For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius’s eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.
“So he’s still in Azkaban?” Harry said.
“No,” said Sirius dully. “No, he’s not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in.”
“He died?”
“He wasn’t the only one,” said Sirius bitterly. “Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the Dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son’s body. The Dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it.”
Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.
“So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made,” he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic… next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I’ve heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”
There was a long silence. Harry was thinking of the way Crouch’s eyes had bulged as he’d looked down at his disobedient house-elf back in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found beneath the Dark Mark. It had brought back memories of his son, and the old scandal, and his fall from grace at the Ministry.
“Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards,” Harry told Sirius.
“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s become a bit of a mania with him,” said Sirius, nodding. “If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater.”
“And he sneaked up here to search Snape’s office!” said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione.
“Yes, and that doesn’t make sense at all,” said Sirius.
“Yeah, it does!” said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head.
“Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn’t he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him.”
“So you think Snape could be up to something, then?” asked Harry, but Hermione broke in.
“Look, I don’t care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape—”
“Oh give it a rest, Hermione,” said Ron impatiently. “I know Dumbledore’s brilliant and everything, but that doesn’t mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn’t fool him—”
“Why did Snape save Harry’s life in the first year, then? Why didn’t he just let him die?”
“I dunno—maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out—”
“What d’you think, Sirius?” Harry said loudly, and Ron and Hermione stopped bickering to listen.
“I think they’ve both got a point,” said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. “Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I’ve wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape’s always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy haired kid, he was,” Sirius added, and Harry and Ron grinned at each other. “Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters.” Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names.
“Rosier and Wilkes—they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges—they’re a married couple—they’re in Azkaban. Avery—from what I’ve heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he’d been acting under the Imperius Curse—he’s still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater—not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape’s certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble.”
“Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet,” said Ron.
“Yeah, you should’ve seen Snape’s face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!” said Harry quickly. “Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape’s been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn’t see what it was.”
“He showed Snape something on his arm?” said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again. “Well, I’ve no idea what that’s about… but if Karkaroff’s genuinely worried, and he’s going to Snape for answers…”
Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration.
“There’s still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn’t, but I just can’t see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he’d ever worked for Voldemort.”
“Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape’s office then?” said Ron stubbornly.
“Well,” said Sirius slowly, “I wouldn’t put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher’s office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I’m not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he’s seen, it’s not surprising. I’ll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though… he’s a different matter… is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape’s office? And if he’s not… what’s he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn’t turn up in the Top Box? What’s he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?”
Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.
“You say your brother’s Crouch’s personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he’s seen Crouch lately?”
“I can try,” said Ron doubtfully. “Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch.”
“And you might try and find out whether they’ve got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you’re at it,” said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet.
“Bagman told me they hadn’t,” said Harry.
“Yes, he’s quoted in the article in there,” said Sirius, nodding at the paper. “Blustering on about how bad Bertha’s memory is. Well, maybe she’s changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn’t forgetful at all—quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic… maybe that’s why Bagman didn’t bother to look for her for so long…” Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.
“What’s the time?”
Harry checked his watch, then remembered it hadn’t been working since it had spent over an hour in the lake.