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The Starlord - Chapter - 54
🕑 Added 2025-10-20 15:08:14 +0000 UTCThe Shrieking Shack stood in its usual eerie silence, the broken windows rattling faintly in the cold evening wind. The gray light of dusk spilled through the cracks in the roof, painting the ruined floorboards with streaks of silver and shadow.
Inside, three figures sat close together on a splintered wooden bench — Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Harry Potter. In front of them, spread across a makeshift table of cracked boards, was the Marauder’s Map, glowing faintly in the dim light. The ink pulsed softly like a heartbeat, the countless dots moving across the parchment — hundreds of names, hundreds of lives going about their business within Hogwarts.
Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his unshaven face lit by the faint glow. “It’s been years since I last saw this old thing,” he murmured, eyes scanning the familiar lines. “Every secret passage, every ghost, every hidden room… it’s all still here. Just like we left it.”
Remus gave a small, nostalgic smile. “We didn’t make it to last forever,” he said softly, “but it looks like it’s outlived all of us except one.”
Harry’s eyes flicked between them before resting on the map again. “So, why are you two here? You said you had something important.”
Sirius nodded slowly, his expression hardening. “I have a feeling, Harry. Something big is about to happen at Hogwarts tonight. I don’t know what, but my gut’s been screaming since dawn. And my gut’s kept me alive more than a few times.”
Harry frowned. “You think it has to do with the Tournament?”
“I’d bet my wand on it,” Sirius said. “You’ve been telling me for weeks about Moody acting strange, about Crouch showing up where he shouldn’t. All those things don’t happen by chance.”
Remus leaned closer, his calm tone contrasting Sirius’s rough energy. “When Sirius contacted me this morning, I agreed. There’s a pattern. Crouch disappears, the map shows two of him, Moody appears at the wrong time — and all of it leads up to today. The final task.”
Harry nodded, eyes cold. “Then we’ll watch. Whoever’s behind this will show themselves eventually.”
He pointed to the map. The moving names shimmered faintly in the candlelight. “I’ve been watching Moody’s position all day. He hasn’t left his office once.”
Sirius rubbed his chin. “Or someone doesn’t want you to think he has. If Polyjuice is involved, that map should still tell the difference between two magical signatures.”
Remus gave a quiet hum of agreement. “There are spells old enough to confuse ward-linked enchantments. Not many wizards know them anymore, but some of Voldemort’s inner circle might.”
The name hung in the air like smoke. None of them spoke for a moment.
Finally, Sirius exhaled sharply. “Well, whatever trick he’s using, we’ll find him. That’s what this is for.” He tapped the map lightly. “Our best creation.”
Harry’s eyes didn’t leave the parchment. “So we watch.”
For a long time, the only sounds were the creak of the old house, the distant wind, and the occasional rustle of parchment as the map shifted with new movement. The three of them leaned in closer, scanning every corner — the Great Hall, the corridors, the moving staircases.
Remus broke the silence first, his voice gentle. “Harry, does anyone know you’re gone?”
Harry shook his head. “Hermione and Neville might notice eventually, but I’ve told Dobby to cover for me. He’ll tell them I’m busy with something.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “You trust him with that much?”
Harry gave a small nod. “Dobby and Winky are loyal. They watch everything when I can’t. If Moody or Crouch makes a move, I’ll know.”
Sirius smirked faintly. “You’ve turned into quite the little strategist, haven’t you?”
Harry didn’t smile back. His gaze was still fixed on the map, unblinking. “Planning keeps me alive. It’s not a game anymore.”
Remus sighed softly, studying him. “You sound more like… like James during the war. Focused. Determined. But also…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “…hard.”
Harry’s eyes flicked toward him. “It’s not hardness, Remus. It’s clarity.”
Remus said nothing more, but the worry in his eyes deepened.
Minutes stretched into an hour. Dust floated lazily in the shafts of fading light. Every few seconds, Sirius or Remus would whisper a name aloud — checking, confirming, cross-referencing the map’s flickering ink. The maze outside the castle was alive with motion, Aurors and champions moving in and out of its perimeter.
But something in the castle itself was off.
Harry’s eyes narrowed suddenly. “There,” he said quietly, tapping a section of the map with his finger. “Look.”
Sirius leaned in. “That’s near the Forbidden Forest.”
There — near the edge of the Forbidden Forest — three names pulsed faintly in the ink.
Barty Crouch.
Barty Crouch.
Alastor Moody.
Remus’s brow furrowed. “Merlin’s beard… there are three of them together?”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “Exactly. Two Barty Crouches and one Moody, right on the edge of the forest. They’re not supposed to be there.”
Sirius looked at him sharply. “You think they’re moving to escape?”
Harry’s green eyes flicked up from the map to meet Sirius’s gaze. “What have I been saying all month? They’ve been using the Triwizard Tournament as cover — the visitors, the Ministry, all the chaos. Everyone’s too distracted to notice what’s happening under their noses.”
Remus’s voice was calm but tense. “If they cross into the deeper forest, the map won’t track them. It only covers the castle and the first boundary of the grounds.”
Harry nodded, folding the parchment quickly. “Exactly. Once they move past that line, they disappear — and we lose them for good.”
Sirius stood abruptly, his chair scraping across the floorboards. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Harry already had his cloak in hand. “We go now.”
The old boards of the Shrieking Shack groaned under their hurried steps. Dust swirled in their wake as they moved toward the hidden passage beneath the floor. Sirius lifted the loose panel that led to the tunnel and glanced back. “You sure this is the best idea, kid?”
Harry met his gaze, cold determination in his eyes. “If we don’t move now, we’ll regret it.”
Remus gave a small, resigned nod. “He’s right. Whatever they’re planning, it’s happening tonight.”
Without another word, they descended into the darkness of the tunnel — Sirius first, wand alight with a dim blue glow; Remus following silently; Harry behind them, clutching the folded map like a weapon. The narrow earthen walls echoed with their footsteps as they moved quickly through the passage that led straight toward the Whomping Willow.
The sound of distant thunder rumbled above them. The night was closing in fast.
When they reached the end, Sirius pushed aside the trapdoor and peered out. The Whomping Willow’s branches swayed slowly in the evening wind, the protection charm already deactivated by Harry’s quick wand motion.
They slipped out one by one, crouching low behind the slope. From their vantage point, they could see the distant glow of the maze torches lighting the Quidditch Pitch — and beyond that, the dark line of the Forbidden Forest, stretching deep into shadow.
Harry unfolded the map again, scanning it quickly. The three names were moving now — slowly but steadily toward the far edge of the forest, just past the outer boundary of the school’s wards.
“Still there,” he muttered. “But not for long.”
Sirius’s eyes flicked from the map to the distant treeline. “That’s a long run. Can you Apparate closer?”
Harry shook his head. “The school wards block it. We’ll have to move fast.”
Remus adjusted his cloak. “Then we move.”
They exchanged one last glance — the quiet understanding of three people who knew they might not come back the same.
Then Harry folded the map, tucked it inside his robes, and whispered, “Let’s go.”
The maze lights flickered behind them, laughter and cheers echoing faintly across the grounds — the world celebrating a tournament, unaware that in the darkness beyond, a far deadlier game had already begun.
Harry moved silently between Sirius and Remus, eyes fixed ahead. The Marauder’s Map glowed faintly in his hand, its ink pulsing as if it shared his heartbeat. The three names they had been following were now close — too close.
When they emerged from behind a cluster of trees, they saw them.
Two men, half-bent under the weight of a massive, iron-bound trunk, were trudging through the damp undergrowth.
One of them was unmistakable — Barty Crouch Sr., face pale and drawn, his movements jerky as though he were half-conscious. The other, walking ahead of him, was Alastor Moody, his wooden leg thudding softly against the earth.
“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered. “That’s why they’re slow.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “The trunk’s heavy. And look—Crouch isn’t walking right. He’s under some kind of control spell.”
Sirius’s wand was already in his hand. “Then where’s the other one? The map said three names.”
Remus, crouched low beside them, frowned. His eyes flicked between the two men, then to the trunk — large enough to fit a person inside. His voice was a quiet whisper.
“Wait… think about it. Why carry a trunk that big this far into the forest?”
Sirius frowned. “You think they’re hiding something?”
Remus’s expression darkened as the realization struck. “No. Not something… someone.”
He leaned closer, whispering urgently. “That trunk. The real Alastor Moody is inside it. The one walking there—” he pointed toward the limping figure— “isn’t Moody at all. He’s Barty Crouch Jr., using Polyjuice.”
Sirius blinked, his grip on his wand tightening. “You’re sure?”
Remus nodded grimly. “It fits everything. The Imperius on Crouch Sr., the missing time, the map showing two Crouches… and this trunk. Moody’s supposed to keep dangerous artifacts locked away, remember? No one would question it if it’s his.”
Sirius exhaled slowly, the old Auror instincts kicking in. “Alright. How do we play this?”
Before Harry could answer, both men turned toward him.
“Not we, Harry,” Sirius said firmly. “You stay back. This isn’t your fight.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m going to argue?”
Remus gave him a faint, nervous smile. “You usually do.”
Harry stepped back, tucking the map safely inside his cloak. “Fine. Have your fun. Just make it quick — he’s dangerous.”
Sirius grinned. “Dangerous? Good. Been a while since I stretched.”
Remus gave him a sharp look. “Try not to enjoy it too much.”
The fight began almost as soon as they stepped from the shadows.
“Drop the trunk!” Sirius barked, his voice echoing through the trees.
The man pretending to be Moody spun around, wand snapping up instantly. His magical eye whirled madly, glowing in the dark.
“Who’s there?” he growled, voice rough but perfectly imitated.
“Old friends,” Sirius replied. “You can stop the act, Crouch. The game’s up.”
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then the fake Moody’s lips twisted into a cold smirk.
“Well,” he said, voice suddenly younger, smoother — dripping with mockery. “I suppose I should be honored. The blood-traitor and the werewolf. Quite the reunion.”
He flicked his wand, and the trunk hit the ground with a heavy thud. A metallic click followed — a lock spell undone.
Remus moved first. His wand slashed through the air, sending a ripple of silver light that crashed into Crouch Jr.’s hastily raised shield. Sparks burst between them.
Sirius darted to the side, sending a streak of blue light from his wand. Crouch deflected it, the impact lighting up the forest for an instant. The air hummed with power as curses and counter-spells flared in every direction.
Crouch Jr. fought like a man possessed. His movements were sharp and vicious, his spells silent but deadly. Every flick of his wand sent a ripple of destruction through the clearing — trees cracking, soil exploding under invisible force.
But Sirius and Remus were old soldiers. They moved in tandem — Remus defending, Sirius attacking, their coordination flawless from years of friendship and battle.
Crouch snarled, switching tactics. He threw out a stunning curse with one hand, a blinding hex with the other. Remus countered both midair, the spells colliding in a burst of orange fire.
Sirius leapt through the smoke, wand raised high, and slammed a blast of raw energy into Crouch’s chest. The false Moody staggered backward, slamming into the trunk. His Polyjuiced face flickered for an instant — Moody’s scarred features melting into the pale, fanatic glare of Barty Crouch Jr.
The real one’s eyes widened, wild and manic, his grin twisting like a madman’s.
“You have no idea what you’ve interrupted,” he hissed. “He’s coming back!”
“Not tonight,” Sirius snapped.
Before Crouch could move, Remus’s wand flicked. A silent Disarming Charm wrenched the wand from his hand. Sirius followed instantly with a heavy Stunning Spell that threw Crouch backward, slamming him to the ground. The fake Moody crumpled, motionless.
For a long moment, the forest was silent except for the sound of their breathing and the distant roll of thunder.
Sirius straightened, brushing mud from his sleeve. “Well, that’s one less problem.”
Remus approached cautiously, checking the trunk. He whispered an unlocking charm, and the lid creaked open. Inside, in the dim light, lay the real Alastor Moody — disheveled, unconscious, but alive.
Behind them, Harry stepped into the clearing, cloak still wrapped around him. His expression was calm but his eyes gleamed with something darker.
“I told you they were using the tournament as cover,” he said quietly.
Sirius turned toward him, grinning faintly despite the exhaustion. “You did, kid. You really did.”
Sirius crouched near Crouch Jr.’s body, tapping the man’s cheek with his wand. “Still out cold. He won’t be getting up anytime soon.”
Remus glanced around warily. “So what now? We can’t just leave him here. If he wakes, he’ll vanish. And we still don’t know what he was planning.”
Harry’s eyes flicked down to the still form of Crouch Jr., then to Moody, then back to Remus. His voice was calm, steady — almost too calm.
“We question him.”
Remus frowned. “Interrogation won’t work. Someone like him won’t talk.”
“I didn’t say ask him,” Harry replied, pulling a small crystal vial from inside his robes. The liquid inside shimmered silver under the light. “I said we question him. Using this.”
Remus’s eyes widened. “Veritaserum?”
Harry nodded once. “Got it from Snape’s storeroom a while back. He’s too arrogant to lock it properly.”
Sirius let out a low whistle, his lips curving into a grin. “You’ve been holding out on us, kid.”
Harry crouched down beside the stunned Death Eater. “I told you both something big is happening tonight. Crouch was moving Moody for a reason. The Tournament’s just a distraction — the real plan is hidden in plain sight. Whatever they’ve been preparing, we’ll make sure it explodes in their faces.”
The look in his eyes made both Sirius and Remus pause. It wasn’t just determination — it was intent. Cold, dangerous intent.
Sirius straightened, brushing dirt from his hands, the corners of his mouth twitching into a wicked grin. “Mess up their plan so bad they’ll never come back from it, huh?”
Harry met his godfather’s eyes. “Exactly.”
Sirius chuckled, the sound dark and nostalgic all at once. “Merlin, you sound just like your dad when he was plotting a prank.”
Remus sighed, though there was the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Only this time, the prank involves a captured Death Eater.”
“That’s an improvement, if you ask me,” Sirius said.
Even Moody, who had been silent, let out a rough laugh that turned into a cough. His magical eye spun wildly, focusing first on Harry, then on Sirius. “I like the sound of that. Haven’t had a proper prank in years.”
Harry stood up, pocketing the vial. “Then let’s get this over with before anyone notices we’re gone.”
He looked at Sirius. “You and Remus get the truth out of him. I’ll keep watch.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “You’re trusting us to handle it?”
Harry’s mouth curved slightly. “I said it was your fun. I just want the answers.”
Sirius grinned wider, clapping a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “You heard the boy, Moony. Time to show this Death Eater what a real Marauder interrogation looks like.”
Remus sighed but couldn’t hide the faint glint of amusement in his tired eyes. “Alright then. But if you call it a prank one more time, I’m stunning you next.”
Sirius winked. “Let's begin.”
