But… How could that be possible?
No matter how talented Wade is, he is still only a fourteen-year-old boy.
Oh right… At the time of the Quidditch World Cup final, he'd only been studying magic for, what, three years at most? Even if he is exceptionally gifted… there has to be a limit, right?
To say that Wade had killed Voldemort with a single spell—it sounded as absurd as saying Harry had single-handedly defeated both Voldemort and Barty Crouch Jr. working together. It was the kind of ridiculous claim that made people want to laugh.
But Sirius couldn't laugh.
His eyes flickered with intense turmoil. His reason screamed that it was impossible, but his instincts whispered that it was true.
Yet despite the shock that rippled through the room, Barty's monotone confession continued, and Dumbledore's expression—calm as a mountain—did not waver in the slightest.
That reaction made everyone suddenly realize—
Barty was telling the truth. And more importantly… Dumbledore must have already known.
"I spent a long time finding my Master again," Barty went on in his lifeless voice. "He was weaker than before—so weak that he couldn't even create a new temporary body for himself. He had to possess animals just to survive…"
"Fortunately, we remembered a legend—one that said the very wand used by Salazar Slytherin himself was buried outside Ilvermorny. A serpentwood tree grew from the spot, and its leaves were said to have immense healing power…"
"I brought my Master to Ilvermorny, and sure enough, we found the serpentwood there. My Master used Parseltongue to awaken Slytherin's wand and stayed in Ilvermorny to regain his strength."
"Voldemort is still at Ilvermorny?" Dumbledore asked.
"…I don't know."
Barty's tone was flat. "My Master asked if I was willing to risk everything for him… Of course I was. I would do anything to serve him, to prove my loyalty… That is my dream—my deepest wish…"
"My Master told me he needed a loyal servant planted inside Hogwarts… someone who could, when the time came, bring Harry Potter to him."
"And I—the most faithful of the Death Eaters—was entrusted with this difficult task…"
"Why choose Filch?" Wade asked. "He couldn't have been your first choice, could he?"
Barty paused for a moment, and the corners of his mouth turned downward in displeasure.
"I originally thought the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor would be the perfect target. But… by the time I returned to Britain from Ilvermorny, Moody was already at Hogwarts…"
"The professors rarely leave the school. When they do, it's always in pairs or groups of three. I never found an opening to strike. But Filch… he spent all his time patrolling the secret passages, hunting for students breaking rules… and I happened to know two of those passages…"
Thus, the unlucky caretaker became the chosen target.
"But to disguise myself as Filch, I needed more preparation. Boomslang skin (Polyjuice Potion ingredient) was too difficult to obtain, and Transfiguration alone was unstable… For my Master's sake, I decided… I could make any sacrifice—including completely remaking my own face…"
"So you went to a Muggle hospital for plastic surgery?" Sirius scoffed. "Did Voldemort even know what you were doing?"
"My Master is not as narrow-minded as people think," Barty said coldly. "I would stop at nothing to complete the mission he gave me."
"And what about the doctors and nurses who operated on you?" Wade asked. "You wanted to turn yourself into an old man—weren't they surprised?"
"I used Obliviate and Confundus Charms on them every day," Barty said matter-of-factly. "To make them forget anything that didn't make sense. It wasn't easy—since I had to stay conscious during the surgeries…"
"And after the operation?" Wade pressed. "Did you make the medical staff forget everything that happened?"
Using Obliviate repeatedly would inevitably cause severe damage to the brain and memory, often leaving the victims dazed or disoriented. Those people probably couldn't keep working at the hospital afterward—perhaps they had even ended up as vagrants by now.
"Oh, they're all dead."
Barty's reply was simple. His hoarse voice echoed through the room. "I set the place on fire."
Wade's brow twitched slightly. He stared at Barty for a long time without speaking.
Sirius, who had been sitting with his chin raised in scorn, froze for a moment when he heard that. Then, with a roar, he shot to his feet, seized Barty by the collar, and shouted:
"You filthy bastard! Why did you do that?! They were living, breathing people—you could've just used Obliviate!"
Barty was shaken violently, his body rocking back and forth. For an instant, a flicker of awareness and resistance seemed to flash in his dazed eyes.
The glass windows rattled from Sirius's furious bellowing. Dumbledore had to reach out and press a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Calm yourself, Black. Don't bark like a mad dog," Snape drawled icily, lifting his eyes. "You'll snap him out of the trance."
"Shut up, Snape!" Sirius shouted back. "At least I don't sit there unmoved while this scum murders innocent people! Typical of someone rotted through by Dark Magic—"
"Sirius!" Dumbledore's voice cut through sharply as he tightened his grip. His eyes flickered with weariness. "Control your emotions. We need to continue the interrogation."
Across from the Headmaster, Sirius glared daggers at Snape, then cast a venomous look at Barty. His chest heaved, and his whole body trembled as though he might spring forward and tear someone's throat out at any second.
But in the end, he only forced out a low, bitter laugh through gritted teeth.
"When this is over," he said, voice shaking with fury, "I'll take this bastard to Azkaban myself. I'll watch as the Dementors suck that rotten soul out of him!"
He spun on his heel and strode toward the door.
"Black!" Moody barked after him.
But Sirius didn't look back. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang, sending dust raining from the ceiling.
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackling of candle flames.
Barty blinked slowly, his eyes darting around as though trying to understand where he was.
Dumbledore frowned and said softly, "Severus."
Snape's sallow face looked as if it had been carved from stone, every muscle was rigid with tension. His black eyes were darker than usual—so deep and cold that even Moody instinctively avoided meeting them.
At Dumbledore's word, Snape hesitated briefly. Then he turned and walked toward Barty Crouch Jr.
The Death Eater's pupils contracted slightly. His consciousness was struggling to resurface. Instinctively, he tilted his head back, trying to avoid Snape's approaching hand.
The next moment, the Potions Master had already seized Barty's jaw, his grip so strong it seemed he might crush the bone. With his other hand, he pressed the mouth of the Veritaserum vial against Barty's teeth and forced another two drops down his throat.
"No more Veritaserum," Snape said coldly as he released his hand. "Any more, and he'll turn into a complete idiot."
A gurgling sound came from Barty's throat, his gaze once again turning vacant and unfocused.
Just then, the door burst open once more. Sirius Black appeared in the doorway, radiating anger. Everyone turned their heads; Professor McGonagall instinctively stepped forward to stop him.
"Sirius—" she began.
But this time, Sirius wasn't after the prisoner. His eyes swept past everyone and landed on Wade. His voice was sharp and commanding:
"Come with me, kid."
Wade looked startled. He hesitated for a second and instinctively glanced toward Dumbledore.
Before the Headmaster could respond, Wade stood up, gave the professors a polite nod, and walked toward Sirius at the door.
The man grabbed him firmly by the arm and pulled him away without another word.
As the heavy wooden door shut behind them, the muffled sound of Sirius's voice could be heard from outside: "You're still young—you don't need to be dragged into this so soon—"
Bang!
The door closed completely, and the air in the room seemed to grow still and heavy.
"Let's continue."
Dumbledore let out a subtle sigh and turned his gaze back to the slumped figure of Barty Crouch Jr.
His voice was gentle but steady as he asked, "And then? What did you do after that?"
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