The Difference in Reality [A Harry Potter Fanfiction]

Year 4: Chapter 11

Sam seemed to be avoid Willow the next day, but whether that was because he had been avoiding everyone or specifically her, she didn't know. What she did know is that she would have to corner to shady Gryffindor, and fast. Draco was acting increasingly subdued, which could only mean the return of the Death Eaters' reign of terror was growing even closer. Willow had to figure out what Sam was up to before Molly rose to power and stole him away to the darker side of the wizarding world.

Sally, meanwhile, was beginning to lighten up after her astonishingly quick bout with her cold. She actually spent more time hanging out with the Gryffindor Sisters of Sunday than she'd spent with them all year. Although she still had her odd habit of talking with Professor Moody, learning some extra defensive spells and the like, she remained the same bright, overbearing Gryffindor she'd always been. Willow was glad to see the positive change in her friend. It had been so long since Sally looked genuinely happy.

That Sunday evening, after dinner, Harry caught up to Willow on her way to the common room. He mumbled something about needing to talk about Snuffles. Willow grinned knowingly. They elected to head to the Owlery, where they wouldn't be overheard. They waited patiently for a Ravenclaw boy to finish sending a message to his grandfather, then entered, finding the coast completely clear.

"You talked to Sirius too, then," Willow assumed.

"I still don't know what he's thinking, coming so close to Hogsmeade, let alone Hogwarts," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm terrified he'll get caught this time. He seems more careless than usual."

"He's desperate, that's all," Willow said.

"I guess that's understandable, after what's been coming to light," Harry grumbled.

"What do you mean?"

Harry launched into an explanation of his conversation with Sirius. Apparently, the organizer of the Triwizard Tournament, Barty Crouch, had been stricken with a horrible sickness lately. He hadn't been into the Ministry for weeks. Even Percy Weasley, his personal assistant, hadn't heard from him. Yet he'd been sneaking around Hogwarts, hardly something a person would do that was too sick to attend his own International Tournament. And Mr. Crouch had a rather dramatic past: he'd been an iron-fisted auror that paved the way for the usage of immense force, including the Unforgivable Curses, to bring in Death Eaters during the peak of Voldemort's power. Many wizards applauded his efforts, which succeeded after years of chaos and Ministry failure, so he was poised to become the next Minister of Magic. But right before he could get the job, it came out that his son was a Death Eater himself. Mr. Crouch threw his own son in Azkaban, who later died, and the grief drove his wife to her grave, too. Crouch lost everything at the height of his career. People began to question how his poor boy had gone so wrong at only nineteen years of age. They blamed it on his ambition for his career; he should have spent more time at home. So he got shoved aside into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Willow sat back, stunned. "That man...with that questionable background...started this Tournament from Hell? And now he's mysteriously missing in action? I'm starting to think he's behind this plot to get you into the Tournament, Harry."

"Me too," Harry admitted. "Though it might not be him acting alone. Ludo Bagman has been really making an effort to help me win, even though that's breaking the rules."

"That's not concerning at all," Willow said sarcastically.

"I know. It's all starting to come together, but we don't have all the pieces."

"I'm not sure I want to have all the pieces. If we figure it out, the person behind this just might make sure you die for the sake of their career."