I swung a sword at Hogwarts

"Longbottom will become the sword of the king!"

Lucius also stood up.

Malfoy was once a symbol of good fortune and avoidance of evil in the wizarding world.

But now, the head of this family said: "The Malfoy family will fully support Lord Wick. Even if it means our death, we will not be cowardly."

"Power is supreme, everyone," he said as he swept his eyes over the heads of the family present, "Running away means abandoning the glory of the ancient clan. We should fight for the king."

"Our battle has begun. Go out into the world and proclaim the King's mercy."

The heads of the families present stood up, including Boster from before.

Mr. Weasley looked at the group of people and realized that he was really wrong.

What he thought was corrupt was inadvertently changed by that person.

The Ancient Alliance now.

The current king.

Mr. Weasley placed his hand over his heart.

"I'm proud of you, Percy."

...

Chapter 671 Little Barty, Wandering

Little Barty used all his strength to Apparate.

Under fire, he fell into the Himalayas.

Everything around is desolate.

"Father."

He fell to his knees, his internal organs bleeding from the impact.

Coughing up a mouthful of bright red blood, he looked at the wand in his hand.

Tormented inside, he collapsed unable to hold on.

He held his wand tightly in his hand.

As the biting winter cold came with the arrival of night, he gradually fell into a deep dream.

dreaming.

He saw his mother.

Little Barty's last impression of his mother was a face that looked haggard.

But here, he saw his mother's health.

Mrs. Crouch was standing in the desolation. She walked slowly over and squatted.

With the palm that was as warm as before, he stroked little Barty's thin cheek.

"my child."

"Mother."

Little Barty asked in the most cautious voice, "You are real, right?"

"Yes." Mrs. Crouch smiled through her tears. "You have suffered a lot."

A sudden word of concern, the long-lost maternal love.

Little Barty burst into tears and curled up his body.

"Why?" he asked. "Why, I want to survive."

He roared, "Why don't you let me die like that? Let me die in Azkaban!"

The only response he got was his mother's tightly clasped hand.

"I am a stupid man. I miss you so much, mother." He cried wildly in his dream.

He missed his mother, missed her infinite tolerance and love, missed the time when she would gently stroke the snowflakes on his shoulders and tell him to be careful.

He lusted after it and wanted more.

His mother's love was not enough, and he wanted to prove himself.

Prove that you are a child that makes your father proud.

He went astray, joined Voldemort at his most glorious time, but fell into the abyss in a short time.

He failed to demonstrate his accomplishments, and his father sent him to Azkaban.

His mother died in prison trying to save him.

Why is this happening?

"I wasn't firm enough," he said in a trembling voice, "I shouldn't have been so afraid of death. I shouldn't have begged you, mother."

He began to talk nonsense, grabbed his mother's hand and begged, "Take me away, mother."

"We can be reunited and I can see you again, Mother."

He had been holding it in for too long, ever since the day he learned of his mother's death.

It was not Mrs. Crouch who died in prison, but Barty Crouch Jr.

He was buried in the abyss and could not get out.

"No, child." Mrs. Crouch gently removed the grass stuck in little Barty's hair with her hands, "You should go back."

"No, I won't go back, mother," Little Barty said anxiously, "I want to leave. It's too painful here."

"You've always been a hard-working child," Mrs. Crouch whispered. "I've always known that."

"At home, you've been working hard to prove the Crouch in you." She shook her head slightly and said gently, "It's Crouch that has bound you. You should let it go."

"I can't do it, Mother."

Little Barty shook his head repeatedly, "I am Crouch, son of Barty Crouch."

"I never made him proud."

"No, you make me proud."

A voice interrupted.

Little Barty looked up blankly.

He saw it. He saw his father.

The best Minister of Magic in a hundred years.

Old Batty walked out in the white light and went to his wife's side.

Looking at his son, Batty Sr. sighed and said, "I was wrong."

"I never knew I was suffocating you, my son."

The excellent old Batty took his son's excellence for granted, and he completely forgot that a father is a father and a son is a son.

Keeping that pride deep in his heart, he naturally assumed that his son knew it.

He had been disappointed, he had seen his proud son join the Death Eaters.

He was confused, why did such big problems arise in his education?

Hearing his wife's pleading, his heart as a father was shaken.

But because he was afraid that something might happen to his son again, he chose the worst approach.

Old Barty looked at his son. Young Barty, who had tried hard to get rid of the name of Crouch, was the one who was most bound.

With a father's insincerity, he said, "You are my pride, my son."

His broad palm fell on the thin shoulder, and a trace of heartache flashed in old Batty's eyes.

"Father..." Little Barty murmured to himself.

The white light became stronger and was about to take my parents away.

"No, don't leave me!" He quickly got up and tried to chase after him.

He was getting closer and closer, and was about to enter the white light with his parents.

But two hands stopped him.

"We love you, son." Old Batty shook his head. "You don't belong here. You should go back."

“There’s no place for me there.”

Little Batty insisted on going over, but Old Batty said, "What about John Wick?"

Little Barty paused.

Batty Sr. continued: "He needs someone now, you need to save him, just like he saved you."

“My son,” old Batty put aside his severity, smiled and shook his head, “You regarded him as a guide, and I have always seen it.”

"John needs help. He's on the edge right now. You need to counsel him, just like he counseled you."

The white light has enveloped the Crouchs.

It was as if a gentle push from two hands had infinite power.

"Be yourself, put Crouch down, do what you want, son."

The white light disappeared before his eyes and Little Batty stopped.

A tear fell from the corner of his eye.

Feel the moisture on your face.

He opened his eyes.

In front of him, an enlarged furry face was licking his face.

Little Barty looked at the wand in his hand.

The dream was so real.

Reach out and push the furry face away.

That is a little snow leopard.

And its family is watching from a distance.

Little Batty looked at the big snow leopard, but the big snow leopard remained motionless.

When the little snow leopard saw little Batty wake up, he hurriedly ran towards his family.

The big snow leopard licked the little snow leopard's head, glanced at little Batty, turned around and left with the little snow leopard.

Watching the snow leopard walking further and further away, little Batty sat there motionless.

He didn't look down at his wand until the snow leopard was completely out of sight.

"John Wick needs me."

He staggered to his feet and headed toward the mountains.

...

Kingdom of Bhutan.

John has been sitting for several days.

During this period, more and more people came.

Rita snatched the quill from the person next to her, broke it and threw it to the ground.

Tabloid reporters dare not speak out but be angry.

As the editor-in-chief of the largest newspaper, The Daily Prophet, Rita is the ceiling in front of these news media people.

"Oh my god, Gilderoy Lockhart!"