studiobondurri 189: Imprisonment and Broken Hand
189: Imprisonment and Broken Hand
189: Imprisonment and Broken Hand
John Apparated next to Heinrich and tossed the unconscious body down.
"Who's this?" Heinrich asked, staring at Barty Crouch Jr.
John pulled off his mask, and his clothing reverted to his usual attire. "Take him back to Silverhand Manor first."
As a capable second-in-command, Heinrich didn't waste words. He squatted down, grabbed Barty Crouch Jr.'s hand, and with a wave of his wand, pop, they disappeared.
Heading back toward the woods, John ran into Hagrid.
"Thank goodness, John, you're safe!" Hagrid's face was full of lingering fear.
John patted him on the shoulder and said apologetically, "Sorry, Hagrid, I shouldn't have left without telling you."
If it had been anyone else, being abandoned in such a dangerous situation might have led to resentment or even a fallout.
But not Hagrid. He waved his hand generously and said, "You must've had something urgent to take care of, didn't you?"
This was why John liked being friends with Hagrid.
He never remembered your mistakes; he only focused on the good.
"Of course, Hagrid. In fact, I think I've got something you'll love."
John gave a mysterious smile.
Under Hagrid's surprised gaze, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, slightly dazed creature.
"Moo~?"
"Merlin's beard," Hagrid gasped, his eyes widening like saucers. His lips trembled, and he nervously wiped his hands on his coat.
"This little one... I've never seen anything like it before!"
The Snorkack shook its head, finally realizing it had been taken out of its cozy space.
It burrowed back into John's pocket to continue sleeping—it hadn't even woken up during its airborne journey.
John explained, "This is a new creature I... found. Hagrid, could you take care of it for a while? Just until school starts."
"Of course I can!" Hagrid nodded eagerly, worried John might think he wasn't enthusiastic.
"Do you know what species it belongs to?" Hagrid carefully took it from John's hand.
"Just call it a Snorekack.." John couldn't tell him that he 'made' this creature now, could he?
As a magical creatures enthusiast, Hagrid's favorite things were rare and unusual beasts.
Although a Snorkack wasn't exactly in the same league as dragons, when it sneezed and poofed onto Hagrid's shoulder, he was utterly captivated, his eyes practically glowing with excitement.
Then, a hint of worry crept across his face. "John, I've never cared for a Snorkack before."
"Don't worry. I don't know much about it either, which is why I need a magical creature expert to look after it, right?" John chuckled. After all, as his own creation, and he didn't know much about it himself.
Hagrid accepted it like a treasure, beaming with pride.
As dawn broke, John said his farewells to Hagrid and left, heading directly to Silverhand Manor.
...
Formerly known as the Shafiq Manor, the estate was now heavily guarded, with layers of magical defenses to ward off intruders.
Wearing his silver mask, John appeared at the entrance.
"Ah! Sir Silverhand!"
"Welcome back, Your Excellency!"
"Mn-hmm."
The guards greeted him with a mix of fervent admiration and reverence.
He made his way to the dungeons, where Heinrich was already waiting for him.
Heinrich stood there with his usual indifferent expression, while Kim tried to strike up a conversation with him.
Tommy leaned closer to John and whispered, "Old Barty is in the study."
"Lord Voldemort will return to this world!" he shouted fanatically, his face twisted with madness.
Tommy entered the room with a grim expression, but John stopped him from taking action.
John spoke softly to young Barty, "Do you know? Your father actually loves you."
Young Barty sneered, his face full of disdain, showing no sign of caring.
Looking at the Dark Mark, John asked Tommy, "This mark connects the Death Eaters to Voldemort, doesn't it?"
Tommy nodded, though he didn't fully understand the purpose of the question.
Fixing his gaze on the mark, John raised his hand and made a grasping motion in the air.
The Silver Wick Sword materialized in his hand.
Young Barty felt an inexplicable panic. When he saw the sword pointed at his left arm, he shouted, "What are you doing? Stop!"
"Do you know," John said softly, "the Voldemort you follow—I've already killed him twice."
"Huh.." Young Barty's pupils dilated in shock.
In a flash of silver light, his left hand was severed at the base.
"AaaaaaaaAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!"
A piercing scream echoed, muffled by the water barrier enclosing the dungeon.
Young Barty's eyes bulged with rage, the veins in his neck popping as his face turned a furious red, his mouth agape in a soundless roar.
The agony of losing his hand overwhelmed his mind, even shaking the fervent devotion he held for Voldemort.
The scene left everyone stunned and unprepared.
Tommy had anticipated that John might imprison young Barty, but he never imagined it would be this ruthless.
That was Barty Sr.'s son, after all.
And yet, John wasn't done. He pulled out his wand and, with an indifferent tone, said to young Barty, "Redi ad animam tuam."
Young Barty's convulsions ceased as his soul was forcibly dragged out of his body.
On his soul, there was a serpent-like mark—Voldemort's magic.
With a deft thrust of the wand, John pierced the soul and tore the mark away.
Flicking his wand, he transferred the mark onto the severed hand.
Carving a spell into the soul, John nodded in satisfaction and said, "Congratulations, you've been officially expelled from the Death Eaters."
Pressing the soul back into Barty Jr.'s body, John snapped his fingers, and the severed hand flew into the air before him.
With a wave of his wand, he conjured a box to store the hand. Muttering to himself, John said, "This might just be the bait to lure out Voldemort."
Casting a glance at the now despondent young Barty, John said calmly, "You're free to move around, but I trust you understand—there's no way out."
With a casual wave of his hand, the chains binding young Barty fell away.
John then left the dungeon with the other three in tow.
Unable to hold back his curiosity, Tommy asked, "My lord, are we really just going to leave him be?"
"Heh, what do you mean by that?" John scoffed. "Let him stay put. That's Barty Sr.'s son—we must ensure he's well cared for."
Heinrich's expression was one of fervent admiration, utterly enthralled by the display of soul magic he had just witnessed.
"..." Tommy, however, was speechless. "You cut off his hand and call that 'taking care of him'?"
John had etched an inescapable mark on Barty Jr. That was the real reason he'd unshackled him—there was simply no way for him to escape.
The severed hand was carefully preserved.
And John ensured Rita Skeeter wrote a detailed article praising Barty Crouch Sr.'s heroic leadership in resisting the mob from the previous night.
Of course, proper rewards were distributed as well—after all, you can't let your subordinates grow disheartened.
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