บท 60: The Revelation and Aftermath

The stone walls of Hogwarts loomed cold and silent as Harry trudged through the dimly lit corridors, each step pulling him deeper into the numbness of shock and exhaustion. His mind raced with fractured memories from the graveyard, Voldemort's face and cruel laughter still echoing in his mind. Beside him, Raja maintained a silent vigil, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding Harry amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

As they neared the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, the door creaked open. Moody, or rather who they thought was Moody, stepped out, his intense, mismatched eyes locked on Harry with an unsettling gleam.

"Potter, in here. Quickly," he beckoned with a sense of urgency. Harry hesitated, feeling Raja's hand on his arm in silent warning, but before either could react, Moody's gaze narrowed.

"Alone, Potter," he insisted, glancing at Raja with a dismissive sneer. "Your friend can wait outside."

Harry took a deep breath and stepped inside, casting a final glance at Raja, who gave him a nod, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. The heavy wooden door shut, and Harry found himself in a room that was darker and more oppressive than he remembered, with strange, twisted artifacts hanging on the walls. Moody's back was turned as he closed the curtains, plunging the room into a dim, shadowed light.

"Quite a night, Potter," Moody began, turning to face Harry with a dark smile that seemed to twist his scarred features even further.

Harry's brows knitted in confusion, a knot of tension forming in his chest. "Professor… you saw what happened. You know what he… what Voldemort…"

But before he could finish, Moody's face split into a grin that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "Oh, I know all about it, Potter. More than you realize."

With that, Moody's demeanor changed entirely, his expression taking on a sinister quality as he lowered himself into a chair, leaning forward. "Did you ever wonder," he began, his voice now laced with dark amusement, "why everything seemed to fall into place for you this year?"

Harry stared, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

Moody's eyes glinted as he continued, "It was me, Potter. Every step, every piece. I orchestrated it all."

Harry's breath caught, disbelief washing over him. "You… you put my name in the Goblet? You set this up?"

Moody—or the man he was beginning to suspect wasn't Moody—gave a slow, deliberate nod. "I made sure you'd reach the Third Task, reach that Portkey." He leaned in closer, his voice a whisper that crackled with malicious glee. "Every move, Potter, was designed to bring you to the Dark Lord."

Harry felt the air leave his lungs as the weight of betrayal sank in. The signs had been there, he realized, each strange encounter, each whispered suggestion. But he had ignored them, trusting that Moody had been there to protect him. "But why?"

Moody's face twisted into a satisfied smile. "Because you are essential, Potter. You, and the blood you carry. You're the key to his return."

The realization crashed over Harry like a wave. "You're not Moody… are you?"

Moody laughed, the sound low and cold. "Astute, Potter. I'm not Alastor Moody, not the way you think." Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a flask, taking a long swig. As he set it down, Harry watched in horror as his features began to shift, scars smoothing and his wild hair receding.

In place of Moody now sat a man with sharp, cunning eyes and a snake-like flick of his tongue that seemed to betray a darker allegiance. "Barty Crouch Jr., at your service," he sneered, standing up with a dark satisfaction.

Harry took a step back, the fear morphing into a deep sense of anger and violation. "All year… everything you did… it was to get me killed!"

Crouch's grin widened. "Not just killed, Potter. Delivered. It had to be you who reached that cup. Everything was set up meticulously. I ensured Hagrid would lead you and your friend Raja to see the dragons, that Longbottom would help you with Gillyweed… I even planted the spells to manipulate Krum."

As he spoke, Harry's mind reeled at the breadth of Crouch's deception. He felt as though every memory from the past year was slipping through his fingers, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Before Crouch could revel further in his twisted monologue, the door to the office burst open. Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall stormed in, wands raised and expressions steely with determination.

"Barty Crouch Jr.," Dumbledore intoned, his voice a cold, commanding presence that echoed off the walls. "The game is over."

Crouch's expression contorted with rage and desperation, his eyes darting around the room as if seeking an escape. But Snape stepped forward, his wand trained steadily on him. "Disarm him!" Snape barked, and with a flick of his wand, he sent a blast that knocked Crouch's wand from his grip, clattering to the floor.

McGonagall raised her own wand, binding Crouch in magical ropes that glowed with a faint blue hue. His struggles were futile as the enchantment tightened around him.

Dumbledore's gaze was unyielding, his voice carrying the weight of sorrow and anger. "Where is the real Alastor Moody?"

Crouch let out a sinister laugh, glancing toward a large chest tucked away in the corner of the room. "Locked away, safe and sound," he replied with mock innocence, his tone dripping with venom. "He's been a delightful source of Polyjuice Potion."

At Dumbledore's nod, Snape approached the chest, casting a charm that released the numerous locks sealing it. As he lifted the lid, he found the true Alastor Moody bound and unconscious inside, his expression weary but relieved as he stirred.

Dumbledore turned back to Crouch, his face grave. "You will answer for every life you've endangered, every twisted manipulation you've wrought this year."

Crouch's only response was a twisted smile, his tongue flicking in that snake-like manner, a final, chilling reminder of his allegiance.

Later, as the dust settled and the truth was unveiled to a shocked Hogwarts, the Great Hall was filled with a somber silence. The students and staff had gathered, their faces pale with fear and disbelief as Dumbledore stood before them, his expression somber.

"I must speak openly," he began, his voice grave. "The events of this year were not merely a competition. They were part of a far darker plot that we now know was aimed at resurrecting Voldemort."

Gasps echoed through the hall, whispers breaking out among the students as they processed the weight of Dumbledore's words. Even those who feared Voldemort's name could not help but shudder at the confirmation of his return.

Dumbledore's gaze swept over the crowd, lingering on Harry and Raja, who sat side by side, their expressions a mixture of resilience and sorrow. "Thanks to the bravery of some among us, the truth has been uncovered. But we must remember: the darkness we face is not gone. It has only just begun to reveal itself."

As the hall fell into a solemn silence, Harry looked around, seeing faces both familiar and unfamiliar, all united in the shadow of fear that now loomed over them. Hogwarts would never be the same.

That evening, back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry, Raja, Ron, and Hermione sat together, their expressions reflecting the gravity of what they had just heard.

Ron broke the silence first, his voice low and filled with awe. "So… he's really back? Voldemort?"

Harry nodded, his jaw clenched as he replayed the events in his mind. "He's back, Ron. And he's stronger than ever."

Hermione's eyes shone with worry, but her voice was steady. "We'll face him together. All of us."

Raja placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, his gaze unwavering. "You're not alone in this, Harry. We're with you, no matter what comes next."

Harry looked around at his friends, feeling a surge of gratitude. Despite the darkness that awaited them, he knew that he was surrounded by people who would stand by him, even in the face of Voldemort's return.

And though the future was uncertain, Harry resolved that he would be ready to confront whatever challenges lay ahead. With his friends beside him, he felt a spark of hope, a light in the darkness that Voldemort's return had cast over their world.

As they sat together, united by courage and friendship, they knew that this was just the beginning of a long and difficult journey. But they were ready.