The Quidditch pitch was in ruins.

The stands were in pieces, suspended in the air in an eerie, weightless state.

The whole place is filled with magical plants, some ferocious and some lifeless.

Crouch's laughter became more and more crazy, and his mental state became more and more excited, which affected the spell he cast, making it more and more powerful.

There were bursts of laughter.

Neville said nothing, running around the Quidditch field, occasionally scattering a handful of seeds in fight back.

But this attack was useless against Crouch at this moment.

He was like a man bathed in Felicity.

Every spell he casts makes perfect use of the magic power in his body and is extremely accurate, causing great trouble to Neville.

Except for the first time.

Neville never got close again.

But he was not impatient at all. A good hunter must have enough patience, especially when dealing with such powerful prey.

patience.

He has always been very patient.

After rolling over to avoid another Cruciatus Curse, Neville stopped scattering seeds and instead took out a bottle of potion from his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and swallowed it in one gulp.

There was no change in the breath inside the body.

At the other end of the court, Crouch, who had always kept his distance from Neville, paused, raised his left hand and covered his head.

The world before my eyes became unreal.

The shadow of Voldemort appeared and stepped on Mr. Crouch and Mrs. Crouch one by one under his feet.

The lady looked at him with loving care and pity.

The gentleman is very disappointed with the student.

The two gazes stung him severely.

No……

wrong.

Crouch pinched himself hard. Now was not the time to think about these things. He looked away and looked at the magical plants around him.

He strained his eyes and finally found a small plant under the rhizome of a geranium.

The green plant, which is as long as a little finger and as thick as a feather pen, has several dark red bell-like flowers that open downwards, and individually grown deep purple spherical fruits embedded in five-pointed fleshy petals. All of them have burst into fullness, and a faint mist surges between them.

This mist blends perfectly with the frost and snow blowing into the stadium.

"Eggplant!" Crouch gritted his teeth and spit out the name of the plant through the gap.

As a double "O" winner in Herbology and Potions, he recognized it at a glance.

It's very dangerous.

But it is different from plants like dragon claw vine, devil's snare, biting cabbage, and poisonous geranium in that it does not have strong individual life characteristics and will not actively attack others. Instead, it will release magical mist during its growth process, and the user will fall into a huge and crazy fantasy, but this fantasy will not be fatal, or it can be said that simple fantasy is not fatal.

Many wizards like this plant.

Some older wizards may have gone insane because they took too much nightshade.

The Ministry of Magic once wanted to list this plant as a banned item, but there were too many potions that needed it, including many healing ointments and potions, so the proposal was eventually shelved.

Neville stopped and looked at Crouch calmly: "I don't know when you learned it in Hogwarts."

“But it’s fourth grade stuff.”

"Professor Sprout was very careful when teaching. Together with Madam Pomfrey, she conducted after-class inspections for each student, fearing that some students would develop some bad habits that they shouldn't have."

"It seems that you need help reviewing the relevant content again?"

He said the last sentence with a hint of satisfaction.

Isn't the hunter's ten minutes of distress just a preparation for the moment when the prey falls into the trap?

Crouch gritted his teeth.

I could hear the words clearly.

What does this sentence mean?

Are you mocking yourself?

"The little tricks I learned at Hogwarts are no match for me." The words he had just said seemed to still echo on the Quidditch field.

Neville rushed towards him.

Crouch stared straight ahead, but his vision was completely occupied by hallucinations and he could not see clearly.

I can only rely on my own will - during the time I was imprisoned in Hogwarts, I was always immersed in the environment. Snape's potion was much more real than the illusion of magical plants.

He was still able to maintain a certain degree of self-esteem.

Trying hard to distinguish the footsteps.

Neville didn't even give him that chance. With a wave of his wand, several dead plants deformed and turned into crude animals, which paced around in a chaotic manner.

Crouch raised his index finger.

"Longbottom!"

He chanted a spell, and magical power poured out, forming a huge storm centered on his body.

There was a burst of extremely violent wheezing.

The magical plants around him fell towards him unstoppably and were then torn apart in the strong wind.

Neville showed no fear.

He raised his wand and cast an armor spell to protect his body, while still continuously outputting magic power to maintain the spell.

Clank, clank—

He walked into the strong wind, the wind as sharp as a knife kept hitting the armor spell. Neville had difficulty walking, and every step he took had to resist an extremely powerful force.

The deeper you go, the stronger the power of the spell becomes, and the more violent the wind attacks become.

After just a few steps, the armor spell was broken.

The magic power was barely enough to sustain the spell, but his will still held on.

When Crouch could be vaguely seen.

The armor charm had been completely shredded.

The strong wind cut open holes in his body, his robes were torn into pieces, and his pale skin was stained blood red.

Crouch closed his eyes, ignoring everything, outputting magic power and maintaining the spell.

The hallucinogenic effects of Solanum melongena are limited.

As long as you can survive these fifteen minutes when the hallucination is the strongest, you will still have a chance to continue fighting.

Neville didn't give him the chance.

Reach out your hand.

A strong wind blew and cut hideous wounds on the back of his hands and arms.

With a loud bang, the armor spell was completely broken.

Neville used his body to resist the power of the spell, and every time he blinked, dozens of wounds appeared on his body.

The spell is recited.

"Expelliarmus!"

With a bang.

Crouch was knocked flying, and this time he didn't have time to cast the armor spell, and was thrown high into the air.

The strong wind stopped at this moment, leaving only the white mist slowly dissipating.

The index finger that he was holding tightly in his hand slipped out of his hand and fell at Neville's feet.

Neville stepped on it, took a deep breath, took out a bottle of healing potion, drank it, and then walked towards Crouch.

He still kept his eyes tightly shut.

Hallucinations do not occur selectively depending on whether his eyes are open or not.

In the dark vision.

His real father, Voldemort, was floating in the air arrogantly in a white robe.

At his feet.

Mr. and Mrs. Crouch were still looking at him with the same eyes as when the hallucination just came out.

"Longbottom, you know what?" Crouch began, speaking softly, but more like talking to himself.

"I should take my father's last name as my own."

"Instead of being called Crouch, you shouldn't be called Barty like that abominable man."

Neville didn't say anything, he just kept walking closer.

Crouch continued to ask: "Longbottom, why are you so obsessed with avenging your father?"

"Did he love you?"

"You were only one year old when I tortured them."

"How old are you now?"

He paused, his slow mind thinking: "You are in the sixth year, just like Potter, which means you are sixteen years old."

"For fifteen years, your father never loved you."

"They don't celebrate your birthday, they don't celebrate your achievements."

"Why, why?"

He tried to open his eyes.

But the hallucination continued, he couldn't see Neville clearly, and this time even Voldemort's figure disappeared, leaving only Mr. Crouch and Mrs. Crouch.

They both stood straight and were dressed formally.

This is the outfit I wore when I was a kid, imagining my parents seeing me off on the Hogwarts Express.

Neville didn't answer him.

He finally walked up to Crouch, raised his wand with trembling hands, and pointed it at the desperate man on the ground.

Cherry wood, unicorn hair.

A magic wand that can only be held by someone with strong self-control, outstanding mind, and a pure and kind heart.

But at this moment, it is ready and no longer resists those negative emotions.

Even if it was going to cooperate with its master and release that spell next—

Neville's hands were shaking, and so was his mouth.

He took a deep breath.

The sound of "po" was brewing on the tip of my tongue, ready to be pronounced, but I just couldn't utter it.

Struggling inside.

He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and waved his wand.

What was released was not the Cruciatus Curse.

The dead and chopped plants on the ground twisted into a wooden platform shaped like a street lamp. Several vines flew up and turned into ropes to hang Crouch like a sandbag.

Neville dropped his wand and the steel sword in his other hand.

He punched Crouch in the stomach and roared heartbreakingly: "Crucio!"

Another punch was thrown.

"Crucio!"

One sound after another, one punch after another.

Neville's angry, crying voice echoed in the empty Quidditch field.

Crouch's stomach was quickly broken.

Neville's fists were broken and rubbed by broken bones that pierced his flesh and blood, but he still did not stop.

"Crucio!"

"Crucio!"

He was only one year old at the time, so logically he should not remember much about what happened then.

He really couldn't remember.

But now, a flood of memories came pouring out, washing over his brain.

The scenes from that time appeared before my eyes.

Crouch was crying and wailing at first as Neville's fists broke his ribs, tore his stomach, and chopped up his intestines.

Gradually, there was no sound.

Wizards are not afraid of this kind of non-magical harm, but if a wizard loses his magic, he will just be an ordinary person.

His breathing became weak, but the magic power was barely enough to keep him alive.

But this also made him suffer for a longer time.

"Crucio!"

Neville threw one last punch. He didn't know how many punches he had thrown. The flesh on his fist was almost worn away and the bones were almost exposed.

With a click——

Crouch's spine was broken and half of his body fell down.