Once Alan and the others took their seats, the courtroom was already packed. Most of the attendees were Wizengamot members, Aurors, and a swarm of reporters. In the center of the hall stood a two-meter-tall metal cage, its perimeter lined with inward-pointing spikes.
Director Crouch sat at the center of the judgment dais, while Alan was seated between Dumbledore and Moody.
"Everyone is present, so let us begin," Director Crouch announced, scanning the room. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has completed the preliminary interrogations. The Death Eaters captured have confessed and are being escorted to Azkaban. However, one among them, Igor Karkaroff, has expressed a willingness to provide information to the Ministry in exchange for a reduced sentence or release."
"Today, we must jointly assess the value of his testimony and determine if it warrants such leniency. Each Wizengamot member holds one vote." Crouch turned his head toward Alan. "This trial is unique. Since you were the one to personally apprehend him, Minister Bagnold has requested that you also be granted a vote. Does the council agree?"
"Agreed," came the collective murmur from the councilors. None of them were willing to slight the newly minted Combat Hero over a single vote.
*Is this a gesture to acknowledge my contribution?* Alan thought, nodding respectfully to Crouch. *Bagnold is skilled at winning hearts. One vote won't change the outcome, but the respect it shows is calculated.* He had no intention of casting a dissenting vote today. The prisoner in the cage was his future subordinate.
"Very well. Bring up Igor Karkaroff."
The sound of grinding gears and heavy chains filled the hall as Karkaroff was raised through the floor into the central cage. He looked at the surrounding crowd with visible trepidation, his eyes darting nervously toward Alan. Alan maintained a mask of polite curiosity, as if they were meeting for the first time. Taking the hint, Karkaroff steadied his gaze and looked directly at Director Crouch.
"Igor Karkaroff, at your request, we are granting you this opportunity to provide the council with evidence. If the value of your information is deemed sufficient, we may consider your release. Do you accept?" Crouch asked.
"I do, Director," Karkaroff said, stealing one last glance at Alan before nodding.
"What do you have for us?"
"Names. The names of those who served him," Karkaroff said, his voice shaking slightly as he followed the script Alan had provided.
"Continue," Crouch prompted.
Karkaroff began to recite the names from the list Alan had given him. He exposed Augustus Rookwood, the spy in the Department of Mysteries, the Carrow siblings, Avery, and Corban Yaxley. He provided a detailed account of their crimes and, more importantly, their current whereabouts. The level of detail was staggering, causing a mounting roar of whispers in the gallery. Even Director Crouch appeared stunned by the depth of the intelligence.
"And finally..." Karkaroff paused. He looked at Alan, and only after seeing the boy's subtle, encouraging nod did he grit his teeth and shout the final name. "Barty Crouch Junior!"
The courtroom erupted. Gasps filled the air as all eyes turned to Barty Crouch on the dais, then whipped around to find his son in the stands.
Barty Crouch Jr. was sitting only a short distance from Alan. He had grown increasingly restless as Karkaroff spoke, sensing that the man knew far too much—as if he were reading from an internal Death Eater roster. When his name was called, his composure shattered. His face twisted with rage as he lunged to his feet, drawing his wand.
"You scumbag! Traitor! Die! Avada—"
Before the curse could leave his lips, a flash of silver streaked through the air. A metallic snake, conjured by Alan's Binding Spirit spell, clamped its jaws onto Barty's wrist and coiled rapidly up his arm, forcing his hand wide and snapping his concentration.
"Secure him! Now!"
The Aurors swarmed the young man, tackling him to the floor. Alan gave a sharp flick of his wand, recalling the silver snake. As Barty Crouch Jr. was dragged past Alan, his face was a mask of pure loathing.
"This is your fault, you little bastard! Wilson!" he screamed, struggling against the Aurors' grip.
Alan watched him go with a cold, detached expression. *If it weren't for the need to get Karkaroff his freedom, I wouldn't have dealt with you so gently,* he thought.
"Good heavens, Alan, those were some reflexes," Moody chuckled, patting Alan on the shoulder. "I had a bad feeling about that lad, but I never pegged him for a Death Eater."
"Just luck, really. I didn't even have time to draw my wand properly," Alan replied.
The shock of the revelation left the hall in an uproar. Director Crouch sat frozen, the blood drained from his face. It was Dumbledore who finally stood to restore order.
"Silence!"
The room fell quiet, though the tension remained thick. Director Crouch looked as though he had aged ten years in a single minute. He looked up at Dumbledore with hollow eyes.
"As his father and a party involved, I am no longer fit to preside over this matter." Crouch's voice was barely a whisper. "Albus, please... take over the interrogation."
With that, Barty Crouch stumbled down from the dais and walked out of the courtroom, a broken man.