304 Chapter 26, Retired Auror

"Minister, Mr. Moody wants to see you."

In the office of the Minister of Magic, a thin woman in a wizard's robe said carefully holding a stack of documents.

Cornelius Fudge leaned back on the wide chair with a displeased face, and threw the document he was reading on the table, "What is he doing here again, or is it for the World Cup?"

"That's right."

the secretary replied.

"Tell him I'm in a meeting and I'm busy and don't have time to see him."

Fudge waved his hand impatiently, and picked up the documents on the table again.

"Okay, I'll tell him right now."

The secretary nodded and walked towards the door.

"Wait a moment!"

Fudge stopped his secretary again.

"What's the minister?"

Cornelius Fudge's face softened a little: "Also. You tell him that school will start soon, let him prepare well for the course, and don't run to me if you have nothing to do."

"Okay, I'll go now. Ah!!"

The secretary who opened the door screamed, and the documents in his hand fell to the floor.

Because as soon as she opened the door, she saw a cripple standing in front of her with a serious face. He was wearing an old black robe with two glass balls pinned to his waist. He was missing a leg, which was replaced by a prosthetic leg made of wood.

Beneath his mass of dark gray hair, his face was scarred and a chunk of his nose was missing, giving him a hideous look.

What was even more frightening was his eyes. One of his eyes was small, black, bead-like, and normal. The other one is big, round and has a bright blue color, and it is spinning crazily.

"Mr. Mumudi, what are you, why are you here?"

The female secretary squatted down in shock, frantically packing up the scattered documents.

At this time, two young officials from the Ministry of Magic came from behind, panting, and they grabbed the door frame of the Minister of Magic, "He walked away too fast, Minister, I'm sorry. "

After finishing speaking, the two young men grabbed the one-legged old man's arm and said anxiously, "Let's go, Mr. Moody, it's against the rules to break in like this, the minister is very busy."

The one-legged, one-eyed old man was unmoved, his blue magical eyes stared straight at Cornelius Fudge, and the scene was a little chaotic for a while.

"enough!"

In this somewhat chaotic scene, Cornelius Fudge coughed angrily, "Why are you all gathering here in such a mess? Don't you have any jobs? Get out!"

"Uh yes, Minister."

The two employees of the Ministry of Magic who were tugging at each other let go of their hands angrily.

The secretary also patted his flat chest, walked sideways from the serious-looking one-legged old man, and fled the place in a hurry.

"Mad-Eye, what are you doing here again?"

After everyone left, Cornelius Fudge waved his hand irritably, "How many times have I reminded you, don't run to my office at every turn! Think you haven't retired yet?"

"Believe me, if it's not very important, I won't come to you for several days in a row."

Moody limped to Connelly's desk on wooden legs, and his speed was no slower than normal people, even faster.

A trace of disgust flashed in Cornelius Fudge's eyes: "It's for the Dark Mark of the Quidditch World Cup again? Listen, Moody, it's not clear whether this matter is the return of the mysterious man, or a mad maniac made by believers."

"It's not about Voldemort this time."

The one-legged, one-eyed man reached into his pocket, took out a few photos, and threw them on the Minister of Magic's desk.

"These are photos I found out, which were accidentally taken by some Bulgarians."

Cornelius Fudge picked up the photo on the table with a frown, his expression as disgusted as picking up cat feces with his bare hands.

In the photo, a few vague figures can be vaguely seen, wearing a strange birdcage-shaped helmet, standing in the crowd, with green lights shining on their bodies.

Mad-Eye Moody: "My eyes can see things that ordinary people can't see. In the chaos after the Quidditch World Cup that day, I saw green lights shining everywhere, and the crowd disappeared silently. I've been looking into this for days.

Evidence suggests that on the day of the Quidditch World Cup, there was another gang operating under the influence of the World Cup. A bunch of guys who might be more dangerous than Voldemort. "

Cornelius Fudge rubbed his temples with a headache, and threw the photo back, "And then, with a few inexplicable photos, what do you want me to believe?"

"More than photos."

The one-eyed old man took out another plastic bag from his pocket, and placed it in front of Cornelius Fudge. Cornelius Fudge lowered his head and saw a few charred bone fragments in the plastic bag, with some weird scratches on them. mark.

Mad-Eye Moody: "This is the participating sample I brought back from the Quidditch World Cup. I detected a terrible radioactive magic substance in it. This element does not belong to any known magic system at all. The last time Appeared in Germany fifty years ago, so."

"So what exactly are you trying to say?"

Cornelius Fudge didn't even want to pick up the sample bag, he just wanted to get the eccentric old man off quickly.

Mad-Eye Moody: "I'm pretty sure that after the World Cup that day, someone was there to spread panic, even death."

"What kind of paranoia do you have!?"

Cornelius Fudge yelled, "The injured people have been sent to St. Mungo's, and now they are basically cured, and they all went back to their homes. Where did the death come from?"

"Someone is missing! Minister Fudge!"

The one-eyed old man said seriously: "I don't know if you have noticed, but after the World Cup, the Sports Department laid off a large number of employees, almost all the employees in charge of the game were laid off."

"Shouldn't they be judged?"

Cornelius Fudge's suppressed emotions suddenly burst out: "So many people watched and watched the World Cup, but just after the game ended, the Dark Mark appeared in front of so many people, making people panic .If I were Barty, I'd cut those scumbags too"

"That's not the point, Minister!"

Moody interrupted him in a deep voice, "In the past few days, I went door to door to the homes of Ministry of Magic officials who were laid off by Barty Crouch, but found that none of them were at home, and all the people who were laid off were missing. Already!"

"If you want to care, if you really disappeared, why didn't those family members come to report? In your eyes, going out for a vacation is dead?"

Fudge laughed angrily: "It was Bertha Jorkins before, and this time it's a group of guys whose names I don't know. Do we have to go to your house every day to check in before we can continue to work?"

"Shouldn't we investigate?"

"Okay, okay, I'll assume that everything you said is right, but then? The World Cup is over, and you still want me to check those people one by one?"

Cornelius Fudge had a terrible headache, "My God, do you know how many countries there are? Do you know how many people are there? Do you know how many things I still have to deal with this year's Triwizard Tournament, the three major schools , guests from all over the world, all kinds of magical creatures, damn it!"

"Minister, please believe me, there must be something hidden behind this, maybe there is one more terrible than Voldemort"

"Don't mention that name to me!"

Fudge shrieked.

"Maybe there is a guy who is more terrifying than the mysterious man, who is lurking and active in the dark, and we don't even know his purpose!"

Moody finished speaking worriedly, but Cornelius Fudge was unmoved in the slightest.

Gradually, his face completely collapsed: "Are you trying to say that under my rule, not only the Dark Lord appeared, but also a Dark Lord more terrifying than the Mysterious Man?"

"It's not impossible."

"It's not impossible."

Fudge leaned back, and the chair rumbled back into the vegetation of the floor-to-ceiling windows. He crossed his hands and squinted his eyes at the serious-faced old man in front of him, "Alastor Moody, are you going to Hogwarts office?"

"That's right."

"Okay," Fudge folded his arms, looking like he was watching a play: "Since there are so many evils in the world, then you and Dumbledore can handle these things together. Don't you Phoenix Order like to take care of things? Take care of it, isn't this the meaning of your existence?"

"Lord Fudge!"

Mad-Eye Moody raised his voice, took a step forward, pressed down on the table, and continued.

"enough!"

Cornelius Fudge couldn't restrain his suppressed anger anymore, he slammed the table, stood up, looked up at Moody's chin, and said fiercely: "You have retired, don't just look for presence with me I advise you not to overstep some lines!"

After breathing heavily for a while, Fudge tremblingly picked up the water glass in front of him and took a sip to calm down.

"Alastor Moody, the current Ministry of Magic has the Director of the Department of Defense Against the Dark Arts. If you encounter something next time, you can contact Rufus Scrimgeour. If he thinks it is true after review, he will naturally report to me. report."

After a few seconds of silence.

Alastor Moody did not speak.

"Do you have anything else to do?"

"Gone."

Cornelius Fudge waved his hand like a fly, "Then do as I say, I don't want to see your face in this office again."

Alastor Moody picked up the photos and samples on the table, turned around and limped out of the office. After he closed the door and left, Cornelius Fudge angrily threw the quill on the table, splashing a pool of ink.

"Damn it, old madman."

"Damn it, believe it or not, Mr. Bach, when I catch that old lunatic, I'm going to tear out his intestines, wrap them around his neck, three times, and strangle him to death!"

On the other side, in a certain motel, a young man with withered hair said excitedly.

"I want to live."

The bald boy stood in front of the window and said indifferently, holding a telescope in his hand.

"Okay, then I'll catch him later, I'll use the Cruciatus Curse a hundred times on him, I'll listen to his screams and shoot him in the face, blast that old monster's ugly face! Do you believe it, Monsieur Bach?"

"I want him to be mentally stable."

"Then I'll break his limbs, stuff him into the toilet with only one head exposed, and live on liquid food every day! Believe it or not, Mr. Bach?"

"Shut up." Hoffa put down the binoculars in his hand, "Believe it or not, if you say hello again, I'll stuff you down the toilet."

Little Barty shut up resentfully. He lay on the window sill of the hotel, looked at a dilapidated old single-family building opposite, and touched the dust on the window sill with his fingers, with an expression of disgust and pleasure.

At this moment, it was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and there was one night before Hogwarts started. Two days ago, he and Barty Jr. found Alastor Moody's residence in the northwest suburb of London.

After they found it, they rented a hotel in the vicinity and monitored Mad-Eye's house. For some reason, although they found Moody's place, the guy didn't come back for a long time, and he was nowhere to be found.

After waiting for another half an hour, Little Barty looked across the street anxiously.

"Damn it, why hasn't that old lunatic come back? Mr. Bach, did we find the wrong position? Let me tell you, that old guy used to be an Auror and caught people a lot. The Ministry of Magic must have given him a lot of benefits. It stands to reason that he You shouldn't be living in a place like this."

"It can't be wrong."

Hoffa said firmly.

"Why are you so sure? We just asked passers-by about our location." Batty Jr. muttered, "If I were that old bastard, I would have hidden away a long time ago. It's not so easy to find."

How can you be so sure? Hoffa didn't answer, but sneered secretly.

Because the old Moody was killed by "Little Barty" tonight in the original book, if according to the pissing nature of this script, even if he finds a random place to lie down, there may be Moody's room next to him.

Sure enough, it didn't take long.

On the far side of the street, an old man with one eye and one leg came slowly. He was holding a cane and carrying a paper bag. It seemed that he was struggling to walk.

Little Barty, who had been staring out the window, exclaimed:

"He's back, and it's really you, Mr. Bach!"

"I see."

Hoffa wasn't surprised at all, and was even a little bored. Everything is as he expected.

Little Barty was lying on the window sill, looking at the one-eyed and one-legged old man who passed by downstairs, with unforgettable hatred on his face.

"Old man! See if I don't tear you to pieces!"

The one-eyed and one-legged old man below noticed something. He suddenly raised his head and looked at the second floor of the nearby motel. His blue eyes rolled around a few times, but there was nothing there. He lowered his head, and walked into the dilapidated hut in front of him under the setting sun.

After he entered the house, Hoffa released the hand that was holding Barty Jr.'s shoulder, and the two slowly retreated from the ghost walk state.

Little Barty said bitterly: "Damn, the nose is the same as before, it's not good enough."

"So you still have to do it yourself?" Hoffa asked.

In the past few days, since Barty Crouch Jr. knew that they were looking for Moody, he had been talking for dozens of hours. He fantasized about killing Mad-Eye Moody in various cruel ways almost all the time. Beheaded, quartered, burned, or tortured to death.

If talking could kill, Mad-Eye Moody would have died no fewer than six hundred times.

"Of course I'm going to do it myself."

Little Barty clenched his fist tightly, "He was the one who took me into Azkaban thirteen years ago. This time, I want him to return the capital with interest!!"

Hoffa frowned suspiciously: "Are you sure you can beat it?"

"Don't worry, you're just a retired old Auror."

Little Barty pulled out the new wand that he just bought from Diagon Alley these two days from his pocket: "Mr. Bach, believe me, I can hit a hundred of this kind of person!"

Hoffa looked at the time, the sun was almost setting.

"Then it's up to you, pay attention, I want to live, and my mind is normal, don't."

Before he finished speaking, Barty Jr. Apparated and disappeared beside Hoffa.

Hoffa squinted at the distant house and raised his binoculars. In the round lens, Barty Jr. appeared in front of Alastor Moody's house, and broke into the house with a wave of his wand.

Then, there were explosions in the dilapidated house. The glass on the windows turned yellow, blue, and red for a while, and was finally shattered by the blast. A Muggle walking his dog was splashed by broken glass and ran away screaming.

About twenty seconds passed.

The room fell silent.

"Damn it!"

Hoffa put down the binoculars, hurried out of the motel, and came to the door of old Moody's house.

Another ten seconds or so passed.

Barty Crouch Jr. dragged an old man covered in scars out of the house, and stood silently at the door.

Old Moody's jaw was broken, and the wooden leg was gone. He watched Hoffa's jaw shake a few times without making a sound.

"Would you like to come and take him away?"

Little Barty looked at Hoffa with a half-smile and asked.

Hoffa didn't speak, and walked towards the two at a leisurely pace.

Suddenly, Barty Jr. pulled out his wand.

A flash of lightning burst out from the wand and hit Hoffa's forehead.