What does death feel like?
For those who are still alive, it is clearly an unsolvable problem.
But for Barty Crouch Jr. Crouch Jr., the answer to that question is already clear.
After ending his own life, he felt that his brain could no longer think.
Consciousness seemed to be severed; all thoughts, emotions, and memories came to an abrupt halt in that instant.
Then came darkness, pure, boundless darkness.
He couldn't perceive time and didn't know how much time had passed, but his consciousness suddenly refocused, as if a force was pushing him forward at an incredible speed.
Surprisingly, he did not feel any discomfort.
Then he saw the light.
The first thing Barty Crouch Jr. Crouch. did upon opening his eyes was to check his body.
Only after confirming that no one was missing an arm or a leg did he begin to look around.
He was in the middle of a strange desert. The sky was bright, but there was no sun, and a thin layer of white mist filled the air.
Most disturbingly, just a few steps away, stood a man in a black robe, staring at him without moving.
Barty Crouch Jr. immediately became alert.
He instinctively reached for his waist, but his fingers grasped at empty air; the wand wasn't there.
"Where is this? Answer me!" he shouted at the man in front of him.
The man pulled down his hood, and his first words were. "You are dead, young man."
Dead?
Barty Crouch Jr. then remembered that he had committed suicide.
"Ha. I'm dead. I'm dead."
He murmured to himself, spun around in place, and felt the sensation beneath his feet—it felt so real.
"So this is the world of the dead?" He quickly calmed down.
"Yes and no," the man said, "I blocked your soul, that's why you can see me."
Stop the soul?
Barty Crouch Jr. was stunned for a moment upon hearing this absurd statement.
He suppressed his shock and asked in a deep voice, "Who are you?"
The man calmly replied, "You can call me Death, or Scrape."
Death.
For a moment, Barty Crouch Jr.'s mind went blank.
That's impossible.
In the Wizarding World, everyone has heard the legends about the Death.
But legends are just legends.
No one has ever truly seen Death, nor does anyone know if it exists or in what form.
But now... Barty Crouch Jr. has no other choice but to believe.
"Then why did you stop me?" His tone was very serious.
"Do me a favor," Scrape said flatly. "In return, I can let you temporarily return to the world of the living. If you succeed, you can stay there indefinitely."
Barty Crouch Jr.'s pupils suddenly contracted.
"Can you bring me back to life?" he asked nervously.
Scrape nodded calmly. "This is your only chance. Once you truly step into the world of the dead, there will be no more possibilities. You will become a complete dead."
Barty Crouch Jr. immediately asked, "What do you want me to do?"
Instead of answering directly, Scrape started walking and slowly circled Barty Crouch Jr..
Barty Crouch Jr. stood still, yet he felt that the man who called himself " Death " had seen through everything about him.
Scrape stopped in front of him.
"I can sense it," he said. "Your death is related to my enemies."
"Even Death has enemies?"
"Yes," Scrape continued, "And there are many. What I need you to do is help me kill that man and send his soul here."
"I'd be happy to," Barty Crouch Jr. said almost without hesitation. "So, who do you want me to kill?"
"A man named Morris," Scrape said.
Morris!
Barty Crouch Jr.'s jaw suddenly clenched, but he quickly calmed down and asked again, "What's your full name?"
Scrape shook his head. "I don't know. But judging from your reaction, it should be clear who it is."
Barty Crouch Jr..'s expression darkened. " Morris Black."
Without a doubt, that person could only be Morris Black.
Who exactly was the student who drove him to this point?
How could he possibly become an enemy of Death?
" Morris Black," Scrape repeated, drawing his wand and taking a step forward, "I will now give you a spell. When you return, you will find your body rotting. Don't worry, this spell will slow the process and give you enough power to kill Morris Black."
"Once you complete this task, I will grant you true life."
Barty Crouch Jr.'s breath hitched, then a look of doubt crossed his face. "Then why don't you do it yourself?"
Since he is the Death, killing an ordinary wizard should be effortless for him.
Scrape didn't hide anything.
"I can only stay in this place," he slowly turned around, facing the distant gray sky, "The world of the living is one I cannot set foot in."
Barty Crouch Jr. nodded and didn't ask any more questions.
That's enough of the small talk.
Scrape raised his wand, pointing it at Barty Crouch Jr..'s forehead. "Remember, don't keep me waiting too long. Also, our conversation is confidential; if you ever try to reveal my existence to anyone, your soul will instantly turn to dust."
"I understand." Barty Crouch Jr.'s face showed no fear, only excitement.
In an instant, darkness once again swallowed his consciousness.
"Ugh."
Barty Crouch Jr. struggled to his feet and stretched his limbs.
At this moment, he could barely feel his body, but he could control it.
The experience was bizarre, like touching something while wearing heavy fur gloves.
As his vision returned, Barty Crouch Jr. began to look around.
The light was dim, with only a few rays of moonlight seeping in through the cracks in the window.
He recognized the place—it was his room. There was a Quidditch poster on the wall, a gift from his House-elf.
Barty Crouch Jr. wanted to move around, but found himself placed in a large wooden box.
No, it's not a wooden box.
It's a coffin.
He touched his heart and found no movement there, yet his body was indeed acting according to his will.
This contradiction caused him to momentarily lose his composure.
It's not a hallucination.
What I just saw and heard was all true.
very good.
Barty Crouch Jr. turned and left his room, heading straight for the living room.
The living room was dark, with only the dim glow of the remaining flame in the fireplace illuminating a figure.
That was his father, Barty Crouch, who shared the same name as him.
Crouch sat on the sofa, staring motionlessly at the last embers in the fireplace, seemingly lost in thought.
Barty Crouch Jr. stood behind the sofa, neither speaking nor moving.
He simply watched his father quietly.