Chapter 671: 671: We'll take revenge

Barty Crouch Jr. used every ounce of strength he had to Apparate.

Under the bombardment, he fell into the Himalayas.

Everything around him was desolate.

"Father."

He dropped to his knees, his internal organs bleeding from the impact.

Coughing up a mouthful of bright red blood, he looked at the wand in his hand.

Tormented by grief, he could no longer support himself and collapsed.

His hand still clutched the wand tightly.

As the bitter cold of night descended, he gradually sank into a dream.

In the dream, he saw his mother.

Barty Crouch Jr.'s final memory of her had been a gaunt, withered face.

But here, he saw her healthy again.

Mrs. Crouch stood amid the desolation. She slowly walked over and crouched down.

With hands as warm as he remembered, she gently stroked Barty Crouch Jr.'s thin cheek.

"My child."

"Mother."

In the most cautious voice, Barty Crouch Jr. asked, "You're real, aren't you?"

"Yes." Mrs. Crouch smiled through tear-filled eyes. "You've suffered so much."

That sudden expression of concern, that long-lost motherly love, caused Barty Crouch Jr. to break down in tears.

He curled himself up.

"Why?" he asked. "Why did I have to survive?"

He roared, "Why couldn't you just let me die? Let me die in Azkaban!"

The only response was his mother's hand tightly holding his.

"I'm a foolish man. I've missed you so much, Mother." He wept freely in the dream.

He missed her.

He missed the boundless affection that had always indulged him.

He missed the way she would gently brush snow from his shoulders and tell him to be careful.

He had greedily longed for more.

His mother's love had not been enough. He had also wanted to prove himself.

To prove that he was a son his father could be proud of.

He had gone astray, joining Voldemort at the height of his power, only to fall into the abyss soon afterward.

He had failed to prove himself.

His father had sent him to Azkaban.

His mother had died in prison to save him.

Why had everything turned out like this?

"I wasn't determined enough," he said in a trembling voice. "I shouldn't have been afraid to die. I shouldn't have begged you, Mother."

He began speaking incoherently, refusing to let go of his mother's hand as he pleaded, "Take me with you, Mother."

"We can be together again. I can see you again, Mother."

He had held it in for far too long. Ever since the day he learned of his mother's death, he had been like this.

The one who had died in that prison was not Mrs. Crouch.

It was Barty Crouch Jr.

He had buried himself in the abyss and had never been able to climb back out.

"No, child." Mrs. Crouch gently removed a blade of grass caught in Barty Crouch Jr.'s hair. "You should go back."

"No, I won't go back, Mother," Barty Crouch Jr. said anxiously. "I want to leave. It's too painful there."

"You've always been a child who could endure hardship," Mrs. Crouch said softly. "I've always known that."

"At home, you were always trying so hard. Trying to prove that you deserved the Crouch name." She gently shook her head. "It was the Crouch name that bound you. You should let it go."

"I can't, Mother."

Barty Crouch Jr. shook his head repeatedly. "I am a Crouch. The son of Barty Crouch."

"I never made him proud."

"No. You made me proud."

Another voice interrupted.

Barty Crouch Jr. looked up blankly.

He saw his father.

The best Minister for Magic in a hundred years.

Barty Crouch Sr. stepped out from the white light and walked to his wife's side.

Looking at his son, Barty Crouch Sr. sighed. "I was wrong."

"I never knew I was suffocating you, my son."

The accomplished Barty Crouch Sr. had taken his son's excellence for granted. He had forgotten that a father was a father, and a son was a son.

He had buried his pride deep in his heart, naturally assuming that his son already knew.

He had been disappointed when he saw the son he was so proud of join the Death Eaters.

He had been confused, wondering how his own upbringing could have gone so terribly wrong.

Under his wife's pleading, the heart within him that belonged to a father had wavered.

But afraid that something would happen to his son again, he had chosen the worst possible approach.

Barty Crouch Sr. looked at his son.

Barty Crouch Jr., who had once tried so desperately to escape the Crouch name, had actually been the one most tightly bound by it.

With all the awkwardness of a father who had never known how to speak honestly, Barty Crouch Sr. said, "You are my pride, my son."

His broad hand settled on that thin shoulder, and a trace of heartache flashed through his eyes.

"Father..." Barty Crouch Jr. murmured.

The white light grew stronger, preparing to take his parents away.

"No, don't leave me!"

He hurriedly scrambled to his feet and tried to follow.

He drew closer and closer, almost stepping into the white light with them.

But two hands stopped him.

"We love you, son." Barty Crouch Sr. shook his head. "You don't belong here. You need to go back."

"There's no place for me there."

Barty Crouch Jr. stubbornly tried to move forward, but Barty Crouch Sr. said, "You have a place beside the King, don't you?"

Barty Crouch Jr. froze.

Barty Crouch Sr. continued, "He needs someone now. You need to save him, just as he saved you."

"My son." Barty Crouch Sr. let go of his usual sternness and smiled as he shook his head. "You see him as your guide. I've always known that."

"John needs help. He's at the edge right now. You need to guide him, just as he once guided you."

The white light had already enveloped Mr. and Mrs. Crouch.

Two hands gently pushed him, yet it felt as though they carried endless strength.

"Go back to being yourself. Let go of the Crouch name and do what you want to do, son."

The white light vanished before his eyes.

Barty Crouch Jr. stopped.

A tear slid from the corner of his eye.

Feeling the dampness on his face, he opened his eyes.

A large furry face was licking him.

Barty Crouch Jr. looked at the wand in his hand.

That dream had felt incredibly real.

He reached out and pushed the furry face away.

It was a young snow leopard.

Its family was watching from a distance.

Barty Crouch Jr. met the gaze of the adult snow leopard.

The larger animal remained still.

Seeing that Barty Crouch Jr. had woken up, the cub hurriedly ran back toward its family.

The adult snow leopard licked the cub's head, glanced once at Barty Crouch Jr., then turned and led it away.

Barty Crouch Jr. watched the snow leopards disappear into the distance, then sat there motionless.

Only after they had completely vanished from sight did he lower his gaze to the wand in his hand.

"John Wick needs me."

He staggered to his feet and began walking through the mountains.

...

The Kingdom of Bhutan.

John had already been sitting there for several days.

During that time, more and more people had arrived.

Rita snatched the quill from the person beside her, snapped it in half, and threw it to the ground.

The tabloid reporter was furious but did not dare say anything.

As editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet, the largest newspaper in the wizarding world, Rita stood at the very top among these members of the press.

"My goodness, Gilderoy Lockhart!"

"Sorry, please make way. Make way, thank you. No, I'm not signing autographs."

A commotion broke out.

Rita looked over.

Gilderoy Lockhart squeezed his way through the crowd.

After struggling past them, he finally reached Rita.

Then he saw John.

"My friend, what happened to you?"

He was about to walk over when Rita stopped him.

"Why are you here?"

Lockhart's rise to fame had owed no small part to Rita's help, so the two knew each other well.

Hearing her question, Lockhart said indignantly, "As his friend, Gilderoy Lockhart will not stand by and do nothing."

Rita cursed inwardly.

Lockhart really could not read the mood at all.

What John needed right now was to be left alone.

"Fine. I'll wait for him here."

Lockhart looked around but could not find a chair.

Rita rolled her eyes at him.

More people arrived.

Sophie came with Lupin, and she consciously chose not to disturb John.

Lupin looked at the lone figure and murmured in a daze, "He's not even twenty yet."

He glanced toward the people from the International Confederation of Wizards waiting nearby.

At such a young age, far too many hopes were already being placed on his shoulders.

Lucius walked over as well.

He had just returned from helping calm the public.

As long as the name John Wick was mentioned, it seemed to act like a sedative, putting people at ease.

No one knew who had started it.

But more and more wizards were coming to Bhutan.

They shared an unspoken understanding. No one approached that place.

They simply waited in silence.

Waiting for their hero.

For their ***.

"France has stabilised. Edgar is handling Germany," Lucius said to Mr. Diggory beside him. "The Acolytes are spreading talk of purges everywhere. Quite a few ignorant civilians have been deceived."

"This is a disaster, but we have Lord Wick," Mr. Diggory said.

"Yes. Lord Wick."

Lucius looked over.

Theodore stood among the crowd, more focused than he had ever been.

Then, at that moment, a loud crack sounded behind John.

Barty Crouch Jr. looked at the lonely, desolate figure.

He walked toward him.

Lockhart looked utterly confused. "How is he allowed to go over there?"

Even Rita hesitated over whether she should stop him.

"Barty Jr.?" John finally spoke.

His voice was numb as he said, "Your father is dead."

Barty Crouch Jr.'s steps paused slightly.

Then he continued forward.

He came to stand before John and looked at that young face.

Slowly, he lowered himself to one knee and placed a hand over his heart, his expression reverent and solemn.

"Then please avenge him, my King."

Those words brought a faint spark of light back into John's lifeless eyes.

"Your gardener... no... the son of Barty Crouch, the last descendant of the Crouch family, swears to follow you, just as my father did, and become a friend of John Wick."

John slowly raised his head.

His gaze passed over Barty Crouch Jr. and moved toward the people behind him.

Sunlight fell across the ruins.

He saw them.

Everywhere his eyes reached, there were people who had followed him here.

"Then we'll take revenge."

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