The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 345 Passing Through Clothes (4K) (2/2)

His words were devoid of emotion, lacking both the previous sharpness and politeness, as if he were handling a routine official handover. Without waiting for Crouch's response, he abruptly waved his hand and growled at the remaining fifteen Aurors, "The rest of you, come with me! The mess in the camp isn't cleaned up yet! Those masked vermin are still hopping around everywhere!"

Our work is far from over! Hurry up!

Before he finished speaking, he had already taken the lead, striding towards the direction from which the noise and firelight still emanated from the center of the camp. His lion-like figure resembled a war chariot at full speed. The fifteen Aurors followed without hesitation, and the group moved swiftly, soon disappearing at the edge of the woods, leaving only the sound of hurried footsteps and the rustling of robes in the distance.

In the open space, only Barty Crouch, the unconscious Twins, a slightly bewildered Arthur Weasley, and Sirius Black with a knowing smirk on his lips remained.

Crouch's tense body only relaxed slightly after Scrimgeour and the others had completely disappeared from sight.

Immediately, his attention was completely drawn to the small, thin figure wrapped in a tea towel on the ground. He strode over to Shan Shan and squatted down without hesitation. His usually straight back was now slightly hunched, carrying a complex posture of scrutiny and urgency.

Instead of immediately casting a spell to awaken her, he first used his sharp eyes to quickly scan Flashy's body, checking for any obvious damage or abnormal magical residue, while one hand was already gripping his wand tightly.

Just then, Arthur Weasley's urgent voice rang out from the side: "Chief Crouch! Excuse me for interrupting, have you seen my son Percy? He's your assistant, we're looking for him!"

Crouch paused almost imperceptibly in his inspection.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze still lowered, as if Shan Shan's condition was more important than his colleague's anxious questions.

His reply was brief and curt, but it provided crucial information: "Your...son...voluntarily went to your family's tent area when the riots first broke out to ensure your family's safety. I approved it. He should already be there."

""

This definitive answer brought a sigh of relief to Mr. Weasley, his anxiety instantly replaced by comfort. "Great!"

"Thank you, Director!" He quickly expressed his gratitude, eager to return home upon learning that his son was safe and responsible.

"Let's go back quickly, Arthur." Sirius patted him on the shoulder, his gaze lingering briefly on Crouch, who was crouching down, and the unconscious sprite. A thoughtful look flashed in his gray eyes, but he didn't say anything, only urging Arthur to leave.

Without further delay, the two quickly turned around and hurried away along the way they had come, their footsteps soon being absorbed by the woods.

Now, only Crouch and the unconscious Gilgamesh remain in the open space.

Only then did Crouch slowly raise his head.

He first stared intently in the direction Arthur and Sirius had gone, making sure their figures completely disappeared into the fog without any sign of them returning.

Then, he abruptly turned his head to the other side—the direction that the five Aurors, including Bolt, had been pursuing, and the depths of the woods were dark and silent.

His self-light shone into the darkness, and a complex mix of emotions surged within his eyes: a hint of understanding, a hint of shock and anger, and—an intense, chilling fear.

The unconscious Gilgamesh appeared at the scene where the Dark Mark had been released.

A male figure flees after the marker is raised, and is witnessed by Weasley and Black.

These fragments rapidly pieced together in his mind, pointing to a possibility that froze him to the bone.

Shining was the only daily watchman he placed next to "that person".

If Gilgamesh is here, appearing in this state—then who is that "male figure" who is running away?

A name, a name he thought was firmly locked in shackles and curses, almost broke through the dam of his reason, surging up with endless chill.

His breathing became shallow and rapid in an instant, and the knuckles of his fingers gripping the wand turned white from the force.

But he forcibly suppressed all his outward emotions, with only the muscles on his cheeks twitching slightly, almost imperceptibly.

Can't wait any longer.

He needs to know the truth.

Crouch turned around abruptly and leaned closer to Sparkle again.

At that moment, a crack seemed to appear in the icy mask of his face, revealing an almost ferocious urgency beneath. He abandoned any gentle attempts to awaken her; the tip of his wand pressed directly against Sparkle's forehead, his magic carrying an irresistible pressure: "Sparkle! Wake up! Now!"

The magic that was forcibly awakened surged in instantly.

Shanshan's small, thin body trembled violently, and a muffled whimper escaped its throat. Its large, bulbous eyes snapped open, the pupils initially dilated, but then filled with immense terror as it saw its master's stern and urgent face up close.

"Master—Master?" Her weak voice was hoarse from just waking up and trembled uncontrollably.

Crouch's face appeared unusually pale in the dim light, and his usually sharp eyes were now fixed on Flash, churning with anxiety that was almost overflowing and a cold threat.

He completely disregarded Shan Shan's current state, lowering his voice to an extremely low hue, yet each word was like an iron spike, piercing the newly awakened little elf: "Tell me. What happened? From the moment I left the tent. Every single detail."

His wand was still pointing at Sparkle, its tip glowing slightly, more as a silent warning than as illumination; any concealment or delay would be severely punished.

Sparkle trembled with fear at her master's terrifying gaze and tone. Her large ears pressed tightly against her scalp, tears welling in her eyes, but she dared not cry out. She began to speak incoherently, her voice trembling with sobs: "Master, Master—after you went out to help those wizards who were frightened by the fireworks—Sparkle, Sparkle obeyed your orders and stayed in the tent, guarding, guarding the young master—" Her voice was distorted with fear when she mentioned "young master," a title Crouch never allowed to utter in public.

"Continue!" Crouch growled, not bothering to correct the form of address; this wasn't the time to fuss over that.

"Yes, yes!" Flashy shuddered, her speech quickening involuntarily. "Then, then it was chaotic outside, lots of shouting and banging—Flashy was terrified, but kept looking at her little master. He, he was so quiet, just like usual—" She carefully described the state of her "son" controlled by the Imperius Curse, "But—but suddenly, a group of people, dressed in black, wearing terrifying masks, ran past the tent very close by, shouting—shouting for the Dark Lord—"

Crouch's pupils suddenly contracted.

Death Eaters!

And they were active right near his tent!

This undoubtedly increases the likelihood of the worst-case scenario.

"Little Master—Little Master, he—" Shan Shan's voice was filled with confusion and lingering fear, "Just as those people shouted those words, he, he suddenly opened his eyes wide! His body started trembling! Like—like he suddenly woke up from a very deep dream! Shan Shan had never seen him like that before! He tried to sit up, making muffled sounds, his eyes fixed on the direction those people had run in outside the tent!"

Crouch's heart sank to the bottom.

The title of "Dark Lord" was indeed the most potent stimulus for his son, who had been repeatedly brainwashed and whose bones were etched with fanatical loyalty!

The suppression of the Soul-Stealing Curse, under the impact of the strong external resonance, suffered a fatal loosening!

"Sparkle was terrified! She didn't know what to do! Her little master seemed to want to go out, to scream! Sparkle remembered her master's strictest command: never let her little master make a sound and be seen!" The little elf's tears finally rolled down her cheeks. "So—so Sparkle immediately covered her little master from head to toe with that invisibility cloak! And then, and then Sparkle dragged him, with all her might, out from behind the tent, into the woods, into the darkest, most deserted place—Sparkle wanted to run to a safe place and wait for her master to come back—"

Her narrative was illogical, but Crouch was able to piece together the chilling image that sent shivers down his spine: his son, struggling with his senses after being provoked, and the panicked little elf, dragging a bulging invisibility cloak, blindly fleeing into the darkness amidst the chaos of the camp.

"And then?! How did you get here?!" Crouch's voice was even hoarse with urgency. He rudely interrupted Sparkle's sobs, his wand almost poking her nose.

"We...we ran here—we're quite far now, and Sparkle felt a little safer, so she wanted to stop and check on her little master—" Sparkle sobbed, her words broken by overwhelming fear, "But...but—when Sparkle lifted the invisibility cloak a little bit—her little master—his little hand—somewhere, had a magic wand!"

"A wand?!" Crouch exclaimed in a low voice, his face turning deathly pale.

He clearly took away his son's magic wand!

There is absolutely no way that it could have been left at home!

The only explanation is that they picked it up from the ground while they were fleeing, or worse, stole it from some unconscious wizard!

"Sparkle doesn't know where it came from! I really don't know!" Sparkle cried out in terror. "My little master was holding a wand, and his eyes—his eyes were so scary, completely different from usual! He was looking at Sparkle, and he was chanting—chanting words Sparkle couldn't understand—and then, then Sparkle felt like she couldn't move at all, and then—she didn't know anything anymore—"

As she spoke, she could no longer control herself, curled up into a ball, and let out a suppressed, desperate sob.

Clearly, her last memory was of being stunned by her "little master," whom she had sworn to care for and monitor, with a magic wand that appeared out of nowhere.

Crouch stood frozen in place, as if encased in invisible ice.

All the clues have connected.

Barty Crouch Jr., spurred on by the Death Eaters' chants, temporarily broke free from or significantly weakened the Imperius Curse's control.

He got his hands on a magic wand.

He knocked out Flash, the only guard who knew the truth.

Then, he came to this open space—and what happened next is self-evident.

That "male figure," the one who released the Dark Mark and fled into the forest, now being hunted by Aurors—

Crouch slowly stood up, his tall figure swaying slightly in the dim light.

He looked in the direction where Bolt and the other Aurors had chased after them, then looked up at the night sky where the Dark Mark had once menacingly loomed, and finally, his gaze fell back on the house-elves trembling and crying at his feet.

His face was expressionless, but all the sternness, rigidity, and bureaucratic coldness in his eyes had vanished, leaving only an almost empty, abyssal despair, and beneath that despair, a mad determination to cover it all up at any cost.

He must find him.

Before the Aurors.

Before anyone realizes the truth.

must!

Crouch looked down at the trembling little elf at his feet, the last trace of consideration for his "master" in his eyes completely extinguished, leaving only absolute coldness and decisiveness.

All potential hazards must be eliminated.

This thought, like an ironclad rule, crushed all superfluous and weak emotions.

He slowly straightened up, his voice seeming to come from the depths of an ice cave, each word clear and steady, yet carrying a cruel pronouncement: "Sparkle."

The little elf suddenly raised its head, its teary eyes filled with a faint hope, thinking that its master was about to give a new command.

"You disobeyed my most fundamental orders," Crouch continued, his tone flat, as if reading a dry document. "You failed to properly supervise the designated person. You exposed him to danger, allowed him to acquire items he shouldn't have, and ultimately led him out of control, potentially causing him to commit—unpredictable mistakes."

"No! Master! Gilgamesh did her best! Gilgamesh really did her best!" Gilgamesh let out a mournful cry, lunging forward to try and hug Crouch's leg. "Please, Master, don't punish Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh can make amends. Gilgamesh can go find..."

"Quiet!" Crouch interrupted sharply, impatiently shifting his toes to avoid the sprite's touch.

He looked down at him and pronounced his final fate: "Based on your grave negligence, and the potential threat you have posed to the reputation and safety of the Crouch family—I, Barty Crouch, in the name of the head of the family, hereby declare: You, Sparkle, have been given a garment. From this day forward, you are no longer my house-elf, and have no further connection with the Crouch family."

"No!!!"

A desperate scream shattered the silence of the woodland.

Sparkle seemed to have been struck by an invisible hammer, collapsing to its knees. Then, with astonishing strength, it frantically pounded its head against the ground, the sound echoing loudly, scattering its tea towel, its cries heart-wrenching: "Master! No! Please! Sparkle was wrong! Sparkle is willing to accept any punishment! Whipping! Solitary confinement! Please don't send Sparkle away! Sparkle was born a Crouch's elf, and will die a Crouch's elf! Without its family, Sparkle will die! It really will die! Master! Merciful Master! Look at Sparkle one more time!"

Sparkle's cries were pitiful and desperate, filled with the deep-seated fear and self-destructive tendencies unique to house-elves when they are banished.

She knew what being banished meant: losing the will to live, slowly weakening, going mad, until death.

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