Open contempt from an enemy hurts far more than any accusation from one's own side.
In the mind of Barty Crouch Jr., this Death Eater, Ministry of Magic officials weren't even as threatening as an underage young wizard.
This fact made Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge tremble with rage, finding it utterly unacceptable.
Outrageous!
Simply outrageous!
To him, this was an absolute humiliation!
Ludo Bagman at his side keenly noticed Fudge's deteriorating state and quickly tugged at his sleeve.
Fudge turned his head to see Bagman shaking his head gently at him.
He naturally understood Bagman's meaning—this was a signal not to lose his composure.
Fudge took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently as he forcibly suppressed the rolling fury in his heart.
"The reason I kept Moody and brought him along was not only to learn his living habits, but also to constantly use his hair to brew Polyjuice Potion."
With no one interrupting him, Barty Crouch Jr. continued his confession in a flat tone.
"All the other materials were easy to obtain, only the Boomslang skin was troublesome, which is why I repeatedly snuck into the Potions professor's office to steal it."
Snape's lips twitched.
"When Snape discovered me in his office, I simply said I was there under orders to search for Dark Arts objects.
This is an Auror's prerogative. Even if he was suspicious, he wouldn't dare openly obstruct me.
I exploited Snape's character flaw—he's always brooding over his past, afraid of it being brought up, so he didn't dare question me too much..."
Harry couldn't help but show a look of surprise at these words.
Snape had this side to him?
He instinctively looked over at Snape, only to see his face as dark as Fudge's had been moments ago.
Snape was indeed very angry at this moment.
For an instant, his hand had already reached for his wand handle.
He wished he could draw his wand right then and there and hit Barty Crouch Jr. with a vicious curse.
"Severus."
Just then, Professor McGonagall beside him noticed his abnormal state, softly called his name, and gently shook her head at him.
Snape took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the wand slowly relaxed, forcibly suppressing the dark fire in his heart.
"I originally planned to secretly help Hogwarts win the Triwizard Tournament championship, ensuring Harry could successfully make it to the end."
Barty Crouch Jr. continued.
"But Holmes was even more outstanding than I imagined. They didn't need my help at all and took the lead all the way.
This result was exactly what I wanted to see—it achieved my master's intended purpose while avoiding too much contact with Holmes, reducing the risk of exposure.
One could say everything was proceeding very smoothly, until tonight."
When Barty Crouch Jr. reached this point, everyone involuntarily focused their attention.
This was the crux of the entire plan.
"Before dinner tonight, I volunteered to place the Triwizard Cup into the maze.
Before that, I had rarely exercised my duties as a judge.
So, when I suggested this, naturally no one would stop me."
"Why did you want to put the trophy in the maze? What did you do to it?"
Fudge could no longer restrain himself and urgently pressed for answers.
"I turned it into a Portkey; with coordinates my master had set long ago—I don't know the specific location."
Barty Crouch Jr. smiled, his expression filled with fanaticism, as if recalling the happiest moment of his life.
"At that moment, I knew my master's plan was about to succeed!
Once I delivered Harry Potter to him, I would receive rewards beyond what any wizard could dream of."
After saying this, the smile on his face grew even wider, yet it radiated a perverse madness.
But immediately after, his tone shifted, carrying a note of surprise.
"But I didn't expect that all three of them could emerge from the maze unharmed.
Just at that moment, Dumbledore notified me, saying he had found clues related to Voldemort.
The master's orders supersede everything. As soon as I heard this news, I rushed over immediately."
"The matter is quite clear now."
Dumbledore stopped questioning Barty Crouch Jr. and turned to look at Fudge, slowly saying.
"Do you have any other questions on your end? Cornelius? Cornelius?"
After hearing Barty Crouch Jr.'s complete account, Fudge fell into a mentally dazed state, his eyes vacant, his face pale.
Dumbledore called him several times without response, until Bagman at his side forcefully tugged his sleeve, causing him to snap back to attention.
"Ah, Albus, I heard you—I was just thinking!" Fudge said hastily.
Dumbledore: "..."
That was thinking?
However, compared to this, what Fudge said next shocked him even more.
"I think this is only his side of the story!"
Fudge suddenly raised his volume, speaking righteously.
"Albus, surely you won't listen to a madman's ravings?
He was locked up in Azkaban for so long, then controlled by the Imperius Curse—his mind is already scrambled!
What You-Know-Who, what allies, what Portkey...
He thinks everything he did was following You-Know-Who's will, but it's all his delusion!"
"You fool!"
Professor McGonagall, who had just been urging Snape to stay calm, couldn't hold back anymore. Her chest heaved violently as she glared at Fudge and said.
"Hasn't Bertha Jorkins's disappearance made you realize the severity of the situation?
Doesn't the change in the Dark Mark prove anything?
Aren't Barty Crouch Jr.'s disguise and Moody's ordeal enough to wake you up?"
"So what?"
Fudge's voice was no quieter than Professor McGonagall's, even carrying a hint of hysteria.
"There's no direct evidence proving Bertha Jorkins is dead!
As for the Dark Mark—who can say for certain what goes on among Death Eaters!
In my view, you're all determined to create panic and destroy the peace and stability we've carefully cultivated over these thirteen years!"
Harry was stunned by this scene.
He could hardly believe his ears.
The facts were already so obvious, yet Fudge still refused to believe, refused to acknowledge that his orderly, stable, and comfortable world might be destroyed in an instant.
Ultimately, he was just cowardly evading reality, unwilling to believe that Voldemort might rise again.
Just when Harry thought the Ministry of Magic and this Minister had already done poorly enough, they always managed to lower the bar yet again.
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but look toward Sherlock.
In his view, at a time like this, only Sherlock could think of a way to break the deadlock.
And Sherlock indeed didn't disappoint him.
"There's no need to say so much to him, Professor McGonagall.
Reasoning with an ostrich who's buried his head in the sand is not as good as directly kicking him into the desert to let him personally experience the heat."
Sherlock spoke leisurely.
"The Minister doesn't believe Voldemort has returned? Then let's have the two of them meet face to face, wouldn't that be better?"
"You—what do you mean!"
If witnessing Moody transform into Barty Crouch Jr. was surprising, and hearing his confession was shocking, then upon hearing Sherlock's words, a trace of fear began to grow in Fudge's heart.
"Exactly what it sounds like."
Sherlock chuckled lightly.
"Minister, Barty Crouch Jr. just said he turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey.
But don't you find it strange?
Why, after the three of us obtained the trophy, were we not transported to the Portkey's preset destination?"
"I was just about to mention that!"
Hearing Sherlock bring this up, Fudge grabbed onto it like a lifeline, saying angrily.
"If what he said were true, how could you possibly emerge from the maze unharmed!
This proves he's completely talking nonsense and never had anyone give him a task.
The so-called turning the trophy into a Portkey was also his own fantasy—and you would rather believe a madman's words!"
"Compared to this madman, your stupidity is even more outstanding.
Even Death Eaters can see clearly that Ministry of Magic officials are as stupid as a school of goldfish."
Sherlock mercilessly interrupted him.
"Honestly, if you were our enemy, I'm sure everyone would be very happy.
Because having an opponent like you would be an incredible stroke of luck."
"Holmes, how dare you..."
Sherlock's words made Fudge tremble with rage. On this hot day, his entire body broke out in cold sweat, his hands and feet ice cold.
He pointed at Sherlock, wanting to say something, but was ruthlessly interrupted by Sherlock again.
"Unfortunately, you lucky fool somehow ended up sitting in the position of Minister of Magic."
Sherlock's tone was full of contempt.
"Besides trembling and denying, you can't do anything.
Rather than playing a lute to a cow, it's better to let you directly experience what reality is."
As he spoke, he stopped paying attention to Fudge and turned directly to Dumbledore.
"Sir, I think we can begin."
Dumbledore took a deep look at Fudge, who had been rendered speechless by Sherlock's words, and shook his head helplessly.
Then, he opened the cabinet door behind his desk, took out something from inside, and gently placed it on the table.
When they saw this item, Fudge's and Bagman's eyes widened instantly, and their mouths gaped open wide enough to fit an egg.
Because what Dumbledore had brought out was unmistakably another Triwizard Tournament trophy!
At this moment, this trophy sat side by side on the desk with the one Sherlock had brought back from the maze. From appearance to luster to intricate details, they were identical, making it difficult to distinguish the real from the fake.
Seeing that Fudge was rendered speechless, Bagman could only speak for him, his voice carrying a tremor.
"Albus, this—could this be..."
"Sherlock saw through young Crouch's disguise several days ago."
Dumbledore explained concisely.
"So, when young Crouch volunteered to put the trophy in the maze tonight, we guessed he might tamper with it.
So, I asked Minerva to use Transfiguration to create an identical trophy to give him. After young Crouch placed the trophy he'd turned into a Portkey in the maze, Minerva quietly switched it back."
"Now do you understand why we could leave the maze unharmed?"
Sherlock sneered coldly, looking at Fudge with ice in his eyes.
"Now, all we need to do is use this Portkey to go directly to the location young Crouch set up and have an intimate and friendly conversation with Voldemort.
Dear Minister, don't you think young Crouch is talking nonsense?
Then come with us and see for yourself whether all this is true or not."
"This... this is absurd!"
Fudge jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, pointing at the two Triwizard Cups on the table and shouting in a shrill voice.
"This is kidnapping! Coercion! Criminal!
Dumbledore, are you just going to let this student run wild?"
"Cornelius."
Dumbledore's voice remained steady, but behind his half-moon spectacles, his eyes flickered with a sharp gleam and a deeply hidden satisfaction.
"The truth is right before you. You need only reach out and touch it.
Evasion only demonstrates cowardice. As a leader of the magical world, you need to face reality.
Sherlock is not being reckless—he's providing the most direct method of proof."
Ludo Bagman, who had been delighted about Hogwarts winning the Triwizard Tournament, now had a deathly pale face, completely drained of color.
His lips trembled, completely devoid of his usual slick tone.
"Albus... Sherlock... this... this is too dangerous! What if... what if..."
"What if young Crouch is telling the truth?"
Sherlock coldly finished the sentence, looking at Fudge with a mocking gaze.
"Wouldn't that suit you perfectly, Minister?
Go verify for yourself whether what this madman says is true.
Or is it that deep down you already believe it, but you just don't dare admit that your sense of security has been nothing but self-deception all along?"
"I..."
Fudge was at a loss for words, cold sweat continuously seeping from his forehead.
He instinctively looked at the gleaming golden trophy on the desk.
A moment ago it had symbolized honor; now in his eyes it looked like a grotesque Dark Mark, radiating deadly terror.
He looked around, instinctively seeking help.
But the result left him in despair.
Dumbledore's gaze was calm.
Professor McGonagall glared at him angrily.
Snape wore a mocking sneer at the corner of his mouth, looking at him as if at a hopeless fool.
Lupin, Sprout, and Flitwick all looked at him coldly, saying nothing.
Even Harry pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes filled with anger and contempt.
As for Sherlock, needless to say, he wore an expression of "I knew it would come to this."
Although no one spoke, this silent pressure was far more suffocating than any curse.
"I don't need to... I don't have to..."
Fudge said while backing away in small steps.
"This is a trap! You want to trick me into going! This is a conspiracy!"
"You think far too highly of yourself!"
Sherlock chuckled lightly, his face full of contempt.
"What makes you think you're worth us going to such lengths?
And besides—you no longer have a choice."
Hearing Sherlock say this, Fudge was immediately alarmed.
"You—what do you mean?"
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