'?" she pressed.

"The reporter is exaggerating," Harry said, taking a large bite of toast to avoid further questions.

"This seems rather convenient," Hermione muttered, eyeing him suspiciously. "You just happen to be in the right place at exactly the right time."

"That's our Harry," Fred grinned. "Always stumbling into trouble."

"And somehow coming out smelling like roses," George added with a wink.

After finishing breakfast, Harry pushed back from the table. "Think I'll head up for a nap. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"I'm not surprised," Mrs. Weasley said, patting his hand. "After everything you've been through. You rest as long as you need, dear."

Harry thanked her and made his way upstairs to Ron's room, feeling Hermione's suspicious gaze following him. Once inside, he closed the door behind him. Hadrian materialised by the window, looking out over the Weasleys' garden.

"Now, explain yourself," Harry demanded.

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Hadrian and Harry have a discussion, and he returns to Hogwarts for his fourth year.

Thanks for reading.