Chapter 85: I Need Dark Wizards, The More The Better
Little Crouch was smug.
He crawled in the iron cage like a beast, the chains dragging with a clanging sound. His pupils, constantly dilating and contracting, stared intently at Vaughn, containing excitement, greed, and cruelty:
“You should be glad you ran fast enough. Do you know what happened to the last wizard the old dog hired to alter my memories?”
“Heh heh, I trapped him in my memories and tortured him for a long, long time!”
“You fools don’t understand how powerful my master is. I can hear him whispering in my mind every day. With the help of the great master, I’m no longer afraid of any damn Memory Magic!”
Vaughn’s expression was calm: “Is that so?”
“You don’t believe me? Then you can try again…!” He smiled, his tongue nervously licking his lips.
Then, he saw Vaughn smile and raise his hand, snapping his fingers!
*Snap!*
Little Crouch, who was crawling, suddenly stiffened.
He widened his eyes in astonishment, feeling something peculiar emerge from the depths of his mind.
If someone were to enter his mind world at that moment, they would discover that the cloak made of mist, which Vaughn had thrown to him and he had corrupted, suddenly disintegrated as Vaughn snapped his fingers.
It scattered back into mist, a clump of black grit fell out, and the pure white mist reassembled, forming a human silhouette.
The moment it took shape, it pulled a scene from the void—
It was the small building Vaughn had seen before. The humanoid mist figure walked into it stiffly and robotically, burrowed into the memory, pushed open the door of the small building, and charged into the darkness.
Before long, in the outside world, Barty Crouch Jr. watched with splitting eyes as “he” stood up like a puppet.
He watched Vaughn open the iron cage, and “he” walked up to him, then stood still.
He wanted to shout, to roar, to curse and unleash the most venomous curses.
But in reality, he could control nothing.
He could only watch Vaughn examine him casually and say with a smile, “Honestly, I was quite surprised in your memory earlier. I thought you were also a hidden Memory Magic Master. Turns out, you’re just a pathetic wretch who was tortured by Voldemort and learned only a few superficial tricks.”
“Wizards who truly know Memory Magic would never dare to meet another Memory Magic wizard with their true personality and most important memories, let alone casually accept something thrown by someone else…”
“Crouch!” Vaughn suddenly commanded.
Even though his eyes were filled with rage and madness, the uncontrollable Little Barty Crouch awkwardly squatted down.
“Raise your hand!”
He raised his hand.
Vaughn took his hand, shook it, and amidst his malevolent gaze, said with a smile, “You said earlier that I could use your memories freely, your darkness, your twistedness. This is the first time I’ve heard such a request.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll use you well. After all, you are my first Dark Wizard experimental subject. I’m truly interested in your memories and everything about you!”
……
Crouch woke up when it was already dark. The window, with its tightly drawn curtains, vaguely revealed the city lights in the distance.
He stared blankly at the hazy light, his cheek against the pillow, feeling the coolness of a tear soaking into the fabric.
He had dreamed again, the same unrealistic dream.
He dreamed that time had returned to the past, and his son was smiling and calling him Father, instead of… instead of madly cursing him!
His heart ached. Crouch closed his eyes slightly, burying his face in the pillow.
Then, he heard faint sounds from downstairs.
It was Sparky.
Her signature sharp voice was saying something, and he could vaguely make out that she seemed very happy.
Crouch’s memory from before he fell asleep resurfaced. He realized he hadn’t fallen asleep at all; Sparky had knocked him out. She had even told him:
“Master, I’m sorry, but Mr. Weasley said this would help you sleep soundly!”
Recalling the memory, Crouch’s face turned ashen.
Damn Sparky, who was her master anyway?
He quickly got up, threw on a coat, and went downstairs. As he descended, he could finally hear what Sparky was saying.
She was talking to Vaughn: “…Mr. Weasley, you are the smartest, wisest, and greatest person Sparky has ever met. Sparky is just a humble house-elf and cannot help you much, but she will do her best to serve you. If you like anything or need anything, just tell Sparky!”
This traitorous creature…
Crouch’s cheek twitched. He went downstairs and immediately saw that his living room had been converted into a Potion-making laboratory.
A workbench, seemingly created by Transfiguration, lay across the center of the spacious living room. Sparky had brought out all the enchanted alchemy lamps in the house, illuminating the workbench brightly.
A golden cauldron was bubbling and steaming. Vaughn stood by the pot, having just added the last ingredient.
Sparky stood on tiptoe beside him, like an attendant: “Sir, is it finished?”
“One, two, three… stir eight times. Yes, it’s done. It can be bottled once it cools. Sparky, go fetch an owl for me.”
“Yes, sir!”
Sparky replied loudly. Crouch hadn’t seen her so enthusiastic in years.
He put on a stern face and glared at Sparky, who turned around. Sparky saw him too.
But to Crouch’s surprise, the detestable house-elf showed no sign of guilt for “betraying” her master. She actually smiled with great surprise, her large eyes shining:
“Master, you’re awake? That’s wonderful! Mr. Weasley’s potion has been successfully brewed, and Master is awake, and little master… sob sob sob—”
She was weeping with joy, unable to stop crying.
Crouch frowned: “Sparky, what trick are you playing?”
“Sob sob sob… Master, look, look behind you. Oh—what a heartwarming scene for Sparky. The poor little house-elf, how long has she longed for this moment? She remembers Mistress’s dying wish and has always tried to fulfill it, believing she would never achieve it even until death—”
Listening to Sparky’s mournful cries, Crouch sensed something.
His spine stiffened instantly, and he slowly turned around.
Behind him, in the dining room, a familiar figure was leaning against the doorway, bathed in dim candlelight.
Just like many years ago, the figure wore an innocent and brilliant smile.
Crouch’s eyes suddenly blurred with tears, making it impossible to see clearly. He only heard the person call out:
“Dad…”
Sobbing sounds came from the dining room.
In the living room, Vaughn, who was waiting for the potion to cool, shook his head slightly.
Barty Crouch Jr. would not, of course, recover so quickly.
He had merely implanted a Persona Embodiment in Barty’s mind world.
The one who called out “Dad” was not Barty Crouch Jr., but the virtual personality.
However, it wouldn’t be entirely false to say it was not real.
Because according to his design, the Persona Embodiment was meant to connect to the real personality and real memories.
Unfortunately, Barty, who knew nothing of Memory Magic, had voluntarily exposed his true personality to Vaughn earlier.
So, in a sense, the Persona Embodiment could also be considered Barty Crouch Jr., albeit a replicated version of himself from a long time ago, conjured from memory.
After a while, the crying in the dining room gradually subsided.
Vaughn heard Crouch stumbling out, and from behind him, asked in a hoarse voice, “Is this the Persona Embodiment you mentioned earlier?”
It seemed Crouch had not succumbed to the false reunion; he was quite clear-headed.
Vaughn, watching the potion change color, nodded slightly: “Yes, the one temporarily controlling his body and memories now is a virtual personality I implanted.”
“How much of it is real?”
“The memories and personality are all taken from the real Barty Crouch Jr., of course, from a long time ago, before he was exposed to Dark Arts or brainwashed into corruption!”
Crouch was silent for a moment, then asked again, “It’s different from the Imperius Curse?”
“Absolutely different. The Imperius Curse is when the caster suppresses the soul, twists, and controls a person. The operating principle of Persona Embodiment is more like simulation and deduction… You can think of it as another personality split off from your son.”
Upon hearing this, Crouch’s breathing quickened:
“Then the influence of Dark Arts on him…”
Vaughn shook his head: “The influence is still there, of course. What I’ll do next is observe how long the Persona Embodiment can resist before being corrupted by Dark Arts.”
Crouch was speechless.
“Don’t be too impatient, Barty… As I said before, this is a long-term project. I haven’t started working on it yet. I need to research, study, and understand Dark Arts to grasp the fundamental mechanism by which they twist minds and souls.”
Crouch calmed down and asked, “What help do you need?”
“Dark Wizards, the more the better,” Vaughn smiled, then changed the subject, tapping the cooled cauldron in front of him. “However, I need an owl more right now. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and I still have to send a gift to my girlfriend!”
“……”
……
A new day dawned, and it was Valentine’s Day.
This holiday was irrelevant to the first-year young wizards.
The entire Hogwarts only belatedly realized it.
For example, Harry, while eating in the Dining Hall, noticed that the older students were like peacocks he had seen at the Muggle zoo. Many had unbuttoned their cloaks, revealing handsome attire underneath, and were strutting around the Long Table.
The girls, even more so, kept looking up at the ceiling, with eager anticipation.
“What’s wrong with everyone?”
He took a gulp of Pumpkin Juice and asked.
His dorm mates beside him shook their heads blankly.
Hermione, sitting opposite and engrossed in a large book, slightly lifted her head, revealing half of her messy hair: “It’s Valentine’s Day!”
Ron clapped his hands loudly: “No wonder Percy’s hair was so slicked back this morning. I bet a fly would slip if it landed on it.”
“Who is his girlfriend?” Seamus asked.
“A Ravenclaw female Prefect, Penelope Clearwater,” Ron couldn’t help but reveal. “Harry once encountered them on a date in the Forbidden Forest.”
Seamus, Dean, and Neville asked for details curiously, but Ron stammered, unable to explain clearly.
They asked Harry, only to find him dazed and lost in thought.
He secretly glanced at the Ravenclaw Long Table, where a beautiful Asian girl captured all his attention.
Unfortunately, that girl had never once looked his way… unless Vaughn favored Gryffindor.
His mates didn’t notice his strangeness, assuming he was still recovering from something, which made Harry feel miserable and a little secretly pleased—
A bunch of stupid little kids who didn’t even understand what love was, and he had secretly held a girl’s hand!
Although it was in a dream!
Soon, flocks of owls flew in, and packages rained down, landing in front of various girls. Boys dressed in their finest also rushed over, scrambling to stand opposite their admired girls, some even exchanging blows over position.
The first-year students, with empty tables before them, watched the spectacle with wide eyes.
Then, a package landed in front of Hermione.
The package had been charmed, floating lightly, emitting pink bubbles from inside out. It was clearly meant for the festive occasion, leaving no doubt as to its meaning.
Harry and Ron’s mouths fell open, and the young lions nearby looked equally stunned.
In front of their astonished gazes, Hermione calmly caught the package.
Only Harry and Ron, who knew her very well, could tell that her hands were trembling slightly. She was not as calm as she appeared.
But before the two could question her, Hermione had already picked up the package, grabbed some bread, and hurried out of the Dining Hall.
“Merlin’s beard!” Seamus Finnigan finally reacted, exclaiming, “Someone actually sent Hermione Granger a Valentine’s Day gift?”
Dean’s mouth also fell open: “She’s the only one in first year to receive a gift. Harry, Ron, do you know who it is?”
Harry and Ron looked bewildered.
Seamus egged them on: “Aren’t you good friends? She won’t even show you!”
Seamus’s question stung the two young boys.
Leaving the Dining Hall and preparing to go to class, Ron grumbled, “Seamus is right. She received a gift and didn’t even show us. That’s too much… Harry, who do you think sent it?”
Harry analyzed: “It’s definitely not a stranger. We know Hermione well, and she was very excited when she received the package, but didn’t seem surprised, so she must have known someone would give her a gift!”
As they were talking, the Twins ran past them from behind.
“Silly Ronnie, and silly Harry, who else is close to Hermione?”
“You’re right, George. Of course, it’s our most charming younger brother, Vaughn Weasley!”
The Twins ran off, laughing.
Ron and Harry were left looking at each other. After a moment of stunned silence, Ron suddenly exclaimed indignantly, “Vaughn sent her a gift but not me. Harry, do you think he’s a pretty bad brother?”
“?”
Harry stared blankly, subconsciously backing away from Ron, and stammered, “I think your idea is even more problematic!”
The real Hermione had always been a rather solitary person. Without external interference, her day would seem extremely monotonous to outsiders—after breakfast, during the time waiting for class, she would first preview the day’s lessons.
After class, she would spend 3 to 4 hours completing the homework assigned by the professors as quickly as possible.
Even if the homework wasn’t due until the following week.
Then lunch, her limited social time of the day, which essentially involved listening to Harry and Ron complain or brag at the Dining Hall Long Table and in the Common Room.
Because the content was too boring, she usually brought a half-read reference book.
By lunchtime, while others went to rest, the Library was where Hermione often went. It was her time to read extracurricular books and learn the myriad of knowledge and new spells in the Wizarding World.
As for why she didn’t take a break…
While a love for learning was one reason, for Hermione, another important reason was that no one in the dormitory spoke to her…
Spending a lot of time with Vaughn, she had gradually learned some of his ways of thinking, especially regarding interpersonal relationships.
Vaughn often stepped away from a subjective perspective to examine the changes in relationships between people from a relatively objective standpoint.
Hermione tried to analyze her own situation using this approach.
It started with only minor conflicts.
It was at the beginning of the school year. Lavender Brown, her dormitory mate, was delicate and complained about various things at Hogwarts. Hermione, always straightforward, said:
“If you’re always complaining, then you shouldn’t be at school.”
Hermione thought this was a perfectly normal piece of advice at the time.
However, her dormitory mates Lavender and Parvati Patil clearly did not see it that way.
Hermione hadn’t realized at the time why they had suddenly stopped talking to her.
Recalling it now, they were probably scared of her.
From other people’s perspectives, someone with messy hair who did things impulsively and decisively must have been ill-tempered and highly aggressive!
Hermione recognized the problem but didn’t know how to improve her situation.
People are all like this; self-reflection and introspection are things anyone can do, but few can figure out how to strategically turn an unfavorable situation around.
Most people are relatively passive in managing their own environment.
Although she sometimes comforted herself, “If no one talks to me, then I have more time to read!”
But in reality, even the most dedicated study fanatics are human; they need rest and socializing to relax, and they need girlfriends to chat about girl topics.
Every night, lying in bed and hearing her dormitory mates, even if they didn’t get along particularly well, casually chat, a faint loneliness would envelop Hermione.
She had thought about initiating conversations to resolve the misunderstanding from the beginning of the school year, but she was afraid they would reject her.
Sometimes, Hermione felt that people were like porcupines, wanting to huddle together for warmth in the cold winter but fearing being pricked by others’ quills!
So, in the end, she gave up—if I run away, no one can hurt me…
It was truly an ostrich mentality!
Originally, Hermione thought her days at Hogwarts would continue like this. Perhaps as she grew older, everyone would eventually understand that the petty squabbles and stubbornness of youth were both innocent and foolish, and then they would put aside their past grievances and resume normal friendships as roommates.
What she was currently most concerned about was a completely different relationship.
On the morning of Valentine’s Day, as soon as she woke up, she wondered what gift Vaughn would give her.
She had already known that Vaughn had forgotten Valentine’s Day the day she received the chocolate—he was very good at hiding his emotions, and Hermione hadn’t found any flaws in his expression. However, she knew that if Vaughn had prepared a gift in advance, he wouldn’t be able to resist teasing her.
She had heard Ron complain countless times that, at least in terms of mischievousness, Vaughn never disappointed!
Rationally speaking, forgetting Valentine’s Day was normal. After all, Vaughn had a pile of things on his hands and had to catch up on classes in his spare time. He was probably so busy that he had forgotten the time.
But as it was their first Valentine’s Day, Hermione didn’t want to be as hesitant as she was in handling her relationships with her roommates, watching it develop in an unfavorable direction.
That’s why, after spotting Vaughn that day, she had left the unconscious Harry and secretly returned to the dormitory to retrieve the chocolate.
She wanted to remind Vaughn not to forget her.
The reminded Vaughn indeed did not forget. Hermione, who received the gift, was very happy, but she didn’t open it immediately.
She still previewed her lessons and did her homework as usual. Only at noon, avoiding Harry and Ron—to prevent those two gossips from interrogating her—she previewed the afternoon’s lessons and did her homework.
It wasn’t until night, when everyone was asleep, that she secretly hugged the gift box and went to the Common Room.
Gryffindor Tower was tall. Although not as tall as the Observatory, it was high enough to overlook the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest. Tonight, the moon was as bright and clear as that other night. Sitting by the bay window and looking at the scenery through the glass, Hermione felt as if time had returned to that night.
She had deliberately chosen this time so that no one would disturb her, allowing her to quietly enjoy her “alone” time with Vaughn.
Hermione slowed her breathing and gently opened the gift box.
The charmed box, upon opening, emitted a string of pink bubbles. As the bubbles dissipated, Hermione saw several vials of clear, sparkling potions lying quietly at the bottom of the box.
A note was placed on top, written in Vaughn’s elegant cursive:
“For my beloved girl, I hope these will help her have a complete Hogwarts life—Young lady, you already have friendship and love. Now, you’re missing a best friend!”
Below the writing, a comical smiley face was drawn.
Hermione burst into laughter.
But as she laughed, tears began to stream down her face.
It was somewhat inexplicable. She was clearly very happy, happy about Vaughn’s thoughtfulness.
At least, Harry and Ron had never noticed that she had never appeared with other girls.
Hermione sniffled, wiped away her tears, and looked at the vials of potions.
She picked up a vial, removed the stopper, and sniffed it gently.
Strangely, she could smell the scent of parchment covered in ink, and… the scent of Vaughn’s hair!
The girl blushed, suspecting she might be mistaken.
She looked at the bottle; there was no name written on it. The label simply stated: “Pour into a perfume bottle, spray sparingly, lasts for 24 hours.”
There was also a line of small print: “Side effects are currently unclear.”
It was a bit frightening.
Hermione chuckled; this was the Vaughn she was familiar with, always liking to tease people with his wicked sense of humor.
But… the person she liked was just like this, what could she do?
With a smile on her lips, the girl returned to the dormitory and placed the gift box carefully in the storage box beside her bed.
She didn’t intend to use them. Favor gained through potions was far less meaningful than the significance they represented in themselves!
