Chapter 438: Cutting Out the Heart and Bones

The Quidditch pitch had become a mess.

The stands were in pieces, suspended in the air in a strange, weightless state.

Magical plants, either snarling or lifeless, were scattered all over the place.

Crouch laughed more and more crazily, and his mental state became more and more excited, which affected the spells he cast and became more and more powerful.

There were bursts of jeers.

Neville didn't answer and ran around the Quidditch pitch, dropping handfuls of seeds from time to time to fight back.

But this kind of offensive is of no avail in front of Crouch at this moment.

It was like he was soaked in an elixir.

Every magic spell can perfectly utilize the magic power in the body, and it can also be extremely accurate, causing great trouble for Neville.

Except for the first time.

Neville never got closer.

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

patience.

He has always been patient.

After rolling to avoid another Cruciatus Curse, Neville no longer dropped the seeds, but took out a bottle of potion from his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and swallowed it in one gulp.

There is no change in the breath within the body.

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

The world in front of me becomes illusory.

Voldemort's shadow came out and stepped on Mr. and Mrs. Crouch one at a time under his feet.

The lady stared at him lovingly and pitifully.

Mr. hates that iron cannot be turned into steel.

Two sets of gazes stung him hard.

No.

wrong.

Crouch pinched himself hard. Now was not the time to think about this. He moved his eyes away and looked at the magical plants around him.

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

A green plant as long as a little finger and as thick as a quill, with a few bell-like dark red flowers that open downwards, and dark purple spherical fruits that grow individually and are embedded in the five-pointed petals, all of which burst open to the full. A faint mist surged between puffs and puffs.

This mist blended perfectly with the frost and snow blowing in the stadium.

"Episodes!" Crouch gritted his teeth and spat out the name of the plant through the cracks.

As a double "O" winner in Herbalism and Potions, he recognized him immediately.

It's dangerous.

But the danger is different from plants such as dragon's claw vine, devil's net, biting cabbage, and fang geranium. It does not have strong individual life characteristics, and it will not actively attack others. Instead, it will release With magical mist, users will fall into huge and crazy fantasies, but these fantasies will not be fatal, or pure fantasies will not be fatal.

Many wizards like this plant.

Some older wizards go crazy because they take too much nectar.

The Ministry of Magic once wanted to list this plant as a contraband, but there were so many potions that needed it, including many healing ointments and potions, that the proposal fell through.

Neville stopped and looked at Crouch calmly: "I wonder when you learned it in Hogwarts."

“But it’s fourth grade stuff.”

"Professor Sprout is very careful when teaching. Together with Madam Pomfrey, they do an after-class check-up for each student, for fear that some students will contract some bad habits that they shouldn't have."

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

In his last words, he was more or less happy.

Isn't the hunter's ten minutes of embarrassment just preparing for the moment when the prey falls into the trap?

Crouch gritted his teeth.

The words were heard clearly.

What does this sentence mean?

Are you mocking yourself?

"The little tricks I learned from Hogwarts are useless against me." The words he just said seemed to be still spinning on the Quidditch pitch.

Neville rushed towards him.

Crouch stared straight ahead, but his field of vision was completely occupied by hallucinations, and he couldn't see clearly.

He could only rely on his own will - during the time he was imprisoned in Hogwarts, he had been immersed in the environment. Snape's potion was much more real than the mere hallucination of magical plants.

He could barely maintain a certain sense of himself.

Trying to distinguish the footsteps.

Neville didn't even give him this chance. With a wave of his wand, several dead plants deformed and turned into rough animals, strutting around in confusion.

Crouch raised his index finger.

"Longbottom!"

He chanted the spell, and the magic power poured out, creating a huge storm centered on his body.

The huffing and puffing was extremely violent.

The magical plants around him fell inexorably towards him and were torn to pieces in the fierce wind.

Neville showed no fear.

He raised his wand and cast the armor spell, protecting his body and continuously outputting magic power to maintain the spell.

Bang, bang, bang—

He walked into the strong wind. The knife-like wind kept hitting the armor spell. Neville walked with difficulty, resisting extremely powerful force at every step.

The deeper you go, the stronger the spell becomes, and the stronger the wind attacks.

After just a few steps, the armor charm was completely damaged.

The magic was barely holding on to the spell, but his will held on.

When Crouch can be vaguely seen.

The armor spell has been completely torn apart.

The strong wind cut holes on his body one after another, his robes shattered, and his pale skin was stained with blood.

Crouch closed his eyes, outputting magic power and maintaining the spell regardless of everything else.

The hallucinogenic effects of epilepsy are limited.

As long as he survives the fifteen minutes when the illusion is at its strongest, there is still a chance to continue fighting.

Neville wouldn't give him that chance.

Reach out.

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

There was a loud bang, and the armor spell completely broke.

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

The mantra is uttered.

"Weapons of destruction!"

There was a bang.

Crouch was knocked away, and this time he didn't have time to recite the armor spell and threw it high.

The strong wind stopped at this moment, leaving only the mist slowly drifting away.

The index finger that he held tightly in his hand broke away from his hand and fell at Neville's feet.

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

He still had his eyes tightly closed.

Hallucinations do not occur selectively depending on whether he opens his eyes or not.

In the dark vision.

His real father, Voldemort, was floating proudly in the air, dressed in white robes.

at his feet.

Mr. Crouch and Mrs. Crouch still looked at themselves with the same eyes as when they first came out of hallucinations.

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

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

"Rather than Crouch, let alone Barty like that hateful man."

Neville didn't speak, he was still approaching step by step.

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 they were tortured by me."

"How old are you now?"

He paused and thought in his slow mind: "You, like Potter, are in the sixth grade now, so you are sixteen years old."

"For fifteen years, your father has not loved you."

"They won't celebrate your birthday, and they won't celebrate you when you get your grades."

"why why?"

He tried to open his eyes.

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

The two of them stood up straight and dressed formally.

When I was young, I fantasized about being dressed up as my parents saw me off together on the Hogwarts Express.

Neville didn't answer him.

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

Cherry wood, unicorn hair.

A magic wand that can only be held by those who have strong self-control, excellent minds, and a pure and kind heart.

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

Even if next, it will cooperate with its master and release that spell——

Neville's hands were trembling and his mouth was trembling.

He took a deep breath.

The sound of "splash" is brewing in my mouth, ready to go, but I just can't pronounce it.

Internally struggling.

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 and turned into a wooden platform like a street lamp. Several vines flew up and turned into ropes to hoist Crouch like a sandbag.

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

He punched Crouch in the stomach with his fist and roared heartbreakingly: "Heart-breaking!"

Another punch.

"Heart-breaking and bone-cutting!"

One sound, another sound, one punch after another.

The empty Quidditch pitch echoed with Neville's angry, crying roar.

Crouch's stomach was quickly beaten.

Neville's fist was broken and bruised by broken bones that pierced the flesh and protruded, but he still didn't stop.

"Heart-breaking and bone-cutting!"

"Heart-breaking and bone-cutting!"

He was only one year old at the time, so it stands to reason that he should not be able to remember what happened at that time.

He really couldn't remember.

But now, memories flooded out, washing over his brain.

The scenes at that time appeared before my eyes.

Crouch was still crying and wailing at first, but Neville's fists broke his ribs, tore his stomach, and ruptured 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 is just an ordinary person.

His breathing became weak, and his magic power barely kept him alive.

But it also made him suffer longer.

"Heart-breaking and bone-cutting!"

Neville punched him for the last time. He didn't know how many punches he had punched. The flesh on his fist was almost worn away and the bones were almost exposed.

A click——

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