Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

December 26, suburbs of London.

It's just past 0:30 in the morning, and although Christmas has passed, Christmas carols are still ringing everywhere in this suburban town.

Three or four young men and women wearing Santa hats on their heads, holding a few unlit fireworks in their hands, walked through the snowy road with laughter and laughter.

The neon lights hanging on the pine and cypress trees on the roadside were constantly flashing lights of various colors, and some passers-by had already noticed the old man and the young man walking into the town along the road.

The old man is a lame old man. He has a wooden leg that is not very convenient, and he walks with a limp on the snow.

But looking at his appearance, a normal person would not feel any pity or sympathy.

His long gray hair was scattered behind his back, and there were a few inconspicuous scars on his face. His face was weathered, and his back was slightly hunched, but under his solemn expression he exuded a terrifying aura.

Walking side by side with him was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties.

Compared with the lame old man, this young man looks much more handsome, but both of them are dressed in the same weird outfit, which is pitch black, like a robe that was popular in the Middle Ages.

"If you accept my offer and change into normal clothes before coming out, maybe we won't be stared at by so many eyes."

Sherlock grumbled. He had warned Moody before, but the retired Auror nicknamed "Mad Eye" was a little too stubborn in some aspects.

Moody didn't pay attention to the looks around him at all, he said in a rough voice.

"Muggle clothes are too inconvenient. Even the wand has no suitable place to hide. Besides, I have been wearing this outfit at the ball for this trip."

"Professor Sinistra is your dance partner tonight, right? Didn't she complain about your outfit?"

"Do you think we older people will care about this? But when dancing, she was always worried that my wooden prosthesis would step on her feet. Huh, she didn't even know that when I was young, I was in the Ministry of Magic. The dance partners are all in demand."

"I don't know whether she cares about your dress, but she will definitely care about what you just said about her age."

"Shut up! I will only talk in private. It is not a gentleman to mention a lady's age in front of her!"

The two of them walked and chatted, and soon arrived at the edge of this small town.

There are not many houses here anymore, and there are not many wheat fields. Instead, the trees are very lush.

Even after they left the town, they did not stop and kept walking deeper into the woods.

"Is the Crouch family's manor here?" Sherlock couldn't help but asked curiously.

Moody shook his head.

"Manors of pure-blood families are usually built in inaccessible places to prevent being disturbed by Muggles. As a wizarding family with a long history, the Crouch family will certainly not build their own manor next to a Muggle town. "

"This is just Barty Crouch's own residence. In order to deal with magical things in London, he specially prepared a house when he was the boss. He has lived here ever since. It is the ancestral home of the Crouch family. Instead, it is uninhabited.”

Moody certainly has enough say in his understanding of the former Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Sherlock frowned after learning this information.

"Where is the ancestral home of the Crouch family? Does anyone know?"

"No one knows about this. Old Barty has never mentioned it himself, and the ministry has no records about this." Moody's expression was solemn. "Due to the history of witch hunting, some pure-blood families have concerns about their own families. The manor has a very high level of confidentiality and can only communicate with the outside world through the fireplace. Untrustworthy wizards do not know the location of the ancestral homes of these families."

After hearing his words, Sherlock's heart sank slightly, his face looked a little ugly, and he always had a bad feeling in his heart.

With Moody leading the way, they quickly passed through the woods and came to a clearing where a two-story building stood.

The snowflakes were piled thickly around, much thicker than on the streets of the small town.

Apparently the snows before the Christmas snowfall had not been cleaned here, so there was such snow.

The same goes for the two-story building, which has no Christmas atmosphere at all. The roof and window edges are covered with snow, and it looks like an abandoned wild house.

After Sherlock and Moody approached here, they silently drew out their wands at the same time.

"Is there any news from Kingsley that Crouch hasn't been to the Ministry of Magic for how long?" Sherlock asked in a deep voice.

Moody's magical prosthetic eye stared at the building in front of him and kept turning.

"On December 23, he promoted the third son of the Weasley family to the position of assistant to the director in the ministry, and delegated most of the duties to him. Since then, he has been Never showed up. According to the Weasley boy, he had a serious cold and needed to recuperate."

"It's been three days." Sherlock said softly. "He hasn't appeared for three days. It's hard not to wonder what kind of state he is in now."

At this time, they had reached the two-story building. The area of ​​the house was not large. Sherlock directly used his control magic and could take a look inside without entering the door.

"There's no one inside."

Moody's prosthetic eyes were always moving. Without hesitation, he waved his wand and opened the door of Crouch's house.

The door was not locked, and no protective measures were taken. The bookstore www.zhaoshuyuan.com was simply pushed open.

The scene inside the house was also revealed in front of them at this time.

The living room was in a mess, all kinds of furniture had been violently overturned to the ground, and stuffing from pillows was scattered everywhere in the room. It was obvious that there had been a fierce conflict here.

Moody limped in. Instead of studying other things, he squatted directly on the ground and lightly wiped the floating dust on the floor with his fingers.

"No one has been here for at least three months."

Sherlock also walked through the messy furniture. He walked to the fireplace with a clear purpose, bent down, and picked up a dusty ring from an inconspicuous corner.

"Do you recognize this?" he asked Moody, holding up the ring.

Moody walked closer and stared at the carving on the ring, a strange bird with two heads.

"This is the emblem of the Crouch family. It should be the family ring that Old Barty often wears on his hand."