Krum opened his eyes, his face blank. He struggled to get up as soon as he saw Dumbledore.
"He hit me!" Krum murmured, covering his head with his hand, "That old lunatic hit me! I was watching where Potter went, and he hit me from behind!"
"Lie quietly for a while first." Dumbledore said kindly, without taking Krum's words.
"What happened?" Professor McGonagall hurried to the scene wearing her tall pointed hat and an old, dull gray lady's robe, looking at Krum lying on the ground, and then He asked with a frown.
"Minerva, now go to Madam Pomfrey and ask her to make some potions to ease the stun effect of the Stunning Curse, and then go to Karkaroff and explain the situation to him, his students may have been attacked, I still need to check the clues here, and I can't get out." Dumbledore said seriously.
"Okay." Professor McGonagall nodded without asking any further questions, and then left quickly. She also immediately realized the seriousness of the situation.
Karkaroff hurriedly followed, wearing the smooth and smooth silver-white fur robe, his face was pale and anxious.
"What's going on here?" He saw Krum lying on the ground, with Dumbledore and Harry standing beside him, and exclaimed, "What happened?"
"I got hit!" said Krum, sitting up slowly, rubbing his head with his hands. "I heard that guy was called Crouch—that's the one..."
"Crouch hit you? Crouch hit you? The judge of the Triwizard Tournament hit you?"
"Igor—" Dumbledore wanted to speak, but Karkaroff straightened his body and pulled the fur robe tightly around his body, his face livid.
"Madame Maxim! You're here too?" Karkaroff's voice became high, very deliberately, as if her presence made him look more confident.
"Principal Dumbledore, I think it's not just Mr. Karkaroff, I also need a reasonable explanation." Madam Maxim shook the opal jewelry on her wrist and said aggressively.
Things seemed to spread faster than expected, and soon Beauxbaton's champion, Fleur Delacour, also arrived on the scene, even though she was not with her headmaster at the time.
As for Malfoy, he "doesn't know" what channel he got the news from, and walked over slowly.
Dumbledore glanced in his direction seemingly unintentionally, then quickly adjusted his eyes, and looked at the other two principals.
"Look, all the warriors are here now. Of course, only in this way can we outsiders have the "qualification" to sing a diagonal show with you, right?" Karkaroff said eccentrically.
"Calm down." Dumbledore said calmly.
"How do you want me to calm down!" Karkaroff said maniacally. Few people noticed a trace of anxiety and fear in his tone. He subconsciously grabbed one of his arms, as if there was something abnormal.
"I think Mr. Potter probably isn't telling the truth. We may need to rely on something else to get the truth." Snape suddenly appeared in Dumbledore's room with his shiny black hair on his head. Behind him, like a black cloud, his deep eyes were constantly shining with malicious light, staring at Harry so closely, he couldn't help but get goosebumps all over his body.
Harry immediately thought of the "Veritaserum" that Snape had threatened him with in class.
"Severus." Dumbledore coughed heavily, his blue eyes flashed, and Snape shut up knowingly.
Snape's silence seemed to be more effective than Dumbledore's dissuasion. Seeing that Snape stopped, Karkaroff restrained his bad temper for the first time.
Everyone has been entangled here for a long time, perhaps knowing that it is useless to stop here, and finally left separately, but while leaving, Karkaroff kept clamoring that Dumbledore must give him an explanation.
"Thank you, Alastor." When Moody and Dumbledore passed by, Dumbledore said in a very soft voice, as if talking to himself.
"It's a little bit, but it's totally acceptable." Moody retorted, the magic eye was beating with joy, and he grinned, looking very satisfied.
Time travels back to the beginning of the last vacation.
"Albus, is there any new development, or... do you want to ask me for something else?" Moody asked directly, pushing open the door of the principal's office.
Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, was the size of a swan, with dazzling crimson and gold plumage, perched on a golden perch by the door. it shakes its long tail feathers
"Alastor, sit." Dumbledore pulled out a chair from behind him, and moved it in front of Moody.
It was a hot summer afternoon, and it was so hot and tiring outside. Even Moody, who just came in from the door, still had a few drops of sweat on his forehead, and his trouser legs were covered with dust, making him look dusty.
Moody threw his cane over the foot of the stool with a rolling sound, and sank down on the chair.
The terrifying magic eye looked at Dumbledore indifferently, and Dumbledore was used to it. He stretched out his hand, picked up a pot of tea that had been brewed on the table at some time, poured a cup, and handed it to him. Moody.
"Thank you." Moody said, but the old man didn't seem interested in drinking tea, but just used it as a way to quench his thirst. He poured hot tea into his Adam's apple, rolled it a few times, and drank it all in one gulp .
"Okay, can you tell me what's going on now, Dumbledore? If the communication between us is not very important, you usually use the patron saint to notify me, right?"
Moody put the teacup back in its place.
"In this case, it must be very important that you need to talk to me personally."
Dumbledore groaned, his long silvery-white beard drooping in front of the table, and he himself seemed to be in hesitation, with his fingertips put together on the table.
"This is not your style, Albus, I think I have enough capital to gain your trust, and I have enough ability to complete the task you entrusted to me."
"I still trust you more than the Ministry of Magic, and now I'm not affiliated with that bureaucratic mess, am I?"
Moody chattered.
"If you accept my commission, you may die." Dumbledore said expressionlessly.
"Oh?" Moody's astonished expression lasted for a moment, and then a wonderful expression appeared on his wrinkled face, as if the magic eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.
He suddenly started to hold his stomach, and laughed maniacally, showing a row of crooked teeth, as if he had heard some ridiculous joke. With one hand on the table, try to support yourself not to fall off the chair.
After maintaining this state for a while, Moody raised his head, put on a serious expression and said:
"Albus, do you think I'm someone who's afraid of death? Is that the only reason for your hesitation?"
"I never doubted your courage." Dumbledore stood up from the chair, put his hands behind his back, turned his back to Moody, and stared at the photo in front of him in a daze. Headmaster's photo. They were all asleep, their chests heaving gently
"No one can easily decide a person's life or death, not even himself." Dumbledore sighed slowly.
"I know, you know a lot of things I don't know, Albus, um... For example, you have your own considerations for letting go of that little mouse on purpose, and I will occasionally guess your thoughts by myself, but I don't know. Will doubt your motives."
"To die on the battlefield is the highest honor for an Auror," Moody said.
"If something happens according to my plan, you may die in humiliation." Dumbledore took a deep breath.
"Humiliation is humiliation, as long as it is useful, I don't feel it after death anyway, right?" Moody started laughing again.
"Albus, I hope you can trust me as much as I trust you." Moody's laughter gradually stopped, and the beating magic eye returned to its calmness during silence.
Dumbledore turned around silently, and walked to the wall behind the table. An old, patched Sorting Hat was placed on a shelf. In the lower right corner of the shelf, there was a glass box, empty inside. Nothing was put in it, but it reflected silvery light. Opposite the glass box was an inconspicuous black cabinet, the door of which was ajar, and the light was revealed from it.
Dumbledore bent down, opened the cabinet, took something out of it, and put it on the table. .
This is a shallow stone basin with strange carvings on the mouth of the basin and runes and symbols engraved on the edge of the basin, which looks very mysterious. There is a bright silver light shining inside the basin, and the source of the light is like a piece of bright silver, but It is constantly flowing, rippling like the surface of water in the breeze, and spreading out and spinning softly like clouds. It was like light in liquid form—or wind solidified.
Moody picked up his cane, stamped his wooden legs, dragged his body to Dumbledore's side, and looked at the object.
"I can't see through this thing." After looking carefully, Moody shook his head helplessly.
His magic eyes seemed to be ineffective in front of this thing, and the flickering silver substance made him dizzy. He tried his best to catch something deeper, but found it was futile.
"This silvery substance is thought, memory, Alastor." Dumbledore explained, then he took out his wand, stirred it in the basin, and the surface of the silvery object spun faster. Kind of like a spiral.
"Put your head in there, Alastor." Dumbledore said, and Moody stuck his head in, and the glassy substance stopped at the tip of his nose.
As soon as Moody stretched out his head again, he felt a whirl of heaven and earth, falling in a piece of icy black matter, as if being sucked into a black vortex—
After a while, Moody's head slowly lifted from between.
There was no joy or anger on his face, and he asked, "Is this your memory, Albus?"
He muttered to himself: "I still have a little impression of this trial. My father is a majestic and just official of the Ministry of Magic, but my son has taken refuge in the notorious mysterious man. It is really ironic. I heard that his son died in the Azkaban? And then his wife seems to have died out of grief too, right?"
"It's really pitiful." Moody shook his head regretfully, "That Crouch should be considered a boss who likes me."
"Show me what this means, Albus?"
"What would you think if I said Crouch Jr. wasn't dead?"
Whether it was the magic eye or the normal eyeball, they immediately magnified, and their brows immediately frowned.
Dumbledore went on to say: "Everything you have received just now is the memory in my mind. This is called the Pensieve. Sometimes I feel that there are too many thoughts and memories stuffed in my mind, and the extra thoughts will be thrown away. Suck it out of your brain, pour it into this basin, and take a good look at it when you have time."
"Interesting thing, the effect of obtaining the truth seems to be more effective than Veritaserum. As for Legilimency, only the caster can know it. If this song can be promoted during the wizard trial, it must be very good. The jury also You can use what they see as a criterion for judging." Moody's professionalism allowed Moody to make some "magic" analysis of the pot in front of him in an instant.
"You must voluntarily withdraw your thoughts." Dumbledore's words dispelled Moody's thoughts.
He can't expect criminals to repent from the bottom of their hearts, can they
Dumbledore drew his wand from his robes, and inserted the tip into his silver hair, near his temple. When he pulled out his wand, there seemed to be some hair stuck to the tip of the wand, but it was actually a small wisp of the same silver-white substance as in the basin. Dumbledore added this new thought to the basin.
"This is the process of adding memories, Alastor."
"I'm not interested in these anymore, let's get back to business, Albus, what do you want me to do? Arrest that little Crouch who didn't die? Since he didn't die, he definitely wouldn't choose to be in Azka. Ben, probably found some other way to escape." Moody asked anxiously, his patience was almost running out.
But under his impatience, he didn't have any doubts about Dumbledore's words.
"He escaped." Dumbledore nodded.
"Where is he? Any leads?" Moody asked.
"You just need to wait at home." Dumbledore's eyes flickered.
"Will he throw himself into the trap? Turn himself in?" Moody asked in disbelief.
"Of course not? I learned from some sources that he might attack you, and then use the Imperius Curse to make you reveal a lot."
"Heh, I don't believe that a little kid can defeat me." Moody said disdainfully. In his opinion, this is not a threat.
"If it was a sneak attack, it's not out of the question, and he might have help."
"That won't happen now, I'm already highly alert, and I'll be extra careful all the time," Moody said.
"But what I want you to do is not to arrest him, but..." Dumbledore extended the topic, and every time he said a word, Moody's expression became more and more serious. The spinning demon eyes fell silent and retracted into their sockets.
Moody mused.
"If you weren't Dumbledore, I really doubt you're crazy."
"But, you shouldn't be a fake now." Moody's index finger rubbed the center of his brows, then slid down to the corner of his own magic eye and kept massaging.
"What am I going to do?" Moody asked hoarsely.
Dumbledore's blue eyes drifted to the Pensieve in front of him at this moment, constantly looking at it.
"First of all, our conversation today, as well as the memories of some previous events, maybe you have to store them with me for a while, Alastor, this can prevent the Imperius Curse from extracting redundant information."
"Then, I will perform some hypnotism on you. The hypnotized person will firmly believe that some falsehoods are true. Before that, we only need to deceive ourselves first, and that can also deceive the enemy."
"I studied some Muggle hypnotism and verified the effect. It was very good. I couldn't detect my real thoughts when I faced myself in the mirror, because I convinced "myself". At that time, I was I really do think so.”
"But there are still some uncontrollable risk factors." After Dumbledore finished speaking, he fell into complete silence.
Obviously, he's going to leave that decision to Moody's.
"What's there to hesitate about?" Moody laughed, and immediately raised his wand, pointed at his bulging temple, and then a long silver strand of memory emerged from the tip of the wand. It stretched longer and longer, and finally broke, with silver light floating on the tip of the staff.
"Is this the first step?" the man said without hesitation.