Chapter 140: The Wicked Weasley Brats
The Auror shook his head with an expression of regret, “As you command, sir. I did warn you beforehand.”
“Enough nonsense!”
The magically powered lift creaked to life and, after a wild rush in the darkness, stopped abruptly.
The door opened, revealing a dark, deep corridor that seemed to have no end. It was so profound that looking at it felt like gazing into an abyss.
One had the illusion that if they weren’t careful, they would be sucked into it and never escape.
Only near the lift door were two braziers lit in the deep corridor. Two Aurors, wrapped in thick cloaks, stood guard on either side.
Thick white mist puffed from their mouths and noses, indicating the cold.
Feeling the icy air that rushed in as the door opened, the Auror operating the lift shivered. He pointed his wand at himself and used magic to temporarily warm himself, then introduced the area:
“This is the maximum-security block, Mr. Weasley. Unlike other areas, Aurors are stationed here in shifts year-round. Additionally…” He emphasized his words, “…even for a distinguished guest like yourself, the Dementors here will not be removed. They are constantly monitoring everything here!”
As if to prove his point.
Suddenly, an even more intense chill swept over them.
Vaughn looked up and saw a figure emerge from beyond the firelight of the braziers, where the wall should have been.
It floated like a tattered, bizarre, and tall sheet, forming a human shape reaching to the ceiling in Vaughn’s eyes, and slowly drifted towards them.
Then, it extended a hand.
The hand glowed faintly, a dull gray, thin and withered, like a damp, rotten skeleton dug from a swamp, or like the tentacles of some deep-sea monster.
It gently reached into the lit area, swayed left and right, then stopped, pointing at Vaughn’s presence!
The next moment, the cloaked figure retracted its hand abruptly, bent over, its head area facing Vaughn, and took a long, slow breath beneath the tattered hood.
The chill intensified, and Vaughn could clearly feel an inexplicable power enveloping him as the long, slow inhalation continued.
His consciousness wavered, and the cold seeped into his skin, his muscles, his bones, and even the depths of his soul, as if to freeze everything related to life!
“Damn it!”
“Get away, you disgusting thing!”
The Aurors at the doorway ahead and beside him cursed loudly, hastily drawing their wands.
However, in their panic, they could not muster any positive or happy emotions.
Damn it!
The three felt both anxious and despairing!
Although Vaughn was disliked, he was still an esteemed figure from the Wizengamot. If anything happened to him from a Dementor, they would be…
Just then, a low, cold snort sounded in their ears:
“Note: The strength of the Aurors stationed at Azkaban is very concerning; they are unable to deter Dementors!”
“…”
The three turned back in astonishment, only to see Vaughn, shrouded in a hazy illusion and drawing breath, looking as usual, even having the mood to make an inspection record. He then calmly raised his wand:
“Expecto Patronum!”
Light bloomed in this prison that rarely saw the sun.
Silvery-blue light surged out like a tsunami from the lift area. Darkness dissipated before it, and at the forefront of the light, a silvery-blue Maine Coon Cat gradually materialized.
It stepped on ripples in the air, leaping and running!
It collided with the Dementor that was bent over and inhaling.
Ah—
A piercing scream seemed to echo in their ears, or perhaps in the hearts of all present. The three Aurors watched, wide-eyed, as the Dementor, struck by the cat-shaped Patronus, exploded in thick gray mist, its body shrinking by several sizes.
It “screamed” and retreated in panic, scurrying back to the wall.
Meow!
The cat-shaped Patronus roared fiercely, circling a few times in the air on ripples, dispelling the gray mist and cold, then charged directly towards the wall where the Dementor had hidden.
Bang!
A large amount of gray mist immediately burst from the wall.
The Auror beside Vaughn finally snapped back to reality, “No! Those walls are where the Dementors live, and they are the strongest defense here. You must not damage them!”
Vaughn glanced at him but didn’t continue.
“Return.”
At his command, the Patronus leaped lightly, stepping on ripples back to Vaughn’s side, rubbing against him.
The three Aurors stared in amazement at the seemingly solid Patronus.
As one of the most difficult spells in the wizarding world, the Patronus Charm was a prime example of being hard to learn and even harder to master.
Many people, years after graduating from Hogwarts, could only conjure a wisp of mist. Even for Aurors like them, without special preparation, they could at most summon a faint outline.
But today, they saw a 12-year-old young wizard skillfully cast it with astonishing power.
The Auror who had spoken to stop Vaughn looked at the cracks in the distant wall, created by the Patronus, and the wisps of gray mist emanating from them.
He couldn’t help but swallow.
Facing Vaughn now, he suddenly didn’t know what to say. Recalling his subtle taunts and sarcasm not long ago, he felt his face burn.
Therefore, when Vaughn asked him, “Can I go in and visit now?”
“Uh, of course, of course,” the Auror nodded hastily.
Only after watching Vaughn and his Patronus walk into the darkness, their silvery-blue light gradually receding, did he exhale and give a wry smile to his colleagues, “Suddenly, I feel so useless…”
“How did he train the Patronus Charm to this level at his age?”
“He’s a genius… Even with preparation, my Patronus wouldn’t have been able to drive away a Dementor in one go. And did you notice? The Dementor seemed to be injured!”
“Sigh, no wonder there were rumors recently that he expelled Minister Fudge from the courtroom. I thought it was an exaggeration…”
…
Hearing the hushed discussions of the Aurors behind him, Vaughn smiled slightly, unconcerned.
He was more interested in the walls lining the corridor.
At first glance, they appeared no different from ordinary stone walls, but in reality, these dark stone walls were some kind of magical item.
A container that could house Dementors!
In his field of vision, as the silvery-blue light of the Patronus following him approached, the seemingly ordinary walls emitted gray smoke as if they were “burning.”
Faintly, he could see Dementor phantoms scurrying within.
“According to the records of Magical History, Dementors are not naturally born magical creatures; they were likely created using Dark Arts.”
“They were created at Azkaban. This place wasn’t a prison a long time ago, but belonged to a Dark Wizard who called himself Extis. He used magic to conceal this island, then lured and killed Muggle sailors here. It is said that every wall here is filled with torture and pain.”
“It wasn’t until Extis died that the Ministry of Magic discovered this place, and the Dementors attached to this fortress. They had already merged with the entire fortress. At that time, the Ministry didn’t dare to dismantle it, and they had no idea how the Dementors were created… That Extis was also a master of Dark Arts!”
Undeniably.
Vaughn was very interested in Dementors, the Azkaban fortress, and these walls that could house Dementors, but unfortunately, he didn’t have the energy for it at the moment.
As he walked along, observing the stone walls with a hint of regret.
A cell in the distance suddenly called out to him in a loud voice:
“Hey, kid, let me see your Patronus!”
Vaughn looked over at the sound and saw a gaunt, ghost-like woman behind the bars of the cell.
She had a mane of steel-wool curls, and on her pale, translucent face, her eyes were wide open, gazing with longing and greed at the Patronus licking its paws at his feet.
“Come closer, child, ah—how long has it been since I felt joy? A little closer, a little closer… Oh, red hair, a Weasley kid? Hee hee hee, we’re even relatives, come a little closer, let Aunt Bella see—”
Vaughn looked speechlessly at the madwoman trying to lure him and was about to say something.
From further down the corridor, a cell door began to shake violently, “Bella, you venomous hag! Don’t go near her, Weasley kid, she wants to abduct you!”
Bella’s eyes widened, and she glared fiercely at the shaking door, “Traitor! Scum! I should have killed you long ago! Killed you!”
Then she looked at Vaughn and giggled sweetly, “Oh—darling, don’t listen to Sirius’s nonsense. He’s the bad one. He cruelly killed over a dozen Muggles, hee hee hee— Damn it! Come back here!”
Vaughn didn’t want to listen to madwomen anymore. Amidst her shrieks, he walked to Sirius’s cell door and looked through the bars at the man inside, clad in rags, his former demeanor almost unrecognizable.
He leaned on the bars, his hands gripping the railings, his long, dirty fingernails making it almost impossible for his fists to close.
In the light provided by the Patronus, a flicker of warmth appeared on his numb face, his bloodshot eyes reflecting the damp light.
He glanced at Vaughn, his voice hoarse, “Weasley, why… why are you here?”
But before Vaughn could speak, he shook his head, “Never mind, I don’t want to know… Leave. Everyone here is scum, not a place you should be…”
He felt some resentment inwardly.
What was going on with the Ministry of Magic now? How could they let a child appear at Azkaban?
But… it didn’t concern him, a man waiting to die. He had already warned them, fulfilling his duty.
He slowly crawled back to the ground, inching towards a corner, then he heard the boy behind him say with a hint of a smile, “You really don’t want to know? I’m here for you, Sirius Black, or rather, Harry’s godfather!”
“…”
Sirius slowly turned back, his eyes in their sunken, withered sockets seeming to burn with light. “Who are you?”
But the brightness in Sirius’s eyes lasted only a moment.
He quickly lowered his head, his tangled hair covering his face, and panted heavily a few times, “Judging by your age, you’re Harry’s classmate, right? Is… he doing alright?”
“He’s doing okay!”
Vaughn thought for a moment and replied truthfully, “Of course, life after entering Hogwarts has been good. You should know, everyone thinks Harry is the Boy Who Lived who defeated the Dark Lord, so few young wizards would reject being friends with him.”
“Life in Muggle society has been much worse. His aunt has always been jealous and loathed everything about Lily, including her son. However, she at least raised Harry to adulthood.”
Hearing this, Sirius looked up, seemingly surprised by the information Vaughn possessed.
But he said nothing, merely muttering, “That’s good… that’s good…”
As if at this moment, his only remaining interest was knowing how Harry was doing, and he had no strength to care about anything else.
Such a demeanor was undoubtedly bad news, indicating that Sirius had completely abandoned all hope. What remained in this cell, merely surviving, was a walking corpse.
However, Vaughn was not worried.
He gazed intently for a moment, then asked, “You must know Dumbledore has arrived, right?”
Sirius remained silent.
Vaughn didn’t expect a response and continued, “I’ve reviewed your case. You betrayed James Potter, killed Peter Pettigrew, and even went so far as to blow up a Muggle street for it, resulting in the deaths of over a dozen Muggles… But what intrigues me is that you don’t resemble a Death Eater.”
“After all the Death Eaters were apprehended, when facing accusations, some would quibble and try to use the Imperius Curse as an excuse to clear their names, while others, like Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers, would fanatically chant Voldemort’s name.”
“But you exhibited neither of these behaviors. When you were captured, although you were frenzied, you merely kept repeating that Pettigrew deserved to die. Sirius, your behavior is contradictory!”
Sirius still said nothing.
If it were any other prisoner in Azkaban, hearing Vaughn’s words, they would likely grasp at this hard-won lifeline like a drowning person, desperately explaining their grievances and innocence to escape this hell.
But he did not.
After a long silence, his voice, hoarse, emanated from behind his messy long hair, “There is no contradiction. Pettigrew deserved to die, and so do I.”
“Why?”
Vaughn leaned forward, feigning interest, towards the cell bars, looking down at him, and softly asked a question that struck Sirius like thunder: “Was it you who changed the Secret Keeper of the Potter house to Pettigrew, and then he betrayed James Potter? Therefore, you believe you bear some responsibility?”
“You…”
Sirius suddenly looked up, his withered, lifeless face now filled with astonishment.
The shock and confusion compelled him to repeat the question he had abandoned moments earlier:
“Who exactly are you?”
It wasn’t surprising he was flustered.
Besides him, James, Lily, and Peter, no one else knew about this matter, and more than ten years later, only he among the four informants was still alive.
How did this child before him know?
Facing his bewildered uncertainty, Vaughn straightforwardly gave an answer: “If I told you that Pettigrew told me, would you believe me?”
Bang!
The Sirius who, a moment ago, was listless and sluggish, now lunged at the cell door, his withered hands reaching out through the gaps in the bars.
His ghost-like face was contorted with shock, doubt, and disbelief:
“Impossible, I saw him die with my own eyes!”
“He died right in front of me!”
“Unpossib…”
His neurotic muttering abruptly stopped as he saw Vaughn open his satchel and pull out a photograph, a photograph that had been soaked in Developing Potion.
The photo repeatedly played a scene:
A fat rat, missing a toe, crouched in a cage with a vacant expression.
Sirius stared blankly at the photograph, as if he had gone stupid.
…
In the first half of Sirius’s life, his life was a mix of gloom and sunshine.
The gloom was naturally the Black family. The entire family’s fanaticism for so-called Pure-blood glory often suffocated him.
They dictated his every word and deed, locked up his freedom, and dictated his choices. They didn’t care about his thoughts, treating him as nothing more than a puppet, a machine.
As long as their objective could be achieved, the personal will of Sirius Black was an irrelevant matter.
Until he enrolled at Hogwarts.
It was the first time he had left home, the first time the air no longer smelled of decay but of the sweet scent of freedom, and the first time he felt sunshine entering his life.
On that day, he met James, Remus, and Peter…
Over 11 years, confined in this dark, gloomy cage, the memories of that day often flashed through his mind. He vividly remembered the cloud cover floating above the mountains surrounding the castle that day.
He remembered the sky, a vibrant blue like forget-me-nots, that day.
He remembered the scent of the late summer breeze blowing in the wind.
More importantly, he remembered James, with a smile as radiant as the sun, extending his hand to him with Remus and Peter under the clear sky, “Can we be friends?”
It was the first time in his bleak life, filled with curses, insults, and whiplashes, that he had experienced kindness.
It made a crack in his frozen heart.
It was they who gave him infinite courage, allowing him to bravely resist his family’s arrangements at the age of 16 and sever ties with that stinking old house.
He was free!
He thought such free days would last forever, the unrestrained stag, the black dog, the wolf, the rat, running wild in the wilderness, facing the wind and rain, under the starry sky.
Living wantonly, envisioning the future with wild abandon, no matter how absurd.
However, in the year he turned 21, all of that was shattered!
James’s death dragged him from the pinnacle of the mountain into hell, burying his reputation, his fantasies, and his hopes beneath the ruins of Godric’s Hollow.
He descended into the damp, dark cold of Azkaban.
The friendship and family he once cherished crumbled overnight. Pettigrew killed James, and he killed Pettigrew.
Along with them, Sirius Black also died. Perhaps his body was still alive, but his heart was crushed by pain and regret.
After revenge, his soul was drowned in endless emptiness.
Having indirectly caused his friend’s death and personally killed his friend, what right did he have to continue living?
Thus, he never defended himself against the Ministry of Magic’s accusations, immersing himself in the nightmare of self-blame, awaiting death.
Until today—
After a long silence, a heart-wrenching roar echoed through the dark corridor of Azkaban’s maximum-security block…
What does it look like when a person’s sanity is completely consumed by revenge?
At this moment, Sirius, weeping and roaring, flailing on the ground like a madman in Vaughn’s eyes, was the perfect example of this question.
The howling and wailing from the surrounding prisoners began again.
From Sirius’s roars, those perverse Death Eaters heard his pain and his rage.
In the world, no emotion could please them more. They shook their cell doors, banged on the walls, pounded the floor… their grotesque cries erupted one after another.
This greatly displeased Vaughn, who had been observing Sirius—
Those people were disturbing his interest.
“Shut up!”
His amplified voice, enhanced by a spell, echoed through the dark corridor. The surrounding cacophony momentarily paused, then resumed with curses:
“Damn Weasley kid, who are you talking to?”
“Kill him! Kill him!”
“I’ll skin him, eat his flesh, and tear his soul apart!”
“Eee—yay, eat him, eat him, heh heh heh haaa!”
“I’ve got you now, Weasley. You’d better pray I never get out, or one day, I’ll capture you and your whole family, control you with the Imperius Curse, torture you with the Cruciatus Curse, and make your life worse than death—”
Listening to such vicious and terrifying words.
Vaughn’s expression darkened slightly as he looked towards the source. Although the corridor was dark, it didn’t hinder his eyes, enhanced by a spell.
With the spell’s enhancement, even the slightest bit of light was enough for him to discern who was speaking and what they were saying.
They were a pair of brothers imprisoned opposite Bellatrix.
Their condition was similar to Bella and Sirius: pale skin, gaunt and dirty bodies. They desperately pressed their fierce, ugly faces against their cell bars, their withered arms reaching out like vengeful ghosts, grasping everywhere.
Vaughn walked over slowly.
The two brothers’ movements became even more frantic, their eyes even glowing a sinister green in the darkness.
Vaughn peered at them for a moment, tilted his head, and asked, “Lestrange brothers?”
The two dishevelled figures only roared frantically, like beasts.
It was Bella, in the cell behind Vaughn, who chuckled hysterically, “Hee hee hee, of course, it’s them, the Master’s most loyal hounds, my dear husband and his brother.”
Seeing Vaughn look back, she posed seductively, licking her lips perversely, “Darling, you should remember their words. 11 years ago, to find their Master’s whereabouts, they and Barty Crouch Jr. cruelly drove the Longbottoms mad.”
“They are terrifying. Unlike Aunt Bella, even if you anger me, I wouldn’t treat you so maliciously, hee hee hee—”
Vaughn’s expression was impassive.
Under Bellatrix’s interested gaze, he merely looked at the Lestrange brothers, then at the still-rattling cells further down the corridor, and suddenly sighed:
“Honestly, I didn’t intend to do anything to you this time.”
“?”
Bellatrix’s chaotic, mad mind showed a brief moment of bewilderment. Seeing the Weasley kid with an expression that seemed to say, “Why are you forcing my hand?” she suddenly felt like laughing.
Laughing maniacally!
Mocking his arrogance and overestimation of his abilities, or perhaps, provoking him?
But as she opened her dirt-filled mouth, before the laughter could emerge, it abruptly caught in her throat—
She saw the red-haired child draw his wand, pointing its tip at the ground. The only light in the corridor was the faint glow from the Patronus.
But it was precisely in this dim environment that Bellatrix clearly sensed the immense magic emanating from the child.
She heard him continue, “…But now that I’m here, I might as well teach you a lesson and lay some groundwork!”
As his words fell.
No incantation, no gesture.
Yet, in Bellatrix’s perception, a terrifying magic had suddenly formed.
Bang!
Bellatrix’s body floated uncontrollably, as if being pulled by something, and slammed against the cell door, sticking to it tightly.
Simultaneously, the Lestrange brothers opposite, Selwyn next to them, and Rowle further away, were all affected by the same magic.
Like her, they were pulled tightly against their cell doors by a massive force, unable to move.
Damn it!
In Bellatrix’s frantic eyes, a trace of fear finally surfaced. As an elite Death Eater, even though her mind was muddled by dark magic, she was still an expert in spells.
She could discern that the silent spell cast by the Weasley kid was not some profound magic.
It was the simplest Accio!
No… that’s not right!
Bellatrix suddenly noticed that all surrounding sounds had disappeared. The shrieks and commotion had suddenly vanished from her ears.
But she could clearly see the Lestrange brothers opposite, their mouths still opening and closing, their faces contorted with frantic terror as they screamed something.
Was it the Silencing Charm?
A complex spell? Silent casting?
Who exactly was this Weasley kid?
Vaughn paid no mind to the fear in Bellatrix’s eyes. After casting the spell, his mood had improved considerably. “Good, much quieter now… Hmm, next, I’ll start with you two. I heard you were quite arrogant earlier. Since you have so much energy, I’ll put something in your heads.”
A faint silver light ignited in the darkness.
Bellatrix’s pupils constricted violently, reflecting the insane scene opposite—the Weasley kid roughly grabbing her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange’s head.
As his eyes suddenly rolled back, froth appeared at his lips, and his limbs twitched, he extracted his consciousness from his body.
She could even hear the Weasley kid’s muffled, distant whisper under the Silencing Charm, words deliberately meant for her to hear: “What dirty and ugly memories, like a pile of rotten mud, stinking unbearably. But it’s precisely such a chaotic consciousness that is most suitable for implanting ideas.”
“Those implanted ideas will be hidden deep within your memories, waiting to be awakened when I need them someday… I’m sure it will be very interesting then!”
Damn it!
Damn it!
Bellatrix, sensing the other party’s sinister intentions, wanted to struggle, to resist, but under the simple yet powerful Accio’s control, she couldn’t even move a finger.
She could only watch helplessly as her husband and his brother were wantonly toyed with and had memories implanted by the red-haired devil.
Then, the devil smiled and walked towards her…
…
Sirius didn’t know how long he had been raving.
In his muddled memory, he seemed to have fainted a few times because his weak body couldn’t withstand the intense emotional fluctuations.
He only knew that when he woke up again, the red-haired Weasley was gone.
Only the photograph left in his arms proved that the other person had been there.
Right, the photograph!
Sirius picked up the photograph and looked at the endlessly replaying rat, intense hatred erupting from him.
“Pettigrew, you’re not dead… I’ll kill you, I… No, I, I need to calm down…”
A strange thought suddenly surfaced in his mind, suppressing his frenzied hatred, “I… it’s not time to leave yet, I need to wait for the right moment… What moment? Yes, when the opportunity arises, I will naturally know… Yes, wait…”
Muttering foolishly, the poor man hid the photograph in his clothes, obediently trusting his “thoughts” and deciding to wait for a “moment” that even he didn’t know.
Sirius Black could not leave yet.
Because Vaughn was not yet ready.
To kill Voldemort, Voldemort had to be resurrected.
Of course, in Vaughn’s plan, the resurrection process had to be firmly controlled by him.
Therefore, he had chosen a loyal servant to execute the resurrection plan for Socket Man—Pettigrew!
In fact, Barty Crouch Jr. should have been involved, but given their current honeymoon period of cooperation.
Even with his ill temper, Vaughn couldn’t bear to inflict the grief of losing another child on his partner.
He could only inconvenience Pettigrew.
Of course, timid Pettigrew lacked the initiative to resurrect Voldemort, so he needed a little stimulation.
For example, Sirius escaping from prison would force him to leave the Weasley home where he had been hiding for over a decade and gather the courage to seek out his master.
Only then would his motive appear reasonable, and he would be able to deceive Voldemort, who was also a master of Memory Magic, preventing him from discovering any abnormalities—at which point, Vaughn would also retrieve the Persona Embodiment he had placed in Pettigrew’s memory.
Wherever I go, I leave a trace.
Vaughn had never directly interfered with Pettigrew’s memories; instead, he had used the Persona Embodiment to filter and transfer them, indirectly exerting influence.
This was to avoid leaving traces of himself in Pettigrew’s memory that might arouse Socket Man’s suspicion when the plan was implemented in the future.
Of course, the plan was still a long way off.
And it wasn’t yet time for Sirius to play his role. For now, he needed to suffer a bit longer in Azkaban.
But he hadn’t done nothing. At the very least, when he modified Sirius’s memory, he had also casually strengthened the other party’s Mind World.
He hadn’t made significant changes, merely adding a “shell” to the outer layer of his memories, a Persona Embodiment to hide his emotional fluctuations and interfere with the Dementors’ emotional perception of him.
This was to prevent those disgusting monsters from draining him from time to time.
Upon returning to the lift area, the three Aurors waiting visibly relaxed. They had heard the commotion from the Death Eaters within the prison block.
If Vaughn hadn’t come out soon, they would have prepared to go in and check.
Looking at Vaughn emerging from the darkness with his Patronus following, the Auror operating the lift swallowed and asked, “Mr. Weasley, would you like to continue the tour?”
