https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-671-The-Confession-of-Little-Barty-Crouch/13685889/
Chapter 672: Interrogation
But... how could that be possible? Even if Wade was exceptionally gifted, he was still just a fourteen-year-old boy.
Oh... on the night of the World Cup Final, he had been exposed to magic for a full three years at most. Even if he was extraordinarily talented, there should still be limits, shouldn't there?
To claim that Wade had killed Voldemort with a single spell was as absurd as saying Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort and Little Barty Crouch together in direct combat—so ridiculous it made one want to laugh.
Yet Sirius Black couldn’t laugh.
His eyes flickered violently—Reason screamed it was impossible, but Intuition roared in agreement.
Still, the others’ reactions didn’t disrupt Little Barty Crouch’s account, nor did they shake Dumbledore’s expression, which remained as unyielding as stone.
That calmness struck the others with sudden clarity:
Little Barty Crouch was telling the truth.
And more importantly... Dumbledore had known about this all along.
“I spent a long time finding Master again. He had grown even weaker. At one point, he couldn’t even manage to create a temporary body—he had to possess animals…”
Little Barty Crouch continued in his half-dead, rasping tone.
“Luckily, we remembered an old legend—one said that Salazar Slytherin himself had once used a wand buried outside Ilvermorny. Over the burial site, a Serpentwood Tree had grown, and its leaves possessed powerful healing properties…”
“I brought Master to Ilvermorny. There, we found the Serpentwood Tree. Master used the Serpent Tongue to awaken Slytherin’s wand and stayed there to restore its power.”
“Voldemort was still in Ilvermorny?” Dumbledore asked.
“…I don’t know.” Little Barty Crouch dryly replied. “Master asked me if I was willing to risk everything for him. Of course, I was willing. I would do anything—anything—to serve him, to prove my loyalty… It’s my dream. My greatest wish…”
“Master told me he needed to place a loyal follower inside Hogwarts. He needed someone to bring Harry Potter to him… when everything was ready.”
“And I—the most devoted servant among the Death Eaters—volunteered for this dangerous mission.”
“Why choose Filch?” Wade asked. “He wasn’t your first choice, was he?”
Little Barty Crouch paused. His mouth twisted downward, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.
“I originally thought the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would be the ideal target. But when I returned to Britain from Ilvermorny, Moody was already at Hogwarts.”
“Professors rarely leave the school. When they go to Hogsmeade, it’s always in groups of two or three. I never got a chance. But Filch… he was always prowling the secret passages, hunting down students who broke the rules. And I just so happened to know two secret routes.”
The unfortunate administrator became the target.
“But to impersonate Filch, I had to prepare further. African Tree Snake skin was hard to obtain. Transfiguration magic wasn’t stable enough… For Master, I determined… I would sacrifice anything—complete transformation of my face, if necessary.”
“So you went to a Muggle hospital for plastic surgery?” Sirius Black sneered. “Did Voldemort know what you were doing?”
“Master isn’t as rigid as people think. So I would do anything to complete the task he gave me.”
“And what about the doctors and nurses who performed the surgery?” Wade asked. “You turned yourself into an old man—surely they couldn’t help but notice?”
“I used Forgetting Charms and Confusion Charms every day, erasing the inconsistency from their memories.” Little Barty Crouch replied. “It wasn’t easy—maintaining clarity during the procedure was difficult.”
“And after the surgery?” Wade pressed. “Did you make sure they forgot the entire thing completely?”
Repeated use of the Forgetting Charm would inevitably damage their minds and memories. The doctors and nurses probably became confused, scattered—unable to function properly. They likely couldn’t stay in the hospital.
Who knew what had become of them? Maybe they were now homeless, wandering the streets.
“Oh.” Little Barty Crouch said simply, his voice hoarse and hollow in the silence. “They’re all dead.”
A pause. “I set the hospital on fire.”
Wade’s brow twitched slightly. He stared at Little Barty Crouch, silent for a long moment.
Sirius Black, who had been leaning back with disdainful contempt, froze. Then, with a sudden jerk, he shot up from his seat, grabbed Little Barty Crouch by the collar, and roared into his face:
“You filthy bastard! Why did you do that? They were real people! You could’ve just used the Forgetting Charm!”
Little Barty Crouch dangled wildly, his glassy eyes flickering with a brief spark of clarity and resistance.
The glass windows of the office trembled under the force of Sirius Black’s fury.
Dumbledore reached out, pressing firmly on his shoulder.
“Calm down, Black. Don’t act like a rabid dog.”
Snape lifted his eyes, voice icy. “Don’t wake him from this state. He’s useful as he is.”
“Shut up, Snape!” Sirius snarled. “At least I don’t stand here cold-blooded, indifferent to the murder of innocent people! No wonder you’re rotten through and through—corrupted by Dark Magic!”
“Sirius Black!” Dumbledore tightened his grip, exhaustion shadowing his eyes. “Control yourself. We must continue the interrogation.”
Through the barrier of the Headmaster, Sirius Black glared at Snape, then spat a final, venomous look at Little Barty Crouch. His chest heaved, muscles taut—on the verge of lunging and tearing someone apart.
But in the end, he only let out a bitter, humorless laugh through clenched teeth.
“When this is over, I’ll personally deliver this monster to Azkaban. I’ll watch with my own eyes as the Dementors drain his foul soul.”
He spun around sharply, storming toward the entrance.
“Black!” Moody called.
But Sirius didn’t look back. With a thunderous bang, he slammed the door shut—sending dust cascading from the ceiling.
Silence settled in the room, broken only by the faint, crackling pop of the candlewick burning.
Little Barty Crouch blinked slowly, his pupils shifting as he tried to orient himself.
Dumbledore frowned, murmuring softly, “Severus.”
Snape’s face, pale and waxen, seemed frozen in place. Every muscle was rigid. His pitch-black eyes were deeper than ever—so intense that even Moody instinctively looked away.
At Dumbledore’s voice, Snape paused. Then, slowly, he turned and walked toward Little Barty Crouch.
The young Death Eater flinched, his pupils contracting. His mind struggled to surface from the haze, instinctively recoiling as Snape reached for him.
But the next moment, Snape had gripped his jaw—fingers like iron, threatening to crush bone. With his other hand, he pressed the vial of Veritaserum against the man’s teeth and dripped two more drops inside.
“No more Veritaserum,” Snape said, releasing him, voice laced with mockery. “Or he’ll be completely reduced to a fool.”
Little Barty Crouch gurgled in his throat, his eyes going vacant once more.
Just then, the door burst open again—this time with violent force. Sirius Black stood in the doorway, radiating fury, his gaze sweeping past the others and locking onto Wade.
His voice was steel. “Come with me, boy.”
Wade blinked, startled. He hesitated, glancing at Dumbledore.
Without waiting for permission, he stood up, nodded to the professors, and walked toward the door—where Sirius Black waited, gripping his arm.
The man yanked him forward, pulling him out with decisive force.
When the wooden door shut behind them, the room fell into an even heavier silence.
Outside, faintly, Sirius Black’s voice carried through the wood:
“You’re still young. You don’t need to face this… yet.”
Boom.
The door closed completely.
The air in the room felt stiff, charged.
“Continue,” Dumbledore sighed, barely perceptible. His eyes returned to the hunched figure in the chair. “What happened next? What did you do?”
(End of Chapter)
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