The Return to Hogwarts

"Look, wouldn't it be troublesome if you invited the guest in the next room to join the banquet? He's family too, isn't he?"

"He is not worthy, Master, he is not worthy!"

Even Barty the Younger was utterly astonished by Voldemort's sudden command. He leaped to his feet, his already bulging eyes now widening in disbelief. "How dare that lowly bastard sit at the same table as you, Master! If you permit, I will go now—"

“Oh, Barty—” Voldemort waved his arm. “He’s not a bastard, Barty. He’s your father. Don’t shy away from that. You should face this humiliation like I do. Oh, the Director of the International Department of Magical Cooperation, a pure-blood of the Crouch family, Lord Voldemort is willing to give him some dignity.”

"Let me kill him, Master!"

Barty Crouch Jr. clenched his teeth so tightly they bled, his pale teeth trembling. He howled maniacally as if he had suffered a terrible humiliation, “Please, Master, let me end this shame, just like you did back then!”

“Oh, Buddy, haven’t we already discussed how to deal with your father? You would receive that honor, but now—”

Voldemort's voice turned slightly colder, and a terrifying malice emanating from him made Barty tremble, just like Gilgamesh had just been there.

"Let's invite your father to our party first, Buddy, what do you think?"

Barty the Younger dragged his father over. He grabbed Barty by the back of his collar and pulled him over like he was carrying a piece of trash. When the door opened, Vitia heard the house-elf crying behind the door, pleading with Barty the Younger to be gentle with his father.

Ever since Barty fell into their hands before the start of this semester, Vitia knew that the fate of this high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic was sealed, but when she saw Barty again, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow.

boom!

Under Voldemort's intrigued gaze, Barty Jr. roughly pulled his father to the opposite side of Vitia Creona. This once ruthless high-ranking official was no longer the same person; he lay sprawled on the table like a damp rag, as if his spine had been removed.

Barty Crouch was soaked in blood, his hair was matted together, and his face was covered in scars. These scars, left by repeated cutting and healing, left a grotesque, centipede-like mark on Barty Crouch's face.

In a fleeting glance, Vitia saw that a large chunk of flesh was completely missing from Old Barty's right arm, the wound revealing bone, and the flesh around the wound was rotting and oozing pus. In addition, she saw several holes on Old Barty's legs, which emitted a foul stench and from which black blood trickled out.

This person should have died, but because the evil wizard's black magic maintained the most basic physical functions of his body, and because his mind was stripped away, he was barely alive!

Barty's eyes were filled with a deep-seated hatred as he manipulated his father's body like a puppet to ensure that his father would obey the great Dark Lord's orders and stay at the dinner table.

"Come on, let's eat, now--"

From Voldemort's increasingly shrill voice, Vitia could easily imagine just how excited the villain was.

She didn't touch anything here at all. Whether it was poisonous or not, Vitia didn't want to touch it. Only a madman could eat with relish next to a body that was about to completely rot.

Her posture, however, caused Voldemort's snake eyes to glow red once more.

"What's going on, Mr. Crouch? Didn't you hear me say 'dinner'?" Voldemort smiled coldly, setting down his spoon and glancing at the motionless mass of flesh beneath Barty's lower jaw.

"Or perhaps you think Voldemort's new house is a bit shabby? Oh, maybe I should teach you some etiquette as a guest—"

"Let me do it, Master!"

Barty, whose attention was focused on Voldemort, realized something and immediately jumped up excitedly. However, his actions were clearly a bit presumptuous. Before Voldemort could deal with his father, a beam of cursed light struck his chest first.

"Owner!"

Barty Crouch Jr. collapsed immediately, his pale face instantly covered in sweat, his body curled up like a scalded lobster, his thin frame trembling uncontrollably.

"Master—I beg your forgiveness—"

“I hope you remember this lesson, Batty--”

Voldemort said lazily that he waved his wand to break the Crucifixion curse on Barty Crouch Jr., and then tapped the bowl of mushroom soup in front of him with his wand.

Instantly, the thick soup in the bowl boiled and expanded dozens of times in size. The soup flowed through the air and quickly floated towards Old Barty. Under Voldemort's cruel and gleeful gaze, the soup was frantically poured into Old Barty's mouth and nose, which had been dulled by his eyes!

Under such extreme pain, Old Barty's body, whose mind had been essentially destroyed, began to convulse uncontrollably, like a catfish falling into a pot of boiling oil, his upper body slamming heavily against the dining table again and again.

"enough!"

Vitia's face turned frosty; unable to bear watching any longer, she abruptly stood up, ignoring Barty's wand. Her emerald green hair fluttered without wind, and her emerald pupils emitted a ring of emerald green light.

Snap--

Vitia slammed her hand down on the dining table. This wasn't a threat; from the point where her palm touched the table, vibrant magic surged wildly into the dead wood, instantly reviving it. A tender green shoot sprouted from the tabletop, growing into a thick vine over ten feet long in the blink of an eye!

Barty Crouch Jr. immediately flashed to Voldemort's side, his wand pointing directly at Vitia. Even Voldemort couldn't help but narrow his eyes.

Sa!

The thick vines whistled as they cut through the air, but they weren't aimed at Voldemort or Barty Crouch Jr.; instead, they were aimed directly at Barty Crouch Sr., who was lying on the table!

Chapter 732 Integrity

2024-02-01

The vines, shimmering with a faint green light, pierced the air with a sharp whistle, heading straight for Barty Crouch's head like a steel bar. This sudden turn of events even startled Barty Jr. He had thought that this woman, who had no loyalty to the Dark Lord, was going to assassinate his master, but he never expected that she would actually kill his father, who had brought him so much humiliation.

Voldemort was also caught off guard by this, but he did not want Barty to die now. With a slight tremor of his staff, a green light emitting a nauseating stench shot out and struck the tip of the vine before it could pierce Barty's head!

Snapped!

Even though it was just a mutilated body, Voldemort's Killing Curse was still not to be underestimated. The Killing Curse, which contained a strong aura of death, eroded the life force in the vine the moment it struck.

The emerald green vines, from their tips all the way to the roots that Vitia had induced, turned black at a visible speed, and then turned into ashes that fell onto the table.

Voldemort's magic failed; thick, white mushroom soup seeped from Barty's mouth and nose, and his body stopped convulsing. Vitia watched the slowly falling ashes settled, her gaze sweeping over the small black wand in her palm, her expression utterly silent. If...her true wand were in her hand—

However, she did not make any further moves; she had already achieved her goal.

Inside the warm room, the air felt heavy, as if it were frozen.

"Miss Clona--"

For the first time tonight, Voldemort's gaze towards Vitia held undisguised murderous intent. He said softly,

"Perhaps you should offer an explanation for your behavior—"

Little Barty glared fiercely at Vitia, seemingly ready to attack immediately. However, the punishment he had just received for acting on his own initiative made him more restrained. Nevertheless, the veins on his forehead were still bulging, and his body was tense. At the slightest hint from his master, he would immediately pounce on this woman and fight her to the death, even if she was a powerful witch who had survived Amosta Blaine's clutches!

"He looks disgusting—"

The coldness in her eyes softened the gentleness of Vitia's features. After a moment of silence, she said coldly,

"It made me lose my appetite."

Feeling nauseous and losing your appetite?

Voldemort's red-scarred eyelids twitched, and a look of surprise flashed across his scarlet snake eyes. Clearly, Vitia Creona's arrival was something he hadn't anticipated. He had assumed that this woman's visit stemmed from her naive kindness and nauseating pity.

“Oh, hehe, that’s right—yes, that’s right, I’m sorry, Miss Clona, ​​I didn’t think it through—”

Voldemort let out a sharp, piercing laugh, a laugh filled with unbridled joy.

"Indeed, it's extremely disgusting. Well then—"

Perhaps Barty Crouch, who had been under the control of the Imperius Curse for so long, had developed some resistance, or perhaps it was Barty Crouch's own admirable willpower. In any case, after that ordeal, Barty Crouch, who was barely alive, unexpectedly regained some of his senses.

Old Barty lay prone on the table, propping his head up with his chin. He was unable to move, but he could still see the woman across the table and was making hoarse gasps.

"Oh, you recognized her—"

Voldemort showed some surprise at Barty's ability to regain his sanity, but this surprise was at most like seeing a dog with a broken leg still manage to stagger to its feet through sheer willpower.

"--Yes, that's right, Crouch. This is Miss Vitia Criona. You recognize her, don't you? Oh, I shouldn't have asked. You certainly haven't forgotten her, have you? It was she who rescued my loyal servant from your persecution--"

Uh-oh—

Even on the verge of death, old Barty's eyes were still filled with a deep-seated hatred as he glared at Vitia.

Voldemort sensed Barty's hatred, and seemingly finding it amusing, he chuckled and continued...

"By the way, Mr. Director, Miss Creona is currently teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts under the name Alastor Moody. She's working, oh, I think it won't hurt to tell you, on Voldemort's complete resurrection—"

Barty Crouch's cloudy pupils suddenly widened in shock. He stared at Vitia Cliona, observing the woman's silence, and suddenly, he understood something!

Vitia Creona – Disguised as Alastor Moody, she becomes the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts?

Right under the noses of Amostrath Blaine and Albus Dumbledore?

No one was exposed?!

Knowing he was doomed, Barty Crouch felt a surge of power within him, a power that was hard to discern whether it came from hatred or hope. It actually spurred Barty Crouch to action!

Under the astonished gaze of the remaining three people in the room, Old Barty dragged his almost broken arms and palms onto the table. Veins bulged on his forehead, and a strong light burst forth in his briefly clear eyes. Slowly, little by little, he used his palms to support his body and stood up. Then, he turned his head, his rusty joints making a series of creaking sounds. Finally, he faced Voldemort directly!

Old Barty's movements affected his entire body; every festering wound on his body was bleeding, making him look like a blood-soaked figure, yet he remained standing. It's hard to imagine the immense pain he was enduring at that moment.

Barty the Elder didn't even glance at the startled child beside Voldemort; his eyes were fixed solely on Voldemort's hideous body. He stared directly at the Dark Lord himself, his gaze devoid of any fear.

Ho, ho, ho—

Barty the Elder could no longer speak, but he still managed to let out a hoarse laugh, forcing a mocking expression at Voldemort.

In an instant, Voldemort's eyes flashed red, and his hand, which was resting on the table, gripped his wand tightly. However, in the end, he overcame the tempting impulse.

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Mr. Director—"

Voldemort said softly.

"You want to avoid torture, so you try to provoke the great Dark Lord. Oh, I won't fall for it. I mean, I'll make your death more worthwhile, Mr. Chief, and now!"

Dark Lord turned to look at Barty Crouch Jr.

"I think our director needs to repent more deeply for his foolish actions."

Old Barty was roughly dragged away by his son, and after the door closed, he soon remembered the faint moans and the little elf's tearful pleas.

"The unpleasant trash has been removed, Miss Clona—"

Voldemort looked at Vitia and said with a smile.