Ministry of Magic, temporary interrogation room.
Old Frank knew that he must have learned something significant.
The first time he said the name "Barty Crouch," the composed man showed a look of shock—even if only for a few seconds, it was enough to say a lot. And now, the surrounding whispers only confirmed this.
“Barty… Crouch? Interesting—”
Amelia Bones repeated softly, shaking her head towards Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting not far away.
“You know, Mr. Crouch has been with Scrimgeour and them almost all night. This is obviously a trap, and the Dark Lord is trying to provoke internal conflicts within the Ministry—he is very good at creating suspicion and distrust. Perhaps this Muggle is not lying, but he must have been deceived.”
“Deceived? Are you saying you think the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters would go to great lengths to deceive a Muggle?”
Cornelius Fudge said sarcastically, his voice suddenly louder, as if some emotion from tonight was about to be released.
“There is a mole in the Ministry, obviously. Otherwise, they wouldn't know about our actions, let alone have a way to cut off the Floo Network. I trust you and everyone here, but that doesn't mean everyone in the Ministry is without problems. I don't need to remind you how many people secretly sided with the Dark Lord decades ago. If we don't know who the enemy is, tonight's attack will eventually happen again—”
“Old Barty couldn't possibly be a spy for the Dark Lord. We all know how much he hates those guys, and how much those dark wizards hate him.”
Mad-Eye Moody shook his head, his blue magical eye spinning rapidly in its socket, observing the expressions of the other wizards.
“However…”
“Just like the Dark Lord and his Muggle father shared the same name.”
“There is obviously more than one Barty Crouch in this world, right?”
Unlike the other wizards present, Scrimgeour and Moody had received the news from Kingsley before entering the room.
Barty Crouch Jr., who was arrested and imprisoned years ago and presumed dead, was suspected of not being dead and of orchestrating tonight's attack on the Ministry of Magic!
“What are you trying to say, Alastor?” Madam Bones narrowed her eyes slightly, her monocle reflecting the light.
“The problem isn't what Mad-Eye wants to say, but what exactly happened—”
Cornelius Fudge cleared his throat and looked at the Muggle old man who had unknowingly become the focus of everyone's attention, and continued to ask.
“Mr. Frank, please describe in detail the appearance of that ‘Barty Crouch’ and what you heard at Riddle Manor tonight.”
“Well, I only met that Mr. Crouch once, roughly in his thirties or forties, a bit taller than me, with light yellow hair and a particularly pale face, a bit like someone who had just recovered from a serious illness.” Old Frank paused and added, “Oh, and he had a lot of freckles on his face.”
Along with Old Frank's description, some wizards sitting around Cornelius Fudge began to whisper again.
Old Barty Crouch was a big name in the Ministry of Magic back then. With Mad-Eye Moody's reminder, people easily recalled their buried memories.
“Now, tell me about what happened tonight,” Cornelius Fudge said.
Old Frank nodded, glanced at the whispering wizards, and involuntarily opened his mouth to speak.
“In the middle of the night, I was woken up again by that damn bad leg, and when I got up to change the hot water bottle, I happened to see outside the window…”
Then, he began to tell the wizards everything he had encountered that night, word for word.
Old Frank spoke for about a quarter of an hour, and everyone listened very carefully. There was almost no other sound in the large room.
He talked about how he heard the man with the cold voice asking "Barty Crouch" if he had the courage to kill his own father as he had done back then; he also talked about hearing them planning to steal wizarding records and some prophecy orbs from the Ministry, and that the person "Barty Crouch" called master said he had well-hidden servants in the Ministry, and about the person he planned to kill after that… Dumbledore.
Cornelius Fudge interjected from time to time to ask a question. When Old Frank finished his story, his face was so gloomy that it looked like it was about to drip water.
“Very well,” Cornelius Fudge took a deep breath and said weakly, “So, putting aside the two ‘resurrected’ dark wizards for now, at least we know what they want to do. But I don't understand, what do they want the wizarding records and the prophecy orbs for?”
“Obviously, a new round of terror—”
Scrimgeour's expression was particularly terrifying. He exchanged an uneasy glance with Madam Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“Although I don't know what happened in these ten years, the Dark Lord after hibernation is obviously more terrifying than in the past. If I'm not mistaken, his next plan is to issue death threats one by one, and to pinpoint and eliminate those wizards who don't obey him. Compared to a dozen years ago, this time they have the addresses of most of the British wizards in their hands. From now on, everyone's rooftops will be surrounded by a Dark Mark that could rise at any time.”
“As for the prophecy…” Scrimgeour frowned.
The statistics from the Department of Mysteries hadn't come out yet, but it was known that the Hall of Prophecy and the Hall of Time were almost completely destroyed.
Even if there were a small number of crystal balls remaining in that ruin, it was likely not what the Dark Lord wanted. In such a chaotic environment, they had no way of knowing what exactly the Dark Lord had taken, but they could roughly guess what it was.
“Wait, I remember this. When Peter Pettigrew was tried a few months ago, he also mentioned it—”
Amelia Bones rubbed her brow, thoughtfully saying slowly, “That mysterious prophecy about the Dark Lord, the prophecy that caused the Dark Lord to disappear for more than a decade… It was because of that prophecy that the Dark Lord went to Godric's Hollow alone to kill the Potter family.”
“Yes, I agree with your guess, but these things don’t matter now.”
Cornelius Fudge sighed, slamming his fist on the armrest, and said hatefully in a low voice.
“The Dark Lord has successfully obtained what he wanted, and we still know nothing about the content of that prophecy orb—”
“Ahem, about this matter, I think it is the least of our worries tonight…”
At this moment, Dumbledore coughed lightly, put his fingers together on his knees, and said with a smile.
“Those stolen and broken are just the prophecy records kept in the Department of Mysteries. A prophecy is specifically spoken to someone, and that person obviously has a way to hear its content again.”
“Who heard it?” Cornelius Fudge asked subconsciously, but he already knew the answer the moment he asked.
“I did,” Dumbledore said, “On a cold, damp night thirteen years ago, in a room above the Hog's Head. I went there to meet a witch applying for the position of Divination teacher. Actually, my intention wasn't to continue the Divination class, but the applicant was the great-granddaughter of a very famous and talented Seer. I thought I should meet her out of courtesy, and then…”
“Professor Sybill Trelawney, right? Then she made a prophecy in front of you in order to get the job?”
Cornelius Fudge reacted quickly and looked at Dumbledore excitedly, "So, you still remember the content of that prophecy, right?"
“Of course. In fact, I even have a way to let you all hear it again…”
Dumbledore smiled warmly, continued calmly, "However, before that, I think we should first settle Mr. Frank here, if you don't have any other details you want to ask. We have a lot to discuss next, don't you think?"
“Oh, yes, of course—”
Cornelius nodded, looked around the room, and quickly locked onto the witch in the corner who had been temporarily caught to take notes.
“Um, Miss Nymphadora, please take Mr. Frank to rest—”
“Ah? Oh—” Tonks, who was wandering off, suddenly came back to her senses.
She hesitated and glanced at the Minister, somewhat helplessly put away her magical quill, stood up, and walked to the door.
“Then, Mr. Frank, this way. Due to time constraints, you can't go to Scotland Yard to record your statement yet. I'll help you find a comfortable hotel to stay in temporarily. After you wake up in the afternoon, the Minister and the others will probably have discussed the results.”
“Uh, well, okay—” Old Frank looked at the wizards around him and nodded silently.
Even if he didn't understand what they were discussing, Old Frank could see the wizards' distressed state at this time.
Obviously, the magical world wasn't more peaceful than the ordinary world.
…………
“Well, in short, Voldemort has returned.”
Dumbledore said calmly, looking at Fudge, then at Scrimgeour.
“The Ministry of Magic, and even the wizarding society, must take action as soon as possible. Under the influence of Veritaserum, we at least learned their next plans from Mr. Frank—in essence, it's still the same old act of spreading panic—but this time we have more allies.”
“The magical governments of various countries will soon hold a joint meeting. The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters won't be rampant for too long…”
Cornelius Fudge said quickly, but his words were quickly interrupted by Dumbledore.
“Of course, I believe in the anger of the various Ministries of Magic, but that's not what I'm referring to. The magical world must unite more closely, Cornelius.”
Dumbledore's azure blue eyes looked at Fudge over his half-moon spectacles, and said seriously, "I heard on the way here that a person suspected of being Voldemort appeared in the Ministry of Magic. This may be worse than the fall of the Ministry—Tom Riddle successfully used Horcruxes to become immortal. We are no longer facing an ordinary dark wizard, but a terrifying demon king who can never be completely killed.”
“I believe that it won't be long before this news will spread fear throughout Europe and even the entire magical world.”
Dumbledore's voice echoed in the narrow office. Many wizards seemed to have guessed what he wanted to say and showed uneasy expressions.
“That's right, just like eleven years ago, we can defeat Voldemort countless times, but he can also resurrect countless times.”
“In the face of this almost insurmountable fear, the dark forces gathered around Voldemort will be beyond imagination.”
“I am one hundred and eleven years old this year. Voldemort doesn't even need to do it himself. He can let 'time' kill me. He can also use countless attempts to end my life, or the lives of others who stand in his way… If we don't prepare in advance, we are destined to fail.”
“Do you understand, the war has already broken out. This is a war that uses time as a weapon, beyond everyone's imagination.”
Dumbledore looked around at the wizards, breathed a sigh of relief, and said softly.
“An… infinite war.”
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Yay! There will be another chapter later~