Chapter 311: Barty Crouch Jr.
The situation in the Quidditch World Cup Final had reached a fever pitch. The Irish National Team, leveraging their seamless coordination, was steadily widening their advantage. The score difference quickly reached the critical point of 150 points.
Spectators familiar with Quidditch rules knew that if the score difference continued to widen, even if Bulgaria's star Seeker, Viktor Krum, managed to catch the Golden Snitch, earning his team 150 points, the Bulgarian team would still be unable to overturn the defeat.
Based on the performance on the field, the Irish team was clearly demonstrating overwhelming strength. In the scramble for the Quaffle, the Irish Chaser, McKenna, consistently managed to precisely evade the Bludgers hurled by the Bulgarian Beaters. He darted flexibly across the low-altitude pitch with the Quaffle. Several times, he used the speed advantage of their broomsticks to bypass the Bulgarian Keeper's interception and score.
The Bulgarian team's broomsticks were mostly last year's models, their speed visibly lagging behind the latest Firebolts used by the Irish team. Both offensive advances and defensive retreats appeared strenuous. In controlling the Bludgers, the two Irish Beaters displayed exceptional coordination. They consistently predicted the Bulgarian team's attack routes, using their bats to drive the Bludgers toward the opposing half, achieving comprehensive suppression from both offense and defense. The score difference was only going to increase.
"Look! O'Connor of the Irish team scores again!" Ludo Bagman's voice, amplified by the Sonorus charm, filled every corner of the stadium, his tone filled with excitement.
"The difference between the two teams has now reached a staggering 160 points! Even if Krum were to catch the Golden Snitch this very moment, the Bulgarian team would still lose the final by a margin of 10 points!"
The stands instantly erupted in two distinctly different sounds. Irish fans waved green flags in jubilant celebration; some even tossed their hats into the air. Bulgarian fans let out collective sighs of regret, yet many continued to wave red scarves, cheering for their team's Seeker.
In the back row of the top-tier box, Lucius Malfoy sat upright, his back perfectly straight, his hands lightly resting on the armrests. Despite the deafening cheers in the stadium, he maintained the composure unique to a nobleman. Steam was still gently rising from the silver teacup in front of him.
Suddenly, a slight breeze leaked in through the box window. A corner of an almost invisible, transparent piece of fabric on the constantly empty seat beside Lucius was lifted by the wind. The fabric was thin as a dragonfly's wing, barely noticeable unless one looked closely. However, with the gust of wind, a pair of small black leather shoes was faintly revealed beneath the fabric, with a bit of dust clinging to the edges. Further down were two slender, pale legs, an area of faded cloth wrapped around the ankles. The form was unmistakably that of a House-elf.
Lucius's pupils instantly contracted. His hands on the armrests tensed up. He immediately leaned forward, quickly and gently pressing the lifted corner of the Invisibility Cloak back into place, moving as fast as the wind. He quickly glanced around. Hermione was leaning on the railing, focused on the game. Harry and Ron were high-fiving over an Irish goal. No one had noticed the abnormality here. He quietly let out a sigh of relief, raised his sleeve to wipe the fine sweat from his forehead, a flicker of undetectable panic in his eyes.
Just then, Ludo Bagman's voice exploded again.
"Look! Krum suddenly changed direction—he seems to have spotted the Golden Snitch!"
All eyes instantly focused on the high sky above the stadium. Krum, riding his Silver Arrow broom, was practically plastered to the broomstick, his black robes taut in the wind, diving down like a black lightning bolt. The Irish Seeker, Lynch, reacted immediately, following closely behind Krum. The wakes of their brooms intertwined into two streaks in the air. However, Lynch was visibly half a beat slower, unable to close the distance with Krum.
"Krum's hand is out! He touched it—he caught the Golden Snitch!" Ludo's voice was filled with unprecedented urgency.
"The match is over! The final score is set! The Irish team wins with a 160-point advantage!"
The stadium was instantly drowned in frenzy. The cheers of the Irish fans nearly blew the roof off the stadium. Even many Bulgarian fans stood up to applaud Krum's spectacular performance.
Taking advantage of the cover provided by the tumultuous cheers, Lucius Malfoy quietly stood up, smoothed out the hem of his robes that the wind had ruffled, and signaled to Draco behind him. Draco pouted, clearly dissatisfied with the match result, but followed his father, lowering his head and quickly exiting the box. Passing Harry, he deliberately bumped Ron's arm.
"Look, the Malfoys seem to be leaving," Harry noticed their figures disappearing through the box entrance, mentioning it casually to Ron and Hermione beside him.
"Let them leave, who cares about them!" Ron didn't even turn around. He clutched the scarf printed with the Irish team crest, his eyes shining brightly. He grabbed Harry's arm and rushed out of the box. "Quick! Let's go wait at the stadium exit! Maybe we can get autographs from the Irish team—I even want to ask Krum for one of his game jerseys! The dark blue one with silver trim! I wanted it ever since I saw it in that magazine!"
Hermione shook her head helplessly and quickly followed the two. Only a few scattered spectators remained in the box, still discussing the match. The invisible trace beside Lucius had long been completely obscured by the excitement of the stadium.
The cheers of the Quidditch World Cup Final gradually died down. Wizards left the stadium grounds in small groups, heading toward their respective tent lodgings. Some wizards were still excitedly discussing the moment Krum caught the Snitch during the match, waving team flags in their hands. Others pushed small carts laden with snacks and souvenirs, chatting and laughing cheerfully with companions. The entire campsite still retained the festive atmosphere brought by the match.
But before long, a sharp scream suddenly erupted from the direction of the woods, shattering the tranquility. The slowly walking wizards instantly stopped, turning toward the source of the sound. They saw many people running out of the woods in panic, their faces pale, as if fleeing from something terrifying.
Following the direction of their escape, a peculiar green light flickered faintly in the depths of the woods. The green light pulsed, accompanied by sounds like the "bang-bang" of Muggle gunshots. Each sound added a layer of tension to the surrounding air.
Next, various chaotic sounds poured out of the woods. There was unrestrained jeering, malicious cackling, and several drunken shouts. These sounds mingled together, slowly moving toward the center of the campsite.
Suddenly, a dazzling bright green light flared up, instantly illuminating the surrounding tents and trees. By this light, everyone clearly saw the source of the sounds.
A group of wizards was advancing along the campsite path, their pace slow but conveying intense pressure. Every one of them wore a dark hood, the brim pulled low, concealing most of their face. They also wore black masks, exposing only pairs of cold, menacing eyes. The wands in their hands were slightly raised, the tips glowing with a faint green light, clearly a deliberate display of intimidation.
Even more chillingly, four figures were suspended in the air above them, their bodies contorted into strange positions. One person's arms were bent backward at an unnatural angle. Another's legs were curled against their chest, like puppets being pulled by invisible strings. The masked wizards on the ground were like the puppet masters, transparent threads extending from their wand tips, firmly controlling the figures in the air. Looking closely, two of the figures were noticeably shorter, resembling children.
As time passed, more and more wizards ran out of their tents. Some directly joined the procession, while others stood by the roadside, laughing loudly and pointing at the floating bodies in the air, their tone full of cruel mockery.
The procession grew constantly, the jostling crowd pushing the roadside tents askew. Some tent frames broke entirely, the canvas collapsing, scattering the luggage inside—but no one cared.
The four floating people in the air were actually Muggles living near the Quidditch World Cup venue. They had unfortunately been caught by these Dark Wizards while merely passing by. They were already lifeless, their bodies rigidly suspended in the air, serving as tools for the Dark Wizards' demonstration. Every time they swayed, it sent a chill through the surrounding wizards.
The colorful magical lights previously used to illuminate the path to the stadium had inexplicably been extinguished. The campsite was plunged into dimness, with only the green light from the Dark Wizards' wands flickering.
In the woods, many dark figures stumbled and ran. Some were searching for lost family members, while others were simply fleeing the terrifying procession. The cries of children rose and fell, interspersed with the strained shouts and anxious conversations of adults. These sounds echoed in the cold night air, turning the formerly lively campsite into a horrifying, sinister place.
In an inconspicuous corner on the edge of the campsite, a House-elf was struggling to pull a small suitcase, walking slowly with faltering steps. She wore a ragged gray cloth dress, her ears drooped, her hands tightly clutching the suitcase handle, her body trembling constantly.
"Young Master Crouch, we must hurry," the House-elf's voice was clearly tearful. It was Winky. She constantly looked back, her eyes filled with fear. "Master had already designated the carriage location. If we are late, Master will surely scold us, and perhaps even punish us..."
"No, Winky, you must listen to me." A male voice suddenly emerged from nearby, his tone rigidly uncompromising.
Then, a figure stepped out from the shadow of a nearby tent. He threw off the thin, almost invisible Invisibility Cloak covering him, revealing a pale face. In his hand, he held a wand; the shaft was somewhat worn, its origin unknown.
The man looked up at the Muggle corpses in mid-air, a flash of excitement instantly crossing his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. He subconsciously extended his tongue, lightly licking his dry lips, the cruelty in his eyes undisguised. He stood still, staring fixedly at the figures in the air, seemingly captivated by the scene, completely ignoring Winky's urging.
The man's emotions spiraled out of control, the excitement in his eyes twisting into a state bordering on madness. He raised the unfamiliar wand in his hand, his arm trembling slightly, pointing the tip directly at the black sky. His voice was hoarse yet full of power as he chanted the spell.
"Morsmordre!"
The instant the spell was cast, he quickly wrapped the thin, dragonfly-wing-like Invisibility Cloak around himself, leaving only half of his pale face exposed. With his other hand, he abruptly shoved the wand into the hands of the House-elf, Winky, beside him. He stared at Winky, his eyes full of menace, his voice ice-cold:
"Listen to me. You are forbidden to speak of anything you saw today to anyone, including Master. If you dare let slip even a single word, letting anyone know of my existence, the Crouch family will immediately expel you, turning you into a homeless elf!"
Winky's body trembled even more violently. She tightly clutched the still-warm wand in her hands, her head bowed low, her ears drooping to her shoulders. She replied in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, nodding weakly, not even daring to look up at him.
When she saw the man raise his hand, preparing to Apparate, Winky still mustered the courage to step forward, reaching out to pull at his coat hem, her voice pleading tearfully: "Young Master, no! If you leave just like this, Master will be very sad when he finds out. He will be angry! Let's go back and apologize to Master..."
But Barty Crouch Jr. completely disregarded Winky's words, uncaring of his father, Barty Crouch Sr.'s, feelings. He didn't even look at Winky. A faint blue light of Apparition appeared on his fingertips, and his body instantly blurred. The next second, he vanished from the spot, leaving behind only a faint magical fluctuation, and Winky standing alone, helplessly shedding tears.
The instant Barty Crouch Jr. vanished, a blinding green light suddenly appeared in the sky. Following this, a gigantic green pattern slowly rose. It was a massive skull, every outline composed of countless bright emerald-green, star-like twinkling points of light, its lines chillingly clear. Even more bizarrely, a large serpent, also formed of green light, slowly emerged from the skull's mouth. The serpent's body coiled and writhed, like a tongue extending from the skull, exceptionally prominent against the night sky.
The skull pattern rose higher and higher. It was encircled by a cloud of glowing green mist, which spread continuously as the pattern ascended, making the entire image shine even more brightly. Against the backdrop of the pitch-black night sky, this green skull and serpent pattern looked like a terrifying constellation that had materialized out of thin air. It hung over the campsite, visible from both the center and the distant edges.
"Ah—!" Wave after wave of screams suddenly erupted from the surrounding woods.
.......
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