Several Ministry wizards, wands in hand, pushed into the section of forest Hermione had pointed to.
A flash of tension passed across Barty Crouch's face.
After a while, shouting came from inside the woods.
"We got one! Caught someone! There's someone here! Unconscious!"
"You caught someone?" Barty Crouch shouted, his tone full of disbelief. "Who? Who is it?"
Everyone held their breath, wanting to see what kind of fool had stayed behind this long instead of running.
They heard branches snapping, leaves rustling, and then creaking footsteps.
Mr. Amos Diggory emerged from behind the bushes.
In his arms, he carried a small limp body.
It was a house-elf.
Mr. Diggory set the little elf down at Barty Crouch's feet, then stepped aside.
Everyone looked toward Barty Crouch.
Sirius let out another loud laugh of mockery.
For several seconds, Crouch stood completely motionless, as if frozen in place.
"This… impossible, impossible," Barty Crouch said, each word coming out in jerks.
He seemed utterly unable to accept that his house-elf had appeared here—his reaction was clearly a little too intense.
"It's awkward, but there was no one else there," Mr. Diggory said. "Only this house-elf. And she was holding the tool used in the crime—a wand."
Amos Diggory picked up the wand from Winky's hand and cast a Reverse Spell.
At once, from the point where the two wands touched, a grotesque skull with a serpent tongue slithered out.
It was obvious now—the Dark Mark in the sky had been produced by the wand Winky was holding.
As for whether Winky had actually cast it herself… who cared?
"Ah—that's mine!" Harry suddenly blurted out, seemingly out of nowhere.
Everyone in the clearing turned to stare at Harry.
Eda nearly wanted to punch him.
You're a wizard, and you managed to lose your own wand—why not just lose yourself while you're at it?
"Sorry, what did you say?" Mr. Diggory asked in disbelief. "I believe you didn't conjure the Dark Mark, but you're saying this wand is yours, correct?"
"That's my wand!" Harry said. "I lost it by accident!"
Diggory revived Winky and began questioning her.
But the house-elf was obviously in terrible shape. Her breathing was broken by violent sobs, and she looked utterly terrified.
"I… I… I didn't, sir!" Winky gasped. "I don't know how, sir!"
Her voice was shrill, and tears streamed down her face like a little river.
Eda always prided herself on having a heart of stone, but seeing this scene—seeing Winky in such a pitiful state—even she couldn't bear to keep watching.
But these Ministry officials had no intention of letting Winky off.
Mr. Diggory kept interrogating the house-elf in a loud voice.
It almost seemed as though Diggory wasn't just trying to make Winky confess—he also wanted to drag Barty Crouch down with her.
"It wasn't her!" kind-hearted Hermione shouted. "Winky's voice is high and squeaky, but the voice that cast the spell was much rougher—it sounded like a grown man!"
Harry and Ron backed her up, saying the voice definitely hadn't belonged to a house-elf. It had been human.
But no one cared about Hermione, Harry, or Ron's testimony.
No one took the word of three students seriously.
Being weak was the original sin; the powerless were easy to bully.
Mr. Diggory continued questioning Winky loudly.
Her eyes darted around in terror as she kept shrieking, "Not me, not me, I'm a good elf!"
"That's enough, Amos!" Mr. Weasley finally snapped, unable to watch any longer. "Winky is just a house-elf—how could she possibly know that spell? And when you found her, wasn't she unconscious?"
"Perhaps Diggory is implying," Barty Crouch said, every syllable dripping with icy fury, "that I regularly teach my servant how to conjure the Dark Mark?"
The atmosphere in the clearing grew even more oppressive.
Everyone fell silent.
They all believed Barty Crouch would never do such a thing—
just as they believed Harry Potter would never do such a thing.
Barty Crouch roared at Diggory, because Diggory's actions had all but made the accusation explicit—
that Barty Crouch had taught Winky to cast the Dark Mark.
Otherwise, how could a house-elf know such magic?
"And how long are you all going to keep arguing?" Eda stepped forward. "First you tried to pin it on Harry, and now you want to make a house-elf take the blame?"
Mr. Weasley walked over to Winky, crouched beside her, and asked gently, "Winky, where did you pick up the wand?"
But the elf was too frightened to think straight.
She shrank back in fear, treating even Mr. Weasley's soft voice as if he were one of the people shouting at her.
Trembling violently, Winky stammered, "There, sir… in the forest, sir…"
The truth was already clear.
Whoever had conjured the Dark Mark had gotten hold of Harry's wand, cast the spell, then Apparated away afterward—discarding Harry's wand behind.
As for why Winky had been there, and why she had picked up Harry's wand…
Well, only Winky herself knew.
Perhaps Barty Crouch knew too.
So many wizards stood in the clearing, most of them Ministry officials.
And yet not one of them was willing to step forward and take responsibility.
Instead, they pushed all the blame onto an innocent, weak little house-elf.
This was the Ministry.
These were the people who ruled the wizarding world.
What a joke.
Winky received her punishment—a piece of "clothing."
Barty Crouch gave a lofty, high-sounding reason:
Winky had disobeyed her master's orders.
Looking at the cold, indifferent wizards in the clearing, and the helpless house-elf sobbing in despair, Eda suddenly felt a chill sink into her bones.
It was still late summer—and yet she felt as though winter had already arrived.
(～￣▽￣)～Read 12 Chapters ahead:
Patreon: Dragonel