After HP shared the dream, Lao Fu was conquered by me

"not like this……"

Shanshan tugged at the corner of her clothes, trying to make her words clear.

But this time no one wanted to listen.

"Amos, think about who you're talking to!" said Mr. Weasley angrily. "Can Harry Potter conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Oh—of course not," muttered Mr. Diggory vaguely. "I'm sorry—I got carried away—"

"I didn't leave it there," Harry pointed with his thumb towards the bushes below the skull. "My wand disappeared just as we entered the woods."

"So," Mr. Diggory said, looking back at Winky, who was curled up at his feet, his eyes became cold. "Leprechaun, you were the one who found this wand, weren't you? You picked it up. , thought you could have some fun with it, didn’t you?”

"I didn't do any magic with it, sir!" shrieked Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed, bulbous nose. "I... I... I just picked it up, sir! I didn't make the Dark Mark, sir. I don't know how!"

"That's not her!" said Hermione—she looked very nervous speaking in front of so many Ministry officials, but she didn't flinch—"Winky has a high-pitched voice, and the one we just heard chanting the spell was much deeper!" She turned to Harry and Ron, asking for their approval. "That doesn't sound like Winky at all, does it?"

"Yes," said Harry, nodding. "That voice was definitely not that of an elf."

"Yeah, that's a human voice," said Ron.

"And when I was in the tree, I saw that person. He was a man, and..."

Lamia paused and looked at Barty Crouch.

"Go on." Barty Crouch had a bad feeling, but he gritted his teeth and said it under Lamia's gaze.

"That man is Little Barty."

Lamia's words shocked everyone on the field speechless, especially Barty and Crouch. He seemed to be shaking with anger, and his mustache kept shaking.

"What did you say!"

"I said, the one who conjured the Dark Mark was your son, Barty Jr."

Lamia said fearlessly, but perhaps it was her attitude that calmed Barty Crouch down, and he sneered in a mocking tone.

"Impossible, he's not here now."

Not many officials from the Ministry of Magic were willing to express their opinions, and some even felt that Lamia should not speak out about this at this time.

"Perhaps I could see what magic this wand has been used for before," said Mr. Diggory.

He raised his wand and connected it with Harry's.

"Flashback!" roared Mr. Diggory.

Lamia saw with her own eyes the same horrible, snake-tongued skull emerge from the place where the two wands met, but it was only the shadow of the green skull above their heads. It seemed to be made of thick gray smoke: a magical ghost.

"Vanish!" cried Mr. Diggory, and the smoke-skeleton vanished in a wisp of smoke.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Digory seemed to be convinced that it was Winky who did it. He put on a very cruel and smug expression and looked at Winky at his feet. Winky was still trembling violently.

"It wasn't me!" she shrieked, her eyes rolling in terror. "It wasn't me, it wasn't me, I didn't know how! I'm a good elf, I didn't fiddle with the wand, I didn't know how!"

"You've been caught red-handed, goblin!" roared Mr. Diggory. "And caught with this criminal wand in your hand!"

"Amos," cried Mr. Weasley, "just think about it... there are only a handful of wizards who can perform that spell... where did she learn it?"

"Perhaps Diggory is suggesting," said Mr. Crouch, his voice cold with anger in every syllable, "that I regularly teach my servants to cast the Dark Mark? Or do you think it's my good-for-nothing son who did it?"

There was a very oppressive silence, and Mr. Diggory said, as if frightened, "Mr. Crouch... no... absolutely not..."

"You have now, in almost obvious terms, accused two persons in this clearing who were least likely to have produced the Mark!" roared Mr. Crouch. "Harry Potter—and me! You are, I suppose, familiar with the boy's origins, Amos?"

"Of course—everyone knows—" muttered Mr. Diggory, looking very frightened.

"You remember, I'm sure, that throughout my long career I've had plenty of evidence of my dislike and hatred for the Dark Arts and all who dabble in them, don't you?" cried Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging again.

"Mr. Crouch, I—I never meant to suggest you had anything to do with it!" muttered Amos Diggory again, his face flushing crimson behind his brown beard.

"You accuse my elf, and you accuse me, Diggory!" cried Mr. Crouch. "Where else could she have learned to do such magic?"

"She—perhaps she learned it by chance somewhere—"

"That's right, Amos," said Mr. Weasley. "She might have picked it up somewhere by accident... Winky?" He turned kindly to the elf, but she shrank back as if he were shouting at her too. "Where on earth did you find Harry's wand?"

Twinkle was twisting the edge of her tea towel so hard that her fingers were so tight that the edge came undone.

"I—I found it—there, sir," she whispered, "there—in the woods, sir—"

"See, Amos?" said Mr. Weasley. "Whoever cast the Mark, whoever they were, Apparated away after they had done it, dropping Harry's wand. It was a clever move on their part not to use their own wands, so as not to betray their identities. A moment later, this unfortunate Winky happened upon the wand and picked it up."

"Did you see anyone? Don't say it's Little Barty again. He can't be here now."

Mr. Diggory's eyes fell on Lamia.

Winky was shaking even more than before, and her big, lightbulb eyes looked from Mr. Diggory to Ludo Bagman, then to Mr. Crouch, and finally to Lamia with a long glance.

Then she took a deep breath, as if making up her mind, and said, "I don't see anyone, sir... not a single person..."

"Amos," said Mr. Crouch stiffly, "I am fully aware that the normal procedure would be for you to bring Winky into your office for questioning; nevertheless, I ask your permission to deal with her in my own way."

Mr. Diggory seemed reluctant to this suggestion, but Harry knew that Mr. Crouch was a very important figure in the Ministry of Magic, and Mr. Diggory did not dare to refuse him.

"Don't worry, she will be punished," added Mr. Crouch coldly.

"M-M-M-Master..." Winky looked up at Mr. Crouch, tears in her eyes, and stammered, "M-M-M-Master, p-p-please..."

Mr. Crouch stared at her, his face hardened, every line standing out, his eyes devoid of any mercy.

Lamia watched the whole thing with mockery. She realized that these so-called officials of the Ministry of Magic no longer had their own thoughts.