Tushar Srivastav
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Chapter 9: "Strike Three"
🕑 Added 2025-07-06 15:45:09 +0000 UTCHarry said in a steady but commanding voice, "I would suggest we tie this person up with something that moves with their body so they can't get away."
Dumbledore just nodded. The man who had been pretending to be Moody was now fully exposed and firmly tied to a chair with magical restraints that glowed faintly and tightened slightly whenever he moved.
"Okay," Dumbledore said as he sat down, "while we wait for the Polyjuice to wear off, could you tell us a little bit about yourself? What happened to you the next day? "Where have you been living?"
Lily stood up straighter, her eyes burning with both fear and curiosity. She wanted to hear every word.
Harry tilted his head a little. "We've been living in a Potter house. No, we're not going to tell you which one or where. Uncle Remus taught me how to walk when I was very young. He told me where he found me, he took care of me.
Lily interrupted sharply, "So you were with Remus. Why did he never bring you to me?"
Harry's eyes shot to her, and a warning silence stopped her from asking her next question.
Harry looked up at Dumbledore, his voice steady even though his hands were clenched at his sides. He didn't look at his mother, even though she had asked the question. He still gave an answer.
Harry said, "I can tell you what Uncle Remus told me."
"As you probably remember, the thirty-first of October that year was a full moon. Uncle Remus was a werewolf. That night was especially bad for him. He hadn’t been able to meet his pack—my dad, Sirius, and…” Harry looked at Peter with disgust. "...you for months. You know what happens when a lone wolf changes without his pack. He takes his anger out on himself.
Dumbledore lowered his head, as if he were remembering something he would rather not have to think about.
Harry kept going. "It wasn't until around noon the next day that he was strong enough to get to his front door. And there I was, cold, hungry, and screaming myself hoarse. He told me I was almost crazy. Harry's face softened, and a light blush rose to his cheeks. "He told me later that he took me inside right away, fed me, and changed me. He said we both slept like logs. He couldn't move because he was too weak, and I must have been magically tired. He only woke up a few times to feed me.
Harry took a breath and then spoke again, his voice getting tighter.
By the next morning, when he was strong enough to read the news and got out , the world had already moved on.They said Voldemort was dead—killed by me. They said Sirius was a Death Eater. My father was gone. And you, Lily…” For the first time his eyes flicked toward Lily, his voice breaking with both bitterness and grief. “…they said you had betrayed him. That you’d been with Snape when our house was attacked.
The words hung in the air like poison. Lily flinched, but Harry pushed forward.
"Remus didn't know who to believe. He was afraid that Death Eaters would attack. He took me to a Potter safe house that my grandfather had shown him and that my father also knew about in case Remus ever needed a place to go after a bad transformation. As he was with the last living Potter and heir, he was able to turn on the war wards and keep us safe. For a time, we were hidden.”
Harry stopped, and his green eyes glowed with a brightness that filled the hall. "Later, Remus found out that I had Apparated as a baby, and even more than once. That's how I got to his house at all. That's why I felt so tired. A baby, doing a lot of Apparitions... it almost burned me out."
His words hung in the air, heavy with truth, sadness, and a hint of anger.
He went on, his voice softer, "He brought Hermione to me after her parents died in a car accident. She had done some magic by accident to get away from it. "Uncle Remus was great." Harry's face lit up with a brief, fond smile at the memory.
Dumbledore leaned in, sensing that there was more to the story than met the eye. "Was great"—did something happen to him?
Harry's eyes lost their smile. He slowly nodded. He went to get us a gift when we were about nine. He was shot by a random robber while trying to help an old lady. That was how Uncle Remus was. Her grandchildren still leave flowers outside the store where he died. Since then, we've been on our own, but we've made it work. And we have Missy, so everything is fine."
McGonagall's eyes squinted. "But why didn't you get the letter from Hogwarts when you turned eleven?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure." I think it was the wards, but I'm not sure. Missy only let us go outside when we were twelve. She became very protective after Uncle Remus died. She stayed awake at night, right outside our bedroom door.
A loud noise cut off the conversation. The man who was tied up started to change; his face became smoother and the wrinkles disappeared. A normal eye took the place of the magical one in his socket. His legs, which had been cut off, grew back and healed. As the change finished, he grew a few inches taller.
"Barty Crouch!" several voices yelled, and the room was filled with disbelief. "He should be dead and buried in jail."
Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly to get the group's attention back. "Harry, are there any more surprises?"
Hermione's voice broke the silence. "We feel something on Snape's left arm. Could someone look?"
Lily gasped. McGonagall rolled up his sleeve, but there was nothing on his arm.
"No, there's something there," Harry said again, moving closer. "My scar used to give off the same magical energy as Snape's hand."
Dumbledore cast the spell, and a beam of pale light hit Snape's left forearm. Nothing happened at first. Then, slowly, a tattoo began to form: the Dark Mark, which was clearly visible in black smoke and shimmering green flames.
The room was quiet, and everyone looked shocked.
But then something strange happened: the mark pulsed softly, like a heartbeat. A soft, creepy whisper seemed to come from it. It was too quiet to hear, but it was enough to make the hair on the back of their necks stand on end.
Hermione moved closer and said in a low voice, "There's a residue here—a protective charm layered over the mark. Someone has been hiding more than just their loyalty."
Dumbledore's face got even paler, as if the news was worse than the betrayal itself. "He has skillfully hidden this spell," he said in a serious tone. "Snape's loyalties... may be more complicated than we thought."
Harry's fingers twitched with an anger that was both his and not quite his own. The sparks of magic were faintly flickering at his fingertips.
"This isn't just a Dark Mark," Hermione said in a steady voice that was tinged with worry. It's a mask inside a mask, like a shield.
The three professors turned pale.
A wave of anger that was different from Harry's own flooded through him, making his fingers glow faintly.
Ron muttered, "I knew this git wasn't a good person," which surprised everyone who had almost forgotten he was there. He turned red when they looked at him.
Dumbledore nodded to Ron in a small, reassuring way. "Miss Granger is right."
"Strike three of three" Hermione said.
Dumbledore's shoulders sagged as the news clearly drained him.
Harry turned to his mother for the first time, his voice sharp and angry.
"Mrs. Snape, it looks like your husband is a Death Eater. Did you tell him secrets while my dad was taking care of me? Did Voldemort find us this way? "You told your lover about us."
He really needed to bring his younger self’s emotions under control. At times it felt as though he was fighting a battle within his own mind, struggling to steady impulses that no longer belonged to the man he was.
It look like daily Occlumency training for him every night in the near future it would involve pushing the storm of grief, rage, and longing back into silence, walling it away behind discipline and willpower.
He stopped in the middle of a sentence, which showed a crack in his tough exterior. He clenched his jaw as he swallowed the words he almost let out. Hermione's hand on his arm was gentle but firm, keeping him steady.
"Harry," she said softly, looking him in the eye. "We need the truth, not anger."
He took a deep breath, and the light on his wand faded as he lowered it a little. He said quietly, "You're right." "I almost lost myself there."
Lily looked at him with a mix of relief and sadness, as if she could see not only her son but also the burden he carried.
Hermione's presence was like a steady anchor in the storm of his feelings, reminding him that justice needed clarity, not rage.
Lily's face looked like it had been hit. She sat down in a chair, shaking her head and saying, "I didn't." I didn't.
leaned back against Hermione to find comfort.
Harry raised his wand quickly. "Criminals shouldn't have wands." "Accio wands! The unconscious men's wands flew into his hand, but there were four instead of three. One from Snape and Crouch, and two from Peter Pettigrew.
Harry's eyes were fixed on Peter's second wand. There was no doubt about it: it was Voldemort's wand, the one that had pointed at him more times than he could count.
Dumbledore's face lit up with recognition as he held it up.
"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said in a voice that was cold and sharp. "You said Hogwarts was a safe place?" So far, we've found three loyal Death Eaters hiding among us, and two of them are teachers. One pretended to be a professor, and the other was a real professor who had been teaching for years. Looks like Hogwarts needs a big security update."
Harry smiled, but it was a dark smile. When she wanted to, Hermione could be mean.
Dumbledore's face got tense with determination. "I have to call Amalia. This is a big security hole.
As he walked toward the fireplace to call for help, his footsteps echoed softly. But before he could say anything, Hermione's voice broke through the tense silence.
"Hogwarts isn't safe if Death Eaters are walking around as teachers and the Ministry can't—or won't—see the truth."
There was a mix of pain and steel in McGonagall's eyes. "I didn't do enough to keep this school safe and our students safe. And I'm very sorry for that. But I promise that things will be different from now on. We won't let our guard down again."
"And what about the students?" Lily said softly. They have the right to learn in safety, but they also have the right to know the truth.
The room got tense. McGonagall nodded slowly, her voice low but firm. "We will look at every staff member and every spell that protects this school, and we will ask the hard questions, no matter where they lead."
Dumbledore came back, and the firelight made shadows on his tired face. "Amalia is coming. Hogwarts will survive this breach, and it will be fixed. But the wounds we've found today remind us that being careful is our best defense.
Hermione and Harry looked at each other and silently agreed. The fight to protect Hogwarts had only just begun.
"I would suggest we secure this person with something that adjusts with body movement so he cannot escape," Harry said, voice steady but commanding.
Dumbledore simply nodded. Moments later, the man who had been masquerading as Moody—now fully exposed—was firmly bound to a chair with enchanted restraints that shimmered faintly, tightening gently whenever he moved.
"So," Dumbledore began, settling into his chair, "while we wait for the Polyjuice to wear off, could you tell us something about yourself? What happened to you after that night? Where have you been living?"
Lily stood straighter, her eyes burning with a mixture of curiosity and dread. She wanted to hear every word.
Harry inclined his head slightly. "We've been living in a Potter property. No, we're not going to say which one or where. My earliest memory is of Uncle Remus teaching me how to walk. He never said where he found me or how, but he took care of me."
Lily cut in sharply, "So you were with Remus. Why did he never bring you to me?"
Harry's gaze shot toward her, a warning silence halting her next question.
He continued, voice softer, "He brought Hermione to me after her parents died in a car crash. She had done some accidental magic to escape it. Uncle Remus was great." A brief, fond smile flickered across Harry's face at the memory.
Dumbledore leaned forward, sensing a deeper truth beneath the surface. "'Was great'—did something happen to him?"
The smile vanished from Harry's eyes. He nodded slowly. Around our ninth birthday, he went to buy a gift. Some random robber shot him while trying to save an old lady. Uncle Remus was like that. Even today, her grandchildren leave flowers outside the shop where he died. We've been on our own since then, but we've managed. And we have Vicky, so all is good."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "But why didn't the Hogwarts letter reach you when you turned eleven?"
Harry shrugged. "Not sure. If I had to guess, it was the wards. And Missy only let us go outside after we turned twelve. After Uncle Remus died, she became fiercely protective. She stayed awake at night, right outside our bedroom as we slept."
A sudden noise interrupted the conversation. The bound man began to change—his features smoothing, wrinkles retreating. The magical eye in his socket faded, replaced by a normal one. His legs, previously amputated, lengthened and healed. His height increased by a few inches as the transformation completed.
"Barty Crouch!" several voices exclaimed, disbelief rippling through the room. "He should be dead, buried in prison."
Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, regaining the group's attention. "Are there any more surprises, Harry?"
Hermione's voice cut through the tension. "We sense something on Snape's left forearm. Could someone check?"
Lily gasped. McGonagall rolled up her sleeve, but the arm was bare.
"No, there's something there," Harry insisted, stepping forward. "Snape's hand is giving off the same magical energy my scar used to."
Dumbledore cast the spell, a beam of pale light striking Snape's left forearm. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a tattoo began to form — the unmistakable Dark Mark, etched in black smoke and shimmering green flames.
The room fell silent, eyes wide with shock.
But then something strange occurred: the mark pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat. A soft, eerie whisper seemed to rise from it, too faint to understand, but enough to make the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.
Hermione stepped closer, her brow furrowed as she murmured, "There's a residue here — a protective charm, layered over the mark. Someone's been hiding more than just their allegiance."
Dumbledore's face paled further, as if the revelation weighed heavier than even the betrayal itself. "He has concealed this enchantment with skill," he said gravely. "Snape's loyalties... may be more tangled than we believed."
Harry's fingers twitched with an anger that felt both his and yet not entirely his own, the sparks of magic faintly flickering at his fingertips.
Hermione's voice was steady but edged with unease: "This isn't just a Dark Mark. It's a shield, a mask within a mask."
The three professors paled.
A surge of anger unlike Harry's own flooded through him, igniting his fingers in a faint glow.
Hermione quickly stepped in. "Is it… not the Dark Mark?"
"I knew this git wasn't a good person," Ron muttered, startling everyone who had almost forgotten he was still there. His face flushed under their stares.
Dumbledore gave Ron a small, reassuring nod. "Miss Granger is right."
"But don't only Death Eaters bear these marks?" Hermione pressed, twisting the knife.
Dumbledore's shoulders sagged, the weight of the revelation clearly draining him.
For the first time, Harry turned to his mother, voice sharp and accusatory.
"Looks like your husband is a Death Eater, Mrs. Snape. Were you passing secrets to him while my father was caring for me? Is this how Voldemort found us? You betrayed us to your lover."
He caught himself mid-sentence, a crack in his fierce facade. His jaw clenched as he swallowed the words he almost let loose. Hermione's hand found his arm, gentle but firm, grounding him.
"Harry," she said softly, her eyes steady. "We need the truth, not rage."
He took a slow breath, the glow on his wand dimming as he lowered it slightly. "You're right," he admitted quietly. "I almost lost myself there."
Lily watched him with a mixture of relief and sadness, as if seeing not just her son, but the weight he carried.
Hermione's presence was a steady anchor in the storm of his emotions, reminding him that justice required clarity, not fury.
Lily's face crumpled, as if struck. She sank into a chair, shaking her head, whispering, "I did not. I did not."
Hermione wrapped a steadying arm around Harry. He leaned back against her, seeking comfort.
Harry raised his wand sharply. "It's not safe for criminals to have wands. Accio wands! " The wands of the unconscious men flew into his hand—except, instead of three, there were four. One each from Snape and Crouch, and two from Peter Pettigrew.
Harry's eyes locked on the second wand from Peter. It was unmistakable—Voldemort's wand, the one pointed at him more times than he could count.
As he held it up, recognition dawned on Dumbledore's face.
"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, voice cold and cutting. "You were saying Hogwarts was a safe place? So far, we've identified three loyal Death Eaters disguised among us, and two are professors. One posing as a professor, the other an actual professor teaching for years. Looks like Hogwarts needs a serious security update."
Harry smiled, darkly amused. Hermione could be vindictive when she wanted.
Dumbledore's face tightened with resolve. "I need to call Amalia. This is a significant security breach."
His footsteps echoed softly as he moved toward the fireplace to summon help, but before he could speak, Hermione's voice cut through the charged silence.
"Hogwarts isn't safe—not if Death Eaters are walking its halls disguised as professors, and if the Ministry can't—or won't—see the truth."
McGonagall's eyes flickered with a mixture of pain and steel. "I failed to protect this school, to protect our students. And for that, I am deeply sorry. But I vow, from this moment forward, things will be different. We will not let our guard down again."
Ron, who had been silent, spoke up quietly but firmly, "If the Ministry is turning a blind eye or worse, complicit, how can we trust them to keep Hogwarts safe? Maybe it's time we stop relying on them."
Lily added softly, "And what about the students? They deserve to learn in safety, but they also deserve to know the truth."
The room grew tense. McGonagall nodded slowly, her voice low but resolute. "We will review every staff member, every spell protecting this school, and we will ask the hard questions—no matter where they lead."
Dumbledore returned, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his weary face. "Amalia is on her way. This breach will be addressed, and Hogwarts will endure. But the wounds we've uncovered today remind us: vigilance is our greatest defense."
Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry, a silent agreement passing between them. The battle to safeguard Hogwarts had only just begun.
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