"Little Crouch. Alan judged the identity of the man with certainty.

He used perceptual magic, searching for information from Crouch Jr. and Moody's fur he had just acquired.

The result of the light curtain was none other than Moody's hurrying from the hospital to his office.

Then Moody is a little Crouch in disguise, there is no doubt about it.

As little Crouch regained his true form, the hair on Allen's magic circle turned from blonde to brown.

Little Crouch and Mr. Crouch look too much alike.

It's just that the look is very different, Mr. Crouch has a serious face, and this little Crouch, even the hair reveals a stubbornness.

He kicked his prosthetic leg away impatiently, his eyes showing cruelty and madness, and then he put his hand on the edge of the box and jumped neatly to the bottom of the box.

Hearing the voice, Moody, who had been lying motionless on the ground, opened his eyes, and his description was very embarrassing, and the black blood stained almost covered half of his face.

He squinted his eyes and looked at Crouch's stray hair, "Have you been plucked?"

He laughed maniacally and coughed violently.

Crouch Jr. was visibly enraged, and he strode over to Moody, who was curled up on the ground, and kicked him hard.

Moody let out a muffled curse, which made Crouch Jr.'s expression even more hideous.

He pulled out his wand and aimed it at Moody, "Dig into the heart." ”

Moody gritted his teeth and lay there as dead as he endured the pain all over his body.

Little Crouch's eyes gradually became crazy, "Drill the heart and cut the bones." ”

Moody couldn't help but let out a muffled, meaningless sound, and his body twitched with excruciating pain and restraint.

His fists were clenched tightly, his pale nails and fingers stained with red spots.

"Alan Harris, when my master returns, I must have him hand you over to me, and then I will drain all your nerves and turn you into a puppet alive, unable to survive or die. ”

"Alan Harris, haha, you can't beat a single player, and you still want to do something right under Dumbledore's nose, I'm waiting for you to be executed by the Dementors!" Moody laughed hysterically.

"Die hard, my master has a lot of Death Eaters, I'll find a suitable helper. ”

Crouch struck the bone again, then ignored Moody, who was trembling in pain, and returned to the office from the box.

He picked up a curved bottle and took a big sip, and gradually, he became Moody's again.

Alan got the answer he wanted, and he also dissolved the perception magic and left the perception room.

In the first-floor hall, he unexpectedly saw Mrs. Harris and Daisy.

They were talking excitedly around an old-fashioned bronze trumpet phonograph.

"Mom, Daisy, how do you have this gramophone?" For a moment, Alan seemed to see the gramophone in the room when he first studied "The Secret of the Soul".

Hermione's parents sent Dobby to the house as a gift in return, and Daisy thought the gramophone would be a good match for the hall, so we moved in. It is said that in the Muggle world it is still an antique. It's French!" laughed Mrs. Harris.

"The French EMI brass trumpet flower hand-cranked phonograph, produced in 1910, is really old, but it's really beautiful!" Daisy loves the old feel.

"Why don't we listen to it?" Alan picked up the vinyl that was sitting next to him and placed it on the gramophone.

The melody of steel and softness flows out, and the violin leads the melody in a high-pitched and restrained manner, like a woman stepping on the steps of a tango, with noble steps and an attitude of arrogance and arrogance, entangled in the desire and rejection of her dance partner.

"Tango music "por una cabeza". Daisy hummed softly to the music.

Alan flipped through the films, which contained a lot of jazz and tango.

After saying hello, Alan left the tower and returned to Hogwarts.

A feathered letter suddenly appeared in front of him.

Alan opened the envelope and plucked the phoenix tail feathers from the letter.

"White chocolate magic wand. "Other than that, there are no words.

Alan immediately understood that this was the password to enter the principal's office.

Looking at the time, Alan walked directly to the principal's office.

"White chocolate magic wand. With that, the ugly stone beast guarding the headmaster's room jumped aside, and Alan jumped onto the self-rotating escalator.

Allen's hand grasped the brass knocker in the shape of a sphin-headed embogriff, and opened the gleaming oak door.

The fine silverware sat on the long-legged table again, swirling silently and puffing smoke. Portraits of the schoolboys and girls of yesteryear are snoring in frames, heads lazily leaning back in armchairs or leaning against the portraits.

"Alan Harris, what is the wind that brought you here? I want to thank you for rehabilitating my useless great-grandson and leaving hope for us Black. Phineas said with a serious expression, contrary to his usual lazy attitude.

"You're gracious, Sirius has given me enough in return. Alan responded politely, not losing his courtesy because the other party was just a portrait.

Bright green flames burst out of the empty fireplace, and Dumbledore's tall figure emerged from the fire.

"Good evening, Alan. Maybe we need some custard cookies and a white chocolate wand. Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace and invited Alan to sit across from the Headmaster's long table.

Alan watched as the two foods flew onto the long table, but he didn't have an appetite at all.

Alan looked at Dumbledore suspiciously, and Dumbledore looked as if he hadn't noticed Alan's probing eyes.

"Mr. Harris, the Board of Trustees has no authority to punish professors. Dumbledore commanded a silver iron kettle to fly and automatically poured them two glasses of pumpkin juice.

"Just as a professor doesn't have the right to physically punish a student. Alan picked up the pumpkin juice, sniffed it gently, and took a sip.

"Let's not talk about these pointless things yet. Alan pinched a strand of brown hair and placed it in front of Dumbledore.

"It's—" Dumbledore tugged at his glasses.

"Professor Moody's hair, or Barty Crouch Jr.'s hair. Alan looked at Dumbledore's expression and became solemn.

"He infiltrated the school for the obvious purpose, Harry. Alan stared at Dumbledore.

The custard biscuits and chocolate bars were forgotten aside.

"You know the spell that uses the blood of the enemy to resurrect, right?" asked Allen.

"Of course, he must be trying to use the Three Witches Tournament to get Harry out of my sight. He must want Harry to play. Dumbledore's hands folded and his chin rested.

"Just a strong confusion charm, or ask someone else to cast it for you. Dumbledore muttered.