The two Tonks sisters share a look and together burst out from the makeshift hideaway, wands fixated towards Mad-Eye.

"Well, if it isn't my prized pupils."

His face — one I had memorized over the years from training and dueling — bares another's. Though one is bewitched, there has always been a kind glint in his eyes.

Until this very moment.

"Harry, behind us."

Still ailed from the third task, he slowly moves himself to stand behind us, a palm grasping at the long gash across his forearm. Mad-Eye steals a glance towards an abandoned trunk tucked away behind the chalkboard..

"This should be easy."

His wand raises and —

"Stupefy!"

A blinding light blasts from outside the room, and the door splinters off the hinges. Mad-Eye falls onto the floor, and I keep my arms pushed around Dora and Harry. Charlie, Snape, and Dumbledore step through the tarnished doorway.

Without a second thought, Charlie splits away from the professors and cups my cheeks. Tire embraces me, and I fall slack against him.

"Are you alright?"

"I've been better."

Suddenly, Mad-Eye attempts to stand while grasping for his wand. Snape kicks the piece of wood out of reach before Dumbledore aggressively lifts him onto a desk.

"Snape"

The headmaster forces Mad-Eye's mouth open, letting Snape pour the contents of a potion down his throat.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Albus Dumbledore." He chokes.

"Are you Alastor Moody?"

A breath hitches at my throat.

"Are you?"

". . .no."

The veritaserum courses through the lengths of his veins, extracting the truth to every question Dumbledore bears.

"Is he in this room?"

The imposter resists any urge to respond, though his shifting glance tells all.

Realization clicks like a bulb. "The trunk. There's a trunk behind the chalkboard, he must be in there."

Dumbledore moves towards the trunk, leaving Snape to snatch the ring of keys hilted by his hip. I finally turn towards Harry, who has not spoken a word.

"Harry?"

A soft hum vibrates from him.

"I should've known earlier that he was never the real Mad-Eye."

Dora breathes a heavy sigh. "How long do you fare it's been?"

"Since the summer, when Mad-Eye claimed someone had broken into his home." My tongue slips past my teeth to wet my bottom lip. "I should have known. If I had heeded more —"

"He had everyone fooled, Della. No one blames you." Charlie places a hand at my waist, kneading his thumb to the curve in a comforting manner.

Dumbledore shoots a nonverbal spell at the trunk, and it flings to reveal another trunk. One after another, each smaller than its predecessor, the opening stops after the seventh trunk.

Within the trunk is an underground pit, its depth falling at just under twenty feet. An old man lays in the shed of light, a pair of torn pajamas and a mask thrown over his bewitched eye.

"Are you alright, Alastor?"

"I'm sorry, Albus."

The true Mad-Eye bellows from inside.

I tug Dora by the hand and pull her towards the trunk. From either side, we peer in and find our mentor.

"Delphina? Nymphadora?"

Given the circumstances, Dora manages her temper at the mention of her name.

"Looking rather pale there, Mad-Eye."

"How long has it been since you've seen the sun?"

"Bugger off."

I retreat to Charlie's right whilst Nymphadora mutters a few words to Snape:

"All the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion are in his office."

He merely grunts in response.

The imposter begins to thrash in his bound chair: his bewitched eye unstraps itself and rolls to the ground; the wooden piece drops to make room for a normal leg; a buzz of brunette hair replaces the thin ginger strands Mad-Eye adorned. All of his features melt away to unmask the true culprit:

Barty Crouch, Jr..

"How did you escape from Azkaban?"

"I was never in Azkaban." His mad laugh cracks the air like a whip. "See, my mother and I, we took on each other's appearance. And when she died in Azkaban, everyone believed her to be me."

"And what did your father do with you, when he got you home?"

"Staged my mother's death. Then his first thought was that I had to be concealed — I had to be controlled. So he subdued me under the Imperius Curse. But when I had recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master. Of returning to his service."

A twisted grin widens over Crouch's face with every question Dumbledore asks, his answer truthful and unashamed.

"Did you kill your father?"

"Of course I killed him. And when everyone was gone, I transfigured his body into a bone. Buried it in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin."

"And tonight? Explain what happened tonight."

A gleam of pride and insanity twinkles in his eyes. "I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner. Turned it into a portkey, according to my master's plan. He is returned to power, and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

Dumbledore stares down at the Death Eater with nothing but disgust.

"Delphina, please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here. We will need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. And Nymphadora, go down itonto the grounds. Find Cornelius Fudge and bring him up to this office."

Dora releases her arm from Harry's shoulder, only hesitating when she notices the proximity between me and Charlie. A tinge of red swipes my cheeks, and I follow behind her.

"Finally told him you're in love, did you?"

"Wait 'til you find someone. I won't let you hear the end of it."