As the new school term approached, Hodge had already moved back home—there was simply too much to do. A week before term started, Dumbledore summoned him back.
"You know Legilimency, I take it?" Dumbledore asked.
"A little," Hodge replied. "Compared to Occlumency, I'm nowhere near as good."
Dumbledore gave a slight nod. "Understanding the principle is enough. We need Crouch to pass the strictest possible tests—Legilimency, the Imperius Curse, Veritaserum, even the Cruciatus Curse… We'll be relying on your particular gift."
Hodge nodded calmly, showing no strong reaction even at the mention of the Cruciatus Curse.
Old Barty Crouch, standing off to the side, looked utterly astonished. Both Legilimency and Occlumency were extraordinarily difficult arts with brutally high barriers to entry; very few students ever mastered either. Yet Dumbledore had just casually mentioned "gift"…
"Mr Crouch," Hodge said, turning to him, "you know Legilimency too, don't you? Why don't you try it on me first?"
Crouch glanced silently at Dumbledore, then drew his wand. "Your name is Hodge, correct? Dumbledore may trust you, but this matter is of the utmost importance… Legilimens!"
His eyes blazed with sudden light.
For an instant the room vanished, then snapped back into focus.
Hodge turned to Dumbledore and gave him a small, wry grimace. Old Crouch was still staring with those glowing eyes, his face cycling through a rapid series of expressions.
"What exactly did you show him?" Dumbledore asked, curiosity twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Tom and Jerry."
"…What's that?"
"A Muggle cartoon."
Dumbledore let out a short, delighted laugh.
A few more seconds passed. Crouch remained frozen, fine beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "A cartoon shouldn't be able to trap Barty."
"Oh, that was just the background noise," Hodge admitted. "I staged Voldemort and his Death Eaters holding a meeting inside a Muggle family's house."
He snapped his fingers.
The light in Crouch's eyes winked out. The moment he regained his senses, he stared at Hodge in open disbelief, as though he were the one whose mind had been invaded.
Yet he had indeed cast Legilimency. Image after image had unfolded before him. Soon he found himself inside a distinctly Muggle home—there was a television, after all. The screen was playing a cartoon; he'd caught a few seconds and, frankly, it looked rather fun…
But what truly seized his attention was the adjoining space: Death Eaters, and a snake-like man among them.
"Dumbledore's still planning to set a trap and lure the Master there…" a sinister voice hissed in the vision. Crouch recognised the pale blond hair and cold aristocratic face instantly—Lucius Malfoy.
"Thanks to little Barty—he used Cruciatus to pry open old Crouch's mouth," bellowed a man with an excessive amount of body hair.
"And Snape's Veritaserum!"
"Like father, like son. Not even Dumbledore spotted the flaw. This is our chance to round up everyone in the Ministry in one fell swoop."
Their undercover operation had failed?
The longer Crouch watched, the more his heart pounded—yet he couldn't tear his gaze away. In this fabricated scene, his own mind lay before Voldemort like wet paper.
Even after he returned to reality, his lips still trembled slightly.
What Hodge had shown him was simply too harrowing. For the rest of the afternoon's spells and tests, Crouch cooperated with desperate eagerness, terrified his mental defences weren't strong enough.
When the busy day finally ended, Mr Crouch took his leave.
"If the chance arises," he said quietly to Dumbledore at the door, "please pass my apologies to Frank and Alice."
Hodge watched in silence. He knew that, success or failure, old Crouch would never see the Longbottoms again.
Failure was obvious—Voldemort would never let him live.
Even success… well, that was harder to predict. Barty Crouch Sr had lived an upright life; the only laws he'd ever broken could be counted on one hand. If he rendered great service in bringing Voldemort down, he might very well escape punishment altogether.
Though Hodge suspected the man himself would refuse any leniency.
Days slipped by.
The lawn in front of the Blackthorn house withered under the sun, only to spring vividly green again after a splash of water. Every time Hodge pushed open the window he was greeted by the fresh scent of grass.
Lately he had been reading while idly—almost bored—trying to guess how far the plan had progressed. It had been his idea to start with, and he'd thrown himself into it with enthusiasm a few times, but in truth he could only play a supporting role.
He was, after all, only a second-year… well, about to become a third-year.
While Hodge sat quietly with his book, several major events unfolded in the wider world—
First: wanted Death Eaters were sighted again.
Second: Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and leader of the Special Task Force, was attacked. Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was attacked shortly afterward.
Fudge flew into a towering rage. Fortunately no one was hurt, but a new storm of interrogations was brewing.
Third: a tiny notice buried in the paper reported that several giant clans living in protected reserves had suddenly vanished. The local Ministries sent investigators and found nothing.
Fourth: a piece of light gossip from France announced that the Triwizard Tournament would be revived next year.
And of course, some things happened in the dark, unseen by anyone:
For example, Dumbledore had taken Harry away under the pretext of "visiting the new professor". Ron was equal parts envious and jealous. No one expected the pair to be gone for days and miss even the Hogwarts Express on opening day. Harry eventually sent a letter explaining that Dumbledore had taken him to many places—including Godric's Hollow… Hermione felt a quiet unease; that was where the Potters had lived.
Another example: Voldemort had already slipped back into Britain.
More than that—he had pulled off something big. Mingling among several wanted Death Eaters, he deliberately let himself be seen, then orchestrated a string of attacks on Ministry officials. Crouch and Bones were only two of the targets. Crucially, Voldemort never displayed power beyond that of an ordinary Death Eater, which was why the pair had managed to escape unscathed.
Or rather… only one of them had truly escaped.
Crouch Manor.
A man with faint freckles and straw-blond hair rubbed his hands together in manic excitement. With twitching fingers he dropped several strands of hair into a thick, muddy-looking potion. Had Hodge been present, he would instantly have recognised it—Polyjuice Potion.
The moment the hairs touched the liquid, the potion hissed furiously and turned a deep, sludgy brown.
He raised the goblet and drained it in one gulp.
Young Barty Crouch staggered as though struck by a hammer. His body swayed, then began to change. Pale, smooth skin darkened and roughened, etching itself with fine lines. Sparse, coarse stubble migrated downward, gathering into the neat little beard his father cultivated so carefully. The messy straw-blond hair thinned, greyed, yet became impeccably tidy. Bones creaked and shifted with tiny adjustments. Most crucially, in the space of a minute the man aged twenty years.
Barty Crouch Jr had become Barty Crouch Sr.
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