Chapter 684: 684: Peace and Prosperity, Yet Scorched Earth

Compared with the peace and prosperity of Britain, some parts of the world had already become scorched hells on earth.

Death hung over the manor, while flames illuminated an old residence with three hundred years of history.

Before the fire, Barty Crouch Jr.’s expression remained completely calm.

“Captain Crouch, she has something to say.”

An Auror dragged over an Acolyte who had been bound tightly.

Barty Crouch Jr. waved his wand, restoring her ability to speak.

She was a witch. Dust covered her face, but it was still clear that she was quite attractive.

Watching the raging fire, she screamed with all her strength, “My brother! My brother is still in there!”

“He’s innocent! I was the one who misled him! He only just turned eleven!”

The female Acolyte shouted until her voice became hoarse, desperately hoping that this cold and ruthless man would show mercy.

“So…” Barty Crouch Jr. looked at her, his voice carrying a bone-chilling coldness. “You’re willing to die for him?”

“Of course!” the female Acolyte answered without hesitation.

Barty Crouch Jr. slowly crouched down and looked at her delicate face.

He reached out, brushed aside her long hair, and said in a hoarse voice, “Then why did you turn him into an Acolyte?”

“I…”

The female Acolyte’s voice caught in her throat.

Because she saw not the slightest trace of pity in the eyes of the man before her.

“You killed him,” Barty Crouch Jr. said, his voice like that of a demon. “You turned him into one of the most damned people in the world. You erased every bit of sympathy I might have had for him.”

“It was you. You killed him. Your dear little brother is struggling in those flames. You’ll watch his skin burn away. You’ll see his corpse, perhaps curled up in some corner, or maybe by the fireplace, or under the bed.”

The female Acolyte screamed, “No! You can’t do this! He’s still a child!”

“He’s not a child. Have you forgotten? You’re the one who turned him into a damned little beast!”

Barty Crouch Jr. grabbed her by the hair and dragged her toward the house sealed by flames.

He forced her upright and made her watch as her family wailed inside the inferno.

“Your recklessness, your selfishness, everything you did without caring about the consequences, it has all fallen upon your family!”

“He should have gone to wizarding school next year and enjoyed everything he deserved. He could have lived without disaster or hardship. The King’s mercy would have shone upon him, and he would have received everything he was entitled to!”

“It was you!”

“You destroyed him! You destroyed this family! You destroyed this world!”

Visible fury twisted Barty Crouch Jr.’s face.

With a violent shove, he threw the terrified Acolyte to the ground.

Barty Crouch Jr. planted his foot on her head and said coldly, “The moment you became an Acolyte, all of this was destined to be destroyed because of you.”

“Just like the families you people destroyed.”

He kicked her in the head again and again.

“Sister!”

The female Acolyte’s nose had been broken.

She struggled to raise her head.

Her burning younger brother lay ahead of her, less than ten metres away, near the doorway.

His body had been burned black, yet he was still struggling to crawl toward her.

Then the flames swallowed him completely.

“No!”

It was more painful than death.

The female Acolyte regretted it.

She regretted acting on impulse.

She regretted those so-called ideals of hers.

She had once had a complete family, both parents alive and a clingy younger brother.

And now, with those flames…

No.

From the moment she became an Acolyte, all of it had already been destroyed.

After everything was done, Barty Crouch Jr. calmly looked at the Aurors.

“Don’t let her die. She still needs to tell us everything she knows.”

“I don’t care whether she’s sane or mad when she does.”

His words had already made the female Acolyte’s fate clear.

As the fuel burned away, the flames gradually died down.

Barty Crouch Jr. stood there silently, looking at the three dead members of the family.

A faint ripple appeared in his eyes.

“Once, I had a family like this too.”

His foolish choices had caused his mother to die in Azkaban.

His father had died as a sacrifice to those so-called ideals.

…

Barty Crouch Jr.’s methods were so ruthless that even John received complaints.

The Slovakian Minister for Magic slammed the table and furiously denounced Barty’s actions.

“That was a child! Eleven years old!” he shouted angrily. “He was supposed to attend wizarding school next year, yet he was burned alive inside that house alongside his parents!”

The representatives from other countries also had objections.

No matter what, a child was innocent.

John calmly swept his gaze across the room.

The quiet murmuring immediately disappeared.

Looking at the furious Slovakian Minister for Magic, John said calmly, “So you believe an eleven-year-old Acolyte should be pardoned?”

“Yes, Lord Wick!” the Minister replied sharply.

John did not get angry.

He merely said, “Eleven years old.”

“Next year, he would have carried those so-called ideals into one of Europe’s three wizarding schools.”

“Perhaps Hogwarts. Perhaps Durmstrang. Or perhaps Beauxbatons.”

His voice was neither loud nor soft, yet everyone listened intently.

“He would influence innocent young wizards. He would tell them about those ideals, about the new world, about the dangers of Muggles.”

“He would grow older with that seed buried in his heart. He would know how to deal with another wizard. He could stand behind a young wizard, point his wand at their back, and softly cast a Blasting Curse.”

“Or he would not even need a wand. During dinner, he could quietly take a fork or a table knife. Then, once his roommates, other people’s children, had fallen asleep, he could gently draw it across their throats.”

John’s tone never changed from beginning to end.

Yet the room gradually seemed to grow colder.

“The Acolytes are lunatics,” John said, looking at the Slovakian Minister for Magic. “Should an eleven-year-old lunatic be exempt from punishment?”

By now, the Slovakian Minister could no longer maintain his earlier forcefulness.

His voice lowered considerably.

“We should give him a chance.”

“A chance?”

John sighed.

“Would that chance be paid for by the countless families and young wizards who died in Acolyte attacks?”

“Or is it simply the result of your sudden compassion?”

The Slovakian Minister for Magic fell silent.

John turned his gaze toward the others.

“Gentlemen, I am not someone who enjoys killing. But if killing can bring peace to innocent wizards, then I can accept it.”

“So I understand the sympathy you feel for young Acolytes.”

“Our world is on the verge of collapse. Before us is a narrow bridge with no path of retreat.”

“Those villains are selfish and self-serving. If we do not show them our resolve, they will keep hoping they can get away with it.”

His gaze swept over several people who had lowered their heads.

“After all, there was once a time when absurd, clumsy lies became excuses for criminals who had taken lives to escape punishment.”

He was referring to the era of Voldemort, when things had become so ridiculous that the Ministry of Magic could practically sell indulgences for gold.

Because that group had never been completely uprooted, they had reappeared more than a decade later and once again rallied behind their Dark Lord.

John tapped the table, drawing everyone’s attention back to him.

He stood.

“Put away your mercy and show it to those who actually deserve it.”

“I can give you, no, I can give your mercy, a chance.”

He said calmly, “Those who have already joined the Acolytes may receive leniency if they can provide sufficient intelligence and have no blood on their hands.”

“But they will still be punished.”

“Whether they leave with their lives or die, go back and make that clear to them.”

John left the table and walked out.

Percy swept his gaze across the room, then stood and followed.

Charles Roland hurried after them.

“Wait, Lord Wick. What if someone can prove they were under the Imperius Curse?”

“Lord Wick is right,” German Minister for Magic Gresham said in a deep voice. “Our mercy should be given to those who need it. As for simple villains, let them burn to ash in the flames.”

He stood and left, glancing at Yelufan before walking out.

The members of the International Confederation of Wizards departed one after another.

They had all seen the determination of their leader.

Mercy was meant for those who truly needed it.

Just as John Wick reserved his mercy for wizards.

Yelufan was among the last to leave.

He looked at the empty seat.

If it had been Dumbledore, he would never have said those words.

He would have allowed that child to enter school.

He would not have let the entire family become corpses.

But then what?

“He is not merciful,” Yelufan said with a heavy sigh. “But he is right.”

He stood and left.

The wizarding world did not need a merciful leader.

What they needed was someone who could lead them down the right path.

That was something Dumbledore could not do.

Only John Wick could.

Yelufan finally let go of the small trace of rebellion he had been holding onto.

…

Lucius was extremely excited.

Because he had learned some inside information ahead of time.

The Quidditch Committee was going to approve the league system.

That meant the three Quidditch clubs he had acquired would receive the greatest opportunity for development.

And John had told him something else.

The British Wizarding League would elect a capable person to take charge, and Lucius would have to secure the nomination himself.

As long as he could win over the Department of Magical Games and Sports, the league clubs, and the Quidditch Committee, the position would be his.

It was basically the same as telling him outright that he would become the person in charge.

Everyone knew Bagman had to show him some sincerity, and Mente of the Quidditch Committee would certainly take the Second King’s wishes into account.

As for the league clubs?

Lucius only needed to say a word to the Ancient Alliance.

The position was as good as his.