Evan told the shocking truth, but it was obvious that Sirius and Mr. Weasley did not believe it.
"Barty helped his son escape from Azkaban?!" Mr. Weasley said in surprise, "How can this be possible? He wouldn't do such a thing!"
He looked anxiously at Evan and then turned to Sirius.
Mr. Weasley had a panicking look on his face and had no idea what to do.
It seemed that he wished the two of them would shout a happy April Fools Day to him.
"Evan, I thought you knew about Crouch's nature!" Sirius continued to try to persuade him, "Believe me, he refused to excuse his son at the Wizengamot's trial, let alone break the law to help him escape from prison! Anything that threatens his reputation must be put aside; he had no fatherly love."
"But you also said that Crouch was ruthless. If he could save his son without being discovered, why wouldn't he do that?"
"That's Azkaban, the most heavily defended wizard prison!" Sirius impatiently said, "If you see it, you'll know what it is like. How did Crouch bring out a living man under the guard of thousands of Dementors?"
"The Dementors have no eyes; they can't see around, they can only feel the breath of living things, which is the main reason why you were able to escape successfully in the first place." Evan persevered. "Crouch could fool the Dementors with a little trick."
"What trick?" Sirius asked, frowning tightly.
"Polyjuice Potion!" Evan whispered. "He used the compound soup to make his wife look like her son. The Dementors couldn't see it. They could only smell a healthy person and a dying person coming in, and a healthy person and a dying person leaving."
After Evan finished, neither Mr. Weasley nor Sirius did speak.
They were terribly shocked and seemed to want to find out a loophole in the plan, but after thinking for a long time, they found that there was no way to refute Evan's theory. Still, there was one thing it lacked!
"Is there any evidence?" Sirius asked.
"No!" Evan shook his head. He really had no evidence. "If you are willing to search Crouch's house, use Veritaserum on him or check his wife's grave, there may be some results."
"That's mad, totally mad!" Mr. Weasley said, "If anyone dares to ask the most powerful official in the Ministry of Magic to do these things, he would immediately be sent home or to the hospital for inspection. With all due respect, I think you should go and have a look, too, out of prudence."
"Okay, Arthur!" Sirius said heavily, "Evan is just under too much pressure. If we fall under the curse, we'll never be better than him."
"But…"
"This is all imagination, crazy imagination!" Sirius said, looking at Evan seriously, as if he had met him for the first time. "Evan, if I didn't know you very well, I would think that you have been mentally frustrated by Voldemort's Curse."
"We'd better not talk about it!�� Mr. Weasley whispered, "Barty Crouch helped his son escape from prison? It's crazy enough to think about it."
"But what I said just now did really happen?" Evan said.
In fact, he was somewhat depressed.
There was no way to convince Sirius, Mr. Weasley and others. The positive image of Barty Crouch was too deeply rooted in their minds.
If he continued talking like this, he would just make them doubt him.
To disclose all of this in advance was just asking for trouble. He could only let time prove everything.
Since he couldn't nip everything in the bud, he could only think about ways in the next semester.
By then, with the help of the Marauder's Map, things would become easier.
"It's possible that what you said may happen, but I still say that you don't know Barty Crouch. He wouldn't do it. He's sure…"
"Just don't let your guard down. Anything is possible!"
Just then, a growling voice rang in the cubicle behind Evan.
The door opened, and Sirius kept Evan behind him, pulled out his wand at the fastest speed, looked ahead vigilantly, and quickly released.
Evan poked his head out and saw an old man standing in the doorway.
He was carrying a long cane, and he was shrouded in a black traveling cloak.
Seeing his face, Evan was shocked and subconsciously stepped back.
His face looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing.
But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening. One of them was small, dark and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue.
The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye. And then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all what could be seen was whiteness.
Evan was stunned by this weird look, and stared at him intently.
Almost instantly, he knew who this guy was, Mad-Eye Moody.
Moody looked at Evan and Sirius and walked over with his cane.
"Black, I've read your latest report, so you're innocent!" He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face.
"Yes, I've been proved innocent!" Sirius shook hands with him, and Moody moved closer.
"Your family history is not very good! Although Dumbledore is willing to believe in you, I can think otherwise!" He said rudely and turned his eyes to Evan.
"I'm sorry I eavesdropped on your conversation. If you want to say bad things about senior officials of the Ministry of Magic secretly next time, you'd better not choose this kind of place."
His normal eye was fixed upon Evan, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket. "But I have to say, I just heard a wonderful reasoning, very exciting. I haven't heard such reasoning for a long time!"
"Thank you!" Evan subconsciously answered.
"Boy, you have the potential to be an Auror; I like you!" He reached into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it.
As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Evan saw several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.