Chapter 236

When Maka stepped on the light of the fire and walked quietly into the headmaster's room with the crazy eyed man, what he could feel was a heavy peace.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, white light reflected on the half moon lens, and his pale blue eyes loomed behind the glass.

At his desk, Barty crouch was standing with his head down, as if remembering something, and his back looked so depressed.

"Mr. crouch... It was me who sent your child away."

Maka's words were not loud, but when they suddenly sounded in the silent principal's room, they suddenly sounded like a thunder from the ground in Crouch's ear.

However, Maka didn't wait for the scolding and scolding he imagined, even though he thought it would make the old father feel better.

"Thank you..."

How complicated is it that makes an old father who has just lost his child squeeze out a "thank you" in a dry voice?

The answer came quickly, but it caught people off guard.

"Thank you for doing what I can't do all the time. I don't blame you..."

Maka couldn't help realizing it.

He could even imagine how contradictory and painful the old father was when he faced his children's paranoia again and again, and even locked his father at home and almost starved to death.

Barty crouch is not a saint who sticks to the concept of good and evil. He also sacrificed all kinds of care for his family for his official career.

When Barty crouch Jr. was suddenly exposed as a Death Eater, as the director of the Department of law enforcement, he personally sentenced his son Barty Jr. to Azkaban.

But under the crying and pleading of his seriously ill wife, he secretly replaced little buddy out of Azkaban, and the price he paid was his wife's few remaining lives.

He used every means to limit little buddy with soul snatching curse and invisible cloak, so as to prevent his restless son from appearing in front of the public again and inadvertently lose his hard-earned second life.

But even so, he still knew more about his son's character.

To tell the truth, his son is very clever - even smarter than himself! I'm afraid it's only a matter of time to get out of your limitations.

But can a father lay hands on his own son?

No, others don't mention it first. At least he can't do it at all. He has understood this from the beginning.

"There's something I think you need to know..." Maka nodded calmly. "When everything is over, your son Barty crouch, Jr., will be known to the masses as a spy against Voldemort."

"Although he may not be so willing... I believe he will have enough time to think and feel the beauty that others sincerely appreciate and admire."

"As Professor Dumbledore often says - for a wizard, death is never the end."

Even Maka is far from understanding the true meaning of this sentence, but I'm afraid no one in the world is more qualified to say this sentence than him.

"I don't know if he can understand this truth..." crouch sighed gently, and there was a glimmer of crystal in his bloodshot eyes.

"Well, there's something else I'd like you to see..." said Marca, looking back at Dumbledore. "Professor, I'd like to borrow your meditation basin."

Now Dumbledore was looking at Marca. When he heard the request, he smiled and nodded.

Marca also nodded to Dumbledore, then turned and took a few steps to gently open a black cabinet door.

Suddenly, a faint silver light gradually spread, attracting the attention of everyone present.

In the black vertical cabinet, there is a delicate white stone platform, on which a shallow stone basin is sunken, and the mouth of the basin is engraved with dense circles of letters and symbols.

Those silver lights are emitted from the things in the basin. They look like liquid, but the feeling of slightly winding up is like a kind of gas.

It is like a piece of bright mercury, rotating and flowing constantly, with layers of ripples, elegant and dreamy.

At this time, Maka took out her wand from her cuff and slowly pulled it out against her temple. A bunch of the same silver flocs were gently pulled out with the tip of his wand.

The magic of extracting memory has no mantra. It can be regarded as a by-product of practicing soul magic.

Generally speaking, all wizards who master both "brain closure" and "mind taking" can do this with some tips of deformation after some research.

After putting the flocculent silver wire into the meditation basin, Maka stirred it with a magic wand, and the silver flowing in the basin immediately rotated faster.

"Mr. crouch, look --"

He stood aside, let out the position in front of the meditation basin, and stretched out his hand.

Crouch came up and looked down.

The silver object became transparent and looked like glass. He leaned forward and looked carefully, but he didn't see the bottom of the stone basin.

"That's --"

Crouch seemed to see something. He whispered, but before his voice fell, he found himself in a forest

"Mr. McLean?"

The first thing he saw was a frowned Maka coming towards him.

But when he wanted to ask, he found that Maka walked straight towards him as if she didn't see him, and passed through his body when he retreated in panic.

"Damn... McLean, you're here at last!"

With a cackle of trembling teeth, a round but dry male voice came from behind crouch.

Crouch looked back and immediately recognized the man sitting by the tree trunk, shivering constantly.

Although he was different from the gentleman who had a bright appearance and pretended to be elegant everywhere in the past, he would never admit that he was clearly the "great writer" gidrow Lockhart, who is still widely loved by women and children in the magic world.

At Lockhart's feet, the stiff little buddy crouch seemed to be in a deep coma.

"Is this... In McLean's memory?"

According to Maka's previous behavior, it is not difficult for normal people to analyze this conclusion.

"Don't complain, I know it's hard for you to suffer from cold and hunger here... But I'm no better than you!" Marca waved her hand impatiently and looked at little buddy lying on the ground again.

At this time, Maka had just spent that frightening night. To tell the truth, it was good for him to leave Luna's ward and run to the forbidden forest to finish the matter.

"Well, has he been awake?" asked Marca.

"No, I've been mending his coma spell, otherwise I may not be able to completely control him," Lockhart said, rubbing his arms and shivering all over.

"Fortunately, you finally know that you can't make a fire here to keep warm..."

Maka said, squatting down, stretched out her wand and nodded at little buddy.

The next moment, little buddy, who was still in a coma, immediately woke up and turned around, narrowed his eyes and looked at the surrounding situation vigilantly.

"Little buddy crouch, can you figure out what happened?"

Under Maka's impatient inquiry, little buddy immediately widened his eyes and struggled with great anger. He touched his waist but didn't find his magic wand.

"Don't resist. You don't have a chance."

Maka just shook his wand in front of him, which made him quiet immediately - no way, he was frightened by Maka's soul magic. That deep-rooted fear has taken root in the weight of his soul.

For black magic admirers like little buddy, they are usually the people who fear black magic most.

"You betrayed your master! You betrayed the Dark Lord!" little buddy shouted ferociously, although he no longer dared to struggle.

But Maka shook her head.

"Me? Betraying Voldemort?" he said with a smile. "I've never been his man. Even in front of him, I say so..."

Then Maka thought for a moment, and then continued: "I can give you a chance, a chance to atone for yourself and your father - as long as you prove in public that Voldemort has returned in full power, you don't have to die, how about it?"

"Proof? Hum... Will you believe what I said? Ridiculous!" little buddy sneered contemptuously and turned his head aside.

"Me?" Marca shook her head. "No, no, no, you should trust not me, but the whole magic world! Understand?"

"Tell you! It's impossible!" cried little buddy. "I'll never betray my master! Lord Dark Lord has boundless magic!"

As soon as Marca's eyes twitched, he raised his wand, but after a pause, he put it down again.

"Even if you don't think about yourself, will you really think about your father?" he said coldly, "even if it's your mother who died in Azkaban for you?"

"Father... Hahaha! Do you want me to think of the father who only has the position of minister of magic in his eyes? Do you want me to think of the mother who is ignorant and will only let me learn from that stupid father? Hahaha... Cough..."

Little buddy smiled wildly, waving his arms like a madman, and his laughter was full of contempt for Maka's persuasive words.

On the other hand, old buddy crouch was full of pain and regret - isn't it himself who taught such an unrepentant son?

"Cough, cough..."

He seemed to be choked by saliva. People couldn't help worrying whether he would cough out his lungs.