Only after doing all this did Douglas toss him aside, turn around, and look at the deathly pale old man, who looked ready to collapse.
"Sorry, Mr. Crouch."
A trace of polite apology appeared on Douglas's face, but his voice betrayed no emotion.
"It was certainly rather rude of me to beat your son in front of you, his father."
"I..."
A dry, hoarse sound came from Old Crouch's throat.
"However, to ensure that we can have a friendly, calm conversation next, certain necessary preparations are unavoidable."
Douglas pointed at Barty Crouch Jr., who was struggling to breathe on the ground, and explained.
"You needn't worry about that potion just now. It wasn't poison, nor was it Veritaserum."
"It was merely the most basic magic suppressant, an enhanced version. It will ensure that your son cannot cast even the simplest Levitation Charm for the next few hours."
"After all,"
A cold smile curled Douglas's lips.
"I personally dislike being interrupted by ill-timed Cruciatus Curses during a serious conversation."
"You... you devil..."
Barty Crouch Jr. finally caught his breath on the ground. He raised his head and fixed Douglas with a stare filled with searing hatred.
"What did you do to my master?! What's with that statue?!"
He roared, his voice grotesquely distorted by anger and weakness.
"Oh, he seems to be recovering nicely. He's showing a healthy thirst for knowledge."
Douglas did not even look at him, merely shrugging at Old Crouch.
"Well then, Mr. Crouch, our family interview can now officially begin."
He walked over to the two deeply ironic statues standing side by side and leaned leisurely against the "bowing" statue of Voldemort.
"First, I'd like to ask you something, Mr. Crouch."
Douglas turned his gaze toward the anguished old man.
"How does it feel to see the