The atmosphere in the chamber thickened as the weight of the revelation sank in. The headmasters of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang stepped forward, their faces stern, embodying authority, their expressions betraying an undercurrent of unease.
"Forgive us, but this is unprecedented," Madame Olympe Maxime, the towering headmistress of Beauxbatons, said, her French accent heavy as her piercing gaze swept across the room. She adjusted the delicate lace at her neckline, folding her arms with a dignity that could not be questioned. "The rules of the Triwizard Tournament are clear, and there can only be three champions."
Professor Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang, raised his bushy eyebrows, his voice cutting through the tension. "Indeed," he rumbled in his thick Bulgarian accent, his hands clenched behind his back. "To allow another champion now would be to undermine the very integrity of the tournament."
Loki, lounging casually against a marble pillar, straightened slightly, his lips curling into a knowing smile. His eyes glinted with mischief as he studied their reactions. "Ah, but where would the fun be in following the rules so strictly, my dear colleagues?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, his tone light but dangerous. "After all, aren't we here to test the limits of magical prowess?"
Madame Maxime and Karkaroff exchanged incredulous glances, clearly taken aback by Loki's audacity. For a moment, there was a palpable silence, the tension thick in the air.
Loki, unfazed by their reactions, raised a hand with a flourish, continuing as if he hadn't noticed the shock. "In the spirit of the Quadwizard Tournament, I propose something truly remarkable—a Duelling competition like no other," he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Each school shall select a team of ten students to compete in a series of magical battles, each testing not just their individual skills, but their ability to work as a cohesive unit. A challenge for both their prowess and their strategic thinking."
A hushed murmur passed through the crowd, the champions, their friends, and the gathered dignitaries clearly intrigued by this bold idea.
Ludo Bagman, ever the enthusiast, clapped his hands together, his face lighting up with excitement. His voice rang out, exuberant and gleaming with the prospect of a betting frenzy. "Ah, a brilliant suggestion, Lord Loki! A tournament like no other!" He rubbed his hands together, practically bouncing on his heels. "Just think of the spectacle! We'll have crowds of spectators, wagers being placed all over, people clamoring for a seat. This is exactly the kind of entertainment the masses are yearning for!"
Viktor Krum, his posture as stiff as ever, cleared his throat in his heavy Bulgarian accent. "Vould it be possible... to add... Quidditch to the competition?" he proposed, his dark eyes scanning the room. "Each school forms teams, vying for the cup on brooms, vying for glory in the air." His idea hung in the air for a beat before anyone responded.
Haraldr, standing at the back, grinned widely, his excitement evident. "That sounds fantastic!" he exclaimed, turning to his friends with sparkling eyes. "I mean, imagine us—Asgard—flying through the air in the biggest Quidditch match of all time!"
Susan Bones's voice chimed in, a note of optimism in her tone. "It's a perfect idea! It'd be a great chance for us to show off some skills."
Neville Longbottom, looking more confident than ever, nodded enthusiastically. "Always loved Quidditch, and this could be amazing. Just think about the teams—Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Asgard going head to head!" His hands gestured wildly in excitement.
Hannah Abbott's voice followed, her words sharp with anticipation. "And imagine the look on the other schools' faces when they see just what we can do. We'll show them we're not to be underestimated!"
Luna Lovegood, ever the dreamer, stood beside them, her pale blue eyes wide with wonder. "I wonder what kind of creatures they use for the games at other schools," she said absentmindedly, her voice full of curiosity as her mind drifted off into fantastical thoughts.
Draco Malfoy, ever the strategist, leaned forward thoughtfully. "It could also serve to build camaraderie between our schools," he said, his voice controlled. "Something tells me it'll be more than just the magic on the brooms we'll need to focus on."
Skadi, who had been quiet up until this point, finally spoke, her voice soft but strong. "I'll give it a try," she said, her eyes locked on the room, her expression determined. "I may not be the best flyer, but I'm no slouch either."
Haraldr turned to face Viktor again, a grin spreading across his face. "It's a deal," he said with enthusiasm, clapping his hands. "We'll accept your proposal. Let's make this Quadwizard Tournament one for the history books!"
Fleur Delacour, standing next to Cedric, nodded in agreement, her voice carrying her unmistakable French lilt. "It is an exceptional idea," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We shall make this the most memorable competition yet."
Cedric Diggory, ever the charming and composed champion, broke into a smile. "This is going to be something special," he said with a nod, his voice warm and confident. "We'll make it unforgettable, that's for sure."
Dumbledore, who had been listening with his usual patience, now stepped forward, his long, silver beard catching the light as he regarded the room with a thoughtful expression. "It seems the champions are in agreement," he said, his voice firm but with a hint of amusement. "We must ensure that this Quadwizard Tournament is conducted with the utmost care and fairness." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, making it clear that he was, as always, fully invested in the success of the tournament.
He turned to the tournament organizers, Barty Crouch Sr. and Ludo Bagman, who were now standing nearby, exchanging looks of determination.
Crouch, his expression set in a grim line, nodded at Dumbledore's words. "Rest assured, Headmaster. The integrity of the tournament will be upheld. We'll make sure everything runs as smoothly as possible." His voice was deep, authoritative, and calm.
Bagman, unable to contain his excitement, added, "Indeed! A tournament of this magnitude deserves nothing less!" He practically hopped on his feet, his enthusiasm infectious as he rubbed his hands together again. "Spectacular! Just wait until the crowds get a load of this!"
Dumbledore smiled at their fervor but knew the road ahead would be anything but simple. Yet, as always, he was ready for whatever came next.
Loki, with a satisfied smirk, leaned back against the pillar once more, his eyes sweeping across the room. "Well, then," he said, his voice dripping with mock formality. "Let the Quadwizard Tournament begin!"
The champions, their friends, and the dignitaries around them shared a glance, their faces alight with anticipation. The games, as they had always been, were about to change the course of their lives forever.
—
Loki's expression, once playful, turned serious. His eyes darkened as he surveyed the room, the weight of his presence palpable. "There is one more thing we must take care of before we can begin," he declared, his voice echoing through the hall, a command that seized the attention of everyone present. The crowd quieted in anticipation.
In an instant, Loki's movements were a blur. With a flick of his wrist, he appeared in front of Moody—who was, in fact, not Moody at all. Loki's fingers shot out, gripping the man by the neck. There was a collective gasp from the room.
Barty Crouch Jr., disguised as Mad-Eye Moody, struggled, his hands clawing at Loki's iron grip around his throat. His eye, spinning wildly, locked onto Loki with pure terror, but it was too late. The god's magic surged, causing the transformation to unravel before their eyes.
The disguise fell away with a sickening crack, the body of Moody contorting as it shifted into the twisted form of Barty Crouch Jr. The crowd reeled back in horror, the blood draining from their faces as they realized they had been deceived.
Loki stepped back, his voice cold and filled with a fury that was barely contained. "Your deceit ends here, Barty Crouch Jr.," he hissed, his tone a mixture of scorn and command. His eyes burned with the unrelenting fury of a god wronged. "You will face justice for your crimes."
The imposter's cruel smile faltered as he tried to regain his composure, but the room's atmosphere had already shifted—betrayal, anger, and shock hung in the air like a thick fog.
Bagman, who had been bouncing around in his usual cheerful manner, froze. His eyes widened in disbelief, and the jovial grin that usually played at the corners of his lips vanished. He stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence, his face slowly paling. "But... but... I... I didn't know..."
Barty Crouch Sr. stood rigid, his normally composed and authoritative expression crumbling as he took in the sight of his son exposed. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to lose his usual stern composure. His gaze flickered toward the others, shame and guilt clouding his usually implacable face. He cast a fleeting glance toward Dumbledore, who was now looking at him with an expression filled with disappointment—a gaze that cut deeper than any words ever could.
Dumbledore's voice broke the heavy silence, quiet but stern. "Barty... How long has this been going on? How could you allow such deceit to take place?" His tone was not accusatory, but rather tinged with a deep, abiding sadness. His eyes, twinkling under normal circumstances, were now clouded with regret and weariness as they studied Crouch Sr. The trust he had once extended, now shattered, left a sour taste in his mouth.
Loki, still holding Barty Crouch Jr. in place, twisted his wrist just enough to make the imposter wince. "Do not expect your father to save you. You've led us all astray. You've caused far more damage than you know."
Crouch Jr.'s eyes darted frantically from Loki to the other faces around him, but there was no escape. "I—I did it for the Dark Lord!" he spat, his voice hoarse and venomous. "For the cause!"
Loki's lips curled into a bitter smile. "The Dark Lord? That old fool?" He laughed, the sound rich and mocking. "He never was much of a threat, was he? All talk, no substance." His eyes flashed with mischief and malice as he addressed Crouch Jr. with a raised brow. "But I suppose I've seen worse."
At this, Bagman cleared his throat nervously, attempting to regain some semblance of control. "Well, yes, yes, quite the unpleasant turn of events, this one. Quite shocking, really... but I'm sure we can work through this, can't we?" He gave an uncomfortable laugh, but the expression on his face was a mask, attempting to veil the creeping realization of his own involvement in the deception. His tone, usually carefree and optimistic, was now laced with uncertainty.
Crouch Sr. seemed to shrink under the scrutiny of the room, unable to speak, his mouth dry. He finally looked up at Dumbledore, who was watching him with a heavy gaze that felt more like a judgment than a question.
Dumbledore sighed, his voice weary. "Trust," he said softly, his words carrying more weight than the room's tension. "It is the foundation of everything, Barty. You have betrayed that trust—first with your son, then with us all." His eyes hardened as he looked back to the gathered champions. "This will not go unpunished."
Crouch Sr. swallowed hard but did not answer, his face etched with defeat.
Loki's grip on Crouch Jr. tightened. "I'll be taking this one with me," Loki said, his voice brokering no argument. "There's no place in Asgard for deceivers and traitors. It's time for him to face true justice."
The room fell silent as Loki, in one smooth motion, waved his other hand, the air around them crackling with the promise of magic. Crouch Jr.'s struggles grew weaker as he was pulled into Loki's grasp, and the once-feared Dark Lord's follower was powerless now.
The champions exchanged glances, their faces still etched with shock at the turn of events, but their collective resolve began to form. This was no longer just about a tournament. It was about the integrity of the wizarding world—and the lengths to which one would go to defend it.
"Let this be a lesson to us all," Loki continued, his voice now tinged with an almost eerie calm. "Deception and betrayal have a price, and tonight, you've seen just how high that price can be."
With a final wave of his hand, Loki vanished, taking Barty Crouch Jr. with him, leaving the room in stunned silence. The tension in the hall was thick as everyone, even the most hardened among them, took in what had just transpired.
Dumbledore turned slowly to face the group, his eyes twinkling with the faintest hint of his usual mischief, though it was clear the events had taken their toll. "Well," he said softly, breaking the silence, "I do believe the Quadwizard Tournament just became... infinitely more interesting, don't you?"
—
The atmosphere in the Hall had become suffocating, thick with the weight of the moment. Aurors swiftly moved through the crowd, their polished boots echoing across the stone floors, a reminder that this was not just any gathering, but one filled with the consequences of betrayal. Among them were Kingsley Shacklebolt and Rufus Scrimgeour, their presence commanding attention.
Shacklebolt stood tall, his imposing figure radiating authority. His deep, calm voice broke through the murmur of the crowd as he approached Amelia Bones and Sirius Black. "Amelia, Sirius," he greeted, his tone warm but laced with the weight of the situation. "Good to see you both, though I wish it were under better circumstances."
Amelia, her expression still firm, nodded curtly. "Always a pleasure, Kingsley," she replied, her voice strong and unwavering. "Though I don't think I've ever seen a turn of events quite like this."
Scrimgeour, standing at Kingsley's side, eyed the room with sharp vigilance, his graying hair and weathered features only adding to his intimidating presence. "Amelia, Sirius," he echoed, his voice tinged with both respect and concern. His eyes lingered on James Potter. "And James… this is a rather... unexpected reunion. We thought you were lost to us forever."
Before James could respond, Dumbledore's voice cut through the tension, his usual calm now replaced with a tone that bordered on paternal concern. His robes swirled around him like a cloud as he stepped forward, his blue eyes wide behind his half-moon spectacles. "James, my dear boy," he began, the weight of years of wisdom heavy in his voice. "How is it that you have returned to us? Surely, this is not a result of necromancy?"
Loki, standing nearby with arms crossed, let out a dramatic, exasperated sigh. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk as he stepped forward. "Oh, cut the grandfather act, Dumbledore," he said, his voice smooth and mocking, a far cry from the gravity of the situation. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic, didn't you? This is hardly the time for your theatrics."
Dumbledore blinked, taken aback for a moment by Loki's interruption, but his expression remained calm as ever. "You are… quite bold, Loki," he remarked, his tone tinged with the slightest bit of curiosity.
Loki gave a small bow, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "It's a gift," he said with a charming smile, before his gaze returned to James. "As for your dear friend here, Dumbledore, James Potter did not return through any dark arts or forbidden rituals. No, he passed in battle, in a fight against Voldemort, and entered Valhalla. It was there that he was honored as an Einherjar—a warrior chosen by the gods to fight until the end of days. As his wife, Lily—Eirlys, as you call her—was Asgardian, James's valor was recognized, and when the time was right, he chose to return."
The room fell into stunned silence. The words hung in the air like the weight of the gods themselves, leaving everyone reeling. Eirlys, her golden hair cascading down her back in waves, stepped forward with a serene yet powerful presence. Her green eyes met Dumbledore's, a quiet understanding between them. "James's return is not something dark or unnatural," she spoke softly, but with an undeniable authority. "It is a blessing from the gods, and we are here to help, not to harm."
James, standing resolutely beside her, nodded with quiet strength. His voice was calm, yet laced with the undeniable assurance of someone who had seen death and returned. "Loki speaks the truth," he said, his voice carrying the weight of years spent in the afterlife, training and fighting. "My return is not something to fear. It is a sign that there is still work to be done, and I am here because it is my duty. The honor of the gods gave me this chance, and I will not squander it."
Dumbledore, for once, seemed lost for words, his usually poised expression flickering with something akin to guilt. His brows furrowed slightly, the weight of what he had assumed about James's return becoming clearer with each passing moment. "I see," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of remorse. "I apologize for my assumptions, James. The world is much larger and more complex than I often remember."
Loki, ever the provocateur, raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore's shift in demeanor. "You ought to be more careful with your assumptions, Albus," he teased, his voice carrying a mixture of amusement and mockery. "Not every death is final, and not every return is rooted in dark magic."
With the tension in the room beginning to dissipate, Rufus Scrimgeour glanced at Kingsley, his usually stern face softening with a quiet sense of relief. "This... this is a fortunate turn of events," Scrimgeour said, his voice gravelly but tinged with a note of hope. "The return of James Potter, alongside the presence of our esteemed Asgardian allies, gives us a strength we didn't know we had."
Kingsley nodded, his ever-present calm becoming something akin to genuine optimism. "This shows us we are not alone," he said, his deep voice resonating with quiet authority. "We welcome your strength, and we welcome you to this fight."
Sirius Black, who had been watching the scene unfold with quiet intensity, finally spoke, his voice a low growl. "James," he said, his eyes locking onto his old friend. "You've always been a bloody pain in the arse, but it's good to see you again." A smirk tugged at his lips. "Just don't make a habit of dying on me, all right?"
James smiled, his eyes filled with the warmth and camaraderie that only old friends could share. "I'll try not to," he replied, the bond between them clear.
As Amelia, too, regarded James with a mixture of awe and understanding, her firm expression softened just slightly. "It seems there are more forces at play in this war than we ever imagined," she said. "But with all of us standing together, we may have a chance."
Loki, always one to savor the moment, flashed a grin. "Now, this is what I call an alliance," he said, his voice laced with amusement and satisfaction. "Who knew a gathering of wizards and gods could be so entertaining?"
With that, the room seemed to breathe again, as the alliances forged in the heat of battle and magic began to solidify. The weight of their past victories and losses remained, but there was a sense of hope—an acknowledgment that this was far from over, and together, they would face whatever came next.
—
Amelia Bones stood tall, her presence commanding the room. Her sharp eyes, now gleaming with the experience of countless battles, swept over the scene before her. She turned to Rufus Scrimgeour and Kingsley Shacklebolt, her voice steady but carrying the weight of authority. "Rufus, Kingsley," she said, her gaze shifting between them. "Given the nature of the crime and the fact that it was committed against Prince Haraldr of Asgard, I believe it is only fitting that the Asgardians be allowed to interrogate both Crouch Sr. and Jr. before they are taken into custody."
Scrimgeour, who had always exuded an air of quiet authority, stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing. His mind raced through the implications of Amelia's suggestion, but his decision was swift. "Agreed," he said, his voice gruff, but there was an undercurrent of respect. "The Asgardians have every right to seek answers and ensure that justice is served."
Kingsley Shacklebolt, ever composed, nodded with an air of confidence. His deep voice, rich with authority, cut through the tension. "We can facilitate the process here at Hogwarts," he said. "It will ensure transparency and cooperation between our worlds."
Amelia turned to Loki and Eirlys, her posture one of quiet resolve. "Would that be acceptable to you?" she asked, her gaze steady, though her respect for their abilities was evident in her tone.
Loki, ever the enigmatic trickster, flashed a knowing smile. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he tilted his head ever so slightly, his voice smooth and dripping with a mix of mock sincerity and approval. "Indeed, it would," he said with a casual shrug, his hand sweeping out in an exaggerated gesture. "We have our ways of discerning the truth, methods that complement your... more conventional practices."
Eirlys, standing with a calm grace, met Amelia's gaze. Her serene demeanor was in sharp contrast to the chaotic energy of the moment, but her voice was strong, carrying the weight of a warrior who had fought on both earthly and celestial planes. "We will proceed with respect for your laws and procedures," she said, her words thoughtful and unwavering. "Our aim is not to disrupt, but to uncover the truth and ensure that justice is done."
Amelia nodded, her expression firm but approving. "I trust you," she said simply, her voice carrying a rare note of reassurance. "We all seek the same goal."
At this, Crouch Jr., who had been silent up until now, shifted uncomfortably in his restraints, his eyes flicking nervously from one figure to the next. His face, so often contorted with manic energy, seemed to lose some of its usual self-assurance, but he couldn't help but crack a sardonic grin. "Oh, how delightful," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "As if the gods themselves would deign to stoop down and play the part of your interrogators. Should I start confessing now, or do I wait for the divine judgment?"
His eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on Loki, a flicker of recognition sparking in his wild, unstable mind. "You," Crouch Jr. spat, his voice low and venomous. "You're him. The god of mischief, aren't you? What are you going to do? Cast a spell to make me talk?"
Loki, unfazed, leaned in slightly, a mischievous smile curling at the corners of his lips. His voice was a velvet whisper as he responded, "Oh, Crouch, you misunderstand. You see, I don't need to cast a spell to make you talk. No, I simply need to ask the right questions, and perhaps you will reveal more than you intend." His smile widened ever so slightly, an expression of both amusement and calculation in his eyes. "Or perhaps, you'd like to explain yourself before we get to that part. The choice, as always, is yours."
Crouch Jr.'s grin faltered for a brief moment, the weight of Loki's gaze pressing down on him. The god's calm yet potent aura was enough to make even someone like Crouch Jr. second-guess his bravado. But true to form, he leaned back in his chair with a scoff, deflecting the momentary crack in his facade. "You think you're so clever," he muttered under his breath, but there was a tremor in his voice.
Eirlys stepped forward, her expression soft but unwavering. She regarded Crouch Jr. with a quiet intensity, her eyes locking onto his with the kind of focus that could pierce through the layers of his deceptions. "Enough games," she said gently, but her voice carried an unmistakable weight. "You will answer for what you have done. Whether through your own admission, or through the methods we must use to draw the truth from you, justice will find its way."
Scrimgeour, ever the pragmatist, turned to the assembled group. His sharp gaze swept over the room, lingering on Crouch Sr. as he remained still, his face a mask of quiet dignity that belied the storm within. "I suggest we begin the questioning," he said, his voice firm and decisive. "We are wasting time, and I have no intention of letting either of these two escape their due punishment."
Shacklebolt, who had been quietly observing, added in his steady tone, "Let us ensure that no one is left in the dark. We'll get to the truth, together."
As the Aurors and the Asgardian allies prepared to proceed with the interrogation, the tension in the room was palpable. Crouch Sr., for all his stoicism, couldn't hide the flicker of unease that crossed his features. The truth, whatever it was, would be forced into the light. And with the combined might of the Asgardians and the Ministry's finest, justice would be served—not by whim, but by law.
—
The secure room within Hogwarts was silent, the walls seemingly holding their breath as the Aurors led Barty Crouch Sr. and Jr. inside. The faint glow of the enchanted candles flickered in the dim light, casting long shadows over the stone floors. Amelia Bones, her posture radiating authority and strength, stood at the far end of the room, her Asgardian heritage manifesting in her commanding presence. She was no longer just a seasoned Auror but an embodiment of ancient power, her eyes gleaming with the same resolve that had guided her through countless trials.
Loki, ever the trickster, stood beside her, his posture loose yet imposing. He radiated an energy that was both magnetic and unsettling. His eyes, sharp as daggers, were locked onto the Crouches, his lips curling into a smirk as he took in the full measure of his captive audience.
The room seemed to contract around the two prisoners, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Barty Crouch Sr., the elder of the two, stood tall, his face a mask of practiced stoicism, though his eyes flickered with a hint of unease. Beside him, his son, Barty Crouch Jr., shifted restlessly, his manic energy barely contained. The elder Crouch, despite his apparent calm, could not suppress the occasional twitch of his lip, a sign that even he was affected by the presence of the gods in the room.
"Well," Loki began, his voice smooth and laced with a hint of amusement, "this is rather quaint, isn't it? Two prisoners, one room, and an impeccable opportunity for some... truthful conversation." His gaze flicked over to Crouch Sr., a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Crouch?"
Barty Crouch Sr. narrowed his eyes but said nothing. His pride and defiance were etched into every line of his face. He was a man used to controlling situations, but now, it seemed, the tables had turned.
Amelia, stepping forward with a grace that belied her strength, crossed her arms. "No more games, Barty," she said, her voice firm but not without empathy. "Your deeds have caused suffering in realms far beyond this one. It's time for you to face the consequences. You will speak the truth."
With a single motion, she raised her hand, and the enchantment that Loki had woven around the room flared to life. Runes of power shimmered in the air, surrounding the two Crouches like a tightening web. The magic hummed with a deep resonance, a force that was undeniable and unyielding.
Loki's gaze never left them as the magic took hold, a subtle satisfaction creeping across his face. "You see," he continued, his voice a velvet whisper, "this room is not just for questioning. It is a place where deception will die a slow and painful death, where lies can find no sanctuary." He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with dangerous intent. "So, I suggest you speak truthfully, unless, of course, you'd like to test how far your lies will stretch before they break."
Crouch Jr., who had been quietly seething, could no longer keep his mouth shut. His voice, high-pitched and manic, erupted with a venomous snarl. "What is this? You think you can force me to talk?!" He glared at Loki, his eyes wild with the same chaos that had defined his every move. "You fool! I will never betray the Dark Lord! You can't make me!"
Loki's smile was slow, almost indulgent, as he straightened up. "Oh, I'm not trying to make you betray anyone, dear boy," he said, his tone full of dark humor. "I'm merely giving you the opportunity to share your truth. Such a delightful thing, truth. Don't you agree, Mr. Crouch?"
Crouch Sr. stiffened, his gaze momentarily flickering to his son before he regained control. His voice was low, gravelly, and laced with an air of finality. "You think this will work? You think you can break me like some common criminal?" He scoffed, clearly unfazed by the magic binding him. "I have seen things you cannot begin to comprehend. There is nothing you can do to make me speak."
Loki's expression didn't waver. He took a step closer, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Perhaps you don't understand, old man. It's not about breaking you. It's about revealing what you've hidden from the world. You and your son—you've already betrayed your master, your ideals, your very blood."
Amelia's tone shifted as she stepped forward again, her voice softer but no less powerful. "You think you've gotten away with everything, Crouch. You've conspired, manipulated, and harmed countless lives, but now... now, you will be forced to face the full extent of your crimes."
There was a pause. A palpable stillness in the air, as if the room itself were holding its breath.
"You played a role in manipulating the Triwizard Tournament," Amelia said, her voice sharp with the weight of accusation. "You have tainted the very sanctity of Hogwarts. But that's not where your betrayal ends, is it?" Her eyes hardened. "You've endangered realms beyond your own. And for that, you will answer."
Crouch Sr. let out a hollow, almost defeated laugh. "You think you know everything?" he sneered. "I did what I had to do for the greater good. It was always about the greater good."
Loki tilted his head, his voice dark and contemplative. "Ah, the greater good. How quaint. Always a convenient excuse for those with too many secrets. But I'm afraid the greater good means very little now, Mr. Crouch. Not when the world has already begun to pay the price for your little schemes."
It was Crouch Jr. who finally spoke again, his voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and fear. "We did what we had to do! You don't understand—you don't know what it's like! We had no choice!" He twisted in his restraints, eyes wide with desperation. "The Dark Lord... he promised... he promised everything!"
Loki's gaze softened for a moment, the slight shift in his expression enough to unnerve Crouch Jr. "You had choices, boy," Loki said quietly, his voice surprisingly gentle. "The choices you made have led you here, to this point. And now, your father's sins will be your own. The truth, all of it, will be revealed."
Amelia nodded in silent agreement, her voice cold with finality. "And once it's out, there will be no hiding. You will answer for everything. The betrayal of the Tournament. The lives you've destroyed. The manipulation of Haraldr and his family."
With that, the magic holding Crouch Sr. and Jr. flared again, sealing their fate. The room was thick with the weight of the truth, and as it poured from their lips, there was no escape, no deception left to cling to. The revelation of their plot was more than just a confession—it was the unraveling of their entire existence.
As the Aurors led the Crouches away, their faces etched with defeat, Amelia and Loki exchanged a brief look. There was no celebration, no moment of triumph. Just a quiet acknowledgment of the battle they had fought—and won.
Amelia turned to the assembled crowd outside, her voice carrying with authority. "The truth has been revealed," she announced. "Barty Crouch Sr. and Jr. will face the full weight of their actions. Justice has been served."
And with that, the room settled into a silence that spoke volumes. The balance between realms had been restored—one revelation at a time.
---
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