Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 383 Crouch’s Old House

"For a seasoned Seeker to catch the Golden Snitch when down by 160 points is absolutely the wrong decision!"

"He battled Lynch for the entire game. If he hadn't finished the game then, the score difference would have been even greater!"

"The World Cup final ended almost two weeks ago, why are you still harping on Krum? Let's talk about some fresh news..."

"Have you been to the haunted house in Dartmur? I went there last week, and I got goosebumps as soon as I walked in. It reminded me of my time in Azkaban, and it still gives me the creeps."

Aberforth shook his head, put down the beer glass he had wiped several times. This period was probably the busiest travel season in the British wizarding world in decades. Hogsmeade was receiving a peak number of customers, and the shops throughout the street, including the Shrieking Shack, had received hundreds of visitors.

A World Cup final and a newly opened haunted house bring a lot of energy to the British magical world.

Aberforth wasn't interested in those things. While the International Confederation of Wizards and the Quidditch World Cup news were making headlines, Aberforth and his companion took some time to return to Godric's Hollow. At their parents' graves, Ariana said goodbye to them.

Ariana asked them to live well and promise to return to Godric's Hollow every Christmas and visit her grave with sweets and ice cream on Boxing Day, but they didn't have to use the Resurrection Stone to summon her spirit.

Aberforth felt a sense of melancholy after the banquet ended. He had lost the warmth of family at a very young age, and a hundred years later, he had rediscovered that warmth. Yet, he still refused to forgive Albus.

But he's now able to sit down and listen to him talk, and find an opportunity to scold him a couple of times.

The tavern owner put down the greasy, sticky rag, glanced at the glass that couldn't be cleaned properly, and perhaps because he had spent too much time in that tidy office, the dilapidated and dirty bar counter, the tables and chairs scattered with sawdust, and the rickety wooden stairs in his own bar all seemed unpleasant to look at.

Perhaps we should give the pub a thorough cleaning?
The noise in the lobby continued, with patrons clamoring for another drink.

"I'd like an ice-cold beer, in my own glass." Someone came to the bar and casually placed a clear, shiny beer glass on the bar counter.

Aberforth looked up calmly and glanced around. It was common for patrons at the Pig's Head Bar to hide their faces, huddled behind cloaks and hoods, wearing strange masks or dirty gray bandages. Customers sitting openly and undisguisedly at the bar like this were a minority.

It was that young professor from Hogwarts, Melvin Levent.

“For Ariana and Hagrid’s sake…” Aberforth sighed, took the glass, turned around and took a beer, without adding any other ingredients, oil residue or dust.

Melvin was also scrutinizing the tavern owner's face.

Despite being brothers with the headmaster and having almost identical bone structure, almost no one associates this tavern owner with the headmaster of Hogwarts.

Aberforth possessed a more ruthless air than Dumbledore. His hair and beard were a metallic gray, and although he also wore glasses, he did not appear kind; the lenses could not completely conceal his bright, sharp, azure eyes.

Aberforth hadn't intended to speak, but the scrutinizing gaze was too obvious, causing him to frown: "Professor Levent, school starts in two days, shouldn't you be helping with the setup at the school right now?"

"The principal has given me an even more important job."

"?"

Melvin recounted Crouch and his son's ingenious escape plan, recounting how Voldemort, with the help of his servants, returned to his loyal Britain and was actively preparing for his resurrection, but there was no need to worry, everything was under control.

"...Dumbledore needs to leave for a while to carry out an undercover mission, but the Goblet of Fire is about to be held, and in order not to arouse the enemy's vigilance, Hogwarts needs a headmaster to show up frequently."

It took Aberforth a long time to process this information. He thought he was joking. Last semester, he spent several months in that principal's office and almost went crazy. Now he was going back to that prison-like office and would stay there for even longer, and this time he would be alone.

He was silent for a moment, then his grime-covered glasses suddenly turned an opaque, bright white:

"You all knew about that guy's plan, so couldn't you have stopped him in advance, killed him while he was weak before he recovered?"

“Things in this world are not always as simple as we hope. Voldemort used dark magic to transform himself into a monster. He must be resurrected before he can be killed. This is a plan that your brother Dumbledore and I discussed.”

Melvin swirled his beer glass and said softly.

"My brother, Abu, wants many things..."

Aberforth's expression was complex as he said quietly, "People are often harmed as he carries out his grand plans. How many people will sacrifice themselves as he manipulates the resurrection of such a dangerous guy as Voldemort?"

"We take the initiative in order to minimize the sacrifices."

"Ha... an even greater benefit."

……

It was evening in Wiltshire.

The village where wizards and Muggles live together is located in a remote town. It is far from the city center and leads to the outskirts, near the woods and streams. The road signs are hung crookedly on the wooden poles. The asphalt road, which has not been used by vehicles for a long time, is overgrown with bushes and weeds. Few people know that at the end of the road in the wilderness, there is a pure-blood wizard's mansion.

"The Crouch family?" the witch in the pink dress muttered.

The mansion is a typical wizard's dwelling. You can sense the fluctuations of many defensive spells as you get close. Muggles will stay away if they get too close. Snakes and rats will not bother the residents of this house. However, goblins and vixens are not affected by the banishing spell.

Umbridge is a pragmatic witch who likes to take shortcuts. She has worked at the Ministry of Magic for over a decade and has visited the homes of many of her male superiors. Crouch's old house was one of her targets, but Mr. Crouch always kept a tight rein on it, and none of her colleagues ever went to their house.

I initially thought he was a rigid and sentimental old-fashioned wizard, but it turns out he's a ruthless criminal.

"Cough cough..."

Umbridge hummed twice in a cheerful mood. Behind him stood several visitors who had come to see him: Wormtail, who was looking around with shifty eyes; Bertha Jorkins, whose eyes were dull and lifeless; the monster curled up in the baby carriage; and a python in the bushes.

Bertha Jorkins had helped her before. Umbridge considered herself a good wizard capable of summoning a physical Patronus. When Voldemort tortured and interrogated her with the Crucifixion Curse, intending to kill the poor witch, she stepped forward to plead for Bertha's life.

Compared to the hypocritical Crouch, she was incredibly kind.

Umbridge straightened his collar, cleared his throat, and stepped forward to ring the brass bell on the courtyard gate.

Steady footsteps came from behind the door. Hard-soled dragon leather shoes clattered on the stone pavement, and just from the sound, one could imagine the meticulous appearance of the wizard.

The door opened, and a wisp of grayish-white light quietly bloomed. [Astral Projection]

Mr. Crouch, dressed in a suit and tie, stood behind the door, his signature short gray hair always perfectly combed, still in the act of opening the door, his facial muscles showing a hint of surprise and doubt, but his dark eyes had become dull.

If you look closely at his pupils, you'll notice a grayish-white turbidity, a sign of being controlled by the Soul-Stealing Curse.

"This is...too easy, isn't it?" Umbridge curled her lips, her expression somewhat disdainful.

She was an office worker, and magic and dueling were never her forte. The man in front of her, however, had retired from the Department of Execution and made a name for himself during the Wizarding Wars with his ruthless and cold-blooded methods. People in the department always said that Mr. Crouch was a man not to be underestimated.

But now it seems that this once cold and ruthless wizard is completely incompetent; with just a single Imperius Curse, he has taken control of this powerful high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic.

"Don't waste your time at the door, my loyal servant is getting impatient." A cold, hoarse male voice came from the crib.

Umbridge quickly bowed and nodded, gesturing for Mr. Crouch to step aside and let them into the house. He put his smugness behind him and waited until everyone was inside before closing the door himself. He even peeked out to look around.

According to information brought back by Bertha and Wormtail, Barty Crouch Jr. escaped from Azkaban ten years ago and has been imprisoned at home ever since, controlled by the Imperius Curse.

Wormtail glanced at Mr. Crouch and Miss Joggins beside him; their eyes were cloudy and unfocused, and they too were under the influence of the Imperius Curse.

The monster pushing the snake-faced baby into Crouch's mansion couldn't help but look around.

This building is not as grand as some of the more famous estates, but it is much better than the Burial in Autri-Saint-Cachipol village, with a front courtyard featuring a scarlet cobblestone path and a green lawn all around.

Nagini fell in love with the place at first sight and started running wild after entering the courtyard.

The houses behind were small castles, shrouded in twilight, like ruins on the verge of collapse.

Candles and torches were lit in the foyer, casting a soft, warm glow on the dark gray brick path. The mansion seemed too empty for the father and son; their footsteps echoed quietly within the house.

The sweet aroma of bread wafted through the old house. The kitchen was located at the back of the house. Someone peeked out along the passageway and saw a short, thin figure wearing a tea towel as an apron, busy around the stove.

"This is a really nice place to stay..."

Umbridge exclaimed in admiration; having spent so long in Albania and Hangerton, she had almost forgotten what normal accommodations were like.

Are we having guests tonight?

A shrill voice suddenly rang out, startling Wormtail, who quickly drew his wand and shielded Voldemort behind him.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. The host didn't tell me... we have guests tonight."

The house-elf's joyful tone gradually turned hesitant. It had been many years since the house had had any guests. This should have been a happy occasion, but the owner's expression was strange. He stood there blankly, which made Shiny feel uneasy.

“Oh, loyal house-elf, tell me your name?” Umbridge slowly moved closer and asked in a sweet, coquettish voice.

"My name is Shanshan, and I've only prepared dinner for two people tonight..." Shanshan swallowed hard, a bad feeling creeping over her.

“Then I’ll have to trouble you to make a few more. Before that, I’ll go find your young master.” Umbridge smiled broadly, looking like a kind and gentle witch.

Sparkle dared not look the witch in the eye, and quietly turned her head to look at her true master, awaiting his command.

Umbridge curled her lip: "Your master listens to me now."

"Blink, take them to the young master." Crouch said in a rigid tone, as if responding to Umbridge's words.

Shan Shan's breathing was heavy. She had seen that kind of reaction before. After the master cast a spell on the young master, the young master was in the same state when he was controlled. His eyes were dull and his tone was monotonous, as if he were a puppet without a self.

"Oh, Sparkle, disobeying your master's orders... You want clothes?"

No, no, that's not it.

Shanshan trembled all over and began to slap herself hard. The rough skin of her palms slapped against her cheeks with dull thuds, and a high-pitched sound was squeezed out from her throat:

"Bad elf! Bad, bad, bad... Even if it wasn't Master's intention, it was still Master's order. Disobeying orders means losing your clothes."

After a visible struggle, Sparkle obeyed the order, crying as she walked toward the room next to the kitchen: "Young Master is in the kitchen. Master won't allow Young Master to go out. He's locked in the room with magic and ropes."

As Shan Shan reached the door and pushed it open, she suddenly remembered something. It seemed that the young master wasn't always locked in his room. He had apparently gone to watch some kind of ball game a while ago, but he hadn't behaved himself after the game and hadn't come home on time...

But she couldn't remember clearly, her mind couldn't process it, and she thought she was just confused, so she didn't continue thinking and brought the guests to the young master.

Barty Crouch Jr. sat in a chair, dressed in fairly well-fitting clothes, his beard and hair were neatly groomed, but his face was exceptionally pale, and his eyes were equally blank and vacant.

Several wizards walked up to Barty one after another. As the stroller passed by, Sparkle's heart clenched and almost stopped for a moment.

Inside the stroller, a soft cotton swaddle covered a hideous and evil monster. It was a snake-faced infant with tender pink flesh. Instead of soft lanugo, its face was covered in slippery snake scales, and its snake eyes gleamed with a scarlet light. With just a glance, it sent chills down Shan Shan's spine.

Umbridge instructed Crouch to lift the Imperius Curse. The wizard, sitting in the prison chair, gradually focused his gaze, as if the lost soul was slowly returning to his body.

Wormtail lifted Voldemort from his swaddling clothes, and the snake-faced infant's cold voice echoed in the room:
"Oh, my most loyal servant, little Barty, it's been a long time!"

Little Barty seemed still somewhat dazed, his eyes hesitantly scanning the wizards before turning to the snake-faced infant in his swaddling clothes. After a moment's hesitation, he murmured incredulously:
"No...how could this be...this is impossible..."

"Little Barty, I'm back."

Voldemort couldn't help but smile.

(End of this chapter)