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Chapter 280: Pensieve

"Little Barty is different. He was originally just a good student like Percy Weiss... But from a certain period of time, he became more and more taciturn and more and more withdrawn."

Dumbledore stroked the lid of the teapot, and a bit of sadness appeared in his eyes.

"Why, did something happen in the middle?" Dracula asked curiously.

"To be precise, those things have been happening all the time." Dumbledore corrected, "Professor Dracula, you should have known that when Little Barty was in school, it was the period when Voldemort and the Death Eaters were most active."

Dracula nodded gently.

"At that time, both the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix were under considerable pressure, and the then Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch Sr., certainly shouldered the greatest burden." Dumbledore sighed and introduced to Dracula.

"It was precisely because of this kind of thing that Barty Sr. was busy presiding over the overall situation and neglected his son for a long time... coupled with Mrs. Crouch's over-indulgence in her child, that eventually led to such a tragedy."

"Is this another cliché story of a child who lacks love and then turns evil and joins the enemy camp?" Dracula tutted.

He raised his hand and sucked a piece of plasma chocolate on Dumbledore's desk and stuffed it into his mouth.

"I've seen a lot of this kind of thing, and I can imagine what he was thinking." Dracula said casually, "Because he was not valued by his father, a senior official, he wanted to prove himself in front of his father, so he studied hard..."

"But he got twelve OWLs certificates, an excellent result that is rare in decades, but it is not even as good as a memorandum from the then Andorran Minister of Magic."

Dracula smiled playfully and shook his head, "Then Barty Crouch Jr. completely gave up the idea of ??relying on his own efforts to avoid being ignored by his father, and turned to become a Death Eater..."

"Since there is no way to get your attention by conventional methods, then become your enemy and stand from the perspective of a serious concern to let old Crouch look at you."

"Do you think I'm right?" Dracula raised his mouth and looked at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stopped stroking the lid of the pot.

He stared blankly at the white steam that kept coming out of the spout of the pot and sighed deeply.

"There are many tragedies that don't need to happen. Maybe if old Barty can take a few minutes out of his work every week to praise his children," Dumbledore sighed softly.

"There's no need to feel sorry," Dracula said, "I heard that Barty Crouch Jr. and other Death Eaters tortured Longbottom's parents with the Cruciatus Curse, and they have no intention of repenting."

"You should see it clearly, Dumbledore. What he pursues in his bones is the pleasure brought to him by violence, abuse and blood. He is essentially a terrorist."

Dumbledore took off his glasses and shook his head helplessly.

"I hope you can understand me, Professor Dracula," he said softly, "I don't have as long a life as you, and I am getting older both physically and mentally...Old people always like to be sad, don't they?"

After that, Dumbledore suddenly stood up and walked towards the black cabinet on the side of the office.

"Want to see what little Barty looked like in the past?" he asked. "Perhaps this will help us find something."

Dumbledore opened the cabinet door.

There was a shallow stone basin in the cabinet, and the mouth of the basin was covered with strange carvings, composed of various types of runes.

After the cabinet door was opened, a silver light emanated from the stone basin, which looked like liquid and gas, like a piece of bright silver, but it was constantly flowing, like ripples on the water in the breeze, and like clouds that spread out and spun softly.

The things in the basin looked like light turned into liquid, and like wind condensed into solid...

"Is this... a meditation basin?" Dracula became interested and stood up from the sofa.

"Yes, the Pensieve." Dumbledore nodded gently, "Sometimes I feel that my mind is filled with too many thoughts and memories. At this time, I use the Pensieve to suck out the extra thoughts from my mind and pour them into this basin. I will take a good look at it when I have time..."

He then looked at Dracula, "Professor Dracula has lived for so many years, doesn't he need a Pensieve to organize his memories?"

"I've never been too lazy to use this kind of thing," Dracula shook his head, "Just forget the things you can't remember. Anyway, most of them are unimportant things, why do you have to force them to stay in your mind, which will only add to your troubles?"

"You're right, I actually envy your attitude." Dumbledore smiled softly, "But life is so short, there are always some things you don't want to forget, and there are always some things you can't forget..."

It seems that he feels that he has been sentimental and sad a little too many times today. Dumbledore shook his head, as if he wanted to get rid of some complicated emotions.

"Want to take a look together?" He looked at Dracula and asked.

Dracula glanced at the stone basin and nodded.

In fact, he had long been curious about Dumbledore's past memories.

Unfortunately, this great wizard was very good at Legilimency and his brain occlusion was quite stable. Even with Dracula's Legilimency, he could not see anything from his eyes.

Today, he had the opportunity to see some of Dumbledore's memories on the spot, which was just what Dracula wanted.

The two of them drove their minds at the same time and explored the silver substance that seemed to be liquid and solid.

The next moment, the principal's office suddenly fell over.

Dracula and Dumbledore came to a dimly lit room full of stepped benches and sat on one of the benches. This bench seemed higher than the others.

There were at least two hundred wizards in this room, and no wizard looked over here. It seemed that no one noticed that there were suddenly two more people here.

Dracula and Dumbledore were like two spectators who were separated from the screen and could not be noticed by the people here, but the scene in front of them was extremely real, as if they were actually there.

"This is quite interesting." Dracula's voice echoed in the room, but none of the wizards present heard it.

Dumbledore turned his head and found that Dracula appeared in front of an old man with a long white beard and white hair, looking around him with interest -

That was Dumbledore who was a dozen years younger, and his long white beard was much shorter than it is now, only hanging down to the abdomen.

"Ahem... Professor Dracula, our focus is not here." Dumbledore looked at this scene and said with a bit of a smile, "Aren't we here to observe the condition of little Barty?"

"By the way, it's not bad to take a look at what you looked like more than ten years ago!"

Dracula looked at Dumbledore's image from front to back and said happily, "When will you take me to see what you looked like when you were young? I want to see how ugly you were back then, and how you lived your whole life without even a partner."

Dumbledore: "..."

Just then, the door in the corner of the room suddenly opened.

Six Dementors walked in from behind the door, and among them were four disheveled wizards.

Many people present secretly looked at a meticulous wizard sitting high up - Barty Crouch, the then Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Next to Crouch sat a frail witch, who was sobbing in a low voice, with her trembling hands holding a handkerchief to her mouth.

With his excellent eyesight, Dracula could clearly see in the dim room that Crouch's face was very haggard and gray, and a vein on his temple was throbbing... This haggardness was as serious as when he was a judge in the semi-finals.

Several people around began to whisper, as if they were discussing something.

The Dementors put four people in four chained chairs in the center of the dungeon. One of the short and fat wizards looked at Crouch blankly; the other thinner wizard seemed more nervous, his eyes directly glanced at the audience.

There was also a woman with thick black hair and long eyelashes, who looked crazy and complacent, sitting on a chained chair, as if she was sitting on a throne.

The last one was a boy of seventeen or eighteen, who looked completely frightened and trembling, with straw-colored hair scattered on his face and freckled skin as pale as paper.

Seeing the boy, the frail witch next to Crouch began to sway back and forth, sobbing with her handkerchief covering her mouth.

"The two wizards in front are Rodolphus and Rabastan, a pair of Death Eater brothers." Dumbledore saw that Dracula looked a little confused, and introduced him, "The witch is..."

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Dracula suddenly took over and said.

"Does Professor Dracula know her?" Dumbledore asked with some confusion.

"Well, I saw her in Azkaban prison..." Dracula saw the astonished expression in Dumbledore's eyes, and had to add, "Wasn't it to find Sirius Black at that time? I sneaked into Azkaban to take a look."

Of course, his curiosity about Azkaban was the most critical reason for sneaking into the prison... But there was no need to tell Dumbledore this reason, so as to avoid being caught by the old headmaster and constantly persuading him.

At the front of the courtroom, Crouch had stood up, looking down at the four people below, with extreme hatred gradually gathering on his face.

"You are brought before the Magical Law Committee to await sentencing," he said clearly, "Your crimes are so heinous--"

"Father," the straw-haired boy begged with a horrified expression on his face, "Father... please..."

"--This is rare in the cases tried by this court." Mr. Crouch raised his voice, drowning out his son's voice, "We have heard the accusations against you. The four of you kidnapped an Auror--Frank Longbottom, and used the Cruciatus Curse on him, trying to find out the whereabouts of your master, the mysterious man--"

"Father, I didn't!" Little Barty, who was tied to the chair, screamed, "I didn't, I swear! Father, don't send me back to the Dementors--"

Dracula stared closely at the eyes of little Barty Crouch, but he could not see the fear and regret in his eyes, but only luck, cruelty, madness... and joy.

Dumbledore frowned, as if he couldn't bear to watch this scene.

"The accusation also says," Mr. Crouch continued, "that you used the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife when he refused to provide information. You conspired to make You-Know-Who come back and want to restore the violent life you led when he was powerful. Now I ask the jury-"

"Mother!" Little Barty shouted loudly, and the thin witch next to Crouch sobbed and swayed back and forth, "Mother, stop him! Mother, I didn't do those things, it wasn't me!"

"Now I ask the jury to vote," Mr. Crouch ignored him and said loudly, "Those who think that these crimes should be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban as I do, please raise your hands!"

The wizards on the jury on the right side of the dungeon raised their hands in unison.

The audience around them clapped their hands happily, with relieved expressions on their faces... After all, few people have seen two elite Aurors being tortured to madness, and they all have a deep understanding of what happened to the Longbottoms.

Barty Jr. began to scream, and a trace of panic seemed to finally appear in his eyes.

"No! Mother, no! It wasn't me, it wasn't me, I didn't know! Don't send me there, stop him!"

The Dementors slowly floated in again.

Barty Jr.'s three companions stood up from their chairs silently, and Bellatrix looked up and shouted to Crouch:

"The Dark Lord will come back, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban, we'll wait! He will come back to save us. He will reward us specially! Only we are loyal! Only we try to find him!"

Barty Jr. tried his best to get rid of the Dementors, even though the cold suction of the Dementors that sucked happiness and souls had begun to take effect on him.

Some of the audience laughed at him, some stood up, and some cheered angrily for their fate.

Bellatrix had already walked back to the door in the corner with pride, and little Barty was still resisting.

"I am your son!" he shouted to Crouch, "your son!"

"You are not my son!" Crouch roared loudly, his eyes suddenly bulging outward, "I don't have a son!"

The thin witch took a breath, collapsed on the stool, and fainted. But Crouch seemed not to see it.

"Take them away!" He waved his hand and roared at the Dementors, "Take them away, let them rot there!"

...

The picture in the Pensieve was frozen at this moment.

In the frozen picture, Dracula and Dumbledore looked at each other, and their brows were tightly twisted together.