A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

His eyes searched among the countless famous brands. After turning around a few times, Roger's eyes settled on the name of Old Barty Crouch.

His hair was as gray as the first snow in winter, and his beard was like untrimmed weeds, spreading unbridled across his face. The whole person lay quietly on the hospital bed, falling into a deep coma. Only the faint sound of breathing seems to tell the world that life is still tenaciously insisting on.

Rogge walked quietly to the bedside, envisioning many ways of revenge. However, I don’t know which angel sister was kind enough to help, causing old Barty to be hit hard first.

A middle-aged wizard wearing square glasses walked slowly over. His face was thin, as if it had been carefully carved by the knives of time. He looked at Rogge and asked, "Are you a relative of Mr. Crouch?"

"No, just an acquaintance of Mr. Crouch." Rogge shook his head slightly. He took a step back and gave the wizard space to check on Old Barty.

His eyes fell on a bouquet of carnations beside the hospital bed, and he couldn't help but curiously asked: "Has anyone visited him recently?"

"Oh, Mr. Fudge from the Ministry of Magic came here last night. He gave Christmas gifts to everyone at St. Mungo's Hospital. He is such a good man." The wizard replied with a smile, "He turned out to be our minister. Knowing why, he actually resigned on his own initiative."

The man couldn't help but sigh, with regret in his tone: "What a good minister, when he was at the Ministry of Magic, the magical world has always been very stable. My child, look at it now, the minister named Amelia spends all day They are so suspicious that everyone is not at peace at all."

As usual, he recorded Old Barty's physical condition and said without any hesitation: "Fortunately, Crouch suddenly fell into a coma, allowing Mr. Fudge to temporarily take his place and return to the Ministry of Magic."

"If I vote in the next ministerial election, I will definitely vote for him." He thought of something as he spoke, with a hint of joking in his tone: "Oh, I've thought too much. What does the ministerial election have to do with us ordinary wizards?"

"In the final analysis, it is not a contest between pure-blood families and other forces. Ordinary wizards have no idea who to choose..." After complaining about the electoral system of the wizarding world, the man hurried to check on the next patient.

Roger pulled a chair and sat next to Old Barty's hospital bed. His eyes lingered on Mr. Crouch's lifeless face, seeming to be looking for any sign of life.

He whispered to himself, as if speaking to a soul that could respond to him: "Mr. Crouch, I don't know if you can hear me in this state. I heard that in the Muggle world, they believe Even a vegetative state can respond to external stimuli."

He broke off a carnation and gently poked the back of Mr. Crouch's hand with it. However, the hand did not respond at all, like a soulless wax statue, cold and stiff.

"Forget it." Rogge threw the flower branch aside in disappointment, and then continued his monologue: "I am not here today to laugh at you, Mr. Crouch. On the contrary, I am here to congratulate you."

"What do you want to congratulate you for?" A sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth, and he continued: "Congratulations on becoming a grandfather next year."

"What you did back then was indeed very beautiful. You successfully helped your wife to replace Barty Jr. from Azkaban. Whether it is in the official files or in your life in the past ten years, you have done a great job." It’s seamless.”

"It's a pity that little Barty is not restless. His escape is completely beyond your expectations." Rogge's eyes gradually became sharp, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice: "Don't you think you are hypocritical?"

"Being as cruel as the cold winter to other Death Eaters, you are lenient to your own son, and even help him escape the punishment of the law. In fact, this is nothing." Rogge changed the subject, "The laws are written on parchment, and they are enforced. They are still specific wizards. Those purebloods you looked down upon who once served Voldemort are still happy and happy today."

Rogge's voice was low and cold: "And you, poor old Barty, your wife was killed by a dementor, and your son betrayed you. Oh, by the way, there is also that poor house elf. , was it killed by you yourself?"

There was a hidden pleasure in his words, as if they were words he had wanted to say for a long time.

"Moreover, you can't even fully implement the justice in your heart. To describe you as pitiful, I feel the word pitiful is insulting."

Rogge stood up and straightened his clothes. Then he leaned down and whispered into Old Barty's ear: "Your son has helped you take revenge on Cornelius Fudge. Maybe he has been killed."

His voice was low and full of malice: "Last night, the Fudge who came to see you was actually little Barty. He used a potion to transform into his appearance and enjoyed everything about him, including the female singer Celestina."

"You said, if Celina suddenly discovers his identity, will she be killed by Barty Jr.? Oh, two lives, what a tragedy." Rogge left a meaningful laugh, Turned around and left the third floor.

Soon after, Old Batty's fingers began to tremble slightly, as if his soul was greatly shocked by Rogge's words.

His memory returned to that rainy night filled with screams, when he took out his anger on his son on the house elf. The loyal slave who had served the Crouch family for decades was beaten to death by him.

After he walked out of the room dejectedly, he lit the old house on fire, hoping that the flames would purify the filth and sin there.

However, when he turned around and saw the familiar figure of Little Barty on the street, he truly understood that the ugliest sin was actually hidden in his own heart.

"Look who this is?" Little Barty had a crazy smile on his face and threw the unconscious Fudge to the ground.

He sneered at his father: "In order to compete with this fat pig for the position of minister, you sent me to Azkaban. What's the result?"

"You killed your mother!" Little Barty's accusation was full of anger and pain. "You are a hypocrite and use the lives of your family to decorate your badge of justice."

"Now, it's time to end. You and your so-called justice will be completely destroyed by the master." Little Barty raised Fudge's wand and shouted the fatal spell: "Avada Kedavra! "

The green curse shot towards Fudge in the puddle like a poisonous snake, and the stupid fat pig was completely killed by Barty. Old Barty's wand was hovering in the air, and there was an inexplicable power that prevented him from saving Fudge.

"Hahaha, you are so hypocritical." Little Barty covered his face, his laughter echoing in the rainy night, "You could obviously save him, but you pretended to be sorry. Now, are you happy? Hua? Fudge, who suppressed your old enemy for more than ten years and ruined his family, is finally dead."

"Crouch, are you about to laugh out loud?" Little Barty leaned his head forward, with a crazy light in his eyes: "You are not as righteous as you think, you are just using the name of justice to show off your value."

"If you had not agreed to her request, let me die in Azkaban. I would hate you, but I would also admire you." Barty Jr.'s voice became louder and louder, "But, you killed her , my mother! You imprison me at home, and I don’t want to kill you all the time.”

"However, the great master asked me to ask you." Little Barty's tone suddenly changed, becoming serious and gloomy: "As long as you follow the master..."

"Shut your dirty mouth." Old Barty interrupted Little Barty's words angrily, shaking with anger, "You are just a cowardly coward. If you hadn't begged again and again, how could I have agreed? That plan?”

He had never felt so old, and even his voice became weak: "She loves you very much, so you keep asking for everything from her, including her life. Then, go to serve your ugly, despicable master? The Voldemort hiding in the gutter?"

"You..." A flash of panic flashed in little Barty's eyes, and his feet stepped back involuntarily.

The heavy rain became more and more fierce, and the heavy rain curtain covered the two people, as if it had become an insurmountable barrier.

"She's already suffering from a terminal illness." He retorted in a panic, his voice gradually getting weaker, "Mother knows that she doesn't have much time left, so this is what she should..."

When he said "should", his tone softened. The heavy guilt weighed on him, preventing him from saying the next words happily.

"You agreed!" Little Barty couldn't face his father's accusations and could only blame him for all the mistakes: "You came to see me together. You agreed to mother's plan. The polyjuice potion you gave me It has my mother’s hair, and my mother drank the Polyjuice Potion that has my hair.”

"You let us exchange faces, you helped me escape from prison! You put my mother in Azkaban!!" Little Barty became more and more excited, and he shouted manically: "You, you have never loved I've never!"

Old Batty's eyes were filled with tears, and the strength in his body seemed to be completely drained at this moment. He felt dizzy and could only hold on to the tree next to him, struggling to support his body.

There was a sound of collapse from the old house behind him, and the fire became even more intense under the heavy rain.

"No?" Old Barty's voice came from the rain curtain, weak but firm, like a heavy hammer hitting little Barty's heart.

Little Barty froze in place. He looked at Fudge's body. The fat body had become stiff and upright. If old Batty had never loved him, he would not have given up on the justice he held in his heart and the position of minister that was close at hand.

At this moment, little Barty was confused. His hatred for his father was like a castle in the air, losing its solid foundation in an instant. Lies won't hurt, the truth is the sharpest knife.

He felt that the wand in his hand was as heavy as a thousand stones, but his loyalty to Voldemort told him that he must eliminate the obstacles on his master's return. There was a fierce struggle in his heart, and the rain mixed with tears, sliding down his cheeks.

Little Barty used all his strength and shouted tremblingly: "Avada... cut out the bones!"

A weak green line shot out from the tip of the staff, as weak as an earthworm. It flew so slowly, squirming on the ground like a snail.

Old Barty looked at the Unforgivable Curse and welcomed its arrival with desperate eyes. He had no fear of death. What really made him despair was the irredeemable son opposite him.

Even though he was so close, he couldn't save him.

When the Unforgivable Curse hit old Barty's chest, the heartbreaking torture was less than one percent of the pain in his heart. He closed his eyes calmly, his wife's pleading eyes still before his eyes.

"I'm sorry." Old Batty said these words painfully, and then fell heavily to the ground.

His heart was dead at this moment, leaving only an empty shell living in humble existence. He could not face the justice he practiced, nor could he face his dead wife. He was like a trapped silkworm, wrapping his heart tightly in a cocoon of pain.

Under heavy rain, Crouch's old house was completely burned by the fire, leaving only black smoke and ashes.

Little Barty looked at his father's fallen figure, with only one thought in his mind: escape! The faster you escape, the better!

What he was escaping from was his father's love, which was as heavy as a mountain.

Buck, invisible in the darkness, watched all this quietly and said to himself: "What a perfect Oedipus."

When Voldemort returned this time, he didn't trust anyone around him. He ordered Buck to watch them, and he also ordered others to watch Buck.

"Oh, I have to help you finish it." Buck took Fudge's body away, and a few minutes later, the Auror from the Ministry of Magic arrived belatedly.

Old Batty slowly opened his eyes in the hospital bed, moving slowly like a twilight old man. He turned his head and looked at the bunch of carnations, feeling only pain in his heart.

He just closed himself and became unconscious, but he could still hear and feel everything in the outside world. He didn't want to wake up for a long time just because he didn't know how to face reality.

However, Rogge's words were like a sharp sword, piercing into Old Barty's broken heart. He coldly uncovered the bloody scar, and even used that tearful prophecy to foretell a murder.

Old Barty knew in his heart that this was Travis' revenge on him. He will do that, and he should do that.

Rogge sent a terrifying warning, as well as an antidote to wake him up.

"Celina?" He muttered the name silently and swore secretly in his heart: "I will never let little Barty hurt that innocent woman."

After Neville walked out of his parents' hospital room, his mood seemed to be much more stable. Especially the candy wrappers given to him by his mother helped him regain his courage.

"Roger, I've decided!" Neville said firmly, holding up the candy wrapper, "I'm going to Bulgaria to find her."

Rogge, who was standing outside the ward, patted him on the shoulder and encouraged: "Just go ahead and do it, don't let yourself regret it."

Before Neville could express his thanks, Rogge suddenly shouted to the Longbottoms inside: "Neville of the Longbottom family wants to marry a Veela!"

Neville's face suddenly turned red and he shouted dissatisfied: "Rogg, what are you talking about!"

"I'm just trying to see if I can wake up your parents." Rogge looked at the two unresponsive people and explained: "In a situation like theirs, they must be stimulated. For example, use a drill to cut out the bones or something like that. The curse..."

When Neville heard the name of the Unforgivable Curse, his body shuddered subconsciously. The two people in the room turned to stare at Rogge at the same time, with strong murderous intent in their eyes.

"Look." Rogge shrugged and asked Neville to look into the room. "Although your parents don't recognize you, they care about you. Otherwise, you can find someone to act out a play with you."

"What show?" Neville asked hurriedly, his eyes full of expectation: "As long as I can save them, I will do anything."

"Die once." Rogge's words stunned Neville instantly.

"Death..." Neville's voice was trembling.

"I told you, it's acting." Rogge explained lightly, "You can go home and ask Mrs. Longbottom about the specific situation back then. If the scene is repeated, maybe it can awaken their consciousness."

"Really?" Neville looked at him hopefully.

"I'm not an expert in this area." Rogge shook his head, his tone becoming serious, "However, the method is very cruel, and it may worsen the condition."

Neville's heart began to struggle, and he didn't know whether he should risk it or not.

"How about, start with yourself first." Rogge suggested.

Neville looked at him in confusion and asked, "Why does it have anything to do with me?"

"Don't you think your amnesia is very strange?" A hint of cunning flashed in Rogge's eyes, "You can go find that Veela, they are very good at treating it."

"Treatment?" Although Neville didn't quite understand, he felt that Rogge's words seemed to make sense.

Especially when saving his parents was connected with going to see the Veela, he instantly felt the justice of resisting his grandmother.

As a bad friend, Rogge encouraged him to start now. After he communicates with the Veela in depth, maybe he will be better able to accept the stimulation therapy.