Mr. Crouch, I'll wait for you outside

McGonagall's angry expression froze, her gaze passing over the doorway and landing inside the office.

Several streams of Magic Power, moving in different directions, crisscrossed the stone wall and cabinet surface, intersecting with each other, striking the wizard's protective aura, and then sparking new changes at their intersection.

There were also some near the floor, around the table legs, under the chairs, filling the entire room.

She quickly noticed something was amiss: the Magic was still in effect, and the people inside were still suffering from it, yet a small, quiet area remained beside Horace.

The Magic Power that crashed into it vanished as it approached, while another surge returned from the side and rear, disappearing again at the point of contact.

The boundaries kept adjusting, without any heavy barriers pushing outwards or deflecting the Magic Power elsewhere. Horace remained unharmed amidst the intertwined Magic Power.

Within the mixed Magic Power, there was a consistently coherent order. As soon as a change occurred, an offsetting effect would immediately follow, preventing any uncontrolled shocks from occurring in the surrounding area.

As McGonagall stepped across the threshold, the Magic Power before her feet subsided, and the wisp of magic that had approached her vanished the moment it touched her senses.

Her gaze followed the change and fell on the source of the Magic Power in the air.

Regulus sat there, his right hand resting on the armrest, his index finger hovering above the armrest, his eyes fixed on Moody to the side of the fireplace.

McGonagall's eyes widened slightly. She didn't know the specifics of the spell before her, but she could distinguish between attack, defense, and the blank space specifically left in the attack.

She lowered her gaze and saw Crouch's half-face peeking out from the table.

His shoulders were half off the ground, his fingers gripping the carpet, blood smeared around his mouth, and two streaks of blood trickled down below his ears. He tried to pull himself up with his arms, but his shoulders and back couldn't keep up, and his body fell back down.

The Auror beside him stared intently at Regulus, his wrist rising slightly before trembling and falling back down. Another figure was curled up beside the glass case, its abdomen contracted, its mouth and nose covered in blood.

The younger one looked like he was dying; his face was almost completely covered in dirt, his chest was rising and falling weakly, and his Magic Power was still circulating wildly, but he was still alive.

There were no wood chips scattered all over the room, nor was there an exploded medicine cabinet. The four people lay on the ground, and the Potions ingredients and glass bottles on the shelf were still intact.

She noticed the suppressed discomfort on Moody's face and recognized his demeanor when facing extreme danger.

Her gaze returned to Regulus's hand, where the stored Magic Power shared the same origin as the Magic Power scattered throughout the room, yet its texture had undergone a deeper transformation.

She was all too familiar with the techniques of constraining the target during Transfiguration; no matter how the shape changed or how the internal structure was adjusted, there was always something that needed to be maintained.

The Magic Power before her made her feel that the original connection of the target was under threat, and she couldn't even tell what should be left after the change.

She suddenly remembered that last semester, Regulus had asked whether an object's self-identification could be completely stripped away, and if the original identification disappeared and a new form was given, could it bypass the tendency to revert to its original form?

At the time, she thought it was an academic deduction, a clever child's curiosity about the boundaries of Transfiguration. She affirmed that path from a theoretical perspective, but also reminded him that the window was extremely narrow and had already gone beyond the scope of Transfiguration.

She hadn't thought about it carefully at the time, whether it was something that could fall on a person, but now, looking at the little bit of Magic Power it held, she understood.

A labored breathing came from the floor. Crouch's hand clenched again, his nails scraping across the carpet, pulling McGonagall's thoughts back to the present.

She raised her hand to her lips and whispered, "Merlin..."

This was not what she had expected. She had prepared herself for a head-on confrontation before entering, intending to stop Crouch, but the scene before her left her speechless for a moment.

Slughorn braced himself on the edge of the chair, wand in hand, his upper body already raised, his gaze shifting back and forth between Regulus's hand and Moody's.

McGonagall lowered her hand, looked at him, and asked with surprise, "Horace?"

"It can still be cured," Slughorn replied immediately, his gaze sweeping over the people on the ground before returning to the raised index finger. "But we need to get them to stop first."

It's still treatable now; the hemostatic medicine is in the cabinet. But if Regulus were to drop his finger, there would be no cure, no way to treat him at all.

Moody's voice was heavy with breaths. "Minerva, tell him to put his hand down first."

McGonagall turned to him, her tone turning serious. "Alastor, how far do you intend to take this?"

"Barty's going to take his wand away," Slughorn chimed in, his expression also grim. "He's even planning to force-feed him Veritaserum right here."

McGonagall glanced quickly at Crouch on the ground, then turned to Slughorn, her face darkening. "Veritaserum?"

"Right in my office, I told him that Orion had been notified to remain at the school."

McGonagall's gaze fell on Crouch again, her lips pressed even tighter, and her displeasure deepened.

Crouch could hear him. He jerked his fingers back and tried to prop himself up on his arms, at least to sit up so they could hear him.

His shoulders lifted, and the table leg in front of him flipped over. He opened his mouth, but his stomach churned, and he couldn't utter a single word.

His arm went limp again, his shoulder slammed heavily onto the carpet, and his bloodied chin also hit the ground.

McGonagall watched him finish his fuss before speaking seriously, "You can wait a bit, Barty."

Crouch's face showed embarrassment.

Regulus maintained the raised finger position, and Moody's staff tip didn't deviate either.

McGonagall then looked at Regulus and called out softly, "Mr. Black."

Regulus tilted his head slightly, his gaze leaving Moody's face and landing on McGonagall. His index finger slowly curled back, and the Magic Power in front of his hand dissipated.

The Magic Power still at work inside the room was also removed, the back-and-forth between the stone walls and the glass cabinet stopped, the boundary used to counteract the fluctuations beside Slughorn was finally removed, and the air at the doorway returned to normal.

The danger and oppression that McGonagall had sensed vanished, and she couldn't even find any leakage of Magic Power caused by hastily suppressing it.

Slughorn loosened his grip on his wand, and his belly, which had been clenched tightly, finally began to slowly deflate.

Moody finally caught his breath, his vision no longer shifting with the new wave of impact. He was still nauseous, and sweat was still seeping from his forehead, but he was able to bring his breathing back to a controlled rhythm.

Crouch's injuries stopped worsening, the continuous damage to his body ceased, and his fragmented thoughts gradually came back together.

The vague, inexplicable discomfort gradually subsided, and my thoughts slowly came together from their scattered state, finally allowing me to distinguish which way my arms and legs were pointing.

He took a couple of breaths and tried to support himself with his hands, but his arms were trembling so badly that he had to stop.

Regulus's indifference vanished. He stood up, straightened his robes, and nodded slightly to McGonagall: "Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall looked at him, her gaze somewhat complicated.

A few days ago, under the tree, the child used her words to tease Aksha, telling him to go back to sleep, and he responded just like that, properly and politely.

Regulus walked up to her, his hand casually smoothing out his sleeve.

McGonagall didn't say anything reproachful; her expression softened somewhat. "Your father has arrived and is waiting for you on the stone bridge outside."

Regulus nodded. "Understood, Professor."

Crouch heard that Orion had arrived and his eyes darted around.

It probably wanted to see someone, but first turned towards the door, then turned back, facing McGonagall. Its body was still lying down, but its eyes seemed to have their own ideas and weren't very obedient.

Slughorn put his wand aside, and a smile returned to his face.

He walked to the table, bent down to hold Crouch's arm, and supported his back with his other hand, turning him over first.

He spoke very warmly and attentively, "Come on, Barty, sit down first, take your time."

Crouch couldn't muster any strength in his legs, and halfway up, his knees buckled again.

Slughorn helped the person up, using a small Levitation Charm to distribute the weight, and a chair nearby floated over slightly, helping the person sit down.

"This child, only thirteen years old, gets so angry he doesn't know his own strength," the old man sighed, his tone a mix of kindness and reproach. "How could I have done this to you? I'll put him in solitary confinement later!"

Crouch barely managed to lift his eyes to look at him. His mouth and nose were covered in blood, and there were bloodstains at the corners of his eyes. The two deep nasolabial folds around his mouth were filled with blood, making it impossible to see the original grooves.

He tried to purse his lips, but his left cheek twitched, making his expression even more unpleasant.

Slughorn looked serious, as if he was really going to deal with Regulus's disciplinary issues.

He raised his hand and waved it behind him, the glass cabinet opened, and several bottles flew out from different shelves and landed on the table. He took out a narrow-mouthed cup, poured the medicine into it, and handed it to Crouch.

Crouch reached out to take it, but couldn't quite grasp it properly. Slughorn considerately held it for him, urging with concern, "Drink this first."

Crouch dazedly swallowed the medicine, his throat moving with difficulty, nausea rising in his stomach but he swallowed it back down.

After a while, the shaking in my mind finally began to lessen, and the scenery in front of me gradually came to rest in place, allowing my consciousness to finally retain a complete thought.

Slughorn turned to check on the young Auror, crouching down to discern his Magic Power and breathing, and retrieved another vial of medicine to treat him.

The white light at the tip of Moody's wand had faded. His arm was lowered slightly, the wand still in his hand, his stance shifting from one of readiness to one of vigilance.

Regulus turned to him, his tone softening. "Mr. Moody, excellent Sidestep Charm."

Moody's gaze was fixed on his face, but he didn't say anything.

After a moment of silence, his body no longer maintained the posture of pouncing at any moment. He slightly pulled back his hind leg, which was bracing against the carpet, and his shoulders relaxed a little, but the vigilance in his eyes became even stronger.

Regulus walked past him and came to the table.

Crouch, leaning on the armrest, was still slightly swaying, his face ashen and covered in blood. He raised his head when he heard footsteps, waiting for the swaying silhouettes in front of him to come back into view.

Regulus stopped in front of him, facing Crouch with a detached expression. "Mr. Crouch, I'll be waiting for you outside."

After saying that, he stopped looking at him, turned to Slughorn, his eyes smiling again, and said in a friendly voice, "Professor."

Slughorn had just put the medicine bottle down when he looked up and smiled helplessly, "You, go ahead."

Regulus nodded, turned, and followed McGonagall toward the door.

Hurried footsteps echoed down the Corridor. The first Auror to arrive appeared by the open door. Upon seeing the scene inside, his expression changed drastically, and he immediately reached for his wand.

Moody's gruff voice rang out. "Save them first. The rest of you stay outside and don't move without orders."

The newcomer glanced at Crouch in the chair, then at his three colleagues, gave a brief reply, and turned to relay the order.

McGonagall led Regulus out the door, walking slightly ahead of him. Her face was serious. She didn't ask any questions or say anything more, just walked forward quickly.

Someone went into the office to help the wounded, Slughorn stopped them and handed them the medicine on the table. "Take this first, and help him up when he can lift his head. Do the same to the one next to the cabinet, don't rush to carry him away."

Crouch sat in the chair, waiting for the drug to subside the last wave of intense dizziness, and his fragmented thoughts finally reconnected.

The initial plan had completely failed. He hadn't managed to create the time difference needed to take Black away; Black family had already arrived.

But things haven't reached the point where it's solely up to Black to decide.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has officially launched an investigation into Wilton's murder, and now with the Auror attacked, the original case still needs to be verified. The current conflict can serve as a reason to continue taking action.

He needs to keep the follow-up reports and plans in his possession; he can't let this injury ultimately be explained solely by his personal misjudgment.

Young Black would dare to make a move was no longer a question, but Orion was different.

Orion is the Patriarch of Black family, whose businesses span both domestic and international territories, and he has connections with the Ministry of Magic, Pure-bloods families, and Europe.

For these relationships to remain within the Ministry of Magic's order, he couldn't let things spiral out of control.

Now that he's arrived, he has to respond to his son's behavior and consider the consequences of things continuing to escalate in public.

As long as he can bring the matter back to negotiation, he still has room to maneuver.

Crouch tried to straighten his body, a wave of discomfort washing over him. His ears felt muffled, and his vision blurred. He raised his fingers to his ear and touched it, finding only blood.

The discomfort is hidden deeper inside, separated by skin and flesh, making it impossible to even find where to press.

He lowered his hand, his facial muscles twitched again, and he struggled to close his lips.

His voice was hoarse, but he finally managed to speak coherently, "Tell the people outside to hold their positions, I'm coming right away."