A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

"Harry! Are you okay?" Ginny rushed in and helped him up anxiously, her eyes full of worry.

Harry's hair, face and clothes were stained by mud and water, like a homeless man who had emerged from the sewer. The people around looked at Rogge in shock, how dare he, that is Mr. Savior!

"Clean up." Arthur waved his wand quickly.

The Weasley brothers, Bill, Charlie, the twins and Ron, gathered around, their eyes revealing their dissatisfaction and anger towards Roger.

Rogge shrugged lightly, without any apology in his tone: "Sorry, my hand is a bit strong."

"You bastard!" Charlie's patience had reached its limit, and he could not accept Rogge's rash apology. He threw away the umbrella in his hand angrily and rushed towards Rogge.

He works in a dragon farm all day long, and the smell on his body makes most magical animals fear him. Ever since, he thought he was very powerful. He clenched his fist and punched Rogge's calm face mercilessly.

However, Rogge's reaction was as fast as lightning. He quickly raised his foot and kicked Charlie away.

"Put your fists away, we are wizards." Rogge adjusted his wrinkled cuffs and glanced at the Weasley family members present with cold eyes, "Don't make it seem like Hogwarts has never taught You magic. I personally accept magic duels."

Old Batty closely observed Rogge's every move. The speed, angle and power of Rogge's shots showed that he had undergone strict fighting training, which was very rare among wizards.

In the wizarding world, using a fist instead of a wand is considered impolite and rude, but Barty Sr. thinks this notion is nothing more than a joke. In his opinion, there are no restrictions on the way a wizard fights. Whether he uses a wand or a fist, as long as he can achieve his goal, it is an effective attack.

The holly wood wand danced between Rogge's fingers, flying as light and fast as a butterfly. His eyes turned to Amelia, with a hint of questioning in his tone: "Madam Minister, if this wand belongs to another wizard, will you also let me return it to its original owner?"

"Of course." Amelia answered firmly and decisively, without any hesitation: "Veritaserum has proven that it is someone else who releases the mark. Even if it is not Harry's wand, the other party will use someone else's wand to achieve his goal. Purpose."

"Thank you." Roger smiled and nodded his thanks, then walked towards Harry.

Ginny stood in front of Harry, as if she was worried that Roger was going to hurt the Savior. However, he only handed Harry his wand.

He patted the other party's shoulder lightly, with a hint of mockery in his words: "Mr. Potter, I hope your good luck will continue." He thought to himself that if it weren't for Voldemort's order, Harry would have been eaten to death long ago. The disciples solved it.

Harry raised his head and stared at Roger with angry eyes through his wet glasses.

"Minister, do you still need to bring Mr. Crouch's house elf back to the Department?" Diggory asked softly.

"No (no)..." Amelia and Old Barty said in unison. They looked at each other, and Old Barty continued: "I will punish it."

In the trance state, Shining didn't realize what was about to happen. It stood in the heavy rain and let the rain beat mercilessly on its body. If old Batty gives it clothes at this moment, it will be the greatest kindness to it.

"Oh, clothes?" Roger urged with a playful smile, "Hurry up, Mr. Crouch. A free elf with a free mouth."

Everyone present was not a fool and could all hear the hint in Rogge's words. Once Winky is freed from the shackles of the Crouch family, Rogge can take him as his own and learn the secrets about Old Barty from the elf.

"Mr. Rogge, you already have a lot of elves at home." Digory walked forward with a smile, he had already made a decision in his heart. Since I have offended old Batty tonight, why not offend him to the end, "Can you give it to me?"

It would be great if the elf could learn about Old Barty's crimes. Even if you get nothing, getting a hard-working elf is a good deal.

Old Batty stood frozen in the rain holding his clothes. He looked like a weak little girl being stared at by two strong men with evil intentions. Not only them, but many wizards who had old grudges with old Batty were also staring at him.

Does he dare? He doesn't dare! Because he is not the director of the Law Enforcement Department with a clear conscience.

Old Batty gritted his teeth and put his clothes back. People in the rain sneered in different tones. It turns out that you also have an invisible secret.

Amelia took a deep look at Old Barty, then led Susan away from here. Soon after, the other officials and Aurors left. The Weasley family supported Percy. Although they were full of anger, they dared not speak out and could only leave in a hurry.

Two men, one old and one young, stared at each other like medieval knights, waiting for the battle horn to sound. Hermione felt the tension in the atmosphere. She gently pulled on Rogge's sleeve, but he didn't respond.

"Just now, I could ruin your reputation." Rogge's voice was extremely cold, and the air around him seemed to solidify because of his words. "For example, ask him how many people are in Crouch's family?"

Winky, who had gotten rid of the effect of Veritaserum, looked at Rogge in fear and carefully hid behind Old Barty. Old Barty's heart gradually sank. He clutched his wand tightly, and his cold eyes frightened Hermione. Countless speculations flashed through his mind, but he still didn't understand where the other party got the news that Barty Jr. was not dead.

"But that would be too kind to you." The corner of Rogge's mouth raised slightly, revealing a sneer. He passed by Old Barty, "We will meet again this year, right?"

The heavy rain slapped the green leaves mercilessly, and the umbrella in Old Batty's hand slipped quietly. Twinkle hurriedly picked up the umbrella and stood on tiptoes, trying to protect her owner from the rain. It carefully pulled on Old Batty's sleeve, but Old Batty was as unresponsive as a sculpture.

The rain scattered old Barty's carefully combed hair and gathered into thin streams, flowing along his cheeks. He fled the camp in a hurry and returned home, eager to see what was going on in the basement.

In order to coordinate the Goblet of Fire affairs, he has not been home for several months. The basement was empty. The demon he had been sheltering had fled the place.

"Twinkle!"

"Master, it's not me, it's really not me!" Shining's voice was full of fear and despair.

In the dim light and shadow behind the window, Old Barty raised his ruthless iron whip, which left an afterimage in the air and struck the house elf hard.

The heavy rain outside the window seemed to be wailing for the screams of Shining, until the screams became weaker and weaker, and finally turned into dead silence.

Old Barty collapsed on the sofa, and the blue carpet was stained black by the sparkling blood. He loosened his collar and suddenly coughed violently. Fatigue and headaches bit into his body. Old Barty, who had arrested and killed countless Death Eaters, finally fell ill.

He gritted his teeth, struggled to get up, and walked into the pouring rain of the night. Immediately afterwards, a sudden fire engulfed the Crouch family's house.

In the Daily Prophet the next day, Rita published an article satirizing the Ministry of Magic, titled: "Horrifying Scenes at the Quidditch World Cup." The picture at the bottom of the article is the rising Dark Mark, a symbol of death and fear.

As expected of a professional in making news, he used various negative words to describe the reaction of the Ministry of Magic. What about panic, criminals escaping... lax security... It seemed to her that writing otherwise would not be enough to demonstrate a journalist's professional ethics and reporting ability.

In an inconspicuous corner of the newspaper, there was a photo of the burnt ruins. The small print under the photo explains that the former Director of the Law Enforcement Division was attacked by suspected Death Eaters. He himself fell unconscious and was rushed to St Mungo's Hospital. The doctor reluctantly announced that Old Barty was in some kind of nightmare and there was nothing he could do.

Two consecutive chaotic incidents, as well as the tragedy in Little Hangleton Village that was unknown to the outside world, left Amelia facing an unprecedented crisis of trust. Staff members who had been fired from the Ministry of Magic, including Arthur Weasley, organized and publicly accused her of incompetence.

In the end, former Minister Fudge was invited back by the losers and temporarily took over as Director of the Department of International Magical Exchange and Cooperation. They watched all Amelia's policies and actions with eager eyes, ready to knock her to the ground.

"Dad, have you really returned to the Ministry of Magic?" the Weasley children asked excitedly at the breakfast table at the Burrow. Harry also smiled and looked at Arthur, happy that he could return to the Ministry of Magic.

"Of course, and I got a promotion." Arthur proudly carried his new suit and showed off, "Fudge asked the Financial Secretary to repay our salary. Let's see if this suit fits us?"

Mrs. Molly, who was busy with housework, looked at her husband with a smile and teased: "He is much fatter than when he got married."

"That's because your cooking is delicious." The two of them smiled at each other, and their eyes seemed to be stretched.

Step, step, step, heavy footsteps came from the stairs. Percy walked directly into the fireplace with his briefcase under his arm.

"Percy, are you leaving without eating?" Mrs. Molly frowned and stretched out her hand to pull him out.

"No, mother. The minister is counting the names. We don't have Mr. Fudge's leisurely life." He glanced at Arthur as he spoke, and the atmosphere in the kitchen became tense.

"Fudge is the good official. That witch minister, like Rita, does no good to the wizarding world." Ron retorted.

Harry nodded in agreement. The current minister was too aggressive. Even though he knew it was impossible for him to release the Dark Mark, he still interrogated him like a prisoner. In comparison, Mr. Fudge was much better. He was really happy that Fudge could return to the Ministry of Magic.

"Okay, stop talking!" Molly forcefully interrupted the children's argument. She put the bread into Percy's hand and said, "Remember to eat."

As the fireplace rose into green flames, the twins cheered, "Nasty Percy is gone at last."

"Cheers!" they raised their juices and cheered. Molly and Arthur looked at each other and shook their heads helplessly at the children.

The biggest problem facing the Ministry of Magic is not to hunt down the murderer who caused chaos and released the Dark Mark, but how to deal with thousands of angry shouting letters.

Almost everyone at the Quidditch World Cup suffered significant financial losses, and even some poor wizards claimed that Death Eaters stole ten thousand gold galleons from them. They did not dare to ask for compensation from the Death Eaters, but they dared to vent their anger to the Ministry of Magic and demanded full compensation for their losses.

Rogge, the instigator, is currently counting the culprits of environmental destruction in the secret vault of Travis Manor. Piles of gold galleons piled up into mountains, and all kinds of dazzling jewelry could be seen everywhere like shells on the seashore. Preliminary estimates put the value of these treasures at least millions of gold galleons.

If you add in what you won by betting, the Quidditch World Cup increased the Travis family's wealth by tens of millions overnight. The only catch is that the jewelry is not yet available for public sale. Perhaps when Voldemort returns, Rogge will be able to find an opportunity to get rid of them in the chaos.

"Sure enough, chaos is the ladder of progress." He closed the door of the secret vault with a smile.

For the rest of the summer, Roger chose to stay home with Jessica. He hasn't figured out where to plant the acorn yet and is harassed by Helena every night.

""Standard Spell Level 4", parchment, potion ingredients, oh, and the most important thing is the dress." Jessica clapped her hands, and Bubbles immediately pushed a row of hangers over.

"Son, Hogwarts seems to be holding a dance this year. Let's see which one you like?" She excitedly pulled Roger to the magic mirror, and one dress after another kept putting on the image in the mirror.

"The blue one is too flashy, but it's really chic." Jessica seemed very hesitant, and then put him into a scarlet dress, "How handsome! Bubbles, wrap up both of them."

"Yes, Master." Bubbles replied.

Rogge smiled helplessly, feeling like a mannequin in a clothing store, only at the mercy of his mother.

He protested softly: "Mom, two pieces are really enough."

"That's not okay!" Jessica shook her head resolutely and put Rogge in the mirror into a white dress.

While instructing the elf to sort out shirts, pants, boots and other clothes, she said seriously: "That is a formal dance, and you will need to invite partners to dance. My son is so handsome, I really don't know which little witch will end up with him. In hand."

There was a trace of imperceptible sadness in Jessica's smile. Her son would eventually grow up, and he would spend less time with her and more separation in the future.

She looked at the magic mirror again and felt that every dress suited Rogge perfectly. As a result, the suitcase became more and more full. If Roger hadn't refused adamantly, she might have actually stuffed the entire wardrobe.

"Have you heard?" Jessica stared at Rogge and asked suddenly.

"What?" Rogge responded with some confusion.

"The little wizard from the Longbottom family was beaten by his grandmother for a whole day."

"One day?" Rogge had a surprised expression on his face, "No way, is Neville so miserable?"

Jessica seemed to have something in her words and continued to state: "I heard that it was a letter to the Veela in Albania, and the owl accidentally fell into the hands of Mrs. Longbottom."

"Huh?" A few black lines appeared on Rogge's face, and he secretly complained: "Accidentally? Do you think I will believe it?"

"The old lady complained to me, saying that you encouraged him to take the initiative to contact Veela." Jessica glared at him and asked in a soft tone: "Is it true?"

"Mom, I asked him to go see the Veela. I never thought that Neville would never forget her and even write letters to her."

"Huh, that's good." She nodded, looked at her son who was half a head taller than her, and reminded her emphatically: "Don't disgrace the family at the dance."

"Oh." Rogge replied honestly, without refuting Jessica's words.

When the dance was held, my mother was not there. Jessica couldn't object to whoever he chose as his dance partner. Besides, who stipulates that there can only be one dance partner?

The rain of leaving home was inevitably sad. On the platform of King's Cross Station, Jessica waved goodbye to her son, feeling full of reluctance. There has been an undercurrent in the magical world recently, and the Ministry of Magic has become a power arena between Amelia and Fudge. Plus, the Death Eaters seem to be making a resurgence.

"At least, Hogwarts is safe." Jessica murmured to herself, comforting herself softly.

"Ouch, ouch..." Neville lay on the seat and shouted in a low voice, "Roger, you did me a terrible job. Grandma gave me a lesson, and my uncle also scolded me for losing the family." face." There was a hint of grievance in his voice.

Rogge smiled, looked at his pale face, and joked: "When we get to school, we will be free."

Neville pouted and remained silent, as if he was about to give up writing to the Veela. Perhaps it was the rebellion of adolescence, but he suddenly clenched his fists, with a determined light shining in his eyes. "That's right! They can't come to school and check my letters!"

Draco walked to the door, his face gloomy, as if he had a heavy burden on his heart. "Roger, can we chat?" There was a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Rogge nodded, and the two of them walked to the connection between the carriages, away from the sight of others. "What happened?" He noticed the worry on Draco's brow.

"The Aurors took my father away and he hasn't come back yet." His voice trembled slightly, even crying: "There is no news yet, I'm worried..."

"Don't worry, no news is the best news." Roger comforted, trying to calm him down, "Do you know who the Auror is?"

Draco looked at Roger in confusion, what does this mean?