v5 Chapter 141： The mouth is full of justice, the heart is full of business

William appeared in a special room.

The house was dimly lit, with no windows around, only torches attached to wall brackets.

Rows of wizards sat on stepped benches all around, with an empty chair in the center of the room with chains wrapped around its armrests.

Next to him, two Professor Dumbledore sat side by side.

One of them, Dumbledore, did not move or speak, but stared at the far corner of the house where there was a door.

Another person noticed William, he turned his head slightly, and soon caught a glimpse of Harry suddenly appearing.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and looked at William inquiringly.

"Harry's scar suddenly hurts." William also followed to the door.

There's clearly a Ministry of Magic trial here, and the memory comes from Dumbledore himself.

Having said that, I have to mention the three new hobbies of Professor Deng:

Tune up the boy who survived, watch small movies, and find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

Among them, the environment of watching small movies, William accompanied the principal to watch it many times.

In the same way that William collected hair, Dumbledore collected a lot of memories. When he is idle, he will listen to these "CDs" from the past.

This memory is at least ten years old. Because Crouch on one side is actually on trial.

Crouch was sidelined early on, especially when Fudge came to power. Since he can judge, it is naturally a memory from a long time ago.

Hearing William's words, Dumbledore looked at Harry sharply, staring at the pair of scars.

"Where is this place?" Harry was also startled when he saw the two Dumbledores.

He looked bewilderedly at Dumbledore, then at the silent waiting crowd, then at William.

"Here are my memories, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly.

Crouch spoke suddenly, his face sullen, a vein twitching in his temple.

"Bring in." His voice echoed in the silent dungeon.

The door in the corner was opened, and six dementors walked in with four people.

Many turned to look at Mr. Crouch, and several were whispering.

The dementors put the four wizards into four chained chairs in the center of the dungeon.

One of the short, stout men stared blankly at Crouch; the other, a little thinner, looked more nervous and glanced straight into the audience;

A woman with thick black hair and long eyelashes looked like she was sitting on a throne.

There was also a boy of seventeen or eighteen who looked completely stunned and trembling.

Crouch stood up and looked down at the four with extreme hatred on his face.

"You were brought before the Magical Law Commission for sentencing," he said clearly. "Your crimes are so egregious!"

"Father," said the straw-haired boy, "Father...please..."

William was stunned, he knew what kind of trial this was.

During the summer vacation, Crouch approached him and Hermione because of things in Albania.

At that time, William had investigated Crouch himself.

Crouch's past is not secret, older wizards know it, so it's easy to investigate.

His life is roughly divided into two phases.

The first half of life is naturally smooth sailing, and life is a winner.

Born in a pure-blood family, he did well in school... He was a prefect and the president of the student council.

After graduating and entering the Ministry of Magic, he was promoted all the way, and finally competed for the Minister of Magic, and his popularity once surpassed his opponent Fudge.

But one event changed the second half of his life and turned his life into two stages.

After Voldemort fell, his son Barty Crouch Jr.... was accused of being a Death Eater.

Barty Jr. is best known for kidnapping the Longbottoms with the Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix and using the Cruciatus Curse on them.

It was also after this incident that Crouch's reputation fell flat and completely lost to Fudge.

At this point, this is the trial.

"Father, I didn't!" screamed young Barty. "I didn't, I swear—Father! I'm not a Death Eater!"

"Mother!" he shouted again, "Mother, stop him, mother, I didn't do those things, not me!"

Barty's mother sobbed, rocking back and forth.

Crouch ignored it, indifferently announcing the four men in prison for life.

The Dementors walked in slowly and took them down.

"I'm your son!" Barty Jr shouted to Crouch, "your son!"

"You're not my son!" Crouch yelled, his eyes suddenly bulging out, "I don't have a son!"

Memories are changing, it's still this dungeon, but the trial is over.

The crowd was slowly leaving the dungeon, and everyone did not leave immediately, but secretly looked behind them.

Crouch's wife, the emaciated witch, was beating her husband's chest frantically and biting his arm.

"You are murdering my son! You are murdering him!"

"He's not our son, nothing."

Crouch hugged his wife tightly and replied, "He's just a Death Eater. You did a good thing by sending him to Azkaban!"

"No," the witch wept heartily. "That's our son.

He is still a child!

What kind of person would send his son to Azkaban when he could be rescued from prison!

Barty, I beg you, let him out! I beg you! "

"You don't know anything!" cried Crouch, his voice full of pain.

Soon, the crowd disappeared, another memory appeared, and the scene was slowly changing.

The dungeon became a long black metal corridor with a pure white cell at the end.

There are two dementors at the end of the hallway, holding the cell.

In the distance, stood three wizards: Crouch and his wife, and a bald, middle-aged wizard.

Although Crouch was still exceptionally clean, his temples were already frost white compared to the last trial.

His wife was getting older, skinny and skinny, and seemed to be dying.

The voice was clear and distinct - harsh, like a quarrel, the voice of a middle-aged wizard.

"Yes, yes, you came all the way here," he said, "but visits are prohibited without the signature of the Minister for Magic.

Ministry regulations, no exceptions. "

After the fall of the Ministry of Magic, Azkaban was imprisoned for a large number of wizards.

The number of dementors is seriously insufficient.

The Ministry of Magic was also worried about the Death Eaters' robbery, so they dispatched some wizards to cooperate with the Dementors to take care of them.

The middle-aged wizard is the warden of Azkaban.

Crouch asked indifferently, "Is his treatment okay?"

"Good enough, single room. Two meals a day," said the warden. "This isn't the Leaky Cauldron."

"Is my son safe?"

"Safe? He's a Death Eater." The warden said indifferently, "To be honest, those Dementors like him the most.

Young, fond memories, fresh...your son howls almost every night.

This is far worse than Sirius Black. "

The witch clenched Crouch's arm, turning even paler.

The warden said in a low voice, "To be honest, your son may not last long."

"I asked to find him a healer at St. Mungo's Magic Hospital." Crouch stared at the middle-aged wizard.

"Stop kidding, he's just a Death Eater," the warden sneered.

"However, it may also be approved, we are a separate system and no one will know.

Although it will take a week or two... or even a month... to see..."

"Look at what?"

"Oh," the warden said quickly, "our environment here is too bad."

He paused. "Sometimes, relevant parties, such as your own donations to Azkaban staff, can speed up the process of our work."

Crouch didn't say a word.

"Mr. Crouch," the warden continued, lowering his voice, "For a family like yours, Galleon is no problem, there is always a way.

There are people I know in the ministry. Although you have been transferred from the Legal Enforcement Department and are no longer the director, you still have connections.

If you and I work together, let alone the therapist, we might be able to get your son out of here..."

Crouch rolled his eyes.

"Really, you look at the officials of the Ministry of Magic now, all with justice in their mouths and business in their hearts.

Of course, not about you. "

The warden said flatteringly: "If you don't say anything, just say Malfoy.

Who didn't know he was a Death Eater? But how many Galleons were sent and how many connections were made?

It's not 'people from our side' yet, it's just being controlled by the 'Imperial Curse'... that's all! "

Crouch's face darkened.

The warden continued: "If all the expenses are in place, your son also said he was under control..."

Crouch responded coldly: "Your suggestion is illegal, and I can't let him out, especially in this kind of thing.

And what you just said..."

"Out of this door, I won't recognize it." The warden sneered. "You expect those two Dementors to testify against you?"

"Don't you feel guilty for earning this kind of Galleon?" Crouch stared at the middle-aged wizard.

The warden took out two Galleons and sneered: "Which one of these two Galleons is noble and which one is dirty?"

"And, would you rather keep him here? I can tell you that your son won't last for two months at most."

"I want to talk to him, right now!"

"As I said, we have rules. Your son can't see you without the minister's signature...unless you're willing to negotiate on certain issues."

A icy silence lasted for a while, and Crouch said in a gentle tone: "Let's meet him first, and then talk about the follow-up.

I don't want to be disturbed by anything. "

The warden hesitated for a moment, but let Crouch and his wife in.

The door slammed shut.

The warden stood far away from the door, because there were two dementors guarding the door.

Standing next to him, he felt very uncomfortable.

Anyway, there are dementors guarding, and Crouch can't do the prison robbery.

After half an hour,

Crouch and his wife came out Crouch became more and more indifferent and dragged his wife.

And his wife seemed to be frightened by her son, and she was very fast, as if she wanted to escape the prison.

The warden left with the two of them.

When they were about to walk out of the corridor, two dementors entered the room and brought Barty out, ready to send him back to the cell.

"It's time for us to go back." Dumbledore stood up.

William stood up too, reaching for Harry's elbow.

The three slowly rose into the air, Azkaban was dissipating, and in the blink of an eye, only darkness remained.

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