Chapter 222: You Should Die
Chapter 222: You Should Die
Barty Jr. stumbled through the depths of the forest, his face covered in blood that continued to flow from his orifices, staining his robe.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"
He cursed continuously as he ran, several times raising the wand he had taken from another Death Eater, yet he never dared to use Apparition.
He had long since run out of Sherlock's anti-Apparition field, but Sherlock's Killing Curses, though not directly taking his life, had inflicted severe psychological damage.
He didn't dare risk casting a spell, especially not Apparition, which could go wrong and result in a dangerous partial apparition.
He could only keep running, the continuous movement giving him a semblance of security, making him feel he was getting farther away from the young wizard and the danger of death.
After running for what felt like an eternity, the surroundings fell silent, and Barty Jr. finally stopped to catch his breath.
He leaned against a thick tree, panting heavily, and nervously scanned his surroundings. When he saw no sign of the figure wielding over a hundred wands, his tense nerves relaxed slightly.
After a few seconds of respite, Barty Jr. clenched his teeth and raised his wand.
He knew he wasn't truly safe yet; he couldn't escape on foot alone. No matter how dangerous it was, he had to use Apparition to get far away from here.
He controlled his rapid breathing, steadied his nervous heart, and recalled the Apparition technique he hadn't used in over a decade. He waved his wand with great concentration.
"Shadow step."
But just as he clearly enunciated the spell, a clear and ethereal female voice suddenly rang out!
"Disarm."
A red beam of light sliced through the silent air. Despite his focus on casting, Barty Jr. had remained vigilant. The moment he heard the spell, he rolled to the left in an ungainly somersault, narrowly avoiding the sudden attack.
His eyes widened, and his breathing, which he had just calmed, became rapid again. Soon, he saw the ambush waiting for him.
Sitting on a thick aspen branch was a girl in a black robe, her face mostly hidden by a wide hood. The gentle moonlight bathed her, making her silver-gray hair shimmer.
Silke rested one foot on the aspen branch and held her wand tightly, pointing it directly at the bedraggled Barty Jr., who looked worse than a homeless man. She had no intention of engaging in conversation.
Barty Jr. glared at Silke with intense hatred, wiping the blood from his face with the tattered sleeve of his robe.
"You've been waiting for me here all along!"
Silke gently swung her legs, showing no inclination to answer his question.
In the past, she would never have made such a girlish gesture, but since reuniting with Sherlock, she had become more like a normal girl.
Barty Jr., receiving no response, grew increasingly enraged.
He had no time to waste on a strange witch. Realizing she wasn't going to respond, he immediately launched a counterattack.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The emerald beam crossed the short distance, but just as his Killing Curse was cast, Silke vanished from the aspen branch and reappeared on another thick branch nearby.
Silent Apparition.
Since no incantation was needed, the casting speed was incredibly fast, but the distance between Apparition and shadow step was limited, allowing only short-range teleportation.
Like a cat toying with a rat, Silke didn't initiate attacks; she only used Apparition to dodge whenever Barty Jr. cast a spell. If he showed any intention of escaping, she would cast a disarming charm or a Stunning Spell.
Her spells were aimed cunningly, not directly at Barty Jr., allowing him to dodge but always returning him to his original spot, keeping him within the range she had set.
At this moment, Barty Jr. truly felt the depths of despair.
He finally snapped, throwing his wand to the ground and screaming hysterically.
"Kill me! Just kill me! Hurry! Kill me!"
But Silke remained unmoved, sitting quietly on the branch and turning her head to look in a specific direction.
Sherlock emerged from the dark underbrush, his face expressionless. Only when he saw Silke sitting on the branch did his deadpan face break into a gentle smile.
"I told you to listen."
Silke's lips curved downward, and she turned her head away, clearly still angry and not wanting to acknowledge him.
Sherlock shook his head helplessly, then his gaze returned to its usual coldness as he looked at Barty Jr., who had already given up and knelt on the ground.
"Voldemort wants you to return to him tonight."
Upon hearing the name, Barty Jr. glared at him with bloodshot eyes, like a wild beast.
"The Dark Lord's name is not something a lowlife like you can utter!"
Sherlock's expression remained indifferent. Without any visible movement from him, Barty Jr. was thrown into the air as if slapped, and several objects that looked like teeth flew out of his mouth.
When he landed again, the right side of his face was swollen like a pig's head.
Barty Jr. lay on the ground, powerless. His condition was dire, and if not for his chest still rising and falling, he would have looked like a dead man.
Sherlock suddenly narrowed his eyes. The flattened green grass beneath Barty Jr. started to straighten and harden, defying logic.
Having secretly prepared a simple transfiguration, he maintained a calm demeanor and did not glance at the bushes that rustled despite the lack of wind.
"To bring his most loyal follower back, Voldemort has truly gone to great lengths."
Sherlock did not approach the now completely incapacitated Barty Jr. but asked softly,
"I wonder why your father, who has always presented himself as stern and impartial, was willing to help you escape from that prison. If he truly cared, he wouldn't have been the one to put you there in the first place."
Barty Jr. did not respond, lying motionless on the ground, his only sign of life being his heavy breathing.
Sherlock paid no mind to his silence and continued with his next question.
"I also wonder why old Barty, such a strict and rigid man, raised a son like you, who worships a murderer as a father. Or is it a problem from your mother's side?"
Upon hearing this, Barty Jr. suddenly roared,
"Shut your mouth, you bastard!"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, unperturbed by the insult, and instead smiled with understanding.
"I can guess. You had a strict father and a doting mother. Unfortunately, such a combination often results in a spoiled and disrespectful son."
Barty Jr. reacted as if a sore spot had been touched, struggling to get up and reach for his wand, which he had previously discarded.
However, his injuries were severe, and he could not manage to lift himself with his elbows.
Sherlock watched him coldly.
"You respect your mother, so why do you insult others' mothers? Rest assured, I won't spout filth like you, only barking and snarling ineffectively."
"But there are some truths your biological parents never taught you, and I will make them clear. What sets humans apart from beasts is not just the ability to think independently, but also the moral baseline that defines us. Beasts lack this."
"I have never believed in stories that beasts can be persuaded by grand moral principles. The only way to deal with beasts is to cut them until they beg for mercy, cut them until they are in agony and despair, and finally, stab them through the heart, erasing them from existence like pests. This is the best way to deal with beasts, and it is the only way to bring some solace to those they have harmed."
"I have never considered my actions noble, nor have I killed to save the Wizarding World or to rescue the weak and the desperate. I often find people repulsive, but I usually control these feelings, as the world does not revolve around me. I can only represent my own principles."
"But when I truly want to kill someone, it is simply because I find them so repulsive that I can no longer tolerate their existence."
"You, Barty Crouch Jr., have reached that point."
As Sherlock's final words fell, a dark figure shot out from the shadows of the nearby bushes like an arrow!
He did not attack Sherlock but instead pounced on Barty Jr., rolling them both three times away from Sherlock.
The distance was exactly ten meters, clearly pre-calculated.
The Death Eater who had fled and now returned did not wait for his body to stop moving before he brandished his wand and chanted the spell urgently.
"Apparition!"
The space around them twisted, enveloping both him and Barty Jr.
However, he did not notice that the moment he pounced on Barty Jr., countless blades of grass had transformed into sharp steel, piercing Barty Jr.'s back and shredding his heart!
All he took with him was a broken, still-warm corpse.
"You deliberately said all that nonsense just now?" Silke, sitting on a branch, frowned and asked.
Sherlock did not immediately respond, his typing skills still rusty, so he released 6000 words first. Another chapter will be available at midnight, as he continues to work through the night.
(End of Chapter)
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