Bertha's expression was one of complete horror as she whispered her question. Was the Dark Lord truly alive? It was a shock she could hardly bear. It was not something she could have imagine ever in her life.
Harry let out a small chuckle, amused by her reaction.
"Yes, Miss Jorkins," he said calmly after few moments. "Through some vile and unnatural means, Voldemort managed to cling to life. He is alive!"
He paused for a moment before adding. "Though for now, he is nowhere near the power he had once held. He is in a severely weakened state."
That final sentence brought some measure of relief to Bertha's stricken face. In a single night, her understanding of the wizarding world had been torn apart and had been transformed into something far more unbelievable and terrifying.
She took several deep breaths, working to calm her racing heart. She decided not to press further about Voldemort or Peter Pettigrew. Harry's confidence gave her some measure of comfort, and she had no desire to become entangled in matters darker than she could handle. She held no power to deal with those matters.
"What do you want from me?" she asked after a long pause. This was the question which affected her.
Harry smiled faintly. "Hmm… what I want?"
He leaned back and stated. "Let's start with a story first."
Bertha blinked, confused, but said nothing.
"Years ago, you were just starting out at the Ministry, working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation under Barty Crouch Sr.," Harry began.
She nodded, her confusion growing.
"One day, you visited the Crouch estate to get some paperwork signed. And there… you uncovered a secret that Crouch Sr. had been hiding for years."
Bertha's eyes widened in disbelief. What was he talking about? She had no memory of such an event.
"To keep that secret buried, Crouch placed a powerful memory charm on you," Harry continued. "And the forgetfulness you developed in the following years—that was a side effect of that charm."
Bertha's mouth fell open. Her expression turned to one of absolute shock. She found it unbelievable but with the confidence Harry was speaking, she found it impossible to believe.
"What… what secret?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Crouch Jr. is still alive," said Harry bluntly. "Crouch Sr. has been hiding his son at home, under the Imperius Curse."
"But… but he died in Azkaban!" she stammered in utter horror. With each passing moment, more and more shocking revelations were being made to her.
Harry shook his head and explained the grim tale. How Crouch's dying wife had used Polyjuice Potion to take her son's place in prison, passing away there while the real Barty Crouch Jr. returned home in secret.
"And because the potion's effect remains even after death, no one questioned the switch," he concluded. "And Barty Crouch Sr. made sure that funeral was conducted quickly burying away any chance of truth coming out."
Bertha sat still for a long moment, trembling slightly. The revelation rocked her to her core.
After a long pause, she asked again, "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to work for me," Harry said.
Bertha blinked again. "What kind of work?"
"The usual," Harry replied. "Information from the Ministry. A few errands. Whatever I need. Do not worry. I would not be using you just because you owe me a life debt."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming. "In fact, you will be compensated if you desire."
"What kind of reward?" she asked cautiously.
Harry smiled mysteriously. "How does the use of the Potter family magic sound?"
Bertha's eyes widened. "You… you don't mean—?"
"Oh, I do," said Harry.
Bertha fell silent, thoughts racing.
"Would not that make me a vassal of the Potter House?" she asked carefully.
Harry coughed awkwardly. "You could put it that way… but it is only to your benefit."
"But you cannot offer family magic until you become the Lord of House Potter," she countered. "You are still underage and there are two more years before you could take up the Lordship."
Harry shook his head. "No. I will be Lord Potter in two months."
Bertha narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but Harry did not give her time to argue.
"Make your choice," he said, voice colder now, edged with impatience.
After a moment of hesitation, she gave a small nod. Of all her options, this seemed to be the best possible one. "Fine."
"Good," said Harry. "Now, let me remove the memory charm."
She leaned forward eagerly. Harry raised his index finger and placed it gently on her forehead. Just like with Peter, a pulse of magic surged and he found himself inside her mindscape.
Unlike Peter's, Bertha's mindscape was well lit. It was not large, perhaps the size of a grand hall, but it was better organized. She had her own small castles, structured and intact where her memories were being stored.
The castle motif was the most basic mental organization. Only wizards with advanced understanding of mind arts crafted more complex representations.
Harry scanned the mindscape and appeared before a castle hidden in a dense grove of trees, cloaked in a misty fog.
There it is, he thought.
The charm Crouch had used had created a fog around this particular memory castle, making it invisible to Bertha's awareness. Occasionally, the fog would leak and interfere with her other memories, explaining her erratic forgetfulness.
Harry pointed his index finger at the castle, and a magical gust began to spiral around it. The wind sucked up the fog, clearing the area with a steady pull.
Moments later, the fog was gone—and the castle stood fully revealed.
With a final thought, Harry exited Bertha's mindscape.
"Done," he said aloud.
Bertha sat back on the sofa, eyes wide and unfocused as she sifted through the memories that were once hidden from her. Though she was feeling a bit of headache, it would be gone in sometime. But more importantly, the realisation of truth had come to her.
.
.
.
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