Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0452 End of This Night

Amos Diggory, Cedric Diggory's father, suggested going up to the box to take a look. Strangely, Mr. Crouch, who had been practically vibrating with fierce indignation moments earlier, now seemed oddly disinterested in Amos's proposal.

The witch in the dressing gown shook her head, her graying hair catching the eerie green light cast by the Dark Mark overhead. Her words seemed to solve the puzzle of Harry's confusion, at least momentarily.

"Don't bother, Amos, whoever conjured that... that thing," she gestured towards the sky with a slight shudder, "has surely Disapparated by now. We're chasing shadows."

Amos Diggory, however, was not so easily dissuaded. His eyes, glinting with determination, remained focused on the box high above them.

"I don't think so," he countered firmly. "If they wanted to leave, the prankster - if that's what we're dealing with - would have gone already." He paused, his brow furrowing in thought. "I suspect they're either severely injured and unable to move, or they've just regained consciousness. Either way, we can't leave any stone unturned."

Mr. Diggory flexed his wrist, his wand at the ready. It was clear from his stance that he had made his decision. Seemingly believing the twisted and precarious stairway to the box unsafe, he Disapparated directly up there. Harry squinted, noticing Mr. Diggory appear on the outer side of the box. Amos gripped the twisted, deformed railing with one hand, and with his other hand, he pointed his illuminated wand into the pitch-black interior of the box.

The assembled group below held their collective breath, waiting for any sign of danger or discovery. Seconds ticked by, feeling like hours in the tense silence. No spells were fired at Mr. Diggory from inside the box, which could either be a good sign or a trap waiting to be sprung.

After a brief but thorough observation, Amos seemed satisfied that no immediate threat lurked inside. He put his wand between his teeth, freeing both hands to carefully move over the railing. The metal groaned ominously under his weight, a stark reminder of how precarious the situation truly was.

Suddenly, the eerie quiet was shattered by a startled cry from Mr. Diggory. "Ouch!" His voice echoed through the quiet Quidditch pitch, causing everyone below to tense up immediately.

The Ministry officials, their nerves already frayed by the night's events, all snapped to attention, pointing their wands upwards at the box in a synchronized motion.

Mr. Weasley, his balding head shining slightly in the ghostly green light of the Dark Mark, called out loudly, "What's happening, Amos? Do you need backup?" His hand tightened on his wand, ready to Apparate to Amos's aid at a moment's notice.

"It's nothing, it's nothing," Mr. Diggory's voice floated down from inside the box, sounding slightly flustered and out of breath. "I stepped into a hole and almost fell to the next level - nasty surprise, that." There was a pause, filled only by the sound of shifting debris. "Don't come up, Arthur. This structure can't handle any more weight! It's like a game of Exploding Snap up here - one wrong move and the whole thing might come down!"

As Mr. Diggory continued his search, the box emitted a continuous symphony of creaks and groans, each sound making those below wince in anticipation of a catastrophic collapse. The Ministry officials relaxed their stances slightly but remained highly alert, their eyes never leaving the box above.

Harry, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation, wanted to call out to Mr. Diggory, to ask him to keep an eye out for his wand. But given the gravity of the current situation, he bit his tongue, knowing that his lost wand was the least of their worries right now.

Suddenly, Amos's voice rang out again, this time with a note of discovery. "Ah, got something here. There's a... oh, unconscious. Ouch... my goodness!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged quick, worried glances, their young faces pale in the eerie light. Mr. Crouch, who had been unnaturally still and quiet, suddenly called out in a tone of utter disbelief, his usual composure cracking,

"You've caught someone? Who is it, Amos? Who's up there?"

Before Mr. Crouch's shout had even finished echoing around the decimated Quidditch pitch, the air in front of them exploded unexpectedly with a resounding BANG! Mr. Diggory materialized amidst an expanding cloud of dust and debris, holding a small, limp body in his arms.

As the dust began to settle, Harry's eyes widened in shock as he immediately recognized the figure by its distinctive bat-like ears. His breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears. Beside him, Hermione let out a small gasp, covering her mouth with her hand and taking an involuntary step backward.

Barty Crouch stood rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the house-elf as Amos gently placed it at his feet. For several long, agonizing seconds, Crouch remained motionless, as if he had been hit with a Petrificus Totalus curse. His already pale face seemed to drain of what little color it had left, his fiery eyes were locked onto the unconscious figure of Winky, his house-elf, lying motionless on the ground before him.

The other Ministry officials all turned to look at Barty Crouch, their expressions a mix of shock, disbelief, and growing suspicion.

When Mr. Diggory had first found Winky, she must have been lying face-down, which had mercifully protected her front from further harm. But her back... Harry felt his stomach lurch as he took in the full extent of her injuries. It was a sight no less horrifying than that of the unfortunate wizard they had seen in the forest earlier.

The house-elf's back was a mess of raw, blistered flesh, unmistakably the result of Professor Watson's powerful magic. The wounds were covered in bloody scabs, some fresh and others already beginning to heal. Given the normal timeline of injury and recovery, the wounds shouldn't have progressed to this stage of healing. It was clear that the little creature must have regained consciousness at some point after the initial injury and taken desperate measures to prevent her own demise.

"This— this is impossible," Barty Crouch finally broke his silence, his words coming out in a stutter, so unlike his usual crisp, authoritative tone. "Impossible!!"

Before anyone could react, before a single word of caution could be uttered, Crouch's face contorted with a mixture of disbelief and something that looked unsettlingly like fear. With another resounding BANG, he Disapparated, reappearing a split second later in the precariously balanced box above.

"It's no use, Mr. Crouch—" Amos Diggory called up, his voice tinged with exasperation and a hint of concern. "I've checked thoroughly, there's no one else up there!"

But Diggory's shout fell on deaf ears. The creaking sounds emanating from the box intensified, a clear indication that Mr. Crouch was conducting his own frantic search, unable or unwilling to accept the reality of the situation.

Amos Diggory's face hardened as he looked down at Winky's unconscious form, his expression a mixture of stern disapproval and barely concealed embarrassment. "This is rather... uncomfortable," he said, choosing his words carefully but unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "Barty Crouch's house-elf, of all creatures. It's a delicate situation, I mean."

Mr. Weasley spoke up quietly, his kind face creased with worry. "Now, now, Amos," he said, his tone pacifying. "Surely you don't really think the elf did it? The Dark Mark is a wizard's sign. It requires a wand and complex magic far beyond the capabilities of a house-elf."

"Yes, well, about that," Amos replied, his eyebrows raised significantly as he reached into his pocket. With a curl, he produced a wand, holding it up for all to see. "She was holding this when I found her."

Harry's eyes widened in shock and relief as he recognized the familiar wand. "That's my wand!" he exclaimed, unable to contain himself. He stepped forward, gratefully taking it back from Mr. Diggory and examined it closely. "I thought it was surely ruined in all this chaos!"

Amos merely shrugged at Mr. Weasley, his expression grim. "You see, Arthur," he said, his tone taking on a more official air, "the elf had a wand. This is a clear violation of Clause Three of the Code of Wand Use: No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand. The law is quite clear on this matter."

Just then, with another pop, Barty Crouch Apparated next to Mr. Weasley. It was immediately apparent that his search of the box had yielded nothing. His hands were visibly shaking, and even his meticulously groomed toothbrush mustache seemed to be twitching.

The situation now seemed painfully clear to all present. As one, the Ministry officials turned their collective gaze to the unconscious Winky on the ground, their expressions a mix of confusion, suspicion, and in some cases, barely concealed disdain. Some, however, couldn't help but cast covert glances at Barty Crouch, clearly wondering how this would affect the career of the famously strict and by-the-book Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Mr. Diggory, seemingly considering himself the hero of the hour for uncovering this potential conspiracy, showed a small, smug smile. His chest puffed out slightly as he addressed the group, focusing particularly on Barty Crouch.

"If you have no objections, Mr. Crouch," he said, his tone formal but with an undercurrent of excitement, "I think we should wake her up and hear what she has to say for herself."

Crouch showed no visible reaction to this suggestion, his face was unreadable. But Hermione looked at Amos in surprise and growing indignation.

"But sir," she interjected, her voice trembling slightly but gaining strength as she spoke, "the house-elf is severely injured. Surely the humane thing would be to treat her first? I mean, she can't possibly answer questions coherently in this state."

Amos raised an eyebrow at Hermione's outburst, regarding her as if she'd just suggested they all take a break for a picnic. But perhaps considering Barty Crouch's position and delicate feelings, he adopted a more amiable tone.

"That would indeed be the normal procedure, young miss, but you must understand, tonight we've suffered a major loss. The appearance of the Dark Mark is no small matter. We must quickly determine if this house-elf is an accomplice or... something more."

With that ominous statement hanging in the air, Amos pointed his own wand at Winky's prone form. "Rennervate!"

The effect was immediate. Winky stirred feebly, her small form twitching as consciousness returned. She seemed to want to turn over, perhaps to position herself, but this slight movement aggravated her extensive back wounds. Winky let out a heart-wrenching howl of pain, her cries of anguish quavering through the night air.

Mr. Diggory didn't wait for Winky to fully regain her senses or for her pain to subside. Instead, he 'helped' her again, directly waving his wand to flip her over and levitate her slightly off the ground.

As Winky's large, tennis-ball sized eyes fluttered open and she realized who was surrounding her, her cries were suddenly cut off as if someone had cast a Silencing Charm. She stared with blank, wide eyes, her expression frozen in a grimace of fear and shock, as if an invisible hand had grabbed her by the throat.

Harry, watching this scene unfold with growing unease, suddenly felt someone grasp his arm. Turning his head, he saw it was Hermione. Her face was a picture of distress, her slight frame swaying in the night breeze as if the weight of what she was witnessing was too much to bear. Harry pursed his lips, feeling a mixture of helplessness and anger. He watched Winky being interrogated, desperately wanting to offer help but not knowing how, or if he even could in this situation.

....

*scenebreak*

Later, outside Sirius's tent, after Mr. Weasley had given them a stern warning about staying out of trouble and hurriedly left with his Ministry colleagues to deal with the aftermath of the night's events, Hermione could no longer contain her outrage.

"I can't believe Barty Crouch would do that!" she roared, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Her bushy hair seemed to crackle with indignation as she paced back and forth in front of Harry and Ron.

"There's no substantial evidence proving Winky cast that spell. None! But Barty Crouch just... just dismissed her like that, without a second thought! He didn't even want to treat the injuries of someone who had been loyally serving him for years. What does he think house-elves are, disposable slaves?"

Ron, leaning against the tent pole with his arms crossed, seemed surprisingly nonchalant about the house-elf's fate. He calmly said, "You've hit the nail on the head there, Hermione, whether you meant to or not."

Seeing Hermione's confused look, he elaborated, his voice matter-of-fact. "House-elves are slaves to their masters. It's been that way for centuries. To be honest, Crouch dismissing her might actually be a good thing for her in the long run."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Ron held up a hand, his expression unusually serious. "Hear me out, Hermione. If she were really taken back to the Ministry for questioning, well..." He paused, his freckled face scrunching up as if he was trying to find the right words. "My dad told me about some of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' methods. They're not exactly known for their gentle touch, especially when it comes to non-human magical beings suspected of dark magic use."

Ron's voice dropped to a near whisper, his blue eyes darting around as if afraid someone might overhear. "The way Dad describes it, if Winky had been taken in for official questioning, she probably wouldn't have left there alive. At least not with her mind intact."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, her face paling visibly even in the dim light outside the tent. She stared at Ron, apparently at a loss for words. It was clear that she hadn't expected the Ministry's treatment of non-human magical creatures to be quite so brutal.

"I hope Dobby doesn't end up like that," Harry, who had been silent up until now sighed deeply looking up at the deep night sky.

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