"Holmes, I've met quite a few so-called clever people in the wizarding world. But whether in the magical world or the Muggle world, no one has ever been like you."
After saying everything that needed to be said, Barty Crouch had also come to terms with things.
At this moment, his originally dim gaze actually became sharp, staring directly at Sherlock as he spoke in a tone of admiration.
"You can dig out facts from clues as fine as dust—facts that even I myself dare not admit. What you see are the fault lines of the human heart, the truth itself buried beneath silence and rage. With this ability of yours, you will certainly become a figure that the entire world takes notice of in the future."
"No, Barty."
Just then, Dumbledore, who had been silently observing, gently stepped forward and moved to Sherlock's side.
"I think your judgment needs a slight adjustment in terms of time frame. There's no need to wait for the future. Even at this moment, Sherlock Holmes has already become the figure you mentioned that others should take notice of. If someone hasn't done so, it only means they lack vision. Sherlock's wisdom is already at the very top tier of the wizarding world, and it continues to grow with time."
Barty Crouch looked at Dumbledore in surprise.
He had already praised Sherlock as much as possible, but he hadn't expected Dumbledore's evaluation of this boy, not yet fifteen years old, to be so extraordinarily high.
In this moment, he suddenly understood.
"I see now. The matter of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew must have been discovered by you as well, wasn't it?"
"That's correct, it was me," Sherlock nodded. "I can see you didn't believe it."
"That was before. Now I believe it without a doubt."
Crouch said each word intentionally.
The conversation between the two ended there.
Under Sherlock's direction, Barty Crouch had ultimately revealed the truth.
After Barty Crouch left, Dumbledore didn't immediately remove the sound barrier, but instead chatted with Sherlock a bit more.
"Sherlock, what do you think?"
"This matter confirms my previous judgment."
"You're referring to Harry's dreams?"
"Yes. What happened at the Quidditch World Cup, along with our dear Director Crouch's testimony, both indicate that what Harry saw in his dreams is real. He truly can sense Voldemort's experiences through the scar on his forehead."
"If that's the case... things are rather troublesome. Sherlock, I ask that you not tell Harry about this—at least not for now."
"Understood. It seems you've made progress in your search for Horcruxes."
"...Sherlock, you're far too perceptive."
"It's just that the people you usually encounter are too dull."
After the conversation ended, Dumbledore finally removed the sound barrier.
Next, he instructed everyone not to speak about today's events.
The rest of the Weasley family was still waiting for them, so Dumbledore left first.
Sirius, meanwhile, suggested that everyone not rush back to the Burrow, but instead go to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place for a while.
"Kreacher has already prepared breakfast. Arthur, send word to him when you get there—don't let Molly go to the trouble. We can leave after eating."
Mr. Weasley pondered for a moment, then agreed.
Just as Black had said, Kreacher had prepared breakfast for them early.
As they ate, they chatted about what had happened the night before.
Just then, Hedwig delivered today's edition of the Daily Prophet.
"Let me see it!"
Ron was the most excited, directly grabbing it and reading aloud.
On the front page of the Daily Prophet, a flashing black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark hanging above the treetops occupied the most prominent position.
The headline was also quite eye-catching:
SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP
As for the author, naturally it was Daily Prophet Special Correspondent—Rita Skeeter.
Who could have imagined that what should have been a celebration of unity and joy in the wizarding world would end in such a horrifying manner?
Last night, while countless families were reminiscing about the exciting match in their tents, immersed in the festive atmosphere, a terrifying drama was quietly unfolding at the edge of the campsite in the woods.
This catastrophic failure ultimately pointed the finger indisputably at our supposedly trustworthy Ministry of Magic—an institution that, in a critical moment, performed in a panicked and bungling manner, ultimately allowing dangerous Death Eaters to swagger away to freedom!
According to dozens of worried eyewitnesses at the scene (whose identities deserve protection), the riot first began with piercing screams and dazzling green light.
Immediately afterward, that symbol that makes everyone who lived through the last war tremble with fear appeared!
The unforgettable Dark Mark, like a poisonous serpent, twisted its way up into the treetops, shooting its suffocating curse mark into the night sky (see image below).
Where was the supposedly foolproof security in the Ministry's propaganda?
Where was the Aurors' tight deployment?
The answer is chilling: it all came to nothing!
The scene was utter chaos.
It is claimed—and this paper has reason to believe it is completely reliable—that a team of Aurors responsible for guarding prisoners was attacked during transfer.
This was no ordinary roadside robbery, but a carefully planned, brazenly defiant armed prison break!
Even more incredible is that the attackers succeeded so cleanly.
An entire team of Aurors was easily subdued, and dozens of dangerous criminals easily escaped.
This is tantamount to punching Minister Cornelius Fudge squarely in his proud nose, and it exposes a bone-chilling reality: our magical law enforcement has become lax to an appalling degree!
Consider this: in our very heart, right under the Minister's nose, such a vile incident could occur.
What do those dark wizards lurking in the shadows have left to fear?
They must now be raising their glasses in celebration in some dark corner, mocking the Ministry's incompetence and our nation's shame!
And what of the poor, frightened wizards?
When that terrible mark hung over their head, they were forced to flee their tents in panic, gathering at the forest's edge like frightened ants.
Hundreds upon hundreds of people crowded there, holding their breath, shivering in the cold night wind.
They desperately hoped to hear an authoritative voice from the Ministry, to receive even a sliver of assurance to calm their souls.
They urgently needed to be told that the danger had passed and safety had returned.
However, they were greatly disappointed!
After long hours filled with fearful whispers and desperate waiting—hours long enough for anything terrible to happen—a Ministry official finally appeared.
But what did he say?
"No one was hurt."
That was the entire comfort our frightened people received!
Is that all?
Who were the attackers?
Why could they succeed so easily?
Where did the escaped prisoners go?
Are there more accomplices?
How will future safety be guaranteed?
This official remained tight-lipped about these critical questions—the ones the public most urgently wanted answered. He spoke some technically correct nonsense but refused to reveal a single word about these key matters!
What reasonable explanation could there be for this puzzling silence, other than proof that the Ministry has fallen into unimaginable internal chaos and buck-passing?
What can this evasive official statement possibly calm?
Far from soothing hearts, it acted like a massive catalyst, causing all sorts of terrifying rumors to gush forth and proliferate among the panicked crowd, spreading like wildfire.
The most sensational rumor, and the one that best reflects the public's extreme distrust of official information, is this:
Some claim to have witnessed several cloth-covered bodies being silently carried out from the troubled woods shortly after the chaos subsided.
What is the truth?
When will Minister Fudge break the suffocating silence and give the entire nation a clear and complete explanation?
Or could it be that this chilling rumor is not groundless?
Time will tell us the answer—but let us hope that before the answer arrives, disaster does not strike again!
This paper will continue to follow this disturbing incident, vowing to unearth more truths that the Ministry is desperately trying to hide.
A high-ranking Ministry official who wishes to remain unnamed (but whose identity is absolutely reliable) has revealed that a fierce, nearly out-of-control argument erupted in the Minister's office that night.
Minister Fudge allegedly completely lost his judgment, while the entire arrest and cleanup operation descended into shameful chaos without unified command.
There are increasing signs that this earth-shattering prison break is merely the tip of the iceberg...
Has the shadow of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named already quietly returned?
Have his once most loyal and vicious followers already woven a new web of terror behind the scenes?
Has the heart of magical society already quietly rotted?
Rita Skeeter will continue investigating for you.
Stay tuned!
"That woman specializes in opposing the Ministry!" Percy said indignantly after Ron finished reading the report.
"Last week she was saying we should have devoted all our efforts to eliminating vampires, but instead we were wasting time nitpicking about cauldron thickness! As if paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans doesn't specifically state—"
"Give it a rest, Percy," Bill said, yawning and interrupting him.
As adult wizards, he and Charlie had also helped their father and other Ministry officials deal with the chaos yesterday.
Sitting at the dining table, he still had a bedsheet wrapped around his arm, through which traces of blood seeping out could still be seen. Charlie's shirt was also torn with a large gash.
However, neither of them tried to show off like Percy did with his bleeding nose.
"Complete nonsense!"
Mr. Weasley also said with dissatisfaction.
"Indeed, no one was hurt, so what was I supposed to say? 'Some claim to have witnessed bodies being silently carried out from the troubled woods...' Excellent. Now that she's written this, rumors will certainly spread everywhere."
"So, the Ministry official she mentioned is you, Mr. Weasley?"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, she didn't name names, but it was indeed me."
Mr. Weasley sighed deeply. "I knew it would be like this. You all head home in a bit. I need to go to the office first. This matter needs to be clarified."
"But this report doesn't mention Barty Crouch Jr."
Harry took the paper from Ron, read it carefully again, then said.
"Although it's somewhat exaggerated—'even Aurors were easily subdued,' 'dozens of dangerous criminals escaped'—it indeed doesn't mention the name Barty Crouch."
"Harry, you've spotted the blind spot," Sherlock nodded approvingly. "After all, only a few of us saw him."
"This alone is already enough to make us overwhelmed, Sherlock."
Mr. Weasley shook his head, then turned to the others. "Don't mention this to anyone either. That name... is too sensitive."
Everyone nodded. Percy even patted his chest to assure them:
"Don't worry, Dad. Keeping secrets is merely the most trivial of my abilities."
Sherlock glanced at him.
Obviously, Percy still didn't know that his most respected Director Crouch had already resigned.
However, it now appeared that the results of how to handle him wouldn't be made public in the short term.
Just as Mr. Weasley had said, now simply dealing with the Dark Mark reappearing after thirteen years was already consuming all their energy.
So, for once, everyone in the Ministry stood on the same front, temporarily setting aside the matter of the Crouches, father and son.
Unfortunately, even so, the news still couldn't be completely suppressed.
Speaking of which, this Rita Skeeter woman was really quite interesting.
She always seemed to be able to get firsthand information.
The matter of Barty Crouch Jr. being rescued was certainly classified.
But somehow, she had obtained information about it.
Although the information wasn't very accurate—one Dedalus had become a team of Aurors, one Barty had become dozens of dangerous criminals.
After finishing the meal, Mr. Weasley prepared to go to the Ministry.
"Weren't you going home, Arthur?"
"That was the plan, but with something like this happening—"
Mr. Weasley gestured to that section of the Daily Prophet that mentioned him without naming names, and said wearily:
"I must go to the office. This matter needs to be clarified."
"I'll go with you, Dad."
Percy also stood up, saying proudly, "Director Crouch will certainly need everyone at their posts. Besides, I can personally deliver my cauldron report to him."
Everyone at the table frowned.
Still thinking about the cauldron report at a time like this...
However, since everyone was very tired, they couldn't be bothered to say more.
Harry knew that Crouch had already resigned, but he had been warned by Dumbledore beforehand, so he couldn't say much. He could only hint obliquely:
"Percy, I don't think Minister Fudge is in the mood to look at your cauldron report right now."
Percy first froze, then said confidently:
"You don't understand, Harry—persisting in completing one's duties during such chaotic circumstances is precisely the mark of excellent ability."
Harry: ￣△￣
Hermione, who also knew the inside story, looked deeply at Percy.
Well, whatever makes you happy.
After Mr. Weasley and Percy left, the others returned to the Burrow through Floo powder one after another.
Just as Ron and Ginny were preparing to leave, Sirius suddenly spoke up:
"Ginny, I'll have a word with Molly. You might as well stay here."
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