The Goblet of Fire

by J. K. Rowling

  ‘So you took the wand,’ said Dumbledore, ‘and what did you do with it?’

  ‘We went back to the tent,’ said Crouch. ‘Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They had turned their backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. They were free to seek him, but they did not. They were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent, he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.

  ‘Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the Spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned.

  ‘When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had been found, and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put me back under the Imperius Curse, and took me home. He dismissed Winky. She had failed him. She had let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me escape.’

  Winky let out a wail of despair.

  ‘Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then … and then …’ Crouch’s head rolled on his neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. ‘My master came for me.

  ‘He arrived at our house late one night, in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant – perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.’

  The smile spread wider over Crouch’s face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. Winky’s petrified brown eyes were visible through her fingers. She seemed too appalled to speak.

  ‘It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn’t been in years.’

  ‘And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?’ said Dumbledore.

  ‘He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the Cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first –’

  ‘You needed Alastor Moody,’ said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm.

  ‘Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the Potion. I drank it, I became Moody’s double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set the dustbins off. Then I packed up Moody’s clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole Boomslang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it.’

  ‘And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?’ said Dumbledore.

  ‘Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father’s house, and to keep watch over my father.’

  ‘But your father escaped,’ said Dumbledore.

  ‘Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods where he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban.

  ‘My master sent me word of my father’s escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything.’

  ‘Map?’ said Dumbledore quickly. ‘What map is this?’

  ‘Potter’s map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape’s office one night. He thought I was my father as we have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape.

  ‘For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak, and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the Forest. Then Potter came, and Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter, my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I Stunned Krum. I killed my father.’

  ‘Noooo!’ wailed Winky. ‘Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you saying?’

  ‘You killed your father,’ Dumbledore said, in the same soft voice. ‘What did you do with the body?’

  ‘Carried it into the Forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the Forest, doubled round behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come.

  ‘Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father’s body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father’s body. He became a bone … I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid’s cabin.’

  There was complete silence now, except for Winky’s continued sobs.

  Then Dumbledore said, ‘And tonight …’

  ‘I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner,’ whispered Barty Crouch. ‘Turned it into a Portkey. My master’s plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honoured by him beyond the dreams of wizards.’

  The insane smile lit his features once more, and his head drooped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side.

  — CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX —

  The Parting of the Ways

  Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then he raised his wand once more and ropes flew out of it, ropes which twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, binding him tightly.

  He turned to Professor McGonagall. ‘Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry up
stairs?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Professor McGonagall. She looked slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched someone being sick. However, when she drew out her wand and pointed it at Barty Crouch, her hand was quite steady.

  ‘Severus,’ Dumbledore turned to Snape, ‘please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here. We need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour’s time if he needs me.’

  Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room.

  ‘Harry?’ Dumbledore said gently.

  Harry got up and swayed again; the pain in his leg, which he had not noticed all the time he had listened to Crouch, now returned in full measure. He also realised that he was shaking. Dumbledore gripped his arm, and helped him out into the dark corridor.

  ‘I want you to come up to my office first, Harry,’ he said quietly, as they headed up the passageway. ‘Sirius is waiting for us there.’

  Harry nodded. A kind of numbness and a sense of complete unreality were upon him, but he did not care; he was even glad of it. He didn’t want to have to think about anything that had happened since he had first touched the Triwizard Cup. He didn’t want to have to examine the memories, fresh and sharp as photographs, which kept flashing across his mind. Mad-Eye Moody, inside the trunk. Wormtail, slumped on the ground, cradling his stump of an arm. Voldemort, rising from the steaming cauldron. Cedric … dead … Cedric, asking to be returned to his parents …

  ‘Professor,’ Harry mumbled, ‘where are Mr and Mrs Diggory?’

  ‘They are with Professor Sprout,’ said Dumbledore. His voice, which had been so calm throughout the interrogation of Barty Crouch, shook very slightly for the first time. ‘She was Head of Cedric’s house, and knew him best.’

  They had reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore gave the password, it sprang aside, and he and Harry went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open.

  Sirius was standing there. His face was white and gaunt as it had been when he had escaped Azkaban. In one swift moment, he had crossed the room. ‘Harry, are you all right? I knew it – I knew something like this – what happened?’

  His hands shook as he helped Harry into a chair in front of the desk.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked, more urgently.

  Dumbledore began to tell Sirius everything Barty Crouch had said. Harry was only half listening. So tired every bone in his body was aching, he wanted nothing more than to sit here, undisturbed, for hours and hours, until he fell asleep, and didn’t have to think or feel any more.

  There was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix had left his perch, flown across the office, and landed on Harry’s knee.

  ‘’Lo, Fawkes,’ said Harry quietly. He stroked the phoenix’s beautiful scarlet and gold plumage. Fawkes blinked peacefully up at him. There was something comforting about his warm weight.

  Dumbledore had stopped talking. He sat down opposite Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who avoided his eyes. Dumbledore was going to question him. He was going to make Harry relive everything.

  ‘I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry,’ said Dumbledore.

  ‘We can leave that ’til morning, can’t we, Dumbledore?’ said Sirius harshly. He had put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. ‘Let him have a sleep. Let him rest.’

  Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Sirius, but Dumbledore took no notice of Sirius’ words. He leant forward towards Harry. Very unwillingly, Harry raised his head, and looked into those blue eyes.

  ‘If I thought I could help you,’ Dumbledore said gently, ‘by putting you into an enchanted sleep, and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened.’

  The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and Harry felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down his throat into his stomach, warming him, and strengthening him.

  He took a deep breath, and began to tell them. As he spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night seemed to rise before his eyes; he saw the sparkling surface of the Potion which had revived Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating between the graves around them; he saw Cedric’s body, lying on the ground beside the Cup.

  Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry’s shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and Harry was glad of this, because it was easier to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; he felt almost as though something poisonous was being extracted from him; it was costing him every bit of determination he had to keep talking, yet he sensed that once he had finished, he would feel better.

  When Harry told of Wormtail piercing his arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation; and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry started. Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry showed them both the place where his robes were torn, and the cut beneath them.

  ‘He said my blood would make him stronger than if he’d used someone else’s,’ Harry told Dumbledore. ‘He said the protection my – my mother left in me – he’d have it, too. And he was right – he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.’

  For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. But next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, sitting down again. ‘Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please.’

  Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he could remember of Voldemort’s speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel.

  But when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort’s wands, he found his throat obstructed. He tried to keep talking, but the memories of what had come out of Voldemort’s wand were flooding into his mind. He could see Cedric emerging, see the old man, Bertha Jorkins … his mother … his father …

  He was glad when Sirius broke the silence.

  ‘The wands connected?’ he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. ‘Why?’

  Harry looked up again at Dumbledore, on whose face there was an arrested look.

  ‘Priori Incantatem,’ he muttered.

  His eyes gazed into Harry’s and it was almost as though an invisible beam of understanding shot between them.

  ‘The reverse spell effect?’ said Sirius sharply.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Harry’s wand and Voldemort’s wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,’ he added, and he pointed at the scarlet and gold bird, perching peacefully on Harry’s knee.

  ‘My wand’s feather came from Fawkes?’ Harry said, amazed.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Mr Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago.’

  ‘So what happens when a wand meets its brother?’ said Sirius.

  ‘They will not work properly against each other,’ said Dumbledore. ‘If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle … a very rare effect will take place.

  ‘One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed – in reverse. The most recent first … and then those which preceded it …’

  He looked interrogatively at Harry, and Harr
y nodded.

  ‘Which means,’ said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes upon Harry’s face, ‘that some form of Cedric must have reappeared.’

  Harry nodded again.

  ‘Diggory came back to life?’ said Sirius sharply.

  ‘No spell can reawaken the dead,’ said Dumbledore heavily. ‘All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand … am I correct, Harry?’

  ‘He spoke to me,’ Harry said. He was suddenly shaking again. ‘The … the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke.’

  ‘An echo,’ said Dumbledore, ‘which retained Cedric’s appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared … less recent victims of Voldemort’s wand …’

  ‘An old man,’ Harry said, his throat still constricted. ‘Bertha Jorkins. And …’

  ‘Your parents?’ said Dumbledore quietly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Harry.

  Sirius’ grip on Harry’s shoulder was now so tight it was painful.

  ‘The last murders the wand performed,’ said Dumbledore, nodding. ‘In reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows … what did they do?’

  Harry described how the figures which had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry’s father had told him what to do, how Cedric’s had made its final request.

  At this point, Harry found he could not continue. He looked around at Sirius, and saw that he had his face in his hands.

  Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left his knee. The phoenix had fluttered to the floor. It was resting its beautiful head against Harry’s injured leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto the wound left by the spider. The pain vanished. The skin mended. His leg was repaired.

  ‘I will say it again,’ said Dumbledore, as the phoenix rose into the air, and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. ‘You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found yourself equal to it – and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace … Sirius, would you like to stay with him?’