Audrey had seen that name in the books. Barty Crouch Sr.—the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, once a formidable contender for the position of Minister for Magic. But after Voldemort's downfall, his son, Barty Crouch Jr., was exposed as a Death Eater. Although he had ruthlessly sent his own son to Azkaban, the scandal still brought his political career to a premature end.
Some even said it was precisely that cold-hearted decision that doomed his chances of ever becoming Minister—after all, who would want a man capable of condemning his own flesh and blood to Azkaban to become their superior?
Audrey asked curiously, "Is the leverage you mentioned about his son being a Death Eater? But didn't he already send him to Azkaban with his own hands?"
Edward shook his head. "He did, but later…he secretly took him out of Azkaban."
"What?"
Edward explained how, at his wife's desperate request, Barty Crouch Sr. had smuggled his son out of prison. "...So, the one who actually died was his wife. She took her son's place in Azkaban."
Audrey's eyes widened in shock. "Then where is Barty Jr. now?"
"He's likely still hidden away in their home. So even if Barty Crouch Sr. doesn't cooperate, as long as his son's around, we'll still be able to find Azkaban."
She frowned slightly. "Hmm…but why don't we just find someone who's been to Azkaban and use the Imperius Curse to force them to tell us?"
Edward rubbed his chin and gave her a pointed look. "Young lady, that's a dangerously dark train of thought. The Imperius Curse is one of the three Unforgivable Curses, you know."
Audrey puffed out her cheeks. "Hmph, I was just saying. Between the two of us, who's the one always throwing around the Imperius and Killing Curses?"
Edward burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! Alright, alright. The main reason I want to find Barty Crouch isn't just to learn Azkaban's location. What matters most is Barty Jr. I need to confirm his current status."
Death Eaters weren't the problem—what was dangerous were ones like Barty Crouch Jr.— smart, cunning, and fond of twisted schemes. Last time they returned, he was still too weak to make much trouble. But now, Edward had no intention of letting a hidden threat fester—whether it was Crouch Jr. or Azkaban itself, both had to be dealt with at the root.
"I see...so, when are we moving?"
"Tonight."
"Got it!"
Suddenly, Audrey remembered something. "Oh, right—I was supposed to visit St. Mungo's today to treat the Longbottoms. Should I postpone that?"
"No need. Everything proceeds as planned."
"Okay then."
———
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin dormitory, Goyle and Crabbe stared curiously at Draco Malfoy, who lay curled up in bed, looking sickly and pale. They asked for the third time, "Malfoy, are you really skipping Defence Against the Dark Arts this afternoon? That old toad's definitely going to find an excuse to punish you."
"I really am sick and need rest," Malfoy muttered. "She can't possibly force a patient to go to class, can she? If she dares mess with me, I'll have my father deal with her!"
"Well, alright then."
The two shrugged and left the room.
As soon as they were gone, Malfoy's whole body seemed to deflate, his face turning even paler. Ever since that Dark Mark incident, both Snape and Headmaster Karkaroff had been taken in for questioning.
If…if anyone discovered that he was the one who cast the Dark Mark, they'd send him straight to Azkaban!
But at the time, he clearly remembered being in the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical classroom—how had he suddenly appeared outside, wand in hand, conjuring that terrifying symbol?
Was it the Imperius Curse again?
Was it Voldemort?
Could he have been there all along?
Yet, deep down, Draco felt like that wasn't quite right—he vaguely remembered hearing a familiar voice in that daze.
It was the voice of his father—Lucius Malfoy.
———
That afternoon, after suffering through another dreadfully boring Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Audrey arrived at St. Mungo's Hospital to continue her psychological treatment for the Longbottoms.
Conversation, Legilimency, guided exploration into the depths of the mind—through subtle Cues, she gradually lowered their mental defences, coaxing them into seeing her as someone they could trust. Only with that trust could she lead them to confront their inner fears.
The entire afternoon was spent on this, and progress—though slow—was evident. Mrs. Longbottom's eyes held a hint more clarity, and she had begun to observe her surroundings, as if searching for something.
Audrey thought for a moment, then asked Mrs. Longbottom for a photo of Neville. When she passed it to the woman, the reaction was immediate—she clutched it like a priceless treasure, eyes locked on the moving image, completely absorbed.
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
When the couple was sent off at the hospital entrance, the old lady was visibly delighted. If Audrey's last visit had offered her hope, then this time, it was clear she had seen that hope taking shape.
"It's nothing, really. You may not believe it," Audrey said with a soft smile, "but helping the Longbottoms is beneficial for me too."
"Oh, my dear, that's not the same," the old lady said earnestly, shaking her head. "If Neville weren't already so grown-up, I'd insist on making him your godson."
Audrey took several quick steps back, startled—That's completely unnecessary!
Having a hundred-year-old "grown-up daughter" in the form of an elderly lady was already overwhelming enough. Adding a clueless teenage 'godson' on top of that? Utter despair.
Once the old lady reluctantly took her leave, Audrey and Edward exchanged glances. First, they sighed in relief, then both burst into laughter.
"This is really wonderful," Audrey said. "I truly hope the treatment continues to go well."
"It will," Edward replied with a confident smile. "I've always believed this—if we've been able to cross between two worlds, it must be because we have a mission. Something we're meant to do, something we're meant to change. The journey might be rough…but the ending will be a good one."
"Mm!"
"Now then, time to get back to business."
"Let's go!"
———
7:00 PM.
Barty Crouch Sr. had spent another idle day sitting around the Department of International Magical Cooperation. When he finally returned to his home—a place he found physically and emotionally stifling—he had to admit that, compared to the freezing winds outside, a firelit home was certainly warmer and more comfortable.
He took off his heavy woollen coat and hung it up with his hat. Then he collapsed onto the sofa, eyes closed, and called out coldly, "Winky! Dinner?"
Winky was the house-elf of the Crouch family. Normally, the moment he stepped into the house, she would appear instantly to welcome him back and serve a hearty meal. But tonight…there was no response.
"Good evening, Mr. Crouch."
A strange voice came from the other side of the room.
Startled, Crouch's eyes flew open, and he sat bolt upright—only to find two men in their thirties seated across from him. He hadn't even noticed when they got there.
His mind raced. These two were definitely not from the Ministry.
At least, not from any department he recognised. But whether they were rogue Aurors or some of the Azkaban enforcers who rarely stepped foot in the main Ministry offices, he couldn't say. Those types tended to live on the fringes of the power structure—and thus, in his eyes, weren't worth paying attention to.
Wait—no!
He quickly came to his senses. This wasn't the Ministry—this was his home. These two had entered without permission.
They were intruders. Dangerous ones.
Crouch discreetly tightened his grip on his wand, though his voice remained rigid and formal:
"Who are you? Do you realise you're violating wizarding law by being here? And where is my house-elf? What have you done to her?"
"Rest assured, Mr. Crouch," Edward said, wearing a transfigured face, his expression emotionless. "We've come with no ill intentions. We only wish to ask you a question…"
Crouch snorted coldly. "I'm not interested in answering any of your questions!"
Audrey's tone was gentler. "Where is Barty Jr.?"
She and Edward had arrived half an hour earlier. They had searched the entire house, room by room, but found no trace of Barty Crouch Jr.
Even Winky's memories regarding him had been tampered with—erased.
Edward's first assumption was that the boy had already escaped. But something didn't sit right. In the original timeline, Barty Jr. had used the Imperius Curse to control his father. Yet here, Barty Sr. was acting completely normal—still going to work every day, business as usual. No signs of being bewitched.
It didn't add up.
Crouch's face twisted in alarm. "I don't know what you're talking about. Barty Jr. died in Azkaban long ago."
"But the truth I've uncovered seems to tell a different story," Edward replied, stepping closer. "Years ago, you visited Azkaban with your gravely ill wife to see your son. Then, you used Polyjuice Potion to switch their identities. Your wife died in her son's place, while you faked Barty Jr.'s death."
With every word Edward spoke, the colour drained further from Crouch's face. By the end, he sprang to his feet and shouted, "I don't know what you're talking about! Get out of my house!"
Edward gave a casual nod and turned to leave. "Alright. Then I'll go have a little chat with Mad-Eye Moody. How about that? He doesn't need hard evidence. Just the slightest suspicion, and he'll dig until your secrets are dust."
"Stop!"
Crouch raised his wand, hand trembling. "Stop right there!!!"
"Oh?" Edward turned, unfazed. "So this means you're admitting it, Mr. Crouch?"
Crouch's breathing grew laboured. "Who sent you? What do you want?"
Audrey smiled gently. "We're not working for anyone. As for our purpose…it's simple. We'd just like you to take us to see Barty Jr."
"You…You're Death Eaters, aren't you?" he barked.
"Of course not," Audrey replied calmly. "Death Eaters wouldn't be nearly so polite to the man who sent dozens of their comrades to Azkaban back when he led the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"We simply want to ask your son a few questions," she added, voice as soft as ever. "That's all, Mr. Crouch. May we?"
"…Absolutely not!"
The words burst from Barty Crouch's throat in a hoarse roar.
"Why not?" Edward asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Because—" His pupils suddenly glowed red. "Because I've already…killed him with my own hands!"
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.