Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 376 The Unseen Dark Mark

Dartmur, stadium.

The penthouse boxes are located at the very top of the venue, and the penthouses have to follow behind the audience below, meaning they are the last to leave the venue and get lost in the surging crowd.

At least half of the 100,000 spectators supported Bulgaria, and when the president of the International Quidditch Federation presented the World Cup trophy to the Irish team, the Bulgarian fans' stands echoed with jeers and curses.

Some spectators were also fans of Krum, and they were disgusted by the incompetence of the other players on the Bulgarian team. They did not intend to restrain their anger and were always looking for an opportunity to vent it.

For Harry, Sirius, and the Weasleys, their journey along the lantern-lit forest path had already revealed many unusual signs, like a high-pressure boiler simmering with suppressed steam.

Rough, loud singing echoed through the night sky as little goblins darted and flew overhead, waving their lanterns, scattering worthless gold coins, and cawing merrily.

The wizard on the ground looked up at the smug group, gripping his wand and gritting his teeth. If it weren't for the Aurors on duty at the crossroads, these people would definitely have used their magic to knock the goblins down.

They didn't see Veela, but occasionally a few hoarse, unpleasant cries could be heard from afar, accompanied by firelight, and then the Aurors on duty would hurriedly run over.

"Have you seen Hermione? She's in a private box on the fourth floor, with a Prophet's newspaper banner hanging in front of her."

"And then there's Seymour and Dean, they're fans of the Irish team."

“I think I also saw Professor Levent…”

Ron's excitement hadn't faded yet, and he kept chattering away to Ginny, his mouth never stopping.

He wore an Irish team hat on his head and held a miniature statue of Krum in his hand. He wasn't a die-hard fan of any team, and it didn't matter who won the championship, he was just enjoying the spectacle.

Harry was still replaying Krum's spectacular moves in his mind. As fellow Seekers, they weren't that far apart in age, but he saw the huge gap between himself and Krum.

"That guy flies really well, just like your dad."

Sirius Black shook his head and said, "It's a pity that things were too chaotic outside when James graduated, otherwise he could definitely have become the Seeker for the national team and brought the Quidditch Silver Cup back."

Harry looked on with longing. He dreamed of standing on the World Cup stage and being cheered for by 100,000 spectators. It would be even better if he could win the championship.

As fellow Quidditch players, George and Fred had no such thoughts at all; they were huddled together, whispering and calculating the bets they had placed with Bagman.

"Ireland has won!"

"Our Gallon has multiplied several times!"

"..."

Returning to the tent with excitement, I drank a cup of cocoa milk to help me sleep. Lying on my bunk, I could still hear singing and strange crashing sounds coming from outside the camp, echoing in the night sky for a long time. It was the Irish celebrating their victory.

"James, stop throwing your Golden Snitch..." Sirius mumbled sleepily.

As soon as the words were spoken, someone knocked on the tent door. It was Hermione's voice: "Wake up! Sirius! Harry! Get up quickly, there's an emergency!"

The godfather and godson inside the tent suddenly stood up, their heads hitting the canvas board one after the other.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" Sirius hurriedly went to open the door.

Hermione, dressed neatly in her Muggle attire and wearing a reporter's badge from the Prophet's Newspaper, stood at the door, pulling along a still somewhat dazed Ginny, who was wearing a denim jacket over her pajamas.

"Those Irish guys went too far. A few drunkards went to the Bulgarian camp to provoke them and angered them."

Hermione explained the situation in a few words: "The Veelas came out and incited a lot of muddle-headed wizards. They started fighting and set many tents on fire."

"Huh?" Harry snapped back to reality.

"The situation is getting out of hand, and the Aurors can't stop them any longer. They might spread to us at any time. In short, it's not safe here. Let's move over quickly."

"Then let's hurry!"

Sirius casually threw on a denim jacket, and had Harry grab one to wear over his pajamas. They stepped out of the tent and saw that the Weasleys had already come out.

Bill, Charlie, and Percy were dressed neatly, while Mr. Weasley and Ron looked a little disheveled, wearing only a coat over their pajamas. The group hurriedly headed out.

Upon reaching the open road, we could see the firelight in the distance.

The atmosphere in the camp had completely changed. The singing stopped, and in the distance, there were faint shouts, laughter, and drunken yells. Closer up, there were screams and frantic running sounds as the wizards rushed into the woods.

The tent collapsed to the ground due to the crowding, and the campfire splashed on it, quickly igniting a fire.

"I have to go help the department maintain order! Bill, Charlie, Percy, you're coming with me..."

Mr. Weasley rolled up his sleeves, grabbed his adult sons, and instructed the remaining children, "Sirius, look after them for me. Head into the woods and don't get separated. I'll come find you after this is all over!"

"Let's go." Sirius Black gripped his wand and led the way.

……

Little Barty walked towards the woods with his hands in his pockets, a house-elf clinging to his clothes and stumbling along beside him.

The colored lights that once illuminated the way to the stadium were now out, the firelight from the burning tents was insufficient for illumination, and with the effect of the Disillusionment Charm, no one noticed him, the prisoner who was already dead.

Barty Jr. is starting to seem a little happy to watch this game.

He wasn't a Quidditch fan, nor was he a fan of that team. When he was in Hogwarts, his interest in house matches was only because Slytherin beat the other houses.

I was quite lucky today. The game was boring, but I saw the famous Harry Potter in the box and realized that the boy who survived was just a fool and nothing special.

After the competition ended, there was still the commotion at the camp to amuse him. The old man also had to go to perform his duties, so he could only ask Flash to take him away and come back after things were resolved.

But the old man forgot to cast the powerful Soul-Stealing Curse, and he fully regained his senses, as if Lady Luck was standing behind him.

For some reason, walking along this path leading to the woods, he had an inexplicable feeling, as if the long-awaited opportunity was just ahead, and tonight would be the moment when the door to freedom would open for him.

There were some dark figures in the woods, stumbling forward. Children were crying and fussing in the arms of adult wizards. Their tense and anxious cries echoed in the night sky. It seemed that someone ahead had been pushed and fallen to the ground.

"Hiss..." A cry of pain echoed in the darkness.

"What's wrong, Ron?" A familiar voice came closer.

"I tripped over a tree root."

"..."

[Fluorescent light]

Then, with the little witch lighting her wand, Barty saw the group of people clearly. He had just seen them in the penthouse box not long ago: the boy who had survived the ordeal, his godfather, and his friends.

Ron was curled up on the ground, clutching his ankle and groaning in pain. Barty slowed his pace, hid Sparkle in the bushes, and secretly observed the group through the gaps in the branches.

“Mudblood, a traitor to the Black family, the red-haired Weasley…” Barty Jr. smiled faintly, “There is only one adult wizard.”

“Let’s go, young master…” Shan Shan said in a trembling voice.

House-elves are also intelligent beings, and they are simple-minded. They can keenly sense the malice emanating from their masters. She keeps in mind her master, Mr. Crouch's, instructions to protect the young master and not let outsiders discover him.

Little Barty frowned.

"Master ordered... there are bad wizards everywhere!" The panic in Flash's eyes intensified as she leaned forward, desperately trying to run. "They're behind us, up above us, they're about to catch up! Flash has to escape!"

Little Barty was a little annoyed. He grabbed her arm and, ignoring her gasps and screams, dragged her into the bushes on the other side.

"Quiet! That's an order!" Little Barty glanced down at the servant.

Seeing the undisguised ferocity in Crouch's usually listless eyes, Flash felt a shiver run through her: "Yes, Master..."

Barty turned around and saw that the group had been separated by the accident. The adult wizard who had led the way and the slightly older twins were gone, leaving only Potter and his two companions.

Looking again at the spot where the Weasley boy tripped over the branch, a wand lay quietly there.

It was like a gift from Lady Luck.

Barty waited quietly for a moment, while the commotion moved deeper into the woods. The path soon quieted down, and no one else passed by. Moonlight shone on the 11-inch wand.

I walked over and picked up the wand; it was made of holly wood with a phoenix feather core.

Barty felt very lucky because the core of the Dark Lord's wand was also a phoenix feather, which made him feel that there was a wonderful connection between him and the Dark Lord.

"No, young master..."

"I beg you……"

Shan Shan had already started kneeling down and begging.

Barty, disregarding everything else, touched his wand again after more than a decade. The feeling of regaining magic was wonderful to him, even though the wand was resisting his magic and probably not very convenient to use.

Considering that he hadn't cast spells for over a decade and his skills were somewhat rusty, it was unrealistic to immediately use profound magic to escape his current predicament.

"Young Master, put that thing down quickly, Master wouldn't want you to do this..."

There are also annoying servants by your side, who might inform that old man if anything goes wrong.

Barty stroked his wand, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the commotion at the distant camp was subsiding. A smile crept onto his lips. He'd give them a surprise.

He raised his wand high and pointed it to the sky, his voice trembling slightly with excitement;
[Reappearance of Bones]

A dazzling green light emanated from the tip of the staff, gradually growing larger as countless emerald green particles formed a dense fog-like glow, similar to the process of summoning a guardian deity. A skeleton emerged from the fog, and a python slowly crawled out of the skeleton's mouth.

A fanatical look shone in Little Barty's eyes as he watched the mark detach from the wand, as if he could already see countless wizards panicking and crying out in despair.

The dark magic mark gradually grew larger and higher, and just as it was about to pass through the treetops, a surge of magical power suddenly attacked.

The house-elf tugged at Barty and backed away, because for a moment it seemed as if it were being watched by some being. The oppressive feeling made its heart stop for a second, and it made it so frightened that it could hardly breathe.

"what?"

"Young Master..."

Little Barty immediately looked at the Black Mark. The green light that should have risen into the sky and transformed into a dazzling constellation was now confined to the treetops. The skull and snake were spherical and no longer expanded, as if they were wrapped in an invisible bubble.

"Luckily, I made it in time." A gentle voice rang out.

Little Barty turned his head and saw a young wizard approaching with leisurely steps. He reached out and took the bubble off the bush where he was hiding, effortlessly, as if picking a ripe apple.

Shining stood trembling in front of Little Barty, breathless from excessive tension.

Little Barty slowly moved two steps to the side, but the wizard's gaze followed him. The illusion spell had no effect on him: "Who are you?"

“Your father, Mr. Crouch’s friend, you can call me Professor Levent.”

Melvin's expression was calm, and his tone was gentle. If it weren't for the bubble he was holding that imprisoned the Dark Mark, he would have looked like a kind and approachable professor.

"That old guy..."

Melvin ignored Barty Jr. and instead half-squatted down, looking at Sparkle who was almost crying: "Go back and tell Mr. Crouch that I've taken his son and that he can come to Hogwarts to find me."

When Shan Shan looked up and saw those dark eyes, she quickly looked away, not daring to look directly at them. She just tugged at Little Barty's clothes and remained silent, letting her actions speak for themselves.

Melvin tapped her head lightly with his wand, and the house-elf immediately collapsed to the ground, drifting off into a deep sleep.

Barty stared intently at the young professor in front of him, a mocking smile playing on his lips, his eyes revealing undisguised cruelty, before suddenly waving his wand.

“Avada…”

Before he could even utter the killing curse, a nimble polymorph spell had already landed on him.

Little Barty twisted its body, and suddenly a dim white light shone from its body, like a reversed shot of plant growth. Its body shrank rapidly, and its head and limbs also shrank in. In the blink of an eye, it turned into a little white mouse, squeaking and cursing.

The holly wand fell to the ground.

Melvin grabbed the white mouse by the tail and threw him into the bubble containing the Dark Mark.

The white mouse was curled up in a narrow bubble, unable to make a sound. Its body was obscured by the skull and python, appearing and disappearing like a toy sold by a street vendor.

Melvin stared at it for a while, then picked up the wand from the ground, put it in his coat pocket, and shook his head with a sigh: "They can even lose a wand. The Duel Club's basic courses aren't very thorough."

……

Having learned from the experience of the previous days, the Ministry of Magic prevented the riots in the camp from spreading too widely. After the Aurors arrived, the disorderly and irrational fans were quickly brought under control, and Veela was locked in a tent.

Tonight's accident did not cause too much damage; only a few unlucky people's tents were set on fire. The World Cup organizing committee and Magic Mirror Club stepped in to provide compensation.

There were no casualties, except for a few unlucky Bulgarian players who were beaten up by someone, and the others just fell and scraped themselves while running around in a hurry.

After the matter was resolved, everyone returned to their tents, reminiscing about the commotion and the game that night.

Only one unlucky guy with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, along with a few friends, groped their way through the woods in the dark to find his magic wand.

(End of this chapter)