Harry Potter with Technology System-Chapter 392: Proof!

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As Harry stepped out into the open, the roar of the crowd hit him. The stands were packed, students and visitors leaning forward eagerly. The moment they spotted him holding the Cup, the noise swelled—cheers, applause, shouting.

Bagman, standing near the judges' area, raised his wand to amplify his voice. "Ladies and gentlemen! We have our champion—Harry Potter!"

The crowd erupted, but Harry barely paid attention. He spotted Dumbledore watching from the judges' podium, his expression calm but his blue eyes sharp, already taking in every detail. Snape stood off to the side, arms crossed, his gaze unreadable. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students were watching as well, some whispering among themselves.

Fleur had just emerged from the maze, looking a little worse for wear, with a cut on her cheek and her robes torn. She blinked when she saw Harry already standing there, the Cup in his grip. Krum hadn't made it out yet.

Harry walked past Bagman without sparing him a glance. The man was already gearing up for some over-the-top announcement, but Harry wasn't interested. The crowd was roaring, but their cheers barely registered as he made his way toward the judges' area.

He didn't stop at Dumbledore. He didn't acknowledge him at all. Instead, he went straight to Amelia Bones.

"Auntie," he greeted, leaning in slightly as if simply sharing a word of congratulations.

Amelia, ever sharp, tilted her head just enough to listen.

"Crouch Jr.," Harry muttered under his breath. "Masquerading as Moody. Right now."

She didn't hesitate. Didn't waste time asking how he knew. Her face turned grim as she stood abruptly, her voice cutting through the noise.

"Apprehend Alastor Moody immediately. Surround the school."

The sudden shift in atmosphere was instant. The Aurors stationed around the grounds snapped into motion, wands drawn, moving toward the maze. The noise from the stands faltered, students and visitors turning in confusion as Amelia's sharp command overrode the celebratory mood.

Dumbledore stood, his expression carefully neutral, though his blue eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Madam Bones, may I ask what this is about?"

Amelia didn't even look at him. "Alastor Moody," she repeated, voice heavy. "Now."

The urgency in her tone had the other professors rising as well. McGonagall's brow furrowed. Snape's gaze darted between Amelia and Harry, lips pressing into a thin line, then locked eyes with Karkaroff.

Harry remained where he was, letting Amelia take control. "Unlike your predecessor, Madam Bones, you're actually doing something."

Minutes later, the Aurors returned, dragging a struggling Moody onto the stage. The man was thrashing, snarling curses, his magical leg kicking out as he fought against their grip.

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"This is outrageous!" Moody bellowed. His voice was hoarse, wild-eyed, his real eye darting frantically while the magical one spun in every direction. "You think you can just—?"

His rant was cut off as an Auror forced him to his knees.

Amelia stepped forward. "Alastor Moody," she said, tone hard. "Or rather, the man pretending to be him."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, confusion spreading fast. Whispers broke out among the students, some craning their necks for a better look, while others turned to their neighbors, trying to make sense of what was happening. Even the professors exchanged uncertain glances, their celebratory mood shifting into something far more serious.

Snape, always one step ahead when it came to treachery, moved before anyone else could react. With a swift flick of his wand, he pulled a potion from his robes and forced it down Moody's throat. The man on the ground thrashed violently, gagging as the liquid burned its way through his system.

A second later, the transformation began.

The magical eye, which had been rolling wildly in its socket, suddenly jerked and pressed hard against his skull, as if trying to force its way out. A guttural cry tore from his throat as his features twisted and melted, skin bubbling as his limbs spasmed against his bindings. The belt holding his fake leg snapped, and the now-useless wooden limb clattered onto the platform with a sharp crack.

The crowd fell silent, watching in stunned horror as the illusion finally shattered. The man convulsing on the ground wasn't Alastor Moody. His face reformed, his hair darkened, his body shrank slightly. When the painful shift ended, the man left panting on the ground was someone entirely different.

Bartemius Crouch Jr.

A stunned hush settled over the stands. Then, all at once, the silence broke. Students erupted into frantic whispers, gasps echoing across the field as realization set in.

"That's—"

"—isn't that—?"

"—Crouch's son?! But he was supposed to be dead—"

Up at the judges' podium, Dumbledore remained still, his gaze fixed on the man at Snape's feet. Next to him, McGonagall had gone rigid, one hand covering her mouth in shock. The other professors were frozen, taking in the scene with varying degrees of disbelief.

Harry ignored them. He reached into his robes and pulled out a small enchanted mirror, tapping his wand against the glass. The surface shimmered before expanding into a floating, magical screen, displaying the recording he had taken.

The image flickered to life.

Voldemort stood tall in the graveyard, flanked by Rookwood and Wormtail. The cauldron still bubbled in the background, its contents glowing an eerie red. Wormtail was on his knees, clutching his bleeding stump, while Rookwood kept a sharp eye on their surroundings. The image was crystal clear—unshakable proof.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then the screaming started.

Pure, unfiltered panic swept through the crowd like wildfire. The students closest to the screen recoiled, some tripping over themselves as they tried to back away. Others clamped their hands over their mouths, eyes wide with horror. The image of Voldemort was undeniable. There was no mistaking that face. Although many haven't seen him, just matching face to his description was enough to spread terror.

Dumbledore moved at last, stepping forward, but before he could speak, Amelia Bones' voice rang out, cutting through the chaos.

"Aurors! Secure the grounds!"

Her command sent the Ministry officials into motion. The Aurors stationed around the perimeter sprang into action, wands raised as they moved to reinforce the castle's defenses. A few broke off to surround Crouch Jr., though it was clear he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Amelia Bones turned sharply to the Aurors. "You have all seen the evidence. Voldemort is back. We will NOT let the past repeat itself."

Meanwhile, on the stands, students from every house were talking over each other in growing alarm.

"He's back—"

"Voldemort—"

"But how—"

Harry turned to the judges, letting the weight of the situation settle before speaking. "The old Ministry's incompetence allowed this to happen. We're seeing the cost of past mistakes." he said, holding the Triwizard Cup in one hand while his gaze swept across the gathered officials. "A Death Eater snuck into the school, masquerading as a professor for a year. He put my name into the Cup—twice—forcing me into a deadly tournament I wasn't even old enough to enter. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he turned the Cup into a Portkey to send me straight to Voldemort so he could finish the job." He let that sit for a moment before adding, "I had to prepare for this because I knew I couldn't trust the old system to protect me. That should never have been the case. "

The stands were still in chaos, students whispering in frantic clusters while professors exchanged uneasy glances. Some looked at Harry, others at the image still floating above them—the frozen scene of Voldemort standing in the graveyard, Rookwood at his side, Wormtail on his knees. Harry looked at the chaotic audience, "This is the truth. You can either panic, or you can prepare. You decide."

Bagman opened his mouth, then shut it, his usual over-the-top enthusiasm nowhere to be found. He looked like he wanted to smooth things over, but there was no spinning this into something palatable.

Amelia Bones, still standing beside him, was already sending sharp instructions to her Aurors. Several had left to secure Moody's—no, Crouch Jr.'s—office, while others remained, wands drawn, ensuring the man didn't try anything now that his Polyjuice disguise had worn off.

"Krum is in the maze. Since Crouch's Imperius didn't work thanks to my efforts, he was bound. You should save him." Harry tossed the Triwizard Cup onto the judges' platform. It hit the ground with a dull thud, landing almost perfectly at Dumbledore's feet. He barely glanced at it.

"You can keep it. I didn't want to participate from the beginning anyway," he said, turning on his heel to walk away.

The stadium was still in chaos. The students in the stands were either whispering furiously or outright panicking. The professors weren't much better—McGonagall looked paler than usual, Flitwick's normally cheerful expression had twisted into something serious, and Snape's mouth was set in a thin line as he stared at the magical screen still floating above them, replaying the recording of Voldemort's return.

Amelia Bones, unfazed by the growing unrest, was already issuing orders. "Secure Crouch Jr. properly. Take him straight to the Ministry—maximum security. I want Veritaserum administered immediately. We'll need a full testimony."

The Aurors wasted no time, yanking the now-exposed Death Eater upright and restraining him with tighter magical bindings. He struggled for all of three seconds before going limp, likely realizing there was no escape.

Harry didn't stick around to watch the chaos unfold. He was already moving, cutting through the stunned crowd without a glance back. He reached the castle, climbed the stairs two at a time.

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