Chapter 84: New Potion Ideas
“How did you find out?”
“It was Guo Guo Cha, he smelled your lingering scent and was restless.”
Vaughn didn’t take Hermione back to the Room of Requirement; Hogwarts at night held no danger for Vaughn.
He didn’t have to worry about Filch, Madam Pomfrey, or Peeves like other young wizards.
So he took Hermione directly to the observatory.
This was the tallest tower in all of Hogwarts, and apart from classes, it was usually deserted. The two sat on the edge of the observatory, Guo Guo Cha curled in Vaughn’s arms, nuzzling his chest and purring affectionately.
“Guo Guo Cha, so it was you who exposed me.”
“Meow~”
Guo Guo Cha stretched, its fur reflecting a silvery sheen. It was the moonlight hanging in the sky, casting its clear radiance, illuminating everything that should have been shrouded in darkness.
Hogwarts Castle, perched on the high cliff, could overlook all the surrounding scenery, let alone the observatory. This was the best place Vaughn had found to view the scenery since coming to Hogwarts.
Looking down now, the Black Lake, reflecting the moon, shimmered with crystalline fragments. The dark Forbidden Forest and the continuous mountains merged into one, stretching towards the horizon, and at the end of the horizon, specks of stars appeared and disappeared in the mist rising from the forest.
Everything possessed a beauty entirely different from that of the daytime.
A quiet beauty.
A gentle breeze ruffled the girl’s hair. Hermione gazed at the scenery before her, pursing her lips, “I’ve never seen the Scottish Highlands at night.”
“Is it beautiful?”
“Mmm!”
Vaughn opened his satchel, took out the reply from the Grangers, and handed it to her. “I wanted to find a chance to give it to you earlier, but it got delayed.”
Hermione took it and asked, “Did Mom and Dad agree?”
“At least Mrs. Granger was very happy. Mr. Granger was a bit hostile towards me, seemed to think I’d tricked his little sweetheart away!”
Vaughn shrugged, and Hermione laughed, a little shyly, and a little sweetly.
Putting away the reply from her parents, Hermione asked softly, “Harry said you’re going to be busy with the formation of the Werewolf Affairs Committee, is that true?”
“Oh, it is true.”
“Then you won’t have time to come back recently, will you…” The girl loosened her robe, which she had been holding tightly, and took out an exquisite box from her embrace, her cheeks blushing:
“…I originally wanted to wait until the holiday to give it to you, but since it’s like this, I’ll give it to you early… This is Valentine’s Day chocolate…”
It was almost Valentine’s Day?
How awful!
Vaughn suddenly realized that he had been so busy that he had completely forgotten about it.
He felt a moment of panic, but Vaughn remained outwardly calm, accepting it with a smile. “Thank you. I’ve also prepared a gift for you, shall I send it to you on the day?”
“Mmm…” The girl nodded shyly.
Vaughn breathed a slight sigh of relief. That was close; he had managed to fool her for now.
The next day, perhaps sensing Valentine’s Day was approaching, Vaughn dully realized… the whole of Hogwarts was filled with an atmosphere of youthful restlessness.
As he roamed the castle invisibly, he saw many older students gathered in groups, enthusiastically exchanging tips for confessing their love.
Many who had previously disdained such things now stood humbly in the crowd, listening to how effective confessions under the mistletoe were, believing it would surely succeed if timed correctly.
In their mouths, mistletoe had become a love potion.
And when he later went to Snape’s office, Vaughn learned that some people were indeed experimenting with potions—
“Severus, take a look at this. I can’t believe it, these two Weasleys somehow got their hands on some love potion and are selling it all over campus!”
Professor McGonagall’s cheeks trembled with anger.
She had been getting angry more and more frequently lately, feeling like her heart could barely take it.
Fred and George were being lectured by her, their ears twisted, looking dejected.
On the desk, a pile of confiscated jars and bottles was displayed. Snape opened one and sniffed it.
When Vaughn entered, he heard Snape say dismissively, “Fake!”
Upon hearing this, Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief.
The proliferation of love potions was a very serious matter. Although it only brought false love, it was precisely because of this that it was even more terrifying.
Imagine, when you are controlled by the potion and fall in love with someone you don’t like at all, and then something happens… how painful it would be when the potion’s effect wore off!
It was a shame that this thing was hard to eradicate. Older students already knew how to brew it, and every Valentine’s Day, the school could only conduct strict inspections to avoid accidents.
Compared to Professor McGonagall’s relief, the twins could not accept it.
“How is that possible? We spent five Galleons on these!”
“We checked, the color, the smell, it’s exactly the same as what Vaughn wrote.”
“Yes, Fred. Vaughn studied love potions two years ago. We secretly flipped through his potions notes, and his notes couldn’t be wrong!”
The twins exchanged glances and whispered to each other, “Is Snape trying to cheat us out of our potions?”
“It’s possible, George!”
Snape stretched his face, “Weasleys—could your whispers be any louder!”
As he spoke, he saw Vaughn enter, his expression becoming intriguing. “Or, perhaps you should explain yourselves to Mr. Vaughn Weasley…”
The twins turned back stiffly.
Vaughn said with a half-smile, “I remember some people who swore to me that they would use the money for product development and absolutely not spend it carelessly… Fred, George, right?”
“Uh, we can explain!”
“Yes, Vaughn, we wanted to earn a little more. Developing new products is too expensive. We still have too much stock of the Canary Cream Biscuits…”
Fred and George frantically made excuses, but Professor McGonagall wouldn’t give them time.
She yanked the twins by their ears and dragged them out of the office. “Mr. Weasley, although you haven’t committed a major offense, selling fake potions is a serious violation of school discipline. Now, come with me for detention. Your younger brother, Ron Weasley, can accompany you!”
The twins were dragged away, screaming.
Vaughn ignored them. He walked to the desk and opened a bottle of potion, sniffing it.
“Mmm, it is indeed fake. Honey syrup dyed pink, only good for fooling amateurs.”
“The renowned new Potions Master, and his brothers are amateurs… Humph!”
Knowing Snape was displeased, Vaughn didn’t care about his taunts. While examining the medicinal herbs in the office, he casually asked, “Professor, what do you think is a good gift for a girl on Valentine’s Day?”
Snape: “……”
He suspected Vaughn was mocking him!
However, Vaughn was genuinely thinking; he had little experience in this area.
In his previous life, he was just an ordinary person. Dating was a lot of pressure, and he could only go with the flow and give flowers to get by.
Although it might sound a bit arrogant to say so.
But this life, with the power he possessed, he didn’t feel as much pressure, and he didn’t want to be so casual anymore.
Unfortunately, Snape was not the right person to consult. If he knew how to give gifts, he wouldn’t have been single for so many years!
After asking casually, Vaughn was about to use the fireplace to leave. But as his gaze swept over the cauldron, he noticed something unusual—
It was a pot of pink liquid. Even in the dim potions office, it shimmered with a pearlescent luster. The strangest thing was its steam, which rose slowly in a spiral, lingering above the cauldron for a long time.
“Love Potion?”
Vaughn looked at Snape in astonishment.
Snape’s mouth twitched. His dark eyes glanced away uncomfortably, and he dryly explained, “…For advanced teaching…”
Vaughn leaned closer to the cauldron, carefully examining the potion. With his current skill, he could identify most potions.
He inhaled the peculiar, intoxicating fragrance of the Love Potion, which varied from person to person, and exclaimed, “You brewed it wonderfully!”
Snape curled his lips.
Then he heard Vaughn add, “Cunning professor, you must have brewed quite a lot in secret, haven’t you?”
“…Hmph, shut up!”
Vaughn fell silent, inhaling the fragrance that lingered around his nose, like a mixture of various potions. The scent of the Love Potion was different for everyone, usually smelling like their favorite scent.
He suddenly had an idea.
He thought of meeting Hermione by the Black Lake a few months ago.
She had been ostracized by Harry and Ron and was crying alone by the Black Lake. She was very sad then, and the reason, of course, was not that she had such deep feelings for Harry and Ron, whom she had only recently met.
It was that, apart from the two of them and Vaughn, she couldn’t talk to anyone.
To be fair, Hermione’s personality at the time was indeed not liked by the playful young wizards. No one liked someone who was overly competitive and who carried a book around every day, with two out of every three sentences being about studying.
So, to this day, Hermione had no same-sex friends…
No one dislikes friends. Among ten-year-olds, there are no insurmountable grudges; it’s just that no one is willing to yield or compromise, and so the rejecters and the rejected gradually formed habits.
Vaughn rubbed his chin. He suddenly wondered if he could develop a social potion for Hermione, inspired by the individualized scent of the Love Potion?
The effect didn’t need to be too strong, just enough to make her dorm mates find her pleasant and approachable, willing to gradually let go of their reservations.
As thoughts swirled in his mind, thanks to the period of researching the Wolfsbane Potion, he had used the Magic Power Extraction Method to classify and statistically analyze the properties of materials.
Vaughn quickly formulated a plan.
He was also familiar with Snape’s office. With a wave of his hand, a jar in the corner opened automatically, and a few petals of dittany flew out under the effect of the Levitation Charm, drifting before Vaughn.
As he channeled magic into them, they immediately disintegrated, releasing their properties.
Noticing his actions, Snape became interested. “You have a new potion idea?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Dittany petals… Are you trying to develop a new Love Potion? Similar to the Love Potion?”
Snape guessed.
He still remembered a few months ago, Vaughn had used the creation of the Love Potion and the characteristics of dittany to explain the influence of Muggle legends on magic.
He felt a little expectant. Vaughn hadn’t touched potions for a long time since he finished researching the Wolfsbane Potion, which had made him feel disappointed.
Vaughn paused his movements. “Uh, I just want to develop a Valentine’s Day gift for my girlfriend…”
“……”
Snape’s nascent expectation withered. He stretched his face and said concisely:
“Get out of my office!”
That scoundrel!
How could sacred potions be used to please a girlfriend?
Snape was very angry.
Of course, it wasn’t just because Vaughn was using sacred potions to please his girlfriend, but also because, before disappearing into the fireplace, the scoundrel had pocketed a large batch of materials and a golden cauldron from his office.
“Professor, you know, your dear student has almost gone bankrupt helping werewolves recently, and I don’t even have time to accompany my girlfriend…”
Therefore, he softened.
He watched as Vaughn stuffed his satchel, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, and vanished into the green flames.
Later that night, when he went to mock Dumbledore for not offering help, Dumbledore looked helpless. “Severus, I, an old man over a hundred years old, had my hard-earned private savings of tens of thousands of Galleons and some Muggle pounds all moved by him to a foundation that hasn’t even been established yet… How else can I help?”
Snape’s face turned ashen.
Vaughn Weasley!
That liar, thief, cunning villain!
……
Vaughn, who had almost made Snape break down, did not go to the Ministry of Magic but directly apparated to Crouch’s house—
Since the two established a cooperative relationship, Crouch had contacted the Floo network department and granted Vaughn access.
The reason for coming here was that Vaughn had promised to look into Little Crouch’s mind today.
Although his bottom line was flexible, he always adhered to contracts with true collaborators.
At the previous inquiry meeting, Crouch had fulfilled his promise, so Vaughn would not hold onto people’s pain points and drag things out.
When Vaughn appeared, Crouch was pacing back and forth in the living room, restless.
Beside him stood a house-elf with large brown eyes, wearing a tea towel.
Seeing Vaughn appear, Crouch impatiently said, “When do we start? I’ll have Sparky take you to the basement… I’m sorry, to prevent him from escaping, I had to cast an Anti-Apparition Jinx in the basement. Only house-elf magic is unaffected…”
He became a bit garrulous, as if using this to alleviate his anxiety.
Vaughn soothed him, “Barty, calm down. I told you, this is a long and meticulous job. Being too eager is not a good thing.”
“…Sorry, sorry, I… I’ve just waited too long, and I’m a bit anxious…”
Crouch took a few deep breaths, finally stopped pacing, and slowly sat on the sofa, saying tiredly.
Seeing that he had calmed down, Vaughn then looked at the house-elf and smiled, “You must be Sparky? I’ll need your help later!”
Sparky, who had been standing blankly without a word, suddenly had her large eyes filled with tears upon hearing this.
She cried out sharply, “Oh my goodness, the red-haired Mr. Weasley is so kind! He cares about Sparky…”
Saying this, she looked around in panic, then hugged a table leg and banged her head against it forcefully, “Bad Sparky, bad Sparky! She suspects the kind Mr. Weasley, she suspects Master asked Mr. Weasley to come here to harm the young master, bad Sparky!”
The table made a loud banging noise as she hit it, and the table legs soon let out a creaking cry of being broken.
Vaughn: “…Barty, aren’t you going to stop her?”
Barty gave a wry smile, “Leave her be. House-elves are like this.”
Vaughn shrugged.
The Weasley family never had house-elves. Even after Vaughn made money, he never thought of buying one—this wasn’t moral purity, but Vaughn knew that since house-elves were defeated and enslaved by wizards, over the years, their kind had been subjected to countless spells by wizards.
Their bloodline was already filled with all sorts of strange spells, which also led to house-elves usually having some problems with their minds.
Vaughn didn’t want to raise another Dobby.
He stopped paying attention to Sparky, who was punishing herself, opened his satchel, and began taking out the materials and cauldron he had “borrowed” from Snape.
Crouch looked somewhat taken aback. “Do you need to use potions for this?”
“Oh, no, this is for a small gift I’m developing for my girlfriend… By the way, I’ll be staying at your place recently, you don’t mind, do you?”
“…I don’t mind…”
Crouch said dryly.
Suddenly, Sparky appeared between them, her large eyes blinking expectantly and asking, “Master, Sparky wants to tidy up a room for Mr. Weasley, may Sparky?”
The two turned and saw that the table had been completely shattered and was now slowly restoring itself under the Mending Charm.
Looking at Sparky’s expectant eyes, Crouch’s mouth twitched. “Of course—”
“That’s great! Master agreed to Sparky.”
Sparky blew her nose forcefully, crying with joy. “Sparky wants to please Mr. Weasley, wants to make Mr. Weasley happy, so he will do his best to treat Young Master.”
Watching Sparky busily and actively moving things, casting the Levitation Charm to carry everything he took out upstairs, Vaughn teased, “Barty, it seems you are far less important to her than your Young Master.”
Crouch fell silent for a moment, his voice becoming hoarse. “She was always taught by my wife. Before my wife died, her greatest wish was for our son to live…”
“Uh… I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, it’s been a long time…”
Even so, Crouch’s mental state remained low. He stopped speaking, and a hint of fatigue appeared on his aged face.
This situation reached its peak as Sparky helped Vaughn tidy up the room and apparated them to the completely sealed basement.
The basement was not large and had little furniture, only a few braziers burning against the wall, providing some light.
In the center of the room, a large cage woven from wrist-thick steel bars came into view.
A frail figure was locked in the cage. He was wearing pajamas, and it was evident that someone had taken good care of him; his medium-length hair was neatly combed, and his face only had a light stubble.
But his eyes were vacant.
When Sparky appeared with the two, he didn’t react immediately, but just stared blankly at Vaughn and Crouch.
Then, his expression gradually became ferocious—
“You damn old dog, how dare you show your face to me again!”
He grabbed the cage and shook it violently, his eyes, gleaming with a sinister light, fixed on Crouch. His tongue nervously licked his lips as he screamed hysterically, “Do you miss the Imperius Curse again? Come on, your weak spells only make me happy, only make me remember the humiliation you brought me…”
He widened his eyes, desperately pushing his face into the gaps of the cage, baring his mouth to reveal a row of white teeth. “One day, I will escape, I will find Master, and then, I must ask Master to allow me to bite off all the flesh from your body, bite by bite—”
“Stupefy!”
Bang!
Vaughn raised a finger, and the powerful spell immediately knocked Little Crouch unconscious. The hysterical, malicious words abruptly ceased.
He turned around and saw Crouch already slumped on the ground.
His son’s hatred and curses made his old age undeniable, and his eyes were filled with tears.
Sparky put her arms around her master’s shoulders, crying with him.
Sparky took Crouch away. For a father, an old man over fifty, to witness and hear his son insult and curse him was a cruel thing.
Vaughn, disregarding Crouch’s protests, ordered Sparky to take Crouch to rest.
Sparky chose to obey—she could discern what was better for her master.
In the suddenly quiet basement, Vaughn looked at the unconscious Little Crouch and frowned slightly.
Although he had a premonition that Little Crouch’s condition might be bad before he came, the extent of it still surprised him.
Magic filled his eyes. In his vision, Little Crouch’s body was enveloped in a dense black mist.
It was so dense, so heavy, and so dangerous that it even obscured and suppressed the light of his life, with only a grayish-white glimpse visible between the rolling black mist.
“Dark Arts?”
Vaughn didn’t know what the black mist was, but he could only guess that it might be the effect of the Dark Arts.
Standing there, he closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Vaughn opened his eyes, his reddish-brown eyes glowing with magical light, and looked at Little Crouch lying in the iron cage.
Little Crouch floated up!
Vaughn slowly sat cross-legged on the ground. In his vision, everything lost its color and form, and only Little Crouch’s mist-shrouded body became clearer and clearer.
On the mental plane, unseen by anyone—in the grand and magnificent memory archives, his persona opened a door, and behind it lay boundless darkness.
He reached out and grabbed wisps of mist from the darkness. They automatically wove into a cloak with hanging wisps of mist in his hand.
Vaughn draped the cloak over himself and stepped out—
Outside, Vaughn’s eyes emitted a strong yet illusory light. The light expanded and contracted, cautiously touching the black mist on Little Crouch’s body, as if probing.
The black mist showed no reaction.
Then, the light pierced through!
At the same time, Vaughn’s persona, clad in a white mist cloak, appeared before an ancient-looking small building.
The building seemed very old. Moss had overgrown its stone walls, and wind and rain had left rough marks on the walls. Looking up further, the eaves drooped, and the faded rafters and damp, dark green tiles were exposed.
Everything was old.
Vaughn looked around. He was in a strange space. The building before him was very clear, but beyond that, about ten feet away from the building, the surrounding scenery began to blur.
It felt like looking at a blurred photograph.
“This is Little Crouch’s memory… the ancestral home of the Crouch family? His childhood?”
Vaughn pondered. He didn’t enter the house but went around to the back.
There was a large garden, which, like the house, was clear and connected to a densely forested hillside.
The hillside was shady and verdant, with lush vegetation. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled light.
Vaughn saw a hazy figure of a child running in the woods.
“Hee hee—”
The child’s laughter echoed softly in his ears. Vaughn blinked; the figure playing in the woods had disappeared at some point.
This made him frown.
Memory is the brain’s record of past experiences. A normal person’s memory is very stable; reality is what it is, and memory presents it that way.
But what he was seeing now was less like memory and more like… a dream!
A little eerie!
Thinking this, Vaughn took a deep look at the forested hillside and turned back to the front of the house. After some consideration, he gently knocked on the door.
This action seemed to trigger something.
The house, which had been eerily silent, suddenly made various noises—the crackling white noise of a television, the creaking music from a record player.
From the direction of the kitchen, there was the sound of bowls and plates clashing. A woman’s voice faintly called out:
“Barty, dear, go open the door!”
Creak—
The door opened.
But there was no one inside, and the sounds that had just been heard abruptly stopped.
Vaughn stood at the door. A light from behind him, from who knew when, cast his shadow and the outline of the door diagonally on the floor.
All that remained was darkness!
In the darkness, footsteps sounded heavily from where the stairs should be, and then a deep voice asked in the darkness, “Who are you looking for?”
Vaughn looked at the bright outline of the door on the floor, and his own silhouette. He looked up towards the direction of the voice. “Little Barty Crouch?”
“Hoo—”
As far as his eyes could see, there was only deep blackness. Vaughn could see nothing.
He could only hear the voice let out heavy breaths, “It’s me, who are you?”
“My name is Vaughn Weasley. I want to talk to you.”
“Weasley… a familiar surname. I seem to remember…”
Vaughn remained impassive. “Perhaps we’ve had dealings before?”
“No… Hahahaha…” The voice in the darkness suddenly laughed hysterically. He said, “A few days ago, I heard your name from Sparky!”
“Thief who secretly enters my memory!”
Boom—
Everything before him exploded. Vaughn felt a dizziness. The house, the garden, the hillside, the dense forest… everything scattered into tiny grains of sand. A violent force swept through them, like a sandstorm, crashing down on him.
Amidst the deafening roar, a voice shouted from all directions:
“You want to steal my memory? Hahahahaha— Come on! Take it, experience my darkness, my distortion, my evil… Hahaha!”
Vaughn saw the black mist emerge from the violent “sand.” Everywhere it passed, everything was polluted and blackened.
They approached in an instant. Vaughn gently raised his hand, and a black grain of sand brushed past his cloak.
Instantly, the mist hanging from the surface of the cloak turned from pure white to gray and dark!
“Pollution…”
Vaughn’s expression was blank. He just watched as more sand swept towards him.
He watched as the cloak’s color deepened with each impact.
Before long, a strand of mist turned black.
Vaughn waved his hand, removed the cloak, and threw it out.
The terrifying black sandstorm instantly swallowed it, but it was just a decoy. The moment he threw out the cloak, Vaughn had already taken a small step back.
As he retreated, the surrounding scenery changed instantly.
In the blink of an eye, Vaughn escaped Little Barty Crouch’s memory and returned to the basement.
But he didn’t move. His eyes, glowing with magic, saw Little Barty Crouch, who should have been unconscious in the cage, slowly get up, revealing his white teeth, and looking at him ferociously, “Why did you run? Vaughn Weasley, didn’t expect this, did you? I found you!”
