"Little Barty..." Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and recalled, "He was a very good student... Well, somewhat similar to Tom back then."
"But there are many differences between the two. Tom has been a deep-minded person since he was a child. He is also good at acting and is very good at deceiving other people's trust..."
"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 But from a certain period of time, he became more and more taciturn and withdrawn."
Dumbledore stroked the lid of the teapot, and a hint of sadness appeared in his eyes.
"What? Did something happen in between?" Dracula asked curiously.
"To be precise, those things have been happening all the time." Dumbledore corrected, "Professor Dracula, you should also know that when Barty was in school, Voldemort and the Death Eaters were most active."
Dracula nodded slightly.
"At that time, both the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix were facing considerable pressure, and the then Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, old Barty Crouch, of course, shouldered the greatest burden." Dumbledore sighed and introduced to Dracula.
"It was precisely because of this that old Batty was so busy presiding over the overall situation that he neglected his son for a long time... plus Mrs. Crouch was too doting on her child, which ultimately led to such a tragedy."
"Is this another clichéd story about a love-deprived child who turns evil and joins the enemy camp?" Dracula clicked his tongue.
He raised his hand, sucked a piece of plasma chocolate from Dumbledore's desk, and put it into his mouth.
"I've seen this kind of thing a lot, and I can imagine what he's thinking." Dracula said nonchalantly, "Because he's not valued by his father, a high-ranking official, he wants to prove himself in front of his father, so he studies hard..."
"But his achievement of twelve OWLs, which is rare in decades, 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 I can't get your attention through conventional means, I will become your enemy and make old Crouch look at me from the perspective of a serious threat."
"Do you think I'm right?" Dracula curled his lips and looked at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore paused in stroking the lid of the kettle.
He stared blankly at the white steam constantly coming out of the spout of the kettle and sighed deeply.
"There are many tragedies that don't need to happen, if only old Barty could 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 heart is the pleasure brought 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 do. I am slowly getting older both physically and mentally... Old people always like to feel sad, don't they?"
After saying that, Dumbledore suddenly stood up and walked towards the black cabinet on the side of the office.
"Want to see what little Batty was like?" he asked. "Maybe it will help us find something."
Dumbledore opened the door.
There was a shallow stone basin in the cabinet, the rim of the basin was covered with strange carvings, consisting of various kinds of runes.
After the cabinet door was opened, a silver light emanated from the stone basin, which looked like both 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 swirl softly.
The thing in the basin looks like light that has turned into liquid, or wind that has condensed into solid…
"Is this... a Pensieve?" Dracula became interested and stood up from the sofa.
"Yes, the Pensieve." Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Sometimes I feel that my mind is filled with too many thoughts and memories. At this time, I use the Pensieve to absorb the extra thoughts from my mind and pour them into this basin. When I have time, I will take a good look at it..."
He then looked at Dracula, "Professor Dracula has lived for so many years, doesn't he need a Pensieve to sort out his memories?"
"I've never been too lazy to use this kind of thing," Dracula shook his head. "If you can't remember something, just forget it. Most of them are unimportant anyway. Why force yourself to keep them in your mind and only add to your troubles?"
"You're right. I actually envy your attitude." Dumbledore chuckled, "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..."
As if feeling that he had been sad too many times today, Dumbledore shook his head, as if trying to shake off his complicated emotions.
"Would you like to take a look together?" he asked, looking at Dracula.
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 extremely skilled in Legilimency and his Occlumency was quite solid, so even with Dracula's Legilimency, he couldn't see anything from his eyes.
Today I had the opportunity to watch some of Dumbledore’s memories live, which was exactly what Dracula wanted.
The two of them used their minds at the same time to explore the silver substance that seemed to be both liquid and solid.
The next moment, the principal's office suddenly collapsed.
Dracula and Dumbledore came together into a dimly lit room filled with stepped benches and sat on one of the benches, which seemed higher than the others.
There are at least two hundred wizards in this room, and none of them looked over here. It seemed that no one noticed that there were suddenly two more people here.
Dracula and Dumbledore are like two spectators removed from the screen and cannot be noticed by the people here, but the scene in front of them is extremely real, as if they are actually there.
"This is quite interesting." Dracula's voice echoed in the room, but none of the wizards present heard it.
Dumbledore turned around and saw that Dracula had 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 his 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?"
"It's also nice to take a look at what you looked like a dozen years ago!"
Dracula looked at Dumbledore's image from front to back and said happily, "When will you show me 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 companion."
Dumbledore: "..."
Just then, the door in the corner of the room suddenly opened.
Six Dementors walked in from behind the door, with four disheveled wizards among them.
Many people present secretly looked at a meticulous wizard sitting high up in the sky—the then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch.
Next to Crouch sat a frail witch, sobbing softly, with a handkerchief clutched over her mouth in her trembling hands.
With his excellent eyesight, Dracula could clearly see in the dim room that Crouch looked extremely haggard and gray, with a vein twitching on his temple... He looked as haggard as when he was a judge in the semi-finals.
Several people around began to whisper to each other, seemingly discussing something.
The Dementors placed the four men on four chained chairs in the center of the dungeon. One of the short, fat wizards looked blankly at Crouch; the other, thinner, looked more nervous, glancing toward the audience.
There was also a woman with thick black hair and long eyelashes, who sat on a chained chair as if she were sitting on a throne, with a crazy and triumphant look on her face.
The last was a boy of seventeen or eighteen who looked absolutely petrified and trembling, his straw-colored hair hanging about his face, his freckled skin as pale as paper.
Seeing the boy, the frail witch next to Crouch began to rock back and forth, sobbing into her handkerchief.
"The two wizards in front are Rodolphus Lestrange and Rabastan Lestrange, a pair of Death Eater brothers." Dumbledore saw that Dracula looked a little confused and introduced him, "The witch is..."
"Bellatrix Strange." Dracula suddenly took over the conversation.
"Does Professor Dracula know her?" Dumbledore asked with some confusion.
"Well, I saw it in Azkaban prison..." Dracula saw the astonishment in Dumbledore's eyes and had to add, "Weren't we looking for Sirius Black at that time? I sneaked into Azkaban to take a look."
Of course, his curiosity about Azkaban was the most crucial reason for sneaking into that prison... But there was no need to tell Dumbledore about this reason, so as to avoid being caught by the old headmaster and constantly advised.
At the front of the courtroom, Crouch had already stood up, looking down at the four people below, extreme hatred gradually forming on his face.
"You are brought before the Committee on Magical Law to stand trial," he said clearly. "Your crimes are so heinous -"
“Father,” the straw-haired boy begged with a terrified look on his face, “Father… please…”
"—a rare case before this court," said Mr. Crouch, raising his voice to speak over his son's. "We have heard the charge against you. The four of you have abducted an Auror, Frank Longbottom, and used the Cruciatus Curse upon him in an attempt to extract from him the whereabouts of your master, the mysterious man—"
"Father, I didn't!" screamed little Barty, who was tied to a chair. "I didn't, I swear! Father, don't send me back to the Dementors-"
Dracula stared closely into Barty Crouch Jr.'s eyes, but could not see any fear or regret in his eyes. Instead, he could only see luck, cruelty, madness... and joy.
Dumbledore frowned tightly, as if he couldn't bear to watch this scene.
"The charge is further," Mr. Crouch went on to roar, "that you used the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife when he refused to give you information. That you conspired to restore You-Know-Who to the same violent life you led when he was powerful. Now I ask the jury—"
"Mother!" cried little Barty, and the tiny witch beside Crouch sobbed and rocked 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 said loudly, ignoring him, "If you think that these crimes should be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban, please raise your hands!"
The wizards on the jury on the right side of the dungeon raised their hands in unison.
The audience all around clapped happily, with relieved expressions on their faces... After all, few people had seen two elite Aurors being tortured to the point of going crazy, and they all felt sorry for what had happened to the Longbottom couple.
Little Barty began to scream, and a hint of panic finally seemed to 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 drifted in again.
Barty Jr.'s three companions stood up from their chairs silently. Bellatrix looked up and shouted to Crouch:
"The Dark Lord will come back, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban and we'll wait! He will come back to save us. He will reward us specially! We are the only ones who are loyal! We are the only ones who try to find him!"
Barty Jr. tried hard to get rid of the Dementors, even though the Dementors' cold suction that sucked away happiness and souls was beginning to take effect on him.
Some of the audience laughed at him, some stood up, and some cheered indignantly for their fate.
Bellatrix had already walked proudly back to the door in the corner, but little Barty was still resisting.
"I'm your son!" he shouted to Crouch. "Your son!"
"You're not my son!" Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging outwards. "I don't have a son!"
The little witch gasped, slumped down on the stool, and fainted. Crouch seemed not to notice.
"Take them away!" He waved his hand and roared at the Dementors, "Take them away and let them rot there!"
…
The scene in the Pensieve was frozen at this moment.
In the frozen image, Dracula and Dumbledore looked at each other, their brows tightly knitted together.
…
…