Conversation

Barty stood at the window and watched the young boys exercise. He was going to have to do it soon, too, but for a week Harry had agreed to give him a week off, so to speak, to regain his health after being under the influence of the second unforgivable for so long. The man was surprised at how confident the four were in themselves and their actions, for Azkaban left a strong trace of fear, uncertainty, and mistrust in the souls of those who were in it.

POV of Barty Crouch, Jr.

The boys have been in Azkaban for ten years..... and nothing. There's nothing about them to indicate that. They plan, they put their plans into action, they initiate a complete stranger to them, who has done nothing but harm in his past life, into secrets.... How could they do that? How could they stay normal after this, after what was done to them? And what is most incomprehensible, how could they retain their teenage mischievousness and recklessness, inherent only in young people who think little of the consequences? And they handle it all as if they were playing.

What is it? The influence of childhood, which, in fact, and was not? Or a way of dealing with the past? Or the anger and hatred that is acquired in Azkaban, simply transformed into this very recklessness? And yet, it took a guess to sneak me out from under the elf's nose and from my own backyard. And they broke through the defences and it's like they didn't even notice. And they dealt with Harry's relatives in a way that even the Dark Lord would be jealous of. I wonder what they're going to do after they talk to Black. Sirius had been quite the joker at Hogwarts, after all. If he can recover from Azkaban, I shudder to think what's in store for us.

End POV of Barty Crouch, Jr.

Seeing that the boys had finished their exercise, the man walked down to the dining hall. Just then the front door slammed and there was a stomping sound. It was the boys who had gone to their rooms to change and shower. Barty stuck his hand in his pocket and sighed heavily. He was so eager to get his wand back that he hadn't used in almost thirteen years. It was a shame that the old wand couldn't be returned, as it had been broken right after the trial.

- Well, I'll just use the other one," Crouch said aloud, pushing back his chair.

- Talking to yourself, even out loud, doesn't do you any good," Potter said cheerfully as he entered the dining room.

It was obvious to the naked eye that the boy had come down here right after his shower. His not too long black hair was damp, and the smell of shower gel was clearly in the air. The pleasant, fresh smell of the ocean breeze suited this young man. Just as sharp, gusty, but constant. The silence after the young man's words was interrupted by a clap, announcing the elf's arrival.

- Sir Harry, may we set the table? - The houseboy squeaked.

- Yes, Zippy," Potter nodded.

He still didn't understand why the Longbottom elves addressed him when Neville wasn't around. The landlord himself only smiled wryly at the question he'd recently been asked and said that if he wanted to know, he just had to wiggle his brain. But on this particular issue Harry was frankly too lazy to think. So he simply waved it off. A few minutes later, Draco, Neville and Ron came down to the dining room. By this time the table was already full of dishes. After Azkaban, the boys preferred a full English breakfast, and they ate quite a lot of it. Today's breakfast, like everything since they'd been back in THIS time, consisted of scrambled eggs, sausages, fried bacon, blood sausage, toast, beans in gravy, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, butter, marmalade, jam, juice and tea. Barty only hummed understandingly at the sight of the packed table. The food in Azkaban was terrible. And the grey-brown slurry that was passed off as soup or the lump of sticky mass that was porridge could hardly be considered food. He watched the silently chewing boys carefully, trying not to show his interest. Half an hour later, the five mages moved to the summer terrace. The housekeepers immediately moved the tea there. Sitting in a wicker armchair, squinting his eyes against the bright sun and holding a thin porcelain tea cup in his hand, Barty asked a question that worried him.

- 'Harry, you said I'd have to go to the Dark Lord. Is that compulsory?

Potter, took a sip of tea, twirled the mug in his hands and only then answered.

- Yes, Barty, absolutely. We'll leave everything, or rather almost everything, as it was in THAT life. The old goat didn't believe until the last moment that Gryum wasn't real. So you'll be able to be with us at Hogwarts without fear, and you'll be able to follow that half-dead little twerp that is Tommy and Pettigrew the rat without the slightest danger to yourself. After all, Riddle considers you his most loyal servant, mind you, those are his words. That's what he said in the graveyard back then. And what's disgusting, well, we all have to make sacrifices and endure things. Imagine what it will be like for us at school among these creatures and you won't curse anyone. But you and I will get back at them for everything. Believe me, Barty, they'll curse everything they've done and everything they haven't done yet.

- All right," Crouch nodded. - What am I supposed to do with the wand?

- What do you mean, what do you do with it? - Ron didn't understand.

- My wand was broken right after the trial, and I don't have another one," Barty explained.

- We'll buy one," Harry shrugged somewhat phlegmatically.

* * * * *

Late in the afternoon, the fireplace burst into a green flame and Sirius Black stepped into the living room of the Longbottom mansion. He looked a little better now than he had at the end of Potter's third year. He was dressed in a tattered but clean dark brown robe, simple, slightly oversized black trousers, and a Muggle T-shirt. On his feet were simple summer shoes. As soon as he stepped out of the fireplace, Sirius immediately searched Harry's eyes. After a few seconds, his eyes widened and he hardly recognised his godson. The next words the unlikeable godson uttered made the man realise he was right in his definition.

- Hello, godson. Glad you agreed to meet me.

- Harry? What happened to you? - Black asked, stepping closer to his nephew.

- A lot of things, godfather. We'll have a lot to talk about today. So have a seat," the boy smiled at Black, waving toward the couch.

- First, explain what you're doing here," Sirius demanded.

- I will, I'll explain everything, but in order. First, let me introduce you to some of my REAL friends," Harry emphasised the word in his voice. - So, let me introduce you to the master of the house-Lord Neville Franklin Longbottom. Nev, this is my godfather-Sirius Orion Black. Next. Ronald Billius Weasley, heir to the Pruett family. But you've already met him. And, of course, Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy family. Draco, this is my godfather and your great uncle, Sirius Orion Black. Godfather, sit down! Calm down and stay calm. You'll get a full explanation. And there is one more person. OUR associate and, dare I hope, future good friend - Barty Crouch Jr.

At those words, the young man stepped out of the shadows of the corner and approached the boys, keeping his eyes on the stunned Black.

- What the Mordred is going on here," Sirius came to his senses after a moment and jumped to his feet.

- If you want to know, just sit there and listen. Silently," Harry almost commanded, sitting down in the last available chair, while Barty walked over to the fireplace and stood beside it. As Potter began his story, Neville summoned the housekeeper and ordered him to bring coffee and a memory maelstrom that was still filled with memories of THAT life. True they were already copies, as Draco, remembering that he would have to show them more than once, had offered to copy them. It was too much of a hassle to sort out whose memories were where. So copies of Barty's memories were added there as well.

Two hours later the story was finished. The boys and Crouch took turns telling the story, so that Black would have a full impression of what had happened. Sirius sat pensively, tapping his fingers on the cup of coffee that had long since cooled. After a while, he spoke.

- I don't believe it. This is some kind of nonsense. Albus simply couldn't have done such a thing, and neither could your parents, Ron. I know them well. They're good, honest, decent wizards. How can you say that about them?! Harry, you've been there and you know Molly thinks you're practically a son! You and Ron should be ashamed of yourselves. Albus covers up all your shenanigans! It's the devourer's pooch that's leading you astray?! Towards the end, Sirius was already screaming. He jumped up from his chair and waved his arms around. Harry, on the other hand, was outwardly calm, but the evil squint of his emerald green eyes told him that it was best not to touch him right now.

- No one has led us astray," Ron rushed to Malfoy's defence. - Draco is much better than most muggles. He knows what it's like to be betrayed and he wouldn't do something like that. He's our friend, he's also been hurt by your beloved Dumbledore and his puppets. Everything we've told you is true. Dumbledore is the most evil thing you'll ever find. And you're Albus this, Albus that. Ugh, it's disgusting! How can you not believe your godson?!

- You're defending the white-haired boy? - Sirius asked curtly.

- Shut up, Black," came Harry's icy voice.

He turned around and swallowed nervously. He hadn't seen Harry like this before. There were specks of scarlet in his emerald green eyes, the living room had gone cold, and the young wizard's entire figure was threatening. In one cohesive movement, Potter rose from his chair. Gripping Black's shoulder tenaciously, he uttered:

- 'You insult Draco or any of them again,' he swung his free hand in the direction of Neville, Ron and Barty, 'I will curse you in such a way that even the portrait of your evil mum will give me a standing ovation. Okay?! Draco is closer to me than you are. He's been through hell with me, Nev and Ron. Him, not you? Now I'm off to watch the memories! -

Harry pushed his dazed godfather towards the pool of memory, nonverbal wandless spell holding the artefact so it wouldn't shatter or spill the memories. Sirius' head flew straight into the silvery substance, disappearing from the living room. Potter, glaring unhappily with red-green eyes, sank back into his chair.

- Tough," Barty said approvingly, sitting down in the empty chair.

- He wouldn't understand any other way," Harry said, trying to calm down.

There was silence in the living room. The boys were thinking about their own things. Draco was surprised by what Harry had said. And at the same time, he was pleased that his friend considered him more important than his own godfather. Such an attitude not from a family member was new to the blond-haired wizard.

* * * * *

Sirius Black lay in the guest bedroom of the Longbottom mansion. More than three hours ago, he had finished going through his memories using the memory pool, after which he had simply had to believe everything the four boys and Crouch had told him. After agreeing to help them with everything, regardless of the means by which it would all be achieved, Harry bound him to them and their secret, unbreakable oath with a bunch of different safety points and only then calmed down. After which he sent his godfather to his assigned bedroom so that he could calmly consider what he had heard and seen. Sirius wasn't offended now, he understood that his godson cared about those he cared about. If he'd been through the same thing himself, he probably would have done the same. It pained the man to admit that someone he trusted had betrayed him. That everything around him was so permeated with lies, but..... But he didn't indulge in regrets about what had happened, about believing Dumbledore so blindly. He was finally able to begin to make sense of his life and his actions. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that he fell asleep with a decision to make. Namely, to ask his mother's forgiveness for all his antics and, without asking unnecessary questions and forgetting about his sensitivity to dark magic, to trust the one who had already lived this same life once, to trust and follow his banners to the end. And no matter what that end would be, even if death, he would not turn from his path again.