Chapter 184: Confrontation
The atmosphere in the Headmaster’s Office felt distinctly uneasy... especially after Jon had finished recounting what he’d done inside the maze.
“Is that so?” Albus Dumbledore raised his head, his expression grave. “Then what about Mr. Krum and Miss Delacour?”
Jon nodded. “To make sure Harry Potter could safely take the Triwizard Cup, I transformed into Professor Alastor Moody. Using the locations this map provided, I found them. I knocked them unconscious and lit the red signal to get them out.”
As he spoke, Jon gestured to the Marauder’s Map lying on the table.
Dumbledore’s brow furrowed slightly.
“I don’t think that violated any rules, Professor,” Jon said. “The Third Task never stated that contestants couldn’t attack each other in the maze!”
“Of course not.” Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “In a way, Jon, you’ve done me a great service.”
Then he fell silent.
...
The Headmaster’s face looked unusually somber. He dropped into his chair and gave the desk a light pat.
The scruffy fledgling gave a reluctant glance at the herbs before flapping its wings and hopping to Dumbledore’s side.
“May I know the reason?” After what felt like a long silence, Dumbledore finally lifted his head.
Jon, of course, knew exactly what he meant.
“Because I’m afraid,” Jon answered honestly.
“I’m just a wizard born to a Muggle family—the very sort the Dark Lord and his followers are eager to wipe out. I have parents who can’t defend themselves. Any Death Eater could kill them without a second thought...
“I just told you, you’re the most powerful wizard in the world. You don’t have to fear You-Know-Who; you can even speak his name. But I’m not the same. I’m only a third-year student. Maybe I have some talent, but all I want is to live out my years at Hogwarts in peace...”
Jon let out a sigh, then raised his head to meet Dumbledore’s pale blue eyes. “So, Professor Dumbledore, why did you put my name into the Goblet of Fire?
“May I know the reason?” he added.
The Headmaster’s Office fell into complete silence.
Nearly every portrait of the former headmasters fixed their gaze on the exchange. Not one of them dared to make a sound.
Even the ugly fledgling on the desk seemed to sense something was wrong. Trembling, it buried its head beneath its featherless wings.
...
Dumbledore opened his mouth.
For an instant, Jon felt as though he was about to say something.
But in the end, the Headmaster held back.
“I’m sorry, Jon...” Dumbledore’s voice was low. “I am a selfish man—far more selfish than you could ever imagine. That has never changed.”
“I’m the same, Professor.” Jon nodded. “I am a very timid person—far more timid than you could ever imagine.”
“But your young mind is much sharper than I expected!” Dumbledore lifted his head. “To be honest, I always thought myself infallible. Yet I never foresaw such an ‘accident’...”
“Perhaps you overestimated me,” Jon shrugged. “That’s why you made such a careless mistake.”
“What do you intend to do now?” Dumbledore asked quietly.
“Jon Hart is dead,” Jon said calmly. “The Dark Lord killed him with his own hands. That name has vanished from this world. Both the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord will forget him.
“So they won’t suspect when a young wizard suddenly shows up in France....” His tone turned pleading. “Professor, I need your help!”
“My help?” Dumbledore froze.
“You have many friends in Paris... or Boston would work as well,” Jon added quickly with a forced smile. “Maybe you could write me a letter of introduction?”
It took Dumbledore several seconds to grasp what he meant.
“But you’re dead, aren’t you?” he asked, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief.
“Yes... That’s why I should stay quietly at Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny—so the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord don’t discover I’m still alive.”
“Mr. Hart, don’t you think your request is a bit much?” Dumbledore said, half exasperated, half amused.
“Oh, I nearly forgot!” Jon smacked his forehead, then pulled a notebook from his pocket.
“What is this?” Dumbledore’s curiosity sharpened.
“As I mentioned, I gave Barty Crouch Jr. Veritaserum. He revealed quite a lot...” Jon spread the notebook open on the desk.
“One particularly shocking thing was this: despite being a loyal follower of the Dark Lord, Barty Crouch Jr. didn’t meet him until last August!
“The meeting itself was brief—only a few days. They were practically strangers.” Jon paused before continuing, “But the Dark Lord placed enormous trust in him. Considering Crouch saw him as a savior, that much is understandable.
“Through the Veritaserum, I learned details—like how he addressed the Dark Lord and Wormtail, and the way he spoke to them...”
“Oh?” Dumbledore’s tone, light and almost flippant a moment ago, turned serious. “So...”
“The one who died was Jon Hart,” Jon said with a small smile, “but Alastor Moody, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, is still alive.”
“Are you suggesting you’d go undercover among the Death Eaters for me?” Dumbledore asked, eyeing him skeptically.
“No. My acting skills aren’t nearly good enough,” Jon shook his head. “But clearly, there’s someone much better suited.”
He gave Dumbledore a knowing wink.
Dumbledore seemed to understand. A faint smile curved his lips. “I imagine Alastor would be very willing. After being imprisoned by a Death Eater for a year, he’d be eager to send more of the culprits straight to Azkaban.”
“So Jon Hart must die, correct, Professor?” Jon asked carefully. “Then... will you grant my request?”
“I believe I can,” Dumbledore replied gently. “But before that, I have a request of my own...”
...
Author's Note
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