Chapter 249
"Tell me—what exactly did you add to the Polyjuice Potion, my dear partner?" Moody asked, his voice rough, his gaze fixed on the boy with an almost eager intensity.
Inside Moody's office, the air felt heavy.
"Even with the flask allowing me to replenish the Polyjuice Potion on time and maintain my disguise, I still don't feel it's safe enough," Moody muttered. He coughed harshly, then glanced at the clock hanging on the bookshelf.
He pulled out the familiar curved brown flask, gave it a shake, and studied the liquid inside with his magical eye.
"Of course—it's all just to fool them," he added, staring at the boy again.
The boy standing before him was Draco—the same Draco who had used Polyjuice Potion during the second task.
Draco rose casually from his chair and stepped closer, pushing the flask back toward Moody.
"I got the information about the second task from Ludo Bagman a long time ago, so I prepared in advance," he said lightly. "As for the Polyjuice Potion… that was just an excuse."
He shrugged, his tone half-truth, half-dismissal.
"Hmm." Moody pressed his lips together, disappointment flickering across his face. "I was hoping I could cut down on drinking that awful stuff. Seems I'll have to keep at it."
Suddenly, his brows furrowed.
A small red flag on his desk had begun to spin.
He glanced at it briefly—then looked away as if nothing had happened.
"Right… then tell me this," Moody continued, his tone shifting as he fixed Draco with that piercing magical eye. "How did you resist Albus Dumbledore's hypnosis?"
"Are you underestimating me?" Draco replied, his voice cool. "If I'm on guard, that kind of magic won't work on me. And besides… he has to be gentle with a hostage. He can't go too far."
Moody scratched his chin slowly, nodding.
"Fair enough."
Then his expression brightened slightly.
"I might already have a lead on the third task," he said, sounding almost pleased with himself as he tucked the flask away.
"They trust me," he continued. "With this identity, everything becomes… convenient. They consult me on almost every safety measure. From the first task to the second, I've been able to get information in advance."
He bared a row of uneven, rotting teeth in a crooked grin.
Before Draco could respond, Moody kept talking.
"I've helped the so-called Savior quite a bit," he said, raising one hand and counting on his fingers.
"First, the dragons. The students came up with all sorts of methods, and that half-giant helped too. Saved me some effort."
He paused, then gave a short, regretful sigh.
"If he'd died during the first task, that wouldn't have been so bad. Unfortunately… he's still needed."
A faint rustling sound came from the office door.
Moody's magical eye flicked toward it—subtle, almost imperceptible.
"For the second task," he went on, "I had to work harder. Dropping hints without being obvious isn't easy."
"I mentioned scuba gear and Gillyweed in front of his friends. Even spoke to him directly. But I couldn't make it too easy for him."
A crooked smile spread across his face.
"I also stirred things up in the lake. Looks like that Beauxbatons girl got lucky—Potter and the Durmstrang champion were tied up for quite a while."
"That's better," he added thoughtfully. "Too much attention would raise suspicion. If the Savior keeps shining all the time… people might start asking questions."
"But he still has to pass," Moody muttered, slapping his forehead lightly.
Then, suddenly—his tone sharpened.
"But right now… we have an uninvited guest to deal with."
He rose abruptly, limping toward the door.
There was a slight gap between it and the frame.
"Hm? What's this—a beetle?" Moody said, feigning surprise.
He moved closer, step by step, toward a small black beetle lying on the floor.
Draco raised an eyebrow, following his gaze.
The beetle suddenly sprang into motion.
Its tiny legs scrambled frantically as it tried to escape, darting toward the gap between the bookcase and the floor. It seemed to believe it could hide there—out of sight, out of reach.
But it had forgotten something.
Moody's magical eye could see through disguises—through almost anything. Even the Cloak of Invisibility wouldn't fool him. An Animagus transformation stood no chance.
"Confine it!"
"Stupefy!"
Moody's wand cut through the air with force. Two powerful spells struck with perfect accuracy, blasting dust into the air and filling the room with a choking haze.
The limp had been an act all along—to lull the intruder into carelessness.
"See that flag on the desk?" Moody said, glancing at Draco with a grin. "It spins whenever someone enters. I got rid of the old alarm—too noisy. This works better."
He flicked his wand again.
"Let's see what we're dealing with. Clean it up."
The dust cleared.
A woman lay sprawled on the floor, unconscious—curly blonde hair fanned around her face.
"You don't seem surprised," Moody remarked, settling back into his chair.
"Perhaps you missed the moment when I was," Draco replied calmly. "When you mentioned the beetle."
Moody let out a low chuckle.
"Well… I still can't see her face properly."
He raised his wand again.
The woman's body lifted into the air, flipped over—and dropped back down with her face exposed.
"Oh… a nosy little reporter," Moody said with clear disdain.
He recognized her instantly—the exaggerated red lips, the golden curls, the overpowering perfume.
"What do you think I should do with her?" he asked, his tone turning dark as he looked at Draco.
"This is your prisoner," Draco replied evenly. "But if possible… keep her alive. She's always eager to oppose Dumbledore. Better not create unnecessary complications before the plan is complete."
"Reasonable."
Moody smiled—
And in the next instant, that smile twisted into something cruel and unsettling.
"She'll make a fine toy," he said softly, eyes gleaming as he looked down at Rita Skeeter.