Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Those dark eyes were deep and cold, exuding a chilling aura that kept strangers at bay, staring emotionlessly at the figure outside the door.

The instant the crack in the door appeared, the figure raised his wand without hesitation, quickly chanting a silent spell. The dilapidated wooden door instantly warped, the wood twisting and writhing, quickly transforming into a jet-black venomous snake with gleaming scales. The snake flicked its forked tongue, its eyes flashing with a ferocious light, like a spring ready to be released, and suddenly shot towards the man inside the room at a speed that was too fast for the eyes to follow.

The man inside reacted extremely quickly. Almost the instant the figure raised his wand, he had already subconsciously taken a few steps back to create a safe distance. His eyes remained as cold as ever, without the slightest panic. He had already gripped his wand tightly. Seeing the venomous snake attack fiercely, he flicked his wrist, and the wand drew a clean and smooth trajectory. He also uttered a short incantation.

Miraculously, the once ferocious venomous snake instantly became docile. Its leaping momentum came to an abrupt halt, and it slowly landed on the ground. Then, it twisted its body, crawled up the man's trouser leg, and finally coiled around his arm. Its head gently rubbed against his wrist, as if it were affectionately teasing him, completely different from its previous ferocity.

At the same time, the figure outside the door suddenly felt a slight tremor in the ground beneath his feet. Before he could react, three thick stone spears suddenly burst forth from the ground, carrying a sharp momentum and pointing directly at his vital points. The tips of the spears were sharp and gleaming with a cold light.

Caught off guard by the sudden attack, the figure had no room to dodge. The three spears quickly crossed above his head, forming a stable tripod, and then suddenly sank down. The immense pressure pressed the figure's head firmly to the ground with a muffled thud. His forehead slammed heavily against the cold, hard ground, raising a cloud of dust.

The excruciating pain from his forehead hitting the ground hadn't subsided when the figure's chin slammed hard against the rough, muddy ground again, producing a dull thud. Dry dust was jolted up, causing him to cough involuntarily, and tiny pebbles got into the corners of his mouth, carrying the fishy smell of the earth.

Sharp pebbles and protruding bricks on the ground cut his skin, and a burning pain shot through his forehead and chin. The piercing pain instantly swept through his brain, making his vision go black and his consciousness become somewhat blurred, with a buzzing sound in his ears.

"Shh!"

A chilling voice suddenly rang out overhead, like a biting winter wind blowing through one's bones. The figure felt a sharp numbness in his wrist, and the fingers holding the wand instantly lost their strength. The wand flew out of his hand with a "clang," tracing a brief arc in the air before landing steadily at the feet of the man inside the room.

The figure struggled to lift his head and, through the shadow of the hood, saw Snape looking down at him. The voice was cold and sarcastic, with an innate sharpness, like a tiny ice pick that easily pierced his heart, making his blood seem to freeze. A sense of humiliation overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

The figure who fell to the ground clenched his teeth so tightly that his gums almost bled. His eyes, bloodshot and filled with intense resentment and unwillingness, stared at the ground. According to his original plan, he should have been the one to subdue Snape and say those words in the same contemptuous tone. But reality was quite the opposite; he was the one who was easily defeated.

"It seems Azkaban is a truly pampered place, always raising a bunch of good-for-nothings who become more impulsive and brainless than the last," the cold voice continued, its tone full of undisguised sarcasm.

As soon as he finished speaking, the three stone spears that had been pressing down on the figure's back turned into specks of light and dissipated into the air. Freed from their restraints, the figure immediately struggled to his feet. His cloak was covered in dust and mud, making him look utterly disheveled. He ripped off his hood, revealing a pale, distorted face, and gritted his teeth as he said, "Snape!"

Snape's eyes remained unwavering as he commanded in an unquestionable tone, "Come in."

He casually held two wands in his left hand—one was his own, and the other was the wand that had just been confiscated and belonged to the newcomer. The black venomous snake that had been wrapped around his arm earlier slowly crawled down and twisted its body along the door frame, transforming back into the shape of that dilapidated wooden door, as if nothing had ever happened.

With his wand firmly held in Snape's hand, the newcomer knew he had no power to resist. He could only suppress his humiliation and anger, step over the creaking threshold, and follow Snape into the living room. The living room was unbelievably simple, even reminiscent of Azkaban's prison. The four walls were completely blocked by tall bookshelves, which were crammed with books of all thicknesses, stacked together with almost no gaps. The air was filled with the smell of moldy paper mixed with ink.

The living room had very little furniture: a sofa with a cracked leather seat revealing worn-out cotton underneath, an old-fashioned wooden armchair with loose armrests that looked like it was about to collapse, and a round wooden table that creaked loudly with the slightest vibration.

Perhaps the only brand-new thing in the entire room, untouched by time, was the package quietly placed in the center of the round table—the package from Flourish and Blotts that had just been delivered by an owl, the patterns on the wrapping paper still clearly visible in the dim room.

"Crouch, I thought you were long gone, kissed by the Dementors of Azkaban." Snape sat casually on the worn-out sofa, arms crossed, his face expressionless, still clutching the two wands tightly in his hands, showing no intention of returning them.

"I've been reborn! Snape!" The newcomer abruptly raised his head, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism. It was Barty Crouch Jr. "And! Don't you dare call me that damned last name again! I'm no longer a member of the Crouch family!"

“Crouch…you’ve been reborn?” Snape slowly raised his eyebrows, his tone full of sarcasm. “No wonder you’ve become so impulsive and reckless, befitting Gryffindor’s foolishness. It seems that your so-called rebirth hasn’t made you any smarter; on the contrary, it has made you regress quite a bit in your magical abilities.”

“Severus Snape!” Barty Crouch Jr.’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he almost roared, “How dare you blaspheme the Dark Lord who gave me new life? You’re asking for death!”

"The Dark Lord!" Upon hearing those three words, Snape's eyelids twitched involuntarily. His previously languid posture instantly straightened, and he abruptly stood up from the sofa, the worn-out sofa groaning under the weight as if it might collapse at any moment. "The Dark Lord himself ordered me to come find you!" Barty Crouch Jr. puffed out his chest, his tone carrying an inexplicable sense of superiority. "Now, give me back my wand! You are not worthy to possess it!"

"The Dark Lord sent you here?" Snape frowned, his eyes filled with suspicion and scrutiny, as if assessing the veracity of Barty Crouch Jr.'s words. "Words are meaningless. How can you prove it? Why should I believe you?"

“Snape, you’ve become a Hogwarts professor and you’ve certainly had too much of a comfortable life. So comfortable that you’ve even lost your basic judgment.” Barty Crouch Jr.’s expression held a hint of pity, as if he were looking at a fool who had been deceived. “You actually believed those hypocritical lies from the Ministry of Magic.”

"The Dark Lord has already returned in glory!" His voice suddenly rose, filled with the fervent devotion of a fanatical believer. "That's why the Ministry of Magic is in such a hurry to block the news and fabricate all sorts of lies to cover up the truth, just to prevent the fear of the Dark Lord's return from spreading throughout the wizarding world and causing widespread panic!"

"A news blackout?" Snape raised an eyebrow, a hint of probing in his voice. "You mean... the dark wizard's crushing defeat that was widely reported in the Daily Prophet? Isn't that a fact?"

"The truth? That's just the Ministry of Magic trying to cover it up!" Barty Crouch Jr. scoffed, his tone full of disdain. "Didn't you feel it? On the night that so-called incident occurred, didn't you feel a burning sensation on the Dark Mark on your arm? That wasn't an ordinary magical fluctuation; it was the signal of the Dark Lord's return, representing his boundless magical power capable of overturning the world!"

Snape's speech suddenly quickened, his previous sarcasm and composure vanishing, replaced by a barely perceptible urgency and gravity: "Very well! Since it's the Dark Lord's order, I will obey. Now tell me, how do I find him?"

"Release me!" Barty Crouch Jr.'s voice was hoarse and dry, filled with barely suppressed anger and humiliation. "Only by releasing me can I give you what is rightfully mine!"

Without the slightest hesitation, Snape flicked his wand again, instantly dispelling the petrification charm binding Barty Crouch Jr. His body collapsed as if losing its support, his legs buckling, and he staggered forward several steps, flailing his arms wildly to barely maintain his balance and avoid falling again.

Barty Crouch Jr. clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into the flesh of his palms. A sharp pain spread through his nerves, and he used this pain to forcefully suppress the hatred and murderous intent surging within him—if he weren't outmatched by Snape, he would have already torn this man who had repeatedly humiliated him to pieces.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his rapidly heaving chest, and slowly raised his hand, fumbling for the pocket inside his cloak. After a moment, he took out an exquisite silver box, its surface engraved with intricate dark patterns, gleaming coldly in the dim light. He opened the box, and inside lay a neatly folded note. He said in a curt tone, "This is the address designated by the Dark Lord!"

Looking at the exquisitely crafted silver box in Barty Crouch Jr.'s hand, Snape's expression turned somewhat strange. He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of playful sarcasm: "You weren't originally planning to keep this address in the box forever, were you?"

"Then you approach me under the guise of delivering a letter, try to subdue me with your clumsy methods, and finally bring me before the Dark Lord to claim credit, all to prove your worth?" Snape's words struck Barty Crouch Jr.'s heart like needles.

He completely ignored Barty Crouch Jr.'s trembling body from rage, reached into the silver box and took out the note. The moment his fingertips touched the paper, Voldemort's unique, twisted, and sinister handwriting slowly appeared on it. In addition to a clear and specific address, the note also indicated the exact time of the appointment, down to the hour.

“This address is…” Snape stared at the words on the note, his face instantly contorting with disbelief. His brows furrowed, and he instinctively uttered the name, “Demstrang School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

Seeing this, Barty Crouch Jr. slowly raised his eyebrows, his eyes finally revealing a long-lost sense of superiority and contempt, his tone laced with sarcasm: "It seems you also have connections with that traitor Karkaroff? But he was never a loyal servant of the Dark Lord, he was a coward, so as soon as the news of the Dark Lord's return spread, he immediately packed up and ran away."

Snape ignored his taunts and fell into deep thought, muttering to himself, "Could it be that the Dark Lord has already sent people to occupy Durmstrang? And turned it into a new stronghold?"

"Ah!"

"Your thinking is limited to this, Snape! The Dark Lord's greatness is a thousand times greater than you can imagine! What you just said was nothing short of a blatant slander and blasphemy against the Dark Lord!" Barty Crouch Jr. let out a harsh laugh, seemingly having finally regained some dignity. His tone was full of disdain, and his voice suddenly rose, carrying the fanatical defense of faith of a believer, as if Snape's speculation was an unforgivable sin.

"Since it was my offense, I will naturally apologize to the Dark Lord in person after I see him," Snape replied casually, as if discussing a trivial matter. Then, his tone shifted sharply, and he looked at Barty Crouch Jr. with a sharp gaze. "On the contrary, your original task was just to deliver a message, but you caused so many troubles and made a complete mess of things. Aren't you afraid that the Dark Lord will doubt your abilities and think you are not up to the task?"

"I am the most loyal and important servant under the Dark Lord! My loyalty and contributions have been witnessed by the Dark Lord!" (End of Chapter)