Chapter 622: Old Barty Crouch
“Calm down, calm down, my dear, beloved Bill,” Ludo Bagman wiped the sweat from his brow, his voice slick with false charm. “I swear, I never meant to deceive you. By Merlin’s name, I’m just as much a victim as you are!”
He patted his side, signaling emptiness. “I was tricked! They handed me Boggart’s coins for betting—every single one I placed was real gold. And now I’ve lost a fortune!”
“Liar!” Sybill Trelawney trembled, her lips quivering. “Then why—why did you give me nothing but Boggart’s Magical Coins? Not a single real Galleon! You did it on purpose! The Fates have spoken—I know you’re lying!”
“That’s an outright slander!” Bagman’s round face flushed crimson. “I’m a senior official in the Ministry of Magic, Head of the Department of Sports and Recreation! Do you really think I’d risk my career over a few Galleons from you? You’ll be held accountable for your words—otherwise I—”
“Enough!” A cold, cutting voice sliced through the air.
Sybill Trelawney, trembling from fear, let out a choked sob, clutching her long shawl tightly as she turned. From the shadows, Old Barty Crouch stepped forward, his eyes blazing with icy fury.
“Otherwise what, Ludo Bagman?” Bagman’s face paled instantly. He took an involuntary step back. “You don’t understand the situation… Barty… this is a complicated matter… between us…”
“There’s nothing complicated about it!” Old Barty spat, stepping forward with sharp precision. His voice was like steel. “Look me in the eye, Ludo. Did Professor Trelawney personally hand you her Galleons?”
Bagman swallowed hard, stammering, “Well… yes, she did… but—”
“Silence! No excuses!” Barty Crouch’s gaze pinned him like a dagger. “As Head of the Department of Sports and Recreation, you organized and presided over a global Tournament—and yet you facilitated gambling on it! That’s a grave, despicable felony. You will face immediate suspension and investigation!”
His piercing eyes swept over Bagman’s ashen face. “Before that happens, you have twenty-four hours to return Professor Trelawney’s full stake. That may lessen your punishment.”
Bagman’s pupils dilated. He screamed, “You can’t do this! Barty, for Merlin’s sake—we’ve worked together for years! Are you really going to destroy me?”
“Now,” Old Barty said flatly, “you have twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes to prepare the money.”
“I told you, I’ve lost everything!” Bagman shouted, hopping in frustration. “My pouch is lighter than your handkerchief—how am I supposed to repay her?”
“No money? How can you have no money?” Sybill Trelawney, still hiding behind Barty, shrieked. “You stole so many Galleons from me!”
“I don’t care if you’re lying or not,” Old Barty said, unmoved. “You have twenty-three hours and fifty-eight minutes. When that time runs out, your crime will be in the Minister’s inbox.”
Bagman slammed his foot down, spun around, and stormed off.
Sybill Trelawney exhaled, sinking into the nearby bench like a deflated balloon. Her glasses fogged over. Her fingers nervously twisted her necklace as she whispered, “Do you really think he’ll pay back the money? To be honest, I’ve chased him down several times—each time, he finds some excuse to stall…”
Old Barty turned to her. “Don’t worry. I’ll supervise him myself.”
She flinched at his stern expression, but then, driven by greed, she boldly grabbed his sleeve, her voice trembling. “Actually… I bet on every outcome of the Tournament… the odds were the highest possible… I should have won… won thirty-five thousand Galleons…”
He gently removed her hand from his arm. “Gambling is illegal, madam. As a Professor—” His gaze flicked toward the distant bushes and stone statue, heavy with meaning. “You should not let students see you chasing fortune without effort, obsessed with material desires.”
Sybill’s face turned as pale as Bagman’s had been.
Old Barty gave a curt nod, then turned and strode away without another word.
Sybill Trelawney wrapped her shawl tightly around her, shivering as if chilled to the bone. She didn’t dare look around to see if students were watching. She gazed up at the night sky, her expression distant and vacant.
“Fate’s gift to the seer… stolen by a vile thief… Ah, I understand now,” she murmured, arms outstretched, her eyes glazed. “O all-knowing deity… is this your trial? A warning not to let these eyes, which see destiny, be tainted by the cravings of this world?”
Her voice cracked into a sob—like someone choking on their own throat.
She whispered, “I understand… I must go seek the stars’ revelations…”
Then, with hurried steps, she hurried toward the North Tower.
After a moment, Wade finally stepped out from behind a pillar.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But after hearing the beginning of the exchange, he remembered the prophecy he’d once used to bluff Professor Trelawney last semester. Suddenly, it all made sense—why this had happened, and how it had unfolded.
In the original story, Bagman had cheated Fred and George out of their money—and never repaid it. But now? Old Barty Crouch had intervened.
Even though he was no longer Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the way he’d handled the situation—decisive, merciless, utterly impartial—was a testament to the kind of authority he’d once wielded. It was easy to imagine the fear he’d once inspired, the respect he’d commanded.
People had once written to him in awe, revered him. But when his reputation was tarnished, they turned on him without mercy.
Wade was still lost in thought when a rustling sound came from near the bushes.
Two students scrambled out, disheveled and flustered—house ties askew, scarves dangling in hand. Unaware anyone was near, they blushed furiously and fled down the flower-path.
Wade stared.
His eyes drifted over the temporary arrangement in the courtyard: the bushes, the rose garden, the fountain, and the giant statue. It suddenly struck him—though the place seemed quiet and deserted, it might be hiding countless couples in secret rendezvous.
He shook his head, unwilling to witness any more private moments, and turned toward the castle.
With several hours before bedtime, and the Time-Turner at his disposal, he could stretch it into seven or eight hours. Better to return to the Room of Requirement and study Alchemy further.
He ascended the stairs slowly. By the second floor, the voices below had faded completely. The corridor was unnaturally still—so quiet that even the softest footsteps echoed, as if someone were following behind him.
Wade raised his wand and cast a Hovering Charm on his boots. Instantly, a subtle buoyancy lifted him, carrying him silently down the hall, drifting like a ghost through the stone halls.
For a moment, Hogwarts seemed to gain another young specter.
He reached the eighth floor, prepared to cancel the charm—when suddenly, he heard a soft tap-tap-tap of footsteps.
He froze, breath held. Pressing himself against the wall, he peered around.
There, just ahead, a shadowy figure lingered near the tapestry—stealing glances, moving furtively.
(End of Chapter)
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