Rewound (Drarry)

Adult Supervision

With the Second Task fast approaching, Draco was becoming antsier. Harry didn't notice much at first, but after Draco had insisted they spend another nightly Shrieking Shack session 'going over the plan' for the third time that week, Harry had cottoned on to his feelings.

Draco was worried about him.

And really, he shouldn't be. Harry had bloody rescued too many people and almost been drowned by grindylows the first time around, and he'd still survived- this time would be a breeze. As well as having Snape to readily provide Gillyweed, and consequently not being excessively anxious throughout the weeks running up to it.

However, Harry's many consolations did nothing to dissuade Draco, and so he'd been forced into practicing the Bubble Head charm - which, by the way, was very difficult - as a precaution. Harry would have been annoyed, but Draco's incessant worrying had been frankly driving him mad, and at least this way he wouldn't bombard Harry with possible mishaps every time they spoke.

The charm practice was fairly rudimentary, but Harry was doing it on all the nights he wasn't otherwise occupied, which - combined with his regular afternoon visits to the Shrieking Shack with Draco, left him little time to dedicate to himself.

It was because of this, that Harry found himself on a Friday night at midnight, taking a relaxing, invisible walk through the school.

He'd always enjoyed his late night ventures, and now was no different. As Harry wandered to darkened corridors, most was undisturbed. The portraits were snoozing idly in their frames, and the classrooms were dark and silent.

All seemed to be in order, until Harry rounded a corner, and heard distant, muffled snippets of conversation from down the hall. He wondered if it'd be morally reprehensible to simply pretend he had not heard a thing, and return to Gryffindor Tower blissfully ignorant to the suspicious nighttime happenings of Hogwarts.

Except, Harry had never been a particularly unscrupulous person, and ignoring what was blatantly a unsavoury discussion would probably be unethical. So, with a heavy heart, Harry trudged annoyedly in the direction of the voices.

As he neared, he was surprised to find one of the voices was Professor McGonagall.

He approached the open door of the classroom she was standing in, and listened to her words waft through the entrance. He could see her through the gap between the door and the threshold, anguished face illuminated by golden lamplight.

"You have to know something! These things don't just happen, Mr Bagman."

Ah! It was Bagman she was talking to. Harry thought.

McGonagall continued, "It's suspicious, to say the least. The Ministry is doing nothing to locate an employee who has mysteriously gone missing, and now this? It can't be a coincidence. You must look into it at once!" She was saying with a troubled expression.

"Minerva, Minerva!" Bagman said placatingly, "Bertha Jorkins had a notoriously bad memory, as I've told you! The Ministry is almost certain she has simply, er- how do I say?"

McGonagall raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Misplaced herself," he settled on. "That is a completely unrelated instance! Mr Crouch has been providing instructions from his home, Weatherby is reporting that he has come down with a rather severe ailment and cannot attend the Tournament any longer. He has not just gone missing!" He implored, pressing a conciliatory hand onto her shoulder.

"Trust me, dear Professor. Barty Crouch is a highly regarded member of the Ministry. If we had any reason to believe he was endangered, we would be taking immediate action."