Fudge naturally had no mind for Percy's nose.
He kept repeating monotonous words with the same meaning, shouting loudly, "Fool, idiot, moron! How can the Ministry have such Aurors! The Auror Office even said he was highly capable, yet he couldn't even watch one person under the Imperius Curse!"
"Calm yourself, Cornelius." Seeing Fudge's impotent rage, Dumbledore said kindly, "I seem to recall that Dawlish's N.E.W.T. examination results all reached 'Outstanding.' However, while his grades were excellent, his abilities were lacking, so this happening is actually within reason."
"You!" Fudge suddenly reacted. He pointed his trembling finger at Dumbledore and shrieked, "You knew all along! You said he would resist the Imperius Curse! You just said that approach wasn't safe!"
Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Yes, Cornelius, I did issue that warning. Unfortunately, what we most feared has now happened. Young Barty Crouch, an extremely dangerous Death Eater, is now free, and very likely with the help of those accomplices."
Hearing Dumbledore's words, Fudge's face turned from deathly pale to liver-colored.
He wanted to roar like before, but his throat seemed blocked by something, and he couldn't make a sound.
Dumbledore's calmness was like a mirror, increasingly reflecting his previous obstinacy and ignorant stupidity.
Actually, at this moment he still wanted to argue back, wanted to blame Sherlock's meddling, wanted to fault Dawlish's incompetence, but...
The situation had become so serious that any attempt to shirk responsibility seemed extremely pale and ridiculous.
He looked around. Dumbledore's eyes remained calm, yet the power contained within made him panic.
Reality was like a cold snake, wrapped around his neck.
The fig leaf he had prepared was completely torn to shreds.
At a loss, he didn't even notice Sherlock's silent mockery in his gaze, Harry's worry, or Mr. Weasley's almost pitying complex look.
As for Percy still trying desperately to show his brave fighting, Fudge completely ignored him.
Without doubt, news of young Barty Crouch's escape would spread quickly.
According to what Arthur Weasley had just said, more than one person knew about the Auror being struck down and the prisoner being abducted.
Not to mention that the Dark Mark, which hadn't appeared for thirteen full years, had reappeared—this news was like a bolt from the blue.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the entire wizarding world would fall into panic because of this.
He could no longer escape.
This problem had to be dealt with.
Otherwise, he would become a target of public criticism, and even his position as Minister would be in jeopardy.
Finally... he couldn't help but look toward Dumbledore, his gaze carrying a trace of pleading. "Professor Dumbledore, what should we do now?"
The mockery in Sherlock and Sirius's eyes grew stronger.
This was a bureaucrat.
Now he knew to ask for help? Wasn't he acting all high and mighty just now? Arrogant before but humble after—how laughable!
However, Dumbledore didn't mock him.
His tone remained kind, but the words he spoke made Fudge take notice. "Abandon illusions, prepare for battle."
"What do you mean by that?" Fudge suddenly raised his head, his eyes full of disbelief.
"To be able to act this way in such a short time, as far as I know, there's no one besides Voldemort."
When Dumbledore spoke that name, Fudge and the Weasley father and son couldn't help but shudder.
"Dumbledore, don't joke around. Are you saying the You-Know-Who is coming back?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not." Dumbledore currently had no intention of telling others about the content of Professor Trelawney's second prophecy. So he merely discussed the matter at hand. "I think he must have gained a strong and powerful ally—only under such circumstances could his will be executed so forcefully. But, regardless, I hope you can be prepared. Thirteen years ago I already said that there was no evidence proving Voldemort had died; he had only become very weak. To this day, there is still sufficient evidence indicating that Voldemort is slowly recovering his strength. If we just let things be, when things truly happen, we'll face a crisis capable of destroying the entire wizarding world in a completely unguarded state."
"I understand." Fudge's voice carried a sense of powerlessness crushed by reality. He waved his hand weakly, indicating he wanted to be alone.
"Cornelius, we still have one thing left to do."
"What thing?"
"Call Barty Crouch over."
"Oh right..." Fudge said somewhat dazedly. "You just said to bring both Barty Crouch senior and junior over for a face-to-face confrontation, but young Crouch has already... Is it still necessary?"
"It's necessary. Although young Barty escaped, old Crouch is still a key figure. We need to understand everything he knows about young Barty's possible whereabouts, the accomplices he contacted, and any possible plans."
"Time is of the essence." Dumbledore added another sentence, his tone brooking no argument, emphasizing the severity of the situation.
Fudge closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This simple action seemed to exhaust all his strength.
When he opened his eyes again, only embarrassment and a trace of resigned dejection remained.
"Arthur." He said in a hoarse voice, "Go... go ask Barty Crouch... Director Crouch... to come here, immediately."
Mr. Weasley tugged at Percy, then silently led him away.
As he left, he didn't forget to wave his wand to clean up his wounds.
This was also a waiting period, but this time Fudge's mindset was completely different from before.
Earlier it had been confidence and self-assurance that victory was in hand. Now it was restlessness and trepidation.
Sherlock's gaze swept over everyone in the room one by one.
Cornelius Fudge slumped in his chair, staring vacantly at the shattered teacup fragments on the carpet, as if they represented his crumbling authority.
Dumbledore was speaking quietly with Sirius about something. From their postures, Dumbledore was telling Sirius information he hadn't known before.
Harry, like Fudge, showed a nervous demeanor. Though he hadn't seen the Dark Mark, just hearing Mr. Weasley's description made him feel shadows circling in his heart.
Sherlock withdrew his gaze and shook his head.
Better to wait until Barty Crouch arrived.
He was the key figure. From him, Sherlock could obtain more useful information.
After an unknown amount of time, the office door was pushed open again.
Barty Crouch walked in.
His steps maintained their characteristic rigid, precise rhythm, but the authority on his face was replaced by barely concealed exhaustion and something deeper.
Not only that, his hair seemed grayer and his shoulders no longer as straight as before.
He surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping past Dumbledore, Sirius, Sherlock, and Harry, finally settling on Fudge's devastated face.
Fudge immediately avoided his gaze.
Seeing this, Mr. Weasley, who had entered with him, sighed and casually closed the door.
Then, without waiting for Fudge to speak, he directly repeated the key information from earlier.
Suspected Death Eater wizards attacked the campsite, the Dark Mark rose in the sky, and young Barty was abducted during escort.
Actually, on the way here with Mr. Weasley, Barty Crouch had already guessed at the facts. He knew about the Death Eater attack on the campsite and the Dark Mark's appearance.
But when he heard the news that his son had been abducted, Crouch's body swayed.
For an instant, this wizard known for his iron fist and cold ruthlessness, whom even Sirius admired, lost all color from his face.
That facade of exhaustion was completely torn away, exposing beneath it an abyss of despair.
From the moment Barty Crouch entered the office, Sherlock had been observing him.
Noticing his change of expression now, he immediately understood his thoughts.
However, this despair lasted only an extremely brief instant.
Then something surprising happened.
Barty Crouch straightened his spine—though not with his former strength, it was enough to demonstrate a kind of resolve.
The grief on his face quickly faded, replaced by a terrible, cold calm.
"I understand." Crouch's voice was so steady it was unsettling, without any tremor, only metallic in quality.
He faced Fudge directly, making no attempt to justify or plead, but said simply and decisively, "Minister, this result is what I deserve."
Fudge looked up at him in astonishment, and the others were also stunned. Only Sherlock raised an eyebrow and let out a soft "Oh."
Then Crouch's voice clearly carried throughout the office: "The root of everything lies with me. I abused my authority to illegally remove the serious criminal Barty Crouch Jt. from Azkaban. I concealed the truth for thirteen years, used the Imperius Curse on him, but ultimately failed, brewing today's catastrophe.
He fell into the hands of Death Eaters, and the danger and possible destruction he could cause cannot be estimated... All of this, the responsibility lies entirely with me personally, and has nothing to do with the Ministry of Magic, nothing to do with Minister Fudge."
He paused slightly, his eyes deep, as if drawing a period on his last trace of attachment to power.
"To maintain the normal operation of the Ministry of Magic, to allow the Triwizard Tournament to continue with minimal interference, to facilitate your full pursuit of the fugitive... I'm willing to immediately plead guilty and accept all investigations and trials from the Ministry.
At the same time, I suggest transferring the work of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, including all coordination matters for the Triwizard Tournament, to Ludo Bagman, Director of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
He should have been co-hosting this event with me anyway. He has sufficient qualifications, is familiar with the situation, and only he can ensure the stable operation of the subsequent tournament processes."
Barty Crouch's tone was completely businesslike, stripped of all personal emotion.
Fudge opened his mouth. He never expected things would develop this way.
But amid shock and regret, there was also a tiny bit of relief.
Because someone had voluntarily taken the blame.
"Crouch, who abducted your son, where might he have gone—do you have any leads?" Dumbledore suddenly asked.
"No. I've already told Minister Fudge the specific details of what happened. All these years, I've been controlling him with the Imperius Curse. He had no opportunity to meet with anyone else."
Speaking of this, Barty Crouch paused. "Since I rescued him, he's worn an Invisibility Cloak from dawn to dusk, always staying with the house-elf. She was his caretaker. She sympathized with him and would sometimes persuade me to give him some privileges as a reward for his good behavior.
This time was also because she begged me. She told me he liked Quidditch. She told me my wife saved him so he could have freedom, not lifelong confinement. She urged me for several months. Considering he really hadn't gone out for several years, I finally agreed."
In this description, Barty Crouch seemed deliberately avoiding the names of the house-elf and his son, consistently using "she" and "he" to refer to these two people.
Fortunately, his thinking was clear and logic smooth, so there was no ambiguity.
"Then, might he have been able to resist your Imperius Curse?" Dumbledore continued. "I think you should know that he secretly took Harry's wand. Not only that, after Sherlock discovered him, he also actively attacked."
Barty Crouch suddenly raised his head and looked deeply at Dumbledore, seeming to convey in his gaze something only they could understand.
After a moment, he shook his head. "I don't know."
"I understand." Dumbledore nodded, then turned to Fudge. "Cornelius, things have reached this point. I hope you can remember what I just said—abandon illusions, prepare for battle."
"Dumbledore, Dumbledore..." At this moment, Fudge seemed somewhat at a loss. "Could—could the You-Know-Who really be coming back? That—that's impossible, right? Don't joke, don't joke... I think the person who abducted young Crouch might not necessarily be the You-Know-Who. Maybe it could be his other companions, right?"
"I cannot give you a definitive answer." Dumbledore looked calmly at Fudge. "But from the current situation, Voldemort urgently wants to rise again. Moreover, the people who abducted young Crouch are definitely not the same group that created chaos at the campsite.
Otherwise, when the Dark Mark appeared, they wouldn't have hurriedly left. So abducting young Crouch is precisely part of Voldemort's plan, possibly even a key part. Perhaps... this is closely connected with Voldemort seeking a body and recovering his strength."
With every sentence Dumbledore spoke, the expression on Barty Crouch's face grew more pained.
When he finished speaking, Barty Crouch could no longer restrain himself.
He nodded to everyone. "My apologies, everyone. I need to leave for a moment."
Then he said to Fudge, "Minister, I'll stay at home during this time and won't go anywhere."
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