When Crouch's final words fell, the ruined room remained silent for a long while.
"...I'll send someone to Azkaban to examine the bones," Scrimgeour said gravely after a moment's pause. "But for now, Barty Crouch, you are under arrest."
It was strangely ironic—everyone had rushed here initially to save old Crouch, yet now he was being apprehended by the Aurors, his position stripped away. Anyone with eyes could see that what awaited him was a one-way ticket to Azkaban.
But this didn't mean the matter was over. On the contrary, the real trouble was just beginning—the hunt for the demon.
Scrimgeour had someone fetch the roster of Ministry personnel assigned to the arena, preparing to verify each one individually. Harry and the professors stood guard at one end of the corridor, hoping the old teachers' impressions of their former students might reveal something amiss.
"Roger Carr?"
"Yes, Professor. Graduated from Ravenclaw. You should remember me."
"Yes, I remember you clearly. You conducted a dangerous magical experiment in the dormitory that nearly blew up the Ravenclaw tower," Professor Flitwick said with a slight shake of his head. "That experiment was your attempt to verify the—"
"Er, actually, I was trying to create a magical item that would automatically do my homework for me, but it failed."
"Very well, Carr. Move along."
"Thank you, Professor."
Wizards must have excellent memories, at least those who become professors do—even including Snape. Everyone could clearly recall the names of students who'd passed through their hands, and for those who'd been particularly notable, they even remembered their signature infractions.
Well, those being questioned by Snape were mostly tense to the point of exploding, and one timid girl nearly burst into tears under his suspicious gaze.
Feeling the pressure from a former professor even after graduation was truly terrifying.
"Zebby Beckett?"
"That's me, Professor."
"Slytherin?"
Snape's voice was as low and drawn-out as ever, each question laced with prolonged suspicion.
"Er, no, Hufflepuff."
"Very well," Snape said slowly, then turned his gaze toward Ha—
Stormstrike!!!
Before Snape's eyes could even land on Harry, Harry had abruptly seized the warhammer tucked at his waist, instantly enchanting it with storm elements and swinging it down.
Boom!!
It was indeed the sound of striking flesh, but muffled—or rather, hardened—as if a thick layer of hide was blocking it.
"Why?"
The voice wasn't human; it was deeper, raspier—the voice of a demon. Bodies transformed by fel energy allowed them to speak in the distinctive demonic tongue.
Without a doubt, this Zebby Beckett was the disguised young Crouch. He was confused and in pain—Harry's sudden hammer blow had undoubtedly dealt him massive damage. He wasn't some thick-skinned abyssal lord or demon guard. But more unbearable than the physical agony was the ease with which his disguise had been shattered.
"My disguise was flawless. How did you detect it?!"
"Because you're an idiot," Harry said with a cold laugh. "No Hufflepuff student would face Snape with that kind of fearlessness, even after graduating."
Professor Sprout seemed to grumble something in dissatisfaction from behind, but no one could make it out.
Young Crouch's demonically warped, ugly face twisted horribly. He hadn't expected his cover to be blown for such a ridiculous reason.
"Everyone! Clear the area!!! Aurors, draw your wands! Lethal curses are authorized!"
Scrimgeour charged forward, roaring at the top of his lungs.
"This time you won't escape! Young Crouch! Avada Kedavra!!!"
What can one say?
As expected from a Minister of Magic from the Auror Office, Scrimgeour was uncompromising—straight to an Unforgivable Curse without a word.
But that was fine. Having personally experienced the Defense of Hogwarts and witnessed demons firsthand, Scrimgeour's response couldn't have been more appropriate.
Coordinating with Scrimgeour's attack, Harry swung his warhammer again. Azure lightning tore across the corridor like a chain, and even as young Crouch desperately dodged backward, the lightning bound his ankles and yanked him back hard.
"Roar!!!"
Young Crouch bellowed, desperately drawing on the fel energy within him to unleash its destructive power.
"Avada Kedavra!!"
The same spell, but from young Crouch, it produced an entirely different effect. If Scrimgeour's Killing Curse was a blinding green light, Crouch's was a web of green lightning.
Thick, unrestrained—not just aimed at Harry, who was pulling him, but at everyone present.
Even an idiot could guess that getting hit by this net-like Killing Curse would be fatal. Young Crouch had clearly been a demon for quite some time, long enough to explore his powers to a degree and even fuse them with wizarding magic, much like Harry had once done.
In fact, it surpassed in destructive force, as fel energy was inherently a high-level power suited for annihilation and assault.
"Earth elemental!!"
In the urgency, Harry had no time to worry about preserving the arena structure. He could only summon the earth elemental to raise walls along the curse's path, but honestly, it wasn't very effective. The fel-infused spell overcame the Killing Curse's old flaws, gaining immense destructive power even against inanimate objects.
The walls Harry hastily raised with the earth elemental were shredded in the blink of an eye. The green web continued spreading, but as a delaying tactic, the walls had done their job.
The professors and Aurors cast their own protective spells to block it, ensuring no casualties from this enhanced curse.
Farther away, ordinary Ministry employees had screamed and fled the moment fighting broke out. Even those too close to escape quickly huddled in the deepest part of old Crouch's destroyed temporary office.
"Stay calm!!" Dumbledore shouted, releasing a burst of colorful fireworks that exploded loudly, drowning out the panicked cries and giving the civilians a direction to follow. "Evacuate along the walls!!"
"No one escapes! You'll all perish in the Dark Lord's shadow!!"
Young Crouch laughed maniacally, waving his wand. From his gnarled, spiked fingertips surged Fiendfyre—or rather, something that had once been Fiendfyre.
But Fiendfyre wasn't bright green.
This new fel-driven spell retained Fiendfyre's most vicious trait: devouring everything in existence, even faster now. And what emerged from the flames were no longer phoenixes or dragons, but massive, grotesque demons.
They were illusory yet cackled or menacingly threatened those watching. When Aurors' spells struck them, they exploded into bursts of green flame, devouring the curses entirely.
"Ahahaha, hahahahahahahahaha!!!"
Young Crouch laughed wildly, reveling in the joy of destruction and life-devouring. It was an instinct etched into every demon's bones, and after becoming one, it was his guiding principle.
Boom!!
A wave of blazing heat suddenly rose beside Harry and the others—Dumbledore's summoned flames. Strangely, they weren't green or red, but blue.
"Is this still... Fiendfyre?" Harry stared in surprise at the blue flames swirling around Dumbledore. He was certain it was Fiendfyre—well, a variant of it.
The blue flames churned endlessly, constantly shifting into phoenixes or dragons. Thus, everyone witnessed a bizarre sight: flames devouring flames.
The green flames consumed the blue, while the blue simultaneously consumed the green, neither yielding.
The emergent demons and magical creatures clashed, colliding constantly, ready to dissolve back into the fiery tide.
"Harry!!"
Dumbledore shouted.
"I know!" Harry yelled back, charging forward. As he ran, his body rapidly transformed—swelling, growing taller, more muscular—then he bent his knees and leaped!!
Boom!!
He jumped straight from mid-air toward young Crouch in the distance. The Anti-Apparition Jinx had already re-enveloped Hogwarts' grounds. When Harry landed, he revealed his Animagus form.
Like the Minotaur of myth, his muscles were even more robust than young Crouch's demonic body. The warhammer he'd crafted in human form looked comically like a toy in his grip.
Shaking his head, Harry set the warhammer aside, then extended a hand. With his motion, a totem pole of condensed rock rose from the ground—for a tauren warrior, this was a weapon of proper weight.
"Ha! Tauren," young Crouch said without panic, flashing a malicious grin. "I know what you are now, Harry Potter—Azeroth, right?"
"The Twisting Nether is full of news about Azeroth—that wondrous world, its races, your magics... We know what kind of place it is. Even if the so-called Burning Legion failed there, our master is different. You've lost that edge.
We've mastered new power!"
"Boring," Harry replied in a muffled voice, ignoring the taunt. He swung the storm-wreathed totem pole at the demon.
Stormstrike!!
Why limit your next warhammer to just a warhammer?
Boom!!
Harry's powerful blow shattered the floor where young Crouch stood.
"Useless! Completely useless!!" Young Crouch laughed arrogantly. "You'll never kill me, Harry Potter! I'm immortal! The master has granted me undeath!! You—ah!!"
His words cut off abruptly as Harry's totem pierced his protective demonic flames, slamming into his chest with full force. Even demonic bones cracked under the impact. The entire demon—young Crouch—was sent flying, crashing into the spectator seats on the opposite side!
"Cough, urgh cough cough!!" Pain, but to a demon, it was more like stimulation. Young Crouch laughed even more wildly. "So what? This is outside the Twisting Nether! You can't kill me!!"
"That's what makes you demons so disgusting," Harry said, approaching with heavy steps. "Relying on your special death conditions to rampage in others' worlds—lurking, corrupting, tempting falls—especially self-willing degenerates like you, dragging your birth world into demonic claws."
"Wrong! Into the Dark Lord's hands!" Even struggling to rise, young Crouch lifted his head as high as possible to declare. "The master will become a new demon lord. He will rule the entire world!!"
"Voldemort?" Harry couldn't help but snort. "Not to underestimate him, but with his intellect, he couldn't outplay the surviving eredar... or even the succubi."
"Unlike you, those demons are born for destruction and corruption," Harry said calmly, gazing at young Crouch. "But you won't live to see Voldemort's death. You don't think I'll let your soul escape back to the Twisting Nether, do you?"
"What do you mean?" Young Crouch struggled to maintain his composure. "I'm immortal! You can't kill me!!"
"Your master probably didn't tell you how pathetically he fled last time, did he?" Harry hoisted young Crouch off the ground with one hand, sneering. "I admit I was unprepared then, letting his disgusting soul slink back to the Twisting Nether. But now it's different."