"By the way, Arthur, could you do me a small favor? I've been looking everywhere for Barty Crouch. There's an official from Bulgaria at my level who keeps shouting at me, and I can't understand a word he says. Barty's an expert at this sort of thing. He has a way with words and speaks a hundred and fifty languages."
"Mr. Crouch?" At the mention of Barty Crouch Sr.'s name, Percy's eyes immediately shone with admiration. "No, no, Mr. Bagman, Mr. Crouch speaks over two hundred languages! Even the melodious songs of Mermaids, the distinctive gobbling of turkeys, and the harsh Troll Language are no trouble for him!"
Fred curled his lip and cut in dismissively. "Hey, speaking Troll Language isn't much of an achievement. You just point at things and make a few grunting noises, and they understand. It's dead easy."
Percy's face darkened. He shot Fred a fierce glare, then stirred the kettle over the campfire even harder, as though he meant to boil his frustration along with it.
Ludo Bagman found a spot on the grass beside them and sat down. Mr. Weasley took the opportunity to ask, "Still no news about Bertha Jorkins, Ludo?"
Bagman shrugged, looking perfectly relaxed. "Don't get me started. She's vanished into thin air—not a trace of her anywhere. But you know what Jorkins's memory is like. It's a cauldron with no bottom. Add her dreadful sense of direction, and she must have got lost."
"But don't worry. One of these days, Jorkins might just wander back into the Ministry of Magic to work, none the wiser."
"Shouldn't we send someone to look for Jorkins?" Mr. Weasley asked with a slight frown. Just then, Percy handed Bagman a steaming cup of tea.
"Oh, Barty Crouch thinks so too," Bagman said, lounging on