Sherlock and his group walked out of the Minister of Magic's office.
He no longer cared about what the Ministry of Magic planned to do next.
After all, no matter what they did, they would certainly never catch Barty Crouch Jr.
He turned to Dumbledore and said, "Professor, I hope to speak with Mr. Crouch again."
Hearing Sherlock's words, Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly. "What else do you want to know?"
"That's right. So clues may need more direct questioning to clarify."
"Very well, leave it to ."
Dumbledore nodded his head.
Soon, Sherlock stood together with a puzzled-looking Barty Crouch.
Dumbledore stood to the side, ensuring that their conversation would not be overheard by others.
"Hulmoose, you—"
"It's Hols."
Sherlock was not Percy. He directly corrected Crouch's mistake, then imdiately cut to the heart of the matter.
"Mr. Crouch, you just ntioned that Barty Crouch Jr. hasn't left the house in several years, correct?"
"That's right."
Barty Crouch nodded his head, but didn't understand what Sherlock was getting at with this question.
"From your earlier description, and that Minister Fudge's account, you were indeed extrely vigilant about your son at first, even going so far as to use the Imperius Curse on him. But as ti passed, you must have relaxed your guard—this is undoubtedly human nature.
You also ntioned just now that when Barty Crouch Jr. behaved well, the house-elf would persuade you to give him so preferential treatnt as a reward. I imagine this reward must have included letting him go outside for fresh air, right?
So, what prompted you to keep him strictly imprisoned for several years before that, not letting him leave the house?"
Barty Crouch's body stiffened subtly. He didn't answer imdiately, but the look he gave Sherlock was full of wariness.
This young wizard was no simple matter.
However, Crouch didn't believe that the other party could discern the truth he was hiding through observation alone.
Still, he needed to think of so way to deflect this.
But he had underestimated Sherlock far too much.
Sherlock didn't give him any breathing room and continued his questioning.
"Mr. Crouch, the na Bertha Jorkins shouldn't be unfamiliar to you, should it?"
When he heard this na, the wariness in Barty Crouch's eyes reached its maximum level.
This young wizard wasn't just no simple matter—he could read people's hearts like a book!
If he didn't know it was impossible, he would even suspect that the other party had used Legilincy on him!
"As I understand it, over these years, Bertha Jorkins has been transferred from one departnt to another, causing more trouble than she accomplishes. Everyone considers her an extrely forgetful person, so much so that when she went missing for over a month, no one worried. People simply thought she had no concept of ti and would co back on her own after a week or two."
At this point, Sherlock's voice grew gradually heavier.
"But the problem is, her mory didn't suddenly beco this poor. When a witch's mory deteriorates very abruptly and severely, it defies common sense. Coincidentally, the last period she worked normally was precisely in your departnt—the Departnt of International Magical Cooperation."
"Hols, what exactly are you trying to say?"
"I want to ask you whether she visited your residence before this dramatic change occurred. Or rather, did she, in so mont when you were off guard, see that person who shouldn't have existed?"
Crouch didn't answer, doing his utmost to maintain a calm expression.
But those subtle changes in expression still couldn't escape Sherlock's keen eyes.
Sherlock's deduction beca even more certain.
"I think Bertha Jorkins must have stumbled upon Barty Crouch Jr., whom you had controlled with the Imperius Curse, right? To guard this fatal secret, you cast an extrely powerful and brutal mory Charm on her.
This kind of spell likely caused irreversible and severe damage to her mind, which led to her subsequent complete transformation into soone with severe amnesia. So, from that point on, she left the Departnt of International Magical Cooperation, and you strictly forbade Barty Crouch Jr. from leaving the house. Am I right, Mr. Crouch?"
Crouch's fingers gripped the edge of his robes tightly where no one could see, his knuckles were turning white.
Sherlock didn't stop. He threw out the most critical inference, one that left the other party completely unable to avoid it.
"Then, just a few months ago, this Bertha Jorkins, with her damaged mory and greatly reduced vigilance, mysteriously disappeared while on holiday in Albania. Note—Albania!"
"What's the problem?"
"Barty, before this, Voldemort had been hiding in the forests of Albania all along."
Dumbledore spoke up at the right mont, answering Barty Crouch's question.
"You're saying... that's impossible. Perhaps it's rely a coincidence..."
"No, this is not a coincidence."
Sherlock shook his head. "When you eliminate all the possibilities, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. When the isolated and ntally confused Bertha Jorkins appeared in Albania, she was discovered by Voldemort. With Voldemort's abilities, restoring Bertha Jorkins's mory wouldn't be a difficult matter, would it, sir?"
Sherlock's latter half was directed at Dumbledore, who nodded.
"Not difficult. He is a master of Occluncy. His accomplishnts in manipulating the human mind should never be underestimated, and furthermore..."
Dumbledore looked at Barty Crouch, leaving the rest of his words unspoken.
"And the mory Charm that Mr. Crouch cast was very strong—perhaps even excessively strong."
Sherlock picked up Dumbledore's thread and continued.
"As the saying goes, too much is as bad as too little. Precisely because of this, it actually made it easier for Voldemort to obtain the truth! He forcibly extracted key intelligence about your son's whereabouts from her damaged mory fragnts!"
"This is just your speculation. There's no evidence!"
"No, the fact that they were able to find Barty Crouch Jr. so quickly and rescue him is the evidence. Those Death Eaters who created the chaos also provided convenience for these events. If I were Voldemort, I would never pass up such an opportunity."
Before Sherlock's logically rigorous reasoning and cold facts, Barty Crouch's body swayed violently, as if all his remaining strength had been instantly drained away.
However, in the next mont, he heard Sherlock say again,
"Of course, even so, this is still only my speculation. If you refuse to admit it, I have no way to force you. However... given Voldemort's cruel nature, Bertha Jorkins is most likely already dead and will never return."
Hearing these words, Barty Crouch's face, which had been taut as steel, completely collapsed.
A trendous fatigue and bone-deep remorse surfaced on his features.
His sunken eye sockets beca even darker in this mont.
"Yes."
Finally, these two words were squeezed out from his parched throat with extre difficulty.
His voice was hoarse and broken, almost inaudible, yet they fell heavily to the ground.
"What you said... is all correct."
Barty Crouch closed his eyes painfully, opening them again only after a mont.
The look he gave Sherlock was full of despair and a kind of defeated resignation.
"The matter with Bertha... was an accident. She ca to my house with docunts for to sign. I wasn't ho at the ti, and the elf led her inside. When I returned, Bertha confronted directly.
He was in the kitchen at the ti, with the house-elf taking care of him. Although he was under an invisibility cloak, I suspect she heard the house-elf's conversation with him, and from what she heard, she guessed who was hidden under the invisibility cloak."
"So, you cast a mory Charm on her?"
"I couldn't... I absolutely couldn't risk it... So, I used an extrely powerful mory Charm on her, far exceeding normal strength... making her completely forget the secret she had discovered. Just as you said, Hols, this charm was too powerful. It caused permanent damage to her mory."
He took a deep breath, because the mory itself was scorching his lungs.
"After that, she was never the sa Bertha again... Later, when news ca of her disappearance, I paid close attention. But I never imagined she would... It's all my fault, all my fault. I did a foolish thing, a thoroughly foolish thing."
At this point, Crouch seed to age years in an instant.
The fact that he could admit this also proved he believed Sherlock's deduction.
He was an intelligent man. Barty Crouch Jr. being rescued so quickly was certainly no coincidence.
So, he also understood that the cri he had committed to cover up another cri had ultimately led directly to disastrous consequences.
His son had fallen into the hands of the most vicious enemy, and he himself was not only a lawbreaker but had beco an indirect catalyst for this enormous crisis.
Watching Barty Crouch's pained expression, Sherlock unexpectedly spoke up:
"Mr. Crouch, you're actually quite proud of your son, aren't you?"
"You, how did you..."
Barty Crouch jerked his head up, the astonishnt on his face was even stronger than when Sherlock had revealed any of his other secrets. It was the shock of having one's deepest inner self suddenly pierced.
This matter was buried even deeper than his secretly removing Barty Crouch Jr. from Azkaban or using the mory Charm on Bertha Jorkins.
But with this one thing, he clearly hadn't said anything at all!
Sherlock t Crouch's shocked gaze; his voice steady yet penetrating.
"'He,' Mr. Crouch. That's where the problem lies—or more precisely, it's 'his' problem."
The confusion in Crouch's eyes deepened.
Sherlock deliberately slowed his speech so that Crouch, in his currently unstable ntal state, could hear more clearly.
"Throughout this entire conversation, when you ntioned your son—the person who ruined your reputation, caused you to use the illegal Imperius Curse, and was ultimately abducted due to your failed decisions—not once did you refer to him as 'my son' or by his na.
From beginning to end, you've been using 'he,' the coldest and most distant third-person pronoun. This is a deliberate distancing. This almost pathological choice to draw a clear line from your blood ties reveals an extrely intense emotional conflict. An emotional bond that you desperately want to deny, yet is deeply rooted in your bloodline, is tearing at you."
Crouch's breathing beca sowhat heavier, and the hand resting on his robes trembled slightly.
"In fact, when Fudge told us all this, I had already noticed it. Look at what you did—you used the illegal and extrely dangerous Imperius Curse to control him. This wasn't rely to punish a criminal, Mr. Crouch. The sense of control that the Imperius Curse gives you—it allowed you to have a docile, obedient son who could even perform well. You reshaped a son who fit the image in your heart. This was precisely an attempt to transform him from a fallen follower of the Dark Lord toward the righteous path in your mind."
Sherlock paused, then continued.
"You just ntioned that at the house-elf's persuasion, you finally agreed to take him out. To the Quidditch World Cup—this wasn't simply a reward for a prisoner. In that mont, what did you hope for deep in your heart? You hoped to let that son you had successfully reford briefly reintegrate into the wizarding world—even if under the concealnt of an invisibility cloak.
Deep in your heart, in your subconscious, did you perhaps harbor a secret fantasy in that mont? A fantasy that he could beco what you had hoped for years ago—your pride, the respectable heir of the Crouch family?
The deliberate distance you maintain when speaking of him, the resolute attitude you display when facing the terrible cris he committed... Beneath all this fierce rejection lies precisely the truth you're most afraid of having exposed—that sense of pride that has been betrayed, twisted, and nearly humiliated."
"Yes..."
After a brief silence, Crouch finally spoke.
However, his voice sounded sowhat hoarse and broken.
"You're right, Hols... Damn it... you're absolutely right..."
His gaze seed to travel through the dust of ti, returning to a past that had been deliberately sealed away, yet now, due to intense pain, had beco incredibly clear.
"Many years ago, he obtained twelve O.W.L. certificates with very satisfactory results. Yes, I was indeed very proud of him. I took my wife and him, along with the Fudges, to a concert. I tried to let him stand in the spotlight, if only for an instant. On that occasion, I thought it was the beginning of honor, proof that the Crouch na would have a worthy successor..."
He shook his head painfully, his voice was filled with devastating despair.
"I had such high expectations for him... it was like placing him on the edge of a cliff..."
"So, when faith collapsed, the sense of falling and betrayal was particularly tragic. The severity of your imprisonnt and control of him, approaching cruelty, stems precisely from your deeply ingrained system of standards that tolerates not the slightest flaw."
"If I may speak frankly, Barty."
Dumbledore, who had been mostly silent, suddenly spoke up.
"All of this actually has little to do with your expectations of him. As far as I know, he didn't even know about your expectations. The real reason he ended up where he is today is because you failed to give him the 'love' he deserved."
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