Annihilating Albus - chapter 2

Summary: One responsible adult realises the inevitable (much earlier than he would have under a different author!) and decides to do something about it.

Legal Disclaimer: see chapter 1

Writer's block disclaimer: see chapter 1 for this too!

October 13, 1991

Most Hogwarts students went their entire school life without their parent or guardian ever visiting Hogwarts - indeed if one did, it was assumed to be either a discipline or health issue.

Still, there was no rule that said parents or guardians could not visit, although perhaps the rule makers had not considered someone like Sirius would ever be one. As such, he landed up just as breakfast was coming to an end, the following Sunday, heading straight for Harry's table, and sat down next to him.

"Hey kiddo, need to bounce something off you", he said, ruffling Harry's mop.

Harry, mouth full of his last bite of breakfast, nodded, chewed, swallowed, then said, "sure; can Hermione come along too?"

The weather was still mild enough to be outdoor, the morning sun bright in the clear mountain air, struggling to warm things up but you could tell it would be very good weather within an hour or so.

The three headed down to the lake, settling down with their backs to a big rock with a smooth face.

Sirius had not wanted to object when Harry had invited Hermione, except to give him a look that promised teasing later. He had wanted to discuss his plans to quietly deal with Crouch, but now he shelved that in favour of a more publicly known and accepted enemy.

"I wish we could have caught the rat", said Sirius, apropos of nothing, after a few minutes of silence.

"Every rat his his day, Siri; his time will come!"

Hermione, of course, had read the papers, and knew they were talking about Peter Pettigrew. The traitor's Order of Merlin had been revoked, and he was now wanted for murder and other crimes, not to mention being a death-eater. She also knew this could be a sensitive topic for the two, so she decided to steer the conversation away from Pettigrew, without being too obvious about it.

"Speaking of rats", she started, "Ron Weasley keeps complaining that his pet rat had disappeared. It's amazing how someone can get attached to a filthy animal like a rat, especially one that he had barely had a couple of months."

Sirius did not have anything to say, so he made a polite noise that may have meant "interesting, do go on!". Or maybe not; that was the whole point of polite indifference to a rambling tale.

Harry, however, was nicer. "So was it a young rat then? Maybe it got lost somewhere - they're not exactly known for being smart you know!"

"Oh no, it's pretty old, at least from what I heard him while he was lamenting about it to Dean. It was his brother Percy's, and he had had it for several years."

"And yet he misses it. Well Ron never struck me as being very smart, or having good taste", said Harry lazily, more to say something than anything else.

"Yeah! Lee walked by and heard, and pulled Ron's leg about missing an old rat that even had a toe missing!"

The lazy, sun-kissed, post-breakfast, Sunday-morning, drowsiness disappeared from Sirius and Harry, and Hermione yelped to find two wizards suddenly turning to her and looking intently at her, firing questions at her simultaneously!

Hermione already knew what an animagus was, of course, if only because Minerva McGonagall always started her first first-year class by turning back from a cat right in front of a patiently waiting class. So, the moment the simultaneous bombardment of questions stopped, and Sirius said, "Peter was a rat animagus, Hermione", she immediately made all the connections.

In the end, they realised there was nothing to be done now. Clearly the traitor had done a runner, having seen and recognised Padfoot. They considered calling Ron and asking him precisely when was the last time he had actually seen the rat - but it wouldn't have made much difference. A miss was as good as a mile, as the saying went.

Still, something good came of it. Sirius had lamented, "I wish we had the map", and then of course he had to explain what it was, who made it, and why, and so on, and explained how - if they had access to it - they could have quickly found him.

Of course, he then had to spend the next half-hour explaining - as well as he could - the charm work that went into the map.

October 31, 1991

Every year since Harry was about 7 and old enough to understand what happened at Godric's Hollow, he and his godfather would treat this day as a quiet day of remembrance. Sirius would almost be a different person - it was pretty much the one day in the year that Vernon and Petunia could expect quiet and peace in the house, not that they could complain about it on the other days of course.

Today, Sirius decided to visit again, and spend the day with Harry. While Prof McGonagall and Prof Flitwick smiled gently and a bit sadly, the other, younger, professors looked on in wonder at the unnaturally quiet Sirius Black, who had, in the past few weeks, shown his old self - noisy and boisterous - though thankfully he kept this to mealtimes only. It took them all a moment to realise what the day meant for these two.

They had chosen to sit down to dinner at the far end of the Gryffindor table, with only Hermione acting as a kind of buffer between the more than noisy Gryffs and her friends. Sirius had grown on her already, and not just because he was her best friend's godfather, but, as the only magical adult she knew who was not on the Hogwarts staff, he was able to answer questions that she would never dare ask, say, Prof McGonagall.

Their dinner was almost done when Prof Quirrell ran screaming in, shouting at the top of his voice that there was a "Troll in the dungeons", and fell face first in a faint.

Prof McGonagall, having far more sense than her far older predecessor ever had, realised that the great hall was the best place for the students right now. With it's single main entrance and 2 small staff entrances on the side (the house elf entrances dotted all round did not count; even a young troll would barely make it through the staff entrances; a house-elf entrance would at best accommodate one meaty paw!), as well as the large, heavy, tables, it could be defended much better if the troll decided to change course to the hall.

She had no faith in Quirrell, in fact if it wasn't for the alleged curse on the position, and the consequent difficulty in finding a new one every year, she was sure he would never have gotten the job.

In any case, she would always think of him as a Muggle Studies professor than a defence professor, which is what drove her next actions.

She stood up. "Sonorous", she said, wand to her own throat. "Quiet, please. There is no need to panic. Please leave your seats and move to the middle of the hall."

While the students did that, she continued "Lord Black, would you and your young companions please take care of Prof Quirrell until we get the matron in here or have him moved; just keep him comfortable for now, and if you can levitate him closer to the middle of the hall that would be nice."

Sirius nodded, as he and the two kids with him jumped to. As Sirius conjured a stretcher for him and levitated him on to it, Quirrell attempted to get off. Harry gently pushed him down, softly whispering, "Please professor; you seem to have taken a bad fall, please rest until the matron can see you".

Quirrell's eyes seemed to burn with hatred at Sirius - something that only Hermione noticed, Sirius being too busy with his task. When Harry laid a hand on Quirrell's coat-front and pushed him down, she saw the hate turn to what she could only interpret as pain, and incredible pain at that.

Not wanting to say anything, because they couldn't do much until Madam Pomfrey was available anyway, she looked away, and so missed the faint tendril of smoke, and the smell of charred flesh, that leaked out from underneath the professor's heavy outer clothing.

Meanwhile, Prof McGonagall had locked all three entrances to the great hall, and sent a patronus message to the four staffers who were not in the hall - Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey, Filch, and Prof Trelawney - informing them, and in Madam Pomfrey's case, advising her that her services might be required but to please wait within her domain untl after the troll was dealt with.

She then beckoned to Prof Flitwick, and, with a final, "I would like everyone - students, professors, and visiting Lords alike" - this with a small smile thrown to Sirius - "to remain in this room until you hear from me or Prof Flitwick. No exceptions."

As she and her diminutive colleague left, she asked Pomona to send a patronus message to Amelia.

By the time the whole thing was sorted, Quirrell ended up becoming the shortest term defence professor in the history of the school. The portraits had sold him out as the one who led the troll in, in the first place. He was arrested by the DMLE and was thrown into a DMLE holding cell, to await trial. Unfortunately, by the next morning he had escaped, though no one who knew him could imagine he had the skill to get out of a DMLE cell.

Meanwhile, the wards at Hogwarts were tightened up to prevent any such creature from entering, and, while they were about it, various wards against dark objects and dark lords were also activated. Prof McGonagall and Prof Flitwick did this quietly, without telling anyone, at the instigation of Amelia Bones. She also decided to station an auror there for the next couple of weeks, though nothing happened except the auror got really really bored.

Life went on at Hogwarts. Prof McGonagall offered the defence job to Sirius, saying "you're here all the time anyway, may as well make yourself useful!", and, with Harry and Hermione's eager nods and exhortations to "say YES" in the background, Sirius agreed.

September 1, 1992

Of course, everyone knew about the curse, so no one expected Sirius Black to last more than a year. It was a shock to everyone when nothing happened to him at the end of the year, and he simply continued as the defence professor.

When Dumbledore heard about this, he knew exactly what had happened. The curse could only be lifted if Tom Riddle had eventually been given the job he had asked for, oh so many years ago.

This was serious. Very serious indeed. It was only his sense of superiority that kept him from panicking, actually; he felt sure a lesser wizard would have fainted at the news.

But he could not afford such luxuries. This was the time to act, to gather forces and attack while the enemy was yet unaware of what was happening! He had no choice now.

He would have to go and meet one of the only two other people he knew who was as much a fighter against the dark as he was, and tell him the Dark Lord had been unequivocally sighted!

September 5, 1992

Dumbledore waited till the next Saturday before making his approach. He knew that Crouch had weathered the incident last October much better than he himself had, simply by the happy accident of not being immediately available when Fudge was rushing to Hogwarts, and thus not being officially involved in whatever was happening.

But, as Dumbledore knew, and indeed many others would if they cared to think back to those days, Crouch was the one who arrested Black, and had declared him a dark wizard and recommended that he be thrown into Azkaban without a trial. Dumbledore was happy to go along with it, because that would remove him from the equation as far as claiming Harry was concerned. Bagnold was only happy the war was over, and would sign anything. And Fudge was of no account; he just happened to be the ministry obliviator on the scene that day.

So now, he walked up the small side road, at the end of which was Crouch's home. It wasn't very large - the Crouch's had never been very rich - but it was well-maintained, with a short hedge surrounding it for a modicum of privacy.

Reaching the door, he knocked twice, somewhat loudly, and waited. Presently, the door was opened, and a house-elf, wearing a reasonably clean uniform, opened the door.

"Good morning, my dear", said Dumbledore. He was used to house-elves, what with Hogwarts having so many, and was, or at least he thought he was, pretty good at keeping them happy for no real cost. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am here to see Mr Crouch".

"Please come in", said the little elf, ushering him into a room next to the entryway and offering him a chair. "Winky will inform master. Would Mister Dumbledore like a drink while he waits?"

If Albus was surprised at the language, he did not show it. If he was annoyed that this elf did not seem to have heard of him, and did not gasp when he introduced himself, he certainly did not show it. With a beatific smile on his face, he took the offered chair, declined refreshments, and sat down to wait.

Winky had basically one job: keep junior captive. He was not to be allowed out of his room, and under no conditions was he to be allowed a wand. These were direct orders from her master.

She was also explicitly forbidden from speaking about her mistress's death to anyone, ever, since Crouch worried that Winky would inadvertently reveal something more than the public knew about his wife's death.

Everything else - including normal household duties - took second place to these orders. That was also abundantly made clear. She was told to stun junior if she had to move away from his room to do her other duties, and also if she wanted to rest or sleep.

In years past, her master had used a curse on his own son to make him obey these rules. As time passed, however, the young master had started becoming somewhat immune to that curse, while at the same time the old master's strength had waned. Eventually, recognising that a line would be crossed soon if he did not change his tactics, the old master had handed off this responsibility to the much more powerful creature.

And so, over the past several years, this had been Barty junior's lot. While he was also a "master", he was not "the" master, and he could not override his father's instructions.

But, like all such orders, there were loopholes, and Barty had eventually found some. For instance, his father had not said anything about listening to his meetings when he had visitors, so he ordered Winky to set up a listening charm in the older Crouch's home office, coupled to a small wine glass in the young master's room. Simply by putting the glass to his ear, he could hear everything in his father's office.

(He was lucky that his father had not ordered Winky to report everything to him either. So, while Winky would be forced to reply truthfully if directly asked a question, nothing forced her to volunteer information to the old man!)

It was in this manner that Barty Crouch, junior, heard the following riveting conversation between his father and - apparently - Albus Dumbledore, the hated "leader of the light".

"Barty, I have some news of great importance, as you probably surmised."

"You're not one for casual visits, so yes, I expected something had happened." Crouch was on tenterhooks - Albus could easily have sniffed out the presence of his son, and it was only his faith in his elf that kept him from inventing some fantastic excuse and moving the meeting to some other location. That, and the fact that if he did that, Dumbledore would certainly become suspicious.

"Just over a year ago, as you know, Harry Potter returned to the wizarding world."

In spite of his discomfort and unease, Crouch found himself almost smiling. "Yes, I seem to recall reading something of the sort", he said with a straight face.

"And you and I know very well that Lord Voldemort is not dead."

"Actually, I don't know that. On what basis do you say so?" He was tempted to add "on what basis do you say I would know that?", but resisted.

"You know as well as I do, Barty, that his body was never found - only his cloak. Not even his wand was found. Surely you know enough of the dark arts to figure this out."

"A horcrux?" breathed Crouch slowly.

Barty junior did not hear Dumbledore's response, but assumed he had nodded or something.

"I see. And what would you have me do about it, without any further evidence? In fact, now that I mention it, what is your further evidence that he has actually returned?"

"Simple. The defense curse has been broken, as is clear from the fact that the current defense professor was also the professor for a good part of last year. That can only happen if Voldemort has been offered the position and has taken it. I suspect possession of some kind, but that's a minor detail."

A sharp gasp came from the older Crouch, loud enough that junior could have heard it even without the listening charm.

The two conversed for several minutes more, and junior lapped up all the new information, almost vibrating with excitement. His master was back. His master was back! If only he could get word to him… wait, Winky had not been forbidden to do that either.

He sat down to write a short note, and told Winky to fetch the family owl.

My Lord,

I do not recall anyone ever writing a proper letter to you, so please forgive me if the tone is not right.

My mother forced my father to arrange my escape from Azkaban, polyjuiced as herself, while she, in turn, stayed back, polyjuiced as me. I did not know, but apparently she was unwell, and was going to die shortly anyway, so she did not quite sacrifice her life for me, but did what she could to get me out.

Since then, my father has kept me under strict control, said control achieved by means of a young and powerful house-elf. I am prevented from leaving my room, and from possessing, even for a second, a wand, so much so all the spare wands in the house have been moved to our vault in Gringotts, and there is only one wand here - which he keeps on him at all times.

Luckily, my father did not realise that still leaves a lot of things I can do. He also forgot to tell the elf to report to him on my actions, or the elf's actions on behalf of me, so a lot can happen. In particular, I have a charmed wine glass that lets me listen to every conversation my father has with anyone who visits or floos him.

It is thus that I over-heard Dumbledore come in a few days ago, and explain how the curse on the defense professor was now broken, and how this could only happen if you had returned and either you, or someone you were possessing, had been offered the defence post.

I write to you now in the hope that you will deign to visit my humble abode, suitably punish - however you choose to - my father for his actions against you all those many years ago, and free me.

Your humble and obediant servant, Barty Crouch, junior

September 9, 1992

Barty Crouch, senior, arrived at the designated apparation point for the Ministry, and walked toward the lifts to get to his office. It was earlier than normal, but he had been summoned by the Minister herself.

Crouch, senior, had spent the better part of the last quarter of the previous year, expecting some action from Black. Although it was not publicised, he himself, of course, knew that he was the fourth person in the coterie that had thrown Black in jail without a trial, and the other two who were still alive had suffered. Of course, their suffering was unequal, and as time passed he had begun to hope that he would not suffer at all. Eventually he had even forgotten all about Black - out of sight, out of mind.

"Come in, Barty", said Bones, "please sit down. We have much to discuss."

The next twenty minutes were spent in a rambling discussion of something the muggle Chinese government was apparently doing to several million of their own citizens, which of course included several thousand magicals, and the Chinese magical government was turning a blind eye to this. The magicals affected had so far not rocked the "statute of secrecy" boat, but there was every possibility that within a day or so their situation would become so untenable (due to the muggle government cracking down on some slight, real or imagined, to their "glorious" leader) that the statute would be bound to be broken.

Barty, of course, as a polyglot and a diplomat of several years standing, was the perfect person to be called for this, but he could not quite understand why the British magical government was doing anything, instead of letting the ICW deal with it.

As he was trying to articulate this, a lynx patronus arrived, and mouthed the single word: "yes".

A wand-tip poked out of an invisibility cloak in a corner of the room, and a quiet spell snatched Crouch's wand away from his sleeve.

Crouch stood up in outrage, knowing, yet not accepting, what was certain to have happened.

September 10, 1992

The trial of the two Crouches made headlines, not least because no one was prepared to reveal how anyone even found out what the elder one had done all those many years ago.

Barty Crouch, senior, even while in a holding cell, managed to use his connections to get the low-down on what had happened at his residence while he was being fed a line of top class bull by Madam Bones, but it seemed no one really knew how he had been suspected in the first place.

Anyhow, it seemed that Senior Auror Shacklebolt, with four of his colleagues, and two more disillusioned, had politely knocked on the door. As soon as the elf answered the door, he had been hit by six over-powered stunners, then the team had rapidly moved into the house, spreading out and clearing rooms until they had found Crouch, junior.

The house-elf magic that was forcing him to stay in the room had actually broken as soon as the stunners had hit Winky, but Crouch, junior, had not known that. If he had, he would have at least attempted to escape, maybe even defend himself; as it was, he was captured very uneventfully, stunned in more than one sense of the word when the aurors appeared at his door.

The trial, of course, revealed all the secrets that Crouch, senior, had kept hidden all these years, and it looked as if the court was leaning toward giving his son the veil, and him into Azkaban for life.

But they had reckoned without Lord Black.

He waited to be recognised by the Chief Warlock - Tiberius Ogden - and then spoke.

"As the only person to have been placed in Azkaban unjustly, and since it was largely due to the complete and utter failure of this man to do his job as DMLE head properly, I believe I have a right to interject."

"If his only fault", he continued after a pause, "were that he threw me in jail, you might - I wouldn't, but you might - still think of it as the over-zealousness of a lawman who had seen far too much death, professionally and personally, and was growing a bit lax in his application of the principles by which a just society deals with criminals."

"And you have all been thinking exactly that, all these months since I was proven to be innocent, otherwise how did no one arrest him for his behaviour toward me. It was… condoned, for lack of a better word, because of his track record and how he was always seen as being a fighter for the light."

"Well", he sneered at them all, "now you see what he actually was, and what his principles actually were. For everyone else in the world, there's one law, and for himself and his son, there's quite a different one."

He paused once again, and Chief Warlock Ogden interrupted.

"What would you have us do, Lord Black? The veil? A dementor's kiss? This kind of situation has never happened before, and his actual crime is somewhat mitigated by the fact that he never allowed his son out of the house, and - except for the lack of dementors - his son was nevertheless a prisoner."

Sirius saw red.

"How dare you, Chief Warlock? How dare you compare the room he was found in - a proper bed, food under a warming charm, butterbeer bottles, an attached bathroom, even - with the accommodations in Azkaban and say with a straight face that he was a prisoner. He even bathes and shaves every day, as far as I can tell. No sir, if any of you think that is Azkaban, I will ask you to spend just one week, one measly week, in the real place. Are there any takers?"

Dead silence. As Sirius knew, of course, there would be.

"Since you have already decided on the veil for him, I will speak no more of the son, but for the father, I have a simple solution."

He paused for effect, looking all round the room. It was good thing Dumbledore was not here, and not even allowed here, any more, after last year's events - no doubt he would have spouted some holier-than-thou rubbish to try and get his co-conspirator off.

"Since Crouch is already stuffed to the gills with veritaserum, I say we simply ask him what punishment he would have recommended if someone else had done what he has done. And let us make sure to remind him of the crimes of the person that was released when we ask him that question."

There was no way anyone could object to that. Firstly, the gallery was all for it, judging from the cheering that came from there. More than that, it was, on the face of it, an eminently fair way of passing judgement - let the criminal judge himself, with veritaserum ensuring that he could not dissemble, of course.

Only a very few knew how vicious and cruel Crouch, senior, actually was, and they knew his goose was cooked, just as they also knew that fact could not be used as an argument against this course of action.

By the time court ended, Crouch, senior, had sentenced himself to the veil. Sirius asked for the pleasure of being the designated Wizengamot observor for the execution, and walked along the bound and silenced prisoner on the long walk through the department of mysteries.

Crouch, junior, was pushed in first, ensuring that the father knew he had failed in his promise to his wife. When it was his turn, he stopped on the top step, turned, and motioned to his mouth.

There were dozens of wands in the room, and he did not have one, so the auror in charge of the process removed the silencing spell.

"I would like to know how anyone found out about this. I see no way this could have happened. I know my fate is sealed, but I would like to know this before I go."

Sirius started laughing, controlled himself with great difficulty, then spoke.

"Your orders to your elf were too specific, and so your son was able to ask your elf to do pretty much anything except the two things you had expressly forbidden. Did you know he was listening to your conversation with Dumbledore the day that jackass came and told you that Voldemort was back and had possessed a defence professor? He did, and then the moron asked your elf for quill and parchment, and wrote a letter to whoever he thought was being possessed by his master!"

Crouch hung his head. Dumbledore's stupidity, and his own arrogance in not recognising the loopholes in his orders to his elf, had done him in.

He turned and stepped off the edge, tumbling into the veil in slow motion, unlamented by anyone, soon to be forgotten.

September 11, 1992

"But padfoot, how did you intercept the letters he sent?", asked Harry, after Sirius had told him and Hermione everything that had happened the day before, including the parts that were not for the public, like his last conversation with Crouch.

Sirius grinned. "I did not have to intercept any letters", he said mysteriously.

Harry remained puzzled. He looked at his best friend, to see what she thought of Sirius's non-answer.

She had her normal "I am working out something, don't disturb me" frown on her face. A long minute later, her brow cleared.

She had one question for Sirius. "Quirrell was being possessed by Voldemort, right?"

Sirius nodded gravely.

Shock and surprise quickly gave way to mirth, and soon Hermione was laughing loudly.

Sirius started laughing too, knowing she had got it. Harry looked plaintively at Hermione, waiting for her explanation. He did not have to wait long.

"It's simple, Harry, though it took me some time because I did not realise Dumbledore would come up with something so stupid. He came to the right conclusion - about how the curse was broken, and he told Crouch, senior, which junior overheard. But he had the wrong professor! As a result, Barty junior's letters to his 'Lord' were sent to Sirius, hence no interception!"

A/N: yes yes I know canon does not appear to support this theory, but it's certainly a plausible one, and the effect of it on Dumbledore, with his penchant for grand mistakes, was too delicious to ignore!

Apologies for the huge gap, but that's life :-( I hope to have the next one out without that much of a delay. Fingers crossed!