Kasenhis followed the opening down.
The space beneath wasn't particularly filthy, nor was it complicated. He casually used his eyes and immediately spotted Barty Crouch in the corner, his entire body wrapped in magical chains.
As for the other corners, there were devices to meet basic bodily needs and a fixed cleaning charm cast once a day.
Kasenhis crouched down and picked up one of the magical chains. The next moment, there was a dull thud.
The chain snapped apart.
"I'm here on behalf of Hogwarts and Dumbledore, Mr. Barty Crouch. May I ask what happened?" Kasenhis said as he took out a bottle of restorative potion and slowly fed it to Barty Crouch.
"Kill him… kill him. This is my fault… I shouldn't have done that. Now… kill him. He's outside impersonating me. He has… terrifyingly evil plans!"
Looking at Barty Crouch, who clearly wasn't in a very stable state of mind, Kasenhis sighed helplessly and still brought him back to Hogwarts.
In matters like this, Madam Pomfrey and Snape were the professionals. Even Dumbledore understood it better than he did.
Back in the headmaster's office, Kasenhis revealed the trembling Barty Crouch behind him. In his current state, Barty Crouch frightened everyone in the office—including, in the strictest sense, his political enemy, Fudge.
"What's wrong with him?" Fudge asked, his voice shaking.
Snape glanced at the back of Barty Crouch's neck, where patches of hair were missing, and shrugged. "He was imprisoned and used to brew Polyjuice Potion."
"Then who was that person?" Dumbledore's gaze darkened as he pondered. Snape, meanwhile, looked toward Kasenhis. Understanding at once, Kasenhis took him back to the Potions office.
Snape rummaged through his potion shelves for quite some time before finally picking out a calming draught tucked away in a corner, utterly unremarkable. Kasenhis then brought him back to the headmaster's office.
Kasenhis took the calming draught and gently fed it to Barty Crouch. For a moment, Crouch's eyes looked as if he was about to pass out, but he quickly regained his alertness.
"This… is… where? The headmaster's office? Dumbledore… Dumbledore! Find the person outside who's impersonating me… kill him!" Barty Crouch blurted out the moment he regained consciousness.
"Please explain things clearly first. At present, we likely can't find that person anymore. Start from the beginning," Dumbledore said soothingly.
"Voldemort isn't dead!"
"Ah.. n.. no.." Fudge's heart clenched violently. To him, that single sentence was like a thunderbolt out of nowhere.
"My son… Barty Crouch Jr. isn't dead either." Unlike the certainty of the previous statement, this one was spoken with obvious lack of confidence.
"W-What do you mean? How could he not be dead?" Fudge said blankly. He had already said nothing when Sirius Black vanished from Azkaban without a trace, and he certainly wasn't about to comment on what kind of monster Sirius had ended up associating with after getting out.
But Barty Crouch Jr… how did he get out?
Barty Crouch shot Fudge a glance, took a deep breath, and began explaining how he and his late wife had used a simple body-double trick to swap Barty Crouch Jr. out.
At that moment, Fudge understood. To secretly get someone out of Azkaban, sheer power wasn't the only way.
Great authority worked just as well.
"So this is the situation as it stands, Cornelius… make your choice," Dumbledore said. He had already sorted out the entire situation, and it was extremely simple.
In summary, just four words.
Dark Lord has returned!
"I… I need to speak with, with a few families. The Ministry's backers, you know," Fudge said, his confidence clearly lacking.
"You already promised me, Cornelius. You promised all of us," Dumbledore said.
Fudge nodded. "That's true, I did promise—but you never mentioned the name Voldemort back then."
Kasenhis immediately felt his throat act up. "We didn't say it? You dare say we didn't say it?"
Fudge took several quick steps back when he saw Kasenhis. "Even if you did say it, I don't know if you've heard this saying—turning your back and denying everything is a basic skill for a politician."
"And the Ministry isn't run by my word alone. Of course I have to discuss it with them!" Fudge hurriedly explained.
"Right. A puppet Minister who was pushed into position—how could you possibly not consult them?" Barty Crouch said, unable to hold back when he saw Fudge's cowardly 모습.
"Hmph, that's still better than you—stealing right under your own supervision," Fudge shot back immediately.
"Once my son is captured or killed, I will resign naturally, instead of being like you—useless at getting things done, excellent at ruining them, clearly incompetent yet still clinging to power!" Barty Crouch said, his attack power fully unleashed.
"Hmph. You think you'll still be able to wait until your son is caught?" Fudge snapped, completely losing his composure. "Just wait. Once I make this public, your desk will be buried under Howlers, and you'll be forced to step down!"
"If the two of you could put the same energy you use to attack political opponents into attacking Voldemort, that would be nice," Dumbledore said coldly as he watched the two of them.
"Hmph. He's no longer qualified to sit in a Ministry office," Fudge sneered, looking at Barty Crouch—and at Dumbledore as well.
Clearly, the only opponent in the Ministry who truly mattered to him was Barty Crouch. As long as he crushed Crouch completely, even Dumbledore would have to discuss matters with him instead of standing above him and issuing orders.
"But in reality, it won't be like that. If the wizarding public learns that Voldemort has returned, they'll need a hard iron fist, a strong Minister for Magic—not you, someone who only collects what the pure-blood families call political donations, which are really just wages for working for them!" Barty Crouch suddenly seized on a flash of insight and struck back.
Fudge stared at Barty Crouch with a vicious look. "You won't get the chance."
Barty Crouch merely shrugged. From the few short exchanges Hogwarts' people had just had with Fudge, he had already peeled things apart and understood exactly who was an enemy and who was a friend in this small office.
It could be put this way—aside from Fudge, everyone here was a friend.
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