"Well…" Karkaroff hesitated. "Better let Dumbledore explain—I'm not entirely sure myself..."

"Not sure? Hmm?" Moody sneered. "Weren't you just swaggering around, criticizing Dumbledore? What happened to all that bravado? Oh, I see—now that it concerns your little secrets? Or are you afraid someone's going to spill how you used to—"

"Alastor!" Dumbledore's voice cut him off before he could say anything truly rude.

Then he turned to look at Cohen.

"This is something Cohen must also agree to reveal. Whatever the reason, I believe this revelation will affect his life negatively."

"I'm a half-Dementor," Cohen said calmly.

Honestly, the only person in the room who didn't know already was Madame Maxime.

"What?" Madame Maxime blinked, wondering if she'd misunderstood something in English. "A half-what?"

"Dementor," Crouch repeated on Cohen's behalf. "The creatures that guard Azkaban."

"I was under the impression they weren't truly alive," Maxime said with a deeper frown. "A human can't produce offspring with something that doesn't even live. How was he born?"

"It was the result of a Dark Magic experiment," Crouch replied evenly. "This was supposed to remain classified to avoid causing panic in the wizarding world."

"Then it's obvious who's responsible," Karkaroff said, his voice less steady now. "Who else would put a dash in front of his name—"

"You're only suspicious because of his bloodline?" Maxime suddenly changed sides and bellowed at Karkaroff. "As Dumbledore said, we don't have enough evidence."

"Someone wanted him exposed," Moody growled at Karkaroff. "Someone's trying to spread fear—using a powerful Confundus Charm to fool a highly enchanted magical artifact. One part of the plan was to kill Harry Potter through the Tournament, the other was to reveal Cohen Norton's 'dangerous identity' to sow panic. You'd know all about that kind of trickery, wouldn't you, Karkaroff?"

"Are you saying I did it?" Karkaroff tried to sound firm but faltered. "Ha, what an original theory. Of course, if Professor Moody doesn't discover six assassination plots before lunch, he'll think his morning's been wasted."

"My job is to think like a Dark wizard, Karkaroff. Don't forget how I—"

Professor McGonagall tugged on Moody's shoulder, stopping him from airing more of Karkaroff's dirty laundry.

"The Goblet of Fire has just gone out. It won't relight until the next Triwizard Tournament," said Dumbledore. "Because of the magical contract, we have no choice but to accept the outcome. All selected champions must compete."

"Then what about the fact that his 'school' is listed as 'Azkaban'?" Madame Maxime gestured toward Cohen. "Are we really presenting that as a fourth school? If we're calling that prison a school?"

"If that's what the Goblet recorded, then it must be honored," said Crouch stiffly.

"Absolutely not," Fudge interrupted. "Azkaban champion? The papers will have a field day—we won't be able to explain that at the Ministry—"

"I recall Cohen has a relative sentenced to life in Azkaban," Crouch said. "Herbert Burke. Though the sentence was changed to life supervision over the ruins of Burke Manor."

"I remember that case," Moody said gruffly. "Amelia handled it. The man showed proper remorse."

"Then we say the Goblet picked up on that bloodline connection, resulting in a misclassification as a fourth school," Crouch said. "It'll help maintain the appearance of fairness and prevent the media from running wild."

"That seems like the best course of action," Dumbledore agreed. "If no one objects—"

"What about Harry Potter then?" Karkaroff asked. "Hogwarts still has two champions—"

"That boy is only fourteen! He'll be lucky to survive!" Moody roared.

"If you've got a better solution, Igor, I'm all ears," Dumbledore said.

Karkaroff fell silent.

"Then it's settled," Crouch said. "Tomorrow we'll gather all five champions and begin orientation for the first task."

After Karkaroff and Maxime left, Crouch motioned to take Fudge with him—but Fudge suddenly stopped, as if snapping out of a trance.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, grabbing Cohen, who was about to return to his dormitory.

"Hm?" Cohen tilted his head and looked at the obviously anxious Minister of Magic, who seemed wound up from all the public pressure.

"It's getting late, Cornelius," Dumbledore reminded him.

"Minister, the matter is resolved," Crouch said.

"He knows his connection to the Dementors," Fudge said. "What if he's involved in their rebellion?"

[Latest chapters first released on 69shu!]

"That's a baseless accusation, Minister!" McGonagall snapped. "The Dementors have always been dangerous—what does that have to do with Cohen? Dumbledore's warned you more than once—"

Cohen hadn't even tried to incite the Dementors—if he had, Azkaban wouldn't be dealing with a mere riot. The Dementors would've all walked out and never looked back.

"Minerva, calm down," Dumbledore said. "But Cornelius—if I recall, you've been monitoring Cohen's family closely. If you've found any evidence, by all means, press formal charges."

Fudge racked his brain but couldn't come up with anything. Cohen hadn't been anywhere near Azkaban all summer—his longest trip had been to a Quidditch match.

Even Crouch didn't back him up.

"The Minister's had a tough time lately, with all the attacks and public pressure," Crouch apologized after escorting Fudge out.

Although Crouch had been supporting Cohen since the Quidditch World Cup, something about it felt off.

Given Crouch's reputation for ruthlessly upholding the law, why did he keep helping someone like Cohen—a walking, talking dark magic experiment?

"Understandable," said Dumbledore. "Now then..."

He patted Cohen's shoulder with a warm smile.

"Go get some rest, Cohen. I imagine your fellow Gryffindors are waiting to celebrate with you and Harry—if I'm not mistaken, Harry should be at the right-side stairwell of the Great Hall."

"Keep your eyes open, kid," Moody added, giving Cohen's back a friendly pat. His good eye blinked rapidly.

Clearly, Dumbledore had given Moody the full picture—just enough to prevent him from drawing dangerous conclusions in front of others.