Behind him, the light of the magic spell kept flashing, and the clamoring and roaring did not stop. He did not run far before he saw two people chasing after him. They were Grindelwald's men. They came out of the thick fog and spread out in all directions, chasing after him.
Thanks to his familiarity with the castle, Hoffa split the crowd. With the help of the magic staircase, he quickly came to the back of the statue of the bootlicker Gregory on the fourth floor. After turning the statue, he went into the secret passage.
Hoffa only knew about this secret passage, but he had never walked through it before. It was pitch black in the secret passage. He had to hold on to the damp wall to move forward with difficulty. The secret passage became narrower and narrower, and there was the sound of the wall moving behind him. He did not need to look back to know that it was Grindelwald's men who had caught up.
"Flickering light."
There was the sound of chanting behind him, and the dark secret passage was illuminated. He worked harder in the secret passage, but because it was daytime, his speed was not fast.
After running for a long time, the light behind him became brighter and brighter, and the sound of footsteps was getting closer. The passage finally started to go up.
Dong!
He broke through the outer floor of the passage and came out of an abandoned wooden house covered in dust and haystacks. The glaring sunlight shone in the sky, making his cheeks hurt.
This was probably a mill in the outskirts of Scotland. On the snow-covered ground stood a broken but tall windmill. It was a place he had never set foot in before.
Bang!
Bang! Then, two men in black with birdcages on their heads rushed out of the abandoned wooden house. They directly pushed Hoffa to the ground, and the frosty withered grass creaked under the pressure. The three men immediately started fighting. The two men in black tied Hoffa's hands behind his back and dragged him back into the passage.
Huo Fa kicked the black-clothed man's face, but it was blocked by the sturdy iron cage and didn't cause any damage. He could not help but curse himself for being careless and choosing to find Dumbledore in the daytime.
Crash!
The small wooden door of the abandoned warehouse was smashed to pieces. He was dragged into the passage and was about to be dragged back in.
"Avada Life."
"Avada Retribution!"
Suddenly, a green light flashed, and two consecutive incantations shot out from the windmill, hitting the men in black who were dragging Hoffa. They fell to the ground with a plop.
Hoffa, who had his hands tied behind his back, got up from the ground and looked up dizzily. Under the huge broken windmill, an old man with neatly combed hair glared at Hoffa who was lying on the ground and raised his wand.
Hoffa had seen this man before. Before the World Cup in Quidditch, he had disguised himself and paid a visit to this guy with Nicole Lemay. It was Old Barty Crouch.
"Avada …"
Old Barty chanted an incantation. It was clear that he wanted to kill Hoffa and the two men in black.
"Stop!"
Hoffa raised his arm and quickly said, "I mean no harm. I don't even have a wand."
"Who are you?!"
Old Barty raised his wand and asked, "Who sent you to follow me?"
"I have something important to tell you, Mr. Crouch. Give me a minute."
Hoffa got up from the ground. When he saw Old Barty Crouch, his mind immediately became active. If he wanted to break the endless cycle of fate, it meant that he could not work according to the original work.
Old Barty was, after all, one of the officials of the Ministry of Magic, and he did not look like he was being controlled. If he could get his help, it would mean that he could get the help of the Ministry of Magic. If he could get the help of the Ministry of Magic, he might be able to do something that could change fate.
"Thirty seconds!" Old Barty pointed his wand at his chin, "Or die."
"Someone wants to spread terror during the Triwizard Tournament, just like what happened during the World Cup in Quidditch. At that time, at least a few thousand wizards went missing. This time will not be an exception. It will only be more terrifying. If the Ministry of Magic does not take action, the entire Wizard World might cease to exist."
After a pause, Hoffa continued, "I don't know if you remember Gellert Grindelwald. He is still alive and is inside the Hogwarts. The two people you just killed were his subordinates. Now, the Ministry of Magic must isolate the entire Hogwarts, or else a great disaster will happen."
After saying that, he stared at Crouch, trying to find some clues from his tightly pursed lips.
After a while, Crouch asked slowly, "You mean, the Dark Wizard who has been missing for fifty years, Gellert Grindelwald, will create a terrifying incident during the Triwizard Tournament?"
"That's right."
"Why don't you tell Dumbledore?"
"He's under someone's control."
"He's under someone's control?"
"That's right." Hoffa nodded.
"Do you think I'm an idiot? Who would believe such words? "
Old Barty and Crouch suddenly yelled. He dragged Hoffa by the collar and dragged him into the broken windmill.
He put his face in front of Hoffa's nose and carefully looked at his eyes. Then, a look of realization appeared on his face.
"These eyes, and your face, I remember now. You are exactly the same as the guy who came to me during the World Cup in Quidditch. You're just a little older."
"Who?"
Hoffa did not react.
Old Barty grabbed him by the collar. His face was ashen as he asked sternly, "Holva Basher! A flying carpet merchant who recommended a flying carpet to me. In the end, my son went missing that night. Tell me, what's your relationship with the old man and the child from that day?! "
Only then did Hoffa remember that he and Nicole Lemay had disguised themselves to deceive Old Barty before the World Cup in Quidditch. For a moment, he did not know how to explain.
"Alright, we are indeed related."
Bam!
The door slammed shut. Old Barty threw Hoffa into the cellar under the windmill. Here, Hoffa saw Buddy Jr tied up like a dumpling and thrown on the ground. He had a piece of torn cloth stuffed in his mouth. He struggled with all his might, but he could not make a sound.
"Damn it, Old Barty, let go of me!"
Hoffa struggled, but he was too weak during the day.
Old Barty tied Hoffa up as well. Then, he walked to his son and violently tore off the cloth in his mouth. "Tell me, what's your relationship with him? Are you both working for the Lord Voldemort? "
"I'm not!"
Buddy Jr tried to defend himself with his head held high.
"You little brat!"
Old Barty slapped Buddy Jr on the head with the back of his hand. "You're still lying. Don't you admire the Mystery Man the most?"
"I'm not working for the Black Devil King!"
"You're lying." Another slap landed on his face.
"Then what are you doing in Hogwarts? Disguising as Alastor Moody to assassinate Dumbledore or Harry Potter? Don't tell me you're vacationing here! "
"You …"
"Did I hit the nail on the head?" Old Barty grabbed Buddy Jr's hair and forced him to look up at him. "Tell me, where's your master hiding now?"
"F * ck, he's your son. Can't you be a little gentler with your words?!" Hoffa could not stand it anymore and scolded angrily.
"What does it have to do with you?"
Old Barty turned his head abruptly with a cold and cruel expression. "I have the final say in my family."
"Damn it, aren't you afraid that he'll kill you?! Even a rabbit will bite when it's cornered! "
"He dares? He wouldn't dare even if I lent him ten guts. " Old Barty patted Buddy Jr's face in disdain, completely ignoring the murderous intent hidden in Buddy Jr's eyes. "Do you dare?"
Hoffa was going crazy. Old Barty had no idea what was going to happen. He still believed that Buddy Jr would not resist. If this went on, the two of them would definitely die. Not only would Buddy Jr die, but so would Old Barty. If he could not even change the fate of Barty and his son, then he would not be able to change the fate of Aglaia and himself.
"I can tell you the location of Lord Voldemort!"
In a moment of desperation, Hoffa's mind spun quickly.
"He's very weak now. As long as you can find him and capture him, believe me, this merit will be enough for you to defeat Connelly Foggy in the next election and become the new Minister of Ministry of Magic."
There was silence for a few seconds.
Old Barty stopped pressuring Buddy Jr. He slowly loosened his grip and came before Hoffa with his mouth slightly agape.
"You …?"
"A soldier who doesn't want to be a general isn't a good soldier, Mr. Crouch. With all due respect, I don't think Minister Foggy can do better than you. That position belongs to you in the first place. Let us go and I'll bring you to the weak Lord Voldemort and help you become the Minister of Ministry of Magic. "
Old Barty's expression was uncertain. "Do you really think that I'm looking for Lord Voldemort just to become the Minister of Ministry of Magic?"
"This …" Hoffa's mind spun quickly. He looked at Buddy Jr who was tied up beside him and suddenly thought of something. "Believe me, the bond between Lord Voldemort and your son isn't that deep. As long as you get rid of Lord Voldemort, he'll definitely return to your side and become a good son."
The tied up Buddy Jr's face flushed red. His expression was one of shame and anger. He glared at Old Barty and bit his lips so hard that they were almost bleeding.
However, Old Barty seemed very satisfied. His expression finally relaxed as he said, "How do I know that you're not lying to me? And how do I know that the place you're bringing me to isn't filled with layers of ambushes?"
"You can ask your men to find out about Little Hangerton. If there's an ambush, you don't have to go. If there's no ambush, you'll only be delayed for a day. You can come back and kill me."
Hoffa said very sincerely.
Old Barty looked at him suspiciously. After thinking for a long time, he couldn't find any fault in Hoffa's words. In the end, he snorted coldly and tied Hoffa and Buddy Jr together to a pillar with a rope. Then, he strode out of the windmill. It seemed like he was going to get someone to investigate Little Hangerton.
Hoffa breathed a sigh of relief when he was temporarily out of danger. After Old Barty left, only he and Buddy Jr were left in the basement of the old windmill. They were both tied to the same pillar. They couldn't move.
"I'll definitely kill him," Buddy Jr whispered in a trembling voice.
"Don't think too much," Hoffa warned him.
"Why didn't you resist? With your abilities, killing my father should be a piece of cake, right? "Barty Jr. asked softly.
"It's not time yet." Hoffa looked at the sunlight that shone down from the top of the old windmill and said bitterly, "And even if the time is up, I won't kill your father."
"Why?"
"I won't kill anymore."
"Is that so?"
Buddy Jr's voice was flat.
"You can't kill him. He's your father," Hoffa repeated.
"Don't preach to me," Buddy Jr suppressed his anger.
"I'm not preaching to you. If you kill him, the people from the Ministry of Magic will kill you too. They'll lock you back in Azkaban and let the Dementors suck your soul dry."
"So what? It won't be worse than the situation we're in now."
Buddy Jr mumbled.
"You've been to Hörheim. You should know what it's like. If you really want to die, why did you ask me to bring you out?"
Buddy Jr fell silent.
"They'll kill you. They won't care about you, and they'll forget you because you're meaningless to them. No one will sympathize with you, no one will mourn you, and no one will fear you. "
"I've always been a meaningless person, Mr. Bach." Buddy Jr laughed self-deprecatingly. "I don't know how to do anything. I have no goals and no vision. Only when I help others do things can I find some value in my existence."
"Shut up!"
Hoffa suddenly became angry. He didn't know where this anger came from. He seemed to see a shadow of his past in Buddy Jr. That shadow was so deeply rooted that he still couldn't completely abandon it, but he hated this vine-like view of mediocrity so much.
"Can't you find something for yourself to do? If you didn't follow the Lord Voldemort, would Old Barty hate you so much? "
"What should I do? I don't know what I want. "
Buddy Jr's voice was not angry. "Maybe Old Barty is right. Without him, I'm nothing."
"Yeah."
Hoffa suppressed his anger and said sharply, "If you sleep in a messy room and feel dirty, what will you do?"
Buddy Jr: "I'll ask Sparkle to help me clean it up."
Hoffa: "What if Sparkle isn't here?"
Buddy Jr: "I …"
Hoffa: "Will you clean it up yourself?"
Buddy Jr nodded reluctantly. "Yes."
Hoffa: "If you clean up your room and find it a mess, what will you do?"
"I will … I will …"
Buddy Jr bit his lip and said with difficulty, "I'll clean it up myself, maybe …"
"If you clean up your room and find your city a mess with no one to clean it up, what will you do?"
Buddy Jr suddenly burst into tears. "Mr. Bach … No one has ever told me this …"
Hoffa's anger subsided a little. He sympathized with Buddy Jr. Even though this guy was the worst person he had ever met, if it wasn't for the power-hungry Old Barty, perhaps he wouldn't be so muddle-headed.
When the man behind him choked with sobs, he listened silently. When the sobs gradually stopped, Hoffa said softly, "Don't get into a conflict with your father again. Give in. When night comes, I'll get you out of here. Promise me, go far away. Leave England, leave Europe, leave everyone you know, and don't look back. "
"Then what about you? Don't you need my help? "
Buddy Jr sniffled.
"As long as you can jump out of this damn cycle, it'll be the biggest help you can give me," Hoffa said to himself.
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