Three Hallows' Eve || Harmione & Jily

Chapter 12.1

Chapter Twelve - The Goblin Tongue

Saturday 13th October, 1990

CROUCH FAMILY DISGRACED... AGAIN!
FUDGE NEW FAVOURITE FOR TOP JOB
FOSTER TRAILS AS ELECTION DRAWS CLOSE

The House of Crouch faces its final disgrace after Madam Amelia Bones makes a statement revealing the details of the arrest of Bartemius Crouch Sr., Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

What crime has the lauded Ministerial favourite committed, you may ask? Look no further than the wizard who faces trial alongside him: one Bartemius Crouch Jr.!

Crouch Sr. is accused of smuggling his son out of Azkaban by use of Polyjuice Potion. The DMLE alleges that Crouch Sr. and his wife, Mrs Elsie Crouch, were permitted a deathbed visit to the prison in late 1984 due to Mrs Crouch's failing health and Senior's high standing in the Ministry. According to Madam Bones, the Crouch parents took the opportunity to switch mother and son using the shape-shifting potion and left as normal. Mrs Crouch was reported to have died just hours later.

In the years between the prison break and his arrest, Crouch Sr. had allegedly kept his son under the Imperius Curse at the Crouch ancestral home near Spore-in-the-Moor, in Devon. A confidential informant approached the DMLE in late July last year claiming to have seen Crouch Jr. in the house on a visit and was memory charmed to forget the incident. Madam Bones provided no explanation as to how the witness managed to overcome the memory charm.

A closed trial before the Wizengamot is set to be held on the 2nd of November after more than a year of investigation and a three-month-long covert Auror operation leading to both Crouch's arrests. The trial is notably after the 1990 Ministerial Election, making Crouch Sr.'s candidacy ineligible due to his detainment. That law was put into place after Augustus Clipp's infamous 1903 Ministerial Election victory, which came just a day before he was tried and convicted for the Improper Handling of a Granian, and therefore ousted from the office, leaving Venusia Crickerly to take up the role.

Crouch Sr.'s forced withdrawal from this month's Ministerial Election leaves Cornelius Fudge, long-time Head of the Wizengamot Administrative Services, as the firm favourite to become Britain's new Minister for Magic since Albus Dumbledore (Chief Warlock and internationally renowned hero of the Global Wizarding War) has, for the third election running, removed himself from consideration for the position.

The Crouch trial also boosts Muggle-born candidate Robert Foster's chances for the election, which begins in just under a fortnight. According to a poll this paper performed after Madam Bones' statement last night, 3 out of 10 voters approached believe that Mr Foster has a chance to win the election - the highest chances for a Muggle-born candidate since Minister Nobby Leach's shock election win in 1962.

For Messrs Fudge's and Foster's comments on the Crouch trial, turn overleaf to pages 2 and 3.

To see profiles of Messrs Fudge and Foster, turn to pages 6 and 7.

-o-

'Harry, are you going like that, or do you want to get changed?'

A familiar pull had made itself known as he'd read the headlines on the front page of this morning's Daily Prophet - a pull which had only gotten stronger as he'd read the accompanying article. The last nine years of his life had been spent intermittently becoming accustomed to the experience and recently he'd been getting better at recognising it and letting it lead him, rather than fighting it and having it just take over once it reached boiling point.

He folded the newspaper and put it back on the table before quickly gulping down the last of his squash as Mum walked into the kitchen. 'I need to come to Gringotts with you,' he said, surprising himself just as much as he surprised her with the abrupt statement.

Today, his parents were going to Gringotts for their last meeting about Mum's family tree magic. The dwarfs had already been offering the test in Velskytte's since August and it'd been wildly successful in North America. It had taken off in mainland Europe too once the Gnomes of Switzerland had followed the dwarfs example and started offering it in their branches. In Britain, the goblins were being difficult about the whole deal - as goblins often were - and Mum and Dad had been attending meeting after meeting trying to come to an agreement, while the goblins wanted a bigger cut, more assurances, more proof, or some other silly demand.

'Why?' Mum asked as she blinked in shock. 'I mean, the meetings are really boring. I think I'd prefer to spend time with Neville than deal with the goblins, to be honest with you.'

He shrugged. 'I don't know yet, but we'll soon find out. Do you know where my sunglasses are?'

'Oh!' she said, having taken a second to realise what she meant. 'Are they not in your room?'

'I don't think so.'

'Well have a look there first - a proper look!' she stressed, both of them knowing full well how terrible he was at finding things, '- and if they're not there then they might be in one of the coffee table drawers.'

Harry nodded and checked the coffee table first while he was downstairs, but the glasses weren't in any of the three drawers so he ran up the stairs towards his room. At his bedroom door he stopped in his tracks, suppressing his first instinct to check his bedside drawers; there was no chance he'd actually put them away properly after the last time he'd had them. Instead, he thought for a moment about where Mum would look first if she had to come up and find them.

With that thought, he walked straight towards the pile of clothes on the floor beside the laundry basket which had piled up from his many failed attempts at throwing shirts into it from the other side of the room. After he'd lifted up the third shirt and put it in the basket, he spotted the glasses in the back pocket of a pair of jeans. He gave himself a mental pat on the back, feeling proud of himself for how quickly he'd managed to find them, despite the fact that one of the lenses was cracked. It was the little victories, as Padfoot always said, though that was usually when he'd pulled off a pretty unimpressive prank on Dad.

'Can I borrow your magic, Mum?' he asked as he ran back downstairs and into the kitchen.

She looked at the glasses in his hand critically. 'Let me guess: in the pile of clothes that you've thrown next to the basket?'

'How do you do that?' he complained.

Mum smirked at him as she pulled her wand and silently fixed the glasses in his hand. 'It's a Mum thing,' she said cryptically, as though that was any explanation at all, and herded him into the hallway.

'Are you about ready to go, kid?' Dad asked as he came downstairs, Thea in tow.

'Yeah, but I'm coming with you.'

Dad raised an eyebrow in Mum's direction, and just shrugged when she did. 'Alright then.'

'Why aren't you coming to Layla's?' Thea asked as she struggled to tug on her shoes.

Harry crouched down and helped her push her feet into the little trainers. 'I've got to see the goblins, squirt. I'll see you later when we come and pick you up.'

'Don't call me squirt,' the little girl huffed, and kicked out at him without any force. Mum still saw it though, and rounded on her.

'Thea!'

'Harry started it!' she pouted.

'And I'm ending it,' Mum said in a tone which clearly allowed no further discussion. 'Come on, get your coat on.'