Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

Little Barty ran embarrassingly deep into the woods.

There was blood everywhere on his face, and blood was still flowing from his seven orifices, staining the robe on his body.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

He kept cursing as he ran forward, and several times he raised the wand he had taken from another Death Eater, but he never dared to use Apparition.

Of course, he had escaped from Sherlock's anti-Apparition realm, but although Sherlock's life-killing curses did not directly take his life, they also caused great damage to his spirit.

He didn't dare to use spells rashly, especially if it was a disembodiment spell that would cause life-threatening danger if something went wrong.

He could only keep running forward. Only running could give him a sense of security and let him know that he was far away from the young wizard and away from the danger of death.

After running for who knows how long, there was silence all around, and little Barty finally stopped.

He held a thick tree next to him with one hand, panting heavily, and looked around nervously. He didn't notice the figure controlling hundreds of wands chasing after him. Only then did his tense heartstrings relax slightly. Some.

After letting his exhausted body soothe for dozens of seconds, little Barty gritted his teeth and raised the wand in his hand.

He knew that he was not truly safe yet. He couldn't escape with just two legs. No matter how dangerous it was, he had to use Apparition to get away from here.

Trying to control his rapid breathing, little Barty tried his best to calm his nervous heart, recalling the secret of apparation that had not been used for more than ten years, and waved the wand in his hand very seriously.

"Phantom shift..."

However, just as he was chanting the spell with a clear accent, a cold and ethereal female voice suddenly sounded!

"Expelliarmus."

The red beam of light cut through the silent air. Even if he was trying to cast a spell, little Barty was always alert to his surroundings. The moment he heard the sound of the spell, he rolled to the left extremely quickly, rolling like an ugly donkey, dangerous and dangerous. Narrowly escaping the sudden appearance of the curse.

His eyes widened, and his suppressed breathing became rapid again. Soon he saw the sneak attacker waiting here.

Sitting on a thick poplar tree branch was a girl wearing a black robe, with a wide hood covering most of her face.

The soft moonlight spread over her body, and her silver-gray hair shone in the moonlight.

Hilke held the trunk of the poplar tree with one hand, and held the wand tightly with the other hand, pointing it straight at the little Barty who was now in a state of embarrassment and worse than a homeless man. Apart from chanting a spell, she had no intention of harming him. The following is the meaning of the bereaved dog communication.

Little Barty stared at Hilke sitting on the branch with extremely malicious eyes, and wiped the blood on his face with the sleeves of his tattered robe, which were no different from rags.

"You have been waiting here for me!"

Silk shook his calf gently, without any intention of answering his question.

In the past, she would never have behaved in such a girlish way, but after reuniting with Sherlock, she became more and more like a normal girl.

Little Barty didn't hear the response, and his expression became more and more ferocious.

He didn't have time to waste time with a strange witch here. After discovering that the other party didn't give him any response, he started to fight back without hesitation.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The dark green beam of light spanned the short distance of more than ten meters, but as soon as he cast the life-killing curse, Hilke quietly disappeared from the branches of the poplar tree and appeared in another. On a thick branch.

Silent Apparition.

Because there is no need to recite a spell, the casting speed is extremely fast, but the distance between the phantom and the phantom is limited, so it can only continue to teleport short distances.

Just like a cat playing with a mouse, Silk will not take the initiative. As long as Barty casts a spell, she will use phantom teleportation. Whenever Barty shows any intention of escaping, she will raise her hands. Use the spell above to cast a disarming spell or stun spell.

The angle of the spell is also very tricky. It does not aim directly at Barty, so he can easily dodge it. However, when he dodges it, he will return to the same place and cannot escape even one step outside the range specified by Silk.

At this time, little Barty can truly feel what despair is.

He finally couldn't bear it anymore and threw the wand on the ground frantically, shouting hysterically.

"Kill me! Kill me! Quick! Kill me!"

But Hilke remained unmoved. She sat quietly on the branch and turned her head to look in a direction behind her.

Sherlock walked out of the dark trees with an expressionless face. He saw Hilke sitting on the branch. Only when he looked at her, a gentle smile appeared on his stagnant face.

"I told you to obey."

Silk's mouth curved down and he turned his head. He was obviously still angry and ignored him.

Sherlock shook his head helplessly, and then his eyes returned to coldness, looking at little Barty who had given up on himself and knelt on the ground.

"Voldemort wants you to come back to him tonight."

Hearing his name, little Barty glared at him furiously with his bloodshot eyes like a wild beast.

"The master's name is something that a bastard like you can name!"

The expression on Sherlock's face was indifferent, and he didn't make the slightest move. Little Barty flew up into the air as if someone had slapped him, and several teeth-like things collapsed from his mouth. come out.

When he landed on the ground again, the right half of his face was swollen like a pig's head.

Little Barty was lying weakly on the ground. His condition was very bad now. If it weren't for his chest that was still rising and falling, just from the appearance point of view, he would be no different from a dead person.

Sherlock suddenly narrowed his eyes. On the flattened green grass under little Barty, a few leaves quietly began to become straight and hard against common sense.

Secretly, he prepared a simple transformation technique. On the surface, he still did not show any abnormality, nor did he glance at the trees that were blowing for no reason even though there was no wind.

"In order to get you, the most loyal subordinate, to return to him, Voldemort really spent a lot of effort."

Sherlock asked softly without approaching little Barty, who had completely lost his ability to move.

"I really want to know why your father, who has always shown himself to be unselfish, is willing to help you escape from that prison? If he really cared, he wouldn't have arrested you with his own hands in the first place. "Jail."

Little Barty didn't respond to him. He lay on the ground like a real dead person, and there was only a heavy breathing sound.

Sherlock didn't pay attention to his silence and continued to ask the next question.

"I also want to know why Old Batty, such an old-fashioned person, raised a son like you who recognizes thieves as his father. Or is it a problem on your mother's side?"

After hearing him finish this question, Little Barty suddenly yelled.

"Shut your mouth, bastard!"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, not caring at all about his insults, but with a knowing smile on his face.

"I can probably guess that you have a strict father and a doting mother. Unfortunately, the end result is often a bastard son."

As if being touched by a reverse scale, little Barty struggled to get up from the ground to hold the wand he had thrown away.

But he was seriously injured now, and even after trying hard for a long time, he couldn't use his elbow to prop himself up.

Sherlock looked at him coldly.

"You respect your own mother, so why do you insult other people's mothers? Don't worry, I won't have a dog's mouth like you. Apart from spitting out some foul-smelling things from it, I will only be incompetent. The clamor."

"But there are some truths that your biological father and mother have not told you, but I want to make it clear to you. The reason why people are human, in addition to being able to think independently, is that more importantly, people have a bottom line called morality, and animals No."

"I have never believed in stories about beasts that can persuade adults with great principles. The only way to treat beasts is to cut their flesh from their bodies. The cuts will make them kneel down and beg for mercy. The cuts will make them miserable and desperate. Finally, the tip of the knife will be pierced into their hearts. Just like crushing pests, eradicating them from the world is the best way to treat beasts, and only in this way can the people who have been harmed by these beasts get some comfort. "

"I never feel that my behavior is very noble. Killing people is not for the great and just principles of saving the magic world, saving the weak, and saving the desperate. I will be disgusted by many people, but most of the time I will control these Disgusted, after all, the world does not revolve around me, I can only represent my own truth.”

"But when I really want to kill someone, it's just that I simply think that person is disgusting, so disgusting that I can't stand it, and it's time to let him die."

"It's time for you to die, Barty Crouch Jr."

The moment Sherlock said his last words, a dark figure rushed out from the shadow of the trees on the side like a sharp arrow!

He did not launch an attack on Sherlock. Instead, he pounced directly on little Barty and rolled three times with him.

This distance was exactly ten meters away from Sherlock, which he had obviously calculated in advance.

After the Death Eater who had escaped before and now came back completed these actions, he waved his wand and spoke a spell in a rapid voice before his body was still.

"Apparate!"

The unenclosed space twisted, including him and Barty Jr.

However, what he didn't realize was that the moment he pounced on Little Barty, countless green grasses had turned into sharp steel knives and pierced into Little Barty's back, shattering his heart!

All he took away was a broken corpse that still had warm body temperature.

"Did you mean that nonsense just now?" Hilke, who was sitting on a branch, asked with a frown.